Twin Peaks: The Return, Parts 1-4

Part ---

David Lynch, to the uninitiated, is a big ol’ weirdo in the sense that he’s one of the most brilliant and influential filmmakers of the last thirty years or so who is rarily talked about in the same breath as the other greats to come out of the 70s and 80s. His first film originally took him 7 years to complete and the grotesque experimental steam-punk nightmare Eraserhead immediately caught the eye of several other big name mainstream directors. George Lucas came knocking and offered him Return of the Jedi but Lynch went with the much more bizarre and difficult to adapt science fiction film Dune. He then went on to creep out the film landscape with surrealistic noir-ish thrillers like Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive however categorizing them in that way does his work a massive disservice. David Lynch is, in reality, a genre all his own, particularly in the sense that a Lynch piece and reality are rarely in the same room together and although most of his films have gone on to achieve a cult-status in one way or another, the most mainstream success that Lynch has ever experienced was Twin Peaks.

How a writer depicts their characters can say a lot about how they interpret the people and the world around them and if this example is to be taken with Lynch it’s that he usually depicts them as either hapless rubes with dark secrets or sadistic monsters hiding in human flesh. There’s a consistent hokiness to each and every one of his innocent characters and normally this might be attributed to a talented technical or artistic director who is not great with actors. But this particular scene in Mulholland Drive refutes that. No, each and every detail means something and is intentional either to the story or, most importantly to Lynch, to create an atmosphere. And it’s this thing that pilots his work, a dream-like quality of impermanence and haunting, often deeply disturbing imagery with no regard for the audience’s well-being or permission that makes him the unique voice that he is.


That stilted cloying quality that is found in many of the characters in Twin Peaks lends itself to one of his favorite tropes: affectionately depicting every day modern Americana and then stripping it down layer by layer to reveal some macabre underbelly of sexuality and violence. This is exemplified at the beginning of Blue Velvet when two teenage lovers go strolling through a picturesque park on a spring day only to stumble upon a severed human ear laying in the middle of the grass; it’s the juxtaposition of the familiar with the morbid. Twin Peaks, in this way, is more a parody of the popular soap operas in the 80s and 90s as depicted by a master of surrealistic horror and unfortunately the original series doesn’t exactly stand up over time. The ultimate mystery of who killed Laura Palmer is still thrilling and beautifully foreshadowed but there are so many side plots, some of them brutally obnoxious, and so many drawn out sequences of people weeping while holding each other as the maudlin musical score drones on it’s not going to be easy for modern audiences to absorb.

In the new Showtime revival of Twin Peaks much of the fat has been trimmed away and with the restrictions of network television have been lifted the results are much closer to his film work than the original TV series. While this might actually alienate both newcomers and fans of the original the only question that remains is whether or not it can stand alone as its own incarnation and in this it largely succeeds at being David Lynch’s vision. It feels like his universe and his imagination which, is to say, pant-shittingly frightening, indescribably weird, and more than a little funny. More specifically, it looks, feels, and sounds like nothing else out there and if there was any concern that he may have lost some of his edge with age it’s unfounded. As a director and the sound designer, he still so effectively fucks with the viewer at times it’s difficult not feeling like someone put the wrong kind of mushrooms on your pizza.


As referenced by another publication, Twin Peaks: The Return might be the only show on television right now that can’t be spoiled in the traditional sense. For instance, (minor but obvious spoiler) the series opens with the first obstacle that the audience would expect: Agent Dale Cooper must find a way to escape the Black Lodge. And he does, kind of, but it’s less about the if and more about the how. And it’s just something that has to be experienced personally. Adjectives fail in the same way that someone describing a dream is never interesting because it’s so difficult to encapsulate what that dream really felt like, the familiar strangeness of it. This is the language that Lynch trades in, his canvas is that dreamscape where things sometimes are more sincere and important than what is happening in the real world or rather, his version of it.

It’s a good thing that Showtime is releasing the series in increments rather than all at once, it’s a show that shouldn’t be lumped in with the current binge-watching trend. At the risk of coming off cliche, David Lynch is an artist, not some Johnny Come-Lately with a camera and a dream and his work deserves to be processed, to be dissected in the way that only the internet can. Before there was Lost or The X-Files there was Twin Peaks and although it is way too early in the revival’s run to stake any predictions, Lynch might be the only one of the three capable of a satisfying ending.

HA! Just kidding. What the shit was that talking brain synapse/tree in the Black Lodge. What the hell did Dougie throw up on the ground and who was the eyeless lady who got knocked into space? WHAT WAS WITH THAT FLOATING TALKING FACE?! That was as much of an rational article as I could write without the utter insanity breaking through. More to come when the next part of the series is released….


Iron Fist: Face To Foot Style


If what follows sounds like I am teeing off with particular aggression on Iron Fist it’s because I am big fan of the Marvel/Netflix collaboration. More than that, I’m a lapsed comic book fan from back in the day and further, I happen to love storytelling in general. I believe that it’s magical, that it has a transformative quality, and that it can be, not always but sometimes, a sacred thing. I think not everyone deserves to be a storyteller on a large stage and if you are a shitty one, you should stop getting jobs telling stories. Now, I’ve never been a big fan of Dexter but the final seasons of that show, along with the idiotic finale, were remarkably stupid and I was able to deduce, decidedly, that Scott Buck is an absolutely shitty storyteller. In fact, I’m not going to use that word to describe him anymore. The point is, someone at Netflix and/or Marvel saw those critically maligned and audience hated seasons of Dexter and said, “Hire that guy to run Iron Fist.” And the result is exactly what one would expect. Iron Fist is abysmally bad. It’s stupid. It’s badly written. It’s glacially slow and uninteresting. It has no sense of itself or understanding of who or what its main character is or why. It’s not just bad for a Netflix series, it’s objectively terrible and would not last three episodes on network television without being cancelled. And the world would be a better place if that were its fate.


Where to start. I recently encountered the term “idiot plot” coined by the late great Roger Ebert to describe a story whose resolution would be easily accomplished if the main characters were not idiots. This applies immediately to the first conflict present in Iron Fist: no one believes he is really Danny Rand, who supposedly died in a plane crash with his parents 15 years earlier. Danny is at first unable to convince his two childhood friends of his identity, even when sharing fun memories of playing soccer with them as children (Actual Dialogue: “…you don’t remember? I played the goalie.” You were the goalie or you played goalie, you fucking moron), but they are unconvinced so they drug him and send him to a psychiatric hospital where he is held against his will because that’s something you can do to people if you don’t believe they are who they say they are. This is resolved two episodes in when Danny sends his former bestie a package of M&Ms from the hospital with the brown ones taken out and she’s like, “It’s really him!” Because he couldn’t just fucking say “You don’t like brown M&Ms” on the multiple occasions they’ve interacted. Flash forward two episodes and Danny convinces Trinity (lawyer Hogarth) within thirty seconds of meeting her by immediately sharing intimate details of their past. Which now he apparently knows how to do.


Finn Jones is a perfectly capable actor but in response to the negative reception Iron Fist is receiving he theorized that the current pop culture mindset is inherently anti-billionaire, and that people just don’t like the character of Danny Rand because of it which is stupid. Danny Rand is a prick but not because he’s a billionaire heir, he’s a prick because he’s a prick. When he decides to turn down a fortune in order to fight for majority ownership in his parents company his faux sister/bestie, who made the original offer, asserts, “My brother and I have been working our asses off for years to build this company up while you have been off living in a monastery.” It’s a perfectly fair goddamn point. But for someone who has no need for possessions or shoes, Danny sure is interested in taking back ownership of his billion dollar company and buying an Aston Martin as soon as possible.


When the reviews started coming in for Iron Fist I was initially skeptical, as Marvel and Netflix haven’t missed a beat so far. Daredevil might be the best one-two punch introduction of a conflicted superhero struggling with his identity and purpose on a largely grounded scale. He fights for Hell’s Kitchen both as a vigilante and a lawyer and as a Catholic which informs his sense of responsibility and guilt and the fight scenes are jaw dropping at times. Jessica Jones is a snarky know-it-all with a neo-noir sensibility and one of the most compelling and terrifying villains in the Marvel canon. Luke Cage is a modernist blaxploitation masterpiece that embraces black culture and music like no other comic book adaptation ever has. But to play the devil’s advocate, the Electra story line is pretty boring and Daredevil does get lost in this drama with The Hand, which at a certain point just become a series of faceless goons for Matt to beat up. And Jessica Jones suffers the most from that third quarter slump that all these shows have suffered from, that period of filler episodes that seemingly have no bearing on the rest of the plot before it ramps up again for the final act, an act that absolutely ruins that same fantastic villain who largely carried the show. And the energy and focus that Luke Cage starts is ejected right along with Cottonmouth out that window, with the second half of the series suffering a lack of direction or purpose. And although these shows get more right than they get wrong, by and large, the writing was on the wall. There are flaws in Marvel/Netflix formula. Because if any of these showrunners had failed to at least get the core of the character right and embrace that as much as possible, all of these shows are going to be middling at best. And Iron Fist is just such a failure.

Marvel's Iron Fist

How difficult would it have been to sit down with some classic Kung Fu films from the 7os and just indulge in the campy joy, to saturate the writers with some of the culture and art that inspired the original character and find a way to modernize it within what was fun about that genre. To take the subject seriously without the showrunner and writers taking themselves too seriously, that’s a recipe for success that other fringe characters were able to exploit, from Ant-Man to Guardians of the Galaxy, there needs to be at least some affection for the source material and a degree of effort made. Iron Fist has none of those things. No love, no effort, no thought, no logic. What it does succeed in is a few things:

  1. It proves that both Marvel and Netflix are fallible. This isn’t exactly revelatory but it shows that the two otherwise strong brands can not just be off the mark, they can miss the target completely in a full 13 episode series. My understanding of Netflix is that they are a showrunner’s dream to work with, they are hands-off, they encourage pushing boundaries, and don’t add pressure to appeal to a larger audience. This is great, but it also leads to things like The OA which, from an artistic standpoint, is incredibly bold but also desperately needed someone somewhere to shout “…interpretive dance…are you fucking kidding me?!”  from a place of power.
  2. Being the worst Marvel property to date by a huge margin, on par with some of the worst comic book adaptations of all time, along with CatwomanSteel, and pretty much all of the Fantastic Four films. Congratulations.
  3. It demonstrates the sad fact that Marvel is now a fully mainstream force in the entertainment industry in the sense that Scott Buck, who should not be allowed near so much as a typewriter, will follow the age old Hollywood tradition of successfully failing upwards by heading up the Inhumans franchise later this year.


Here’s hoping The Defenders really do save the day, if not from The Hand and Sigourney Weaver, than at least from the likes of the asshole who brought us this storytelling magic.

Patriot: Suddenly Now I Know Where I Belong

Patriot is a confounding piece of television, in that I love it to pieces but when recommending it to people I find myself staring off into space trying to explain why. It’s easy to use certain adjective trains like surrealistic black comedy spy drama or describe it as comparable to the dry humor of the Coen brothers because while it is those things it’s also a tender and unique kind of weird that makes you lean in a little bit. It will juxtapose a pitch perfect awkward exchange of dialogue with a pratfall without missing a beat and then tap-dance deftly into what is essentially a spy drama. It’s The Bourne Identity mixed with Fargo crossed with a little bit of In Bruges and the main character John Tavner, portrayed with an eerie wounded intelligence by Michael Dormanalso happens to be an accomplished folk singer/songwriter with a bad habit of writing songs that literally recount his spycraft exploits. Oh, and it’s also beautiful. A lot of shows and films will suck the color and hue out of the frame to make things seem more dramatic or serious but what they fail to do to keep the viewer from getting lost in the greys and blues is compose a shot, and Patriot I could rewatch on mute.


The cast has more than a few hey I know that guy from something actors. Kurtwood Smith plays basically Red Foreman but with the advantage of some actual depth. Terry O’Quinn is a shady but mostly reliable paterfamilias. And Gil Bellows, who is also an Executive Producer, pops up in a minor role here and there. But the show belongs to Dorman who has the difficult task of portraying a kind of sensitive soul struggling with the loneliness and confusing nature of his job as a N.O.C. for the C.I.A. while also being sort of an asshole. He doesn’t have a lot of dialogue to work with and is forced to express what can be perceived as a kind of nihilistic resignation to the job by smoking a lot of pot and generally not giving a shit about day to day politeness or friendly interactions. He seems to be, outside of a long distance and sad relationship with a woman, purely about function separate from form except for the occasional open-mike night and it’s difficult to pin down or care for a character who never smiles and may or may not be a sociopath. But there is something familiar in John Tavner, something relatable in his melancholia and in the amusing and well-realized premise that even the job of an international undercover spy can be as tedious and absurd as any other.


Let me walk you through our Donnely nut-spacing and cracked system rim-riding grip configuration: using a field of half-seized sprats and brass-fitter nickel slits, our bracketed caps and spray-flexed brace columns vent dampers to dampening hatch depths of ½ meter from the damper crown to the spurv plinth. How? Well, we bolster 12 Husk Nuts to each girdle jerry while flex tandems press a task apparatus of ten vertically composited patch hamplers then pin flam-fastened pan traps at both maiden apexes of the jimjoints.

Did I mention the prominent role industrial piping and welding plays in the story? It’s hard to keep track of how many different ways Patriot calmly steps off the path and wanders into some unexpected shenanigans that elaborately circle back to the main plot. Take, for example, the image above which is, in fact, the main character absconding with a half dozen or so prosthetic legs from what appears to be a water aerobics class. At face value this doesn’t make any sense at all but fifteen minutes later the scenes meaning is perfectly clear. And funny. And a little bit sad. Granted, not all tangents are related to the main plot, some are merely backstory, but there’s a delightfully disjointed narrative akin to Pulp Fiction or Go where the same event or interaction takes place just outside the view of another pivotal moment which increases in complexity deeper into the season.


Again, it would be easy to dislike John Tavner for many reasons but adding that musical element is what elevates a very good show into something different. There are few instances throughout but one in particular where I sincerely wish this character or actor or whomever would actually put together an album that stays on message instead of careening off into stream-of-consciousness for humorous/narrative purposes. His style is some marriage between Matt Berninger from The National and Samuel Beam of Iron & Wine and it’s one of the few times where I wish there were more musical interludes in a show where I am thoroughly addicted to the twists and turns of the story. And again, I’m struck by how difficult it is to explain what Patriot is like with each part, the music element, the occasionally non-linear narrative, the dark humor, seemingly incongruous unless viewed as a whole but once that whole is put together there’s a joy to the material that makes you want to grab the nearest person and shout “You need to see this”. The last time I felt this enthusiastic about a new show was probably Stranger Things and while I’m not saying that I predicted its meteoric popularity or cultural impact….


…. but from what I can tell so far no one appears to be watching. And I get that. When this appeared on Amazon Prime my brain formed the letters “MEH” in the sky above my computer and I went about my day. But then I found a review from a writer I happen to have a great affection for even though he goes on about The Good Wife far too enthusiastically and this writer that I like absolutely raved about Patriot, jumped up and down, literarily speaking, and insisted on at least checking out the pilot episode. Once I gave in and check it out I stopped. The next day I watched another episode. And so forth. Patriot is so good that I had to use all the self-control I could muster to not binge watch the thing and I still want to go back and rewatch some episodes.

Dennis (distraught): “I had an erection. Not from being in a room with a sex worker. I think mostly I was excited about helping you gather information and one thing led to another…and I didn’t even get any information. About where the girl in the passport is. I just got herpes.

Tom: “[To Dennis] Put down the phone, Dennis. You can tell your wife you slept with a prostitute. I’m okay with that, go for it. But you cannot tell her about this situation you were drawn into. [To John] Why…why was he drawn into this anyway?”

John (without emotion): “I needed his pee.”

COME ON. I don’t even know what else I need to say but the show is lousy with these kinds of exchanges and I present the same challenge as the other writer, in fact, I’ll double down. If you can make it through the cold open and the opening credits without Patriot sparking some well-deserved interest, I’ll eat this review. At the very least enjoy the haunting and beautiful title song:


Captain Fantastic: A Beautiful Mistake


In an early scene in writer-director Matt Ross’s film Captain Fantastic Viggo Mortenson’s father character Ben finds his daughter reading Lolita, the controversial novel by Vladimir Nabokov and he asks for her analysis. What follows is a pretty accurate assessment of Humbert Humbert’s pitiable obsession with a 12 year old girl and his daughter points out something intrinsic to the narrative: since it is written from the man’s perspective his actions seem justified, if only because he believes they are, and so you sympathize with him even though he is precisely a pedophile and a criminal using his understanding of love as an excuse for his actions. Although Ben Cash is neither of those things, this is a pretty astute foreshadowing of the rest of the film as his attempts to guide and educate his children, his love for them inspiring some very questionable, mildly illegal behavior. Ultimately, he is both the protagonist and antagonist and Mortenson does a great job with the material coming off believably as a brilliant Libertarian mountain man/survivalist. But if he’s lacking anything, and this could apply to the character as well, it’s heart. He’s not the most approachable person, evoking Ted Kacynski more than David Cassidey, and this is where the talented cast of children balance things out and it’s easy to immediately cheer for them, a difficult task from a group that is more or less a Doomsday Cult.

The cover of Captain Fantastic at first implied something akin to Wes Anderson and it’s important to note that this is pretty far from the case. Rather, it feels closer to David O. Russell and his earlier work about damaged outcasts looking for a sense of family. Thematically, however, this is the opposite of what this film is about. Family is all they have and although they are physically healthy and well educated the fact that the Partridge family bus is not a school bus at all but a prisoner transport is a pretty on the nose metaphor for their lives. It starts an interesting conversation about the concept of homeschooling, at one point Ben pits his 8 year old daughter against her two teenage cousins on the subject of the Bill of Rights, and although she is able to both recite them from memory and provide a detailed analysis this is treated as a victory for his family. But in reality, despite the fact that public schooling is a deeply flawed system the social skills that develop in those settings are undeniably critical to functionality and happiness in later life. We are, with rare exception, social creatures and while denying children the opportunity to make that decision for themselves is an absolute right that parents have, the results of such an experiment should be explored. My own experience involved my first roommate at tech school falling asleep every day in class because he sat up until 5am every night painting Warhammer figurines. Having never been on his own or under the supervision of adults who were not his parents he never developed a sense of respect for their authority or an ounce of consideration for his roommate who was trying to fucking sleep.

That being said, Ben Cash is honest and direct with his children at all times and this is undeniably admirable. Having grown up in a less than conventional environment I was always able to tell when adults were lying to me about mature subjects, however when folks did occasionally treat me with the respect that was usually afforded to grown ups I recognized it. Children are a lot more intelligent than they are given credit for and in a lot of ways can be better at processing information and better at detecting bullshit. So those grown ups that were honest with me I tended to trust more and the uncle that told me the “Clearance 7’2” sign that hangs over the drive thru at McDonald’s meant that they were on the lookout for someone named “Clearance” who was seven feet, two inches tall was generally not someone I relied on as much. For the record, I figured out what the sign meant before turning 20…..ish.

If I had to fault Captain Fantastic it would have to be in the third act and its emotional, if somewhat idealistic finale. The journey that the kids go on is different from their father’s and he rightfully exacts the price that he should for his myopic approach to raising children in the world we all live in, the one that is so often lethargic, ignorant, and materialistic. But the cost doesn’t stick. And instead of losing something permanently in exchange for what he’s taken away from his children which is, in a lot of ways, their actual childhood, he only glimpses what would in real life be more of an implacability. But that’s okay, this is not a deal breaker and this is not that kind of film. Like so many great ones that are overshadowed of late by blockbuster theatrical releases and sequels of prequels of CGI spectacle it’s important to remember that there are some that have have an actual heart. One with a lovely message that even an off-the-grid, Noam Chomsky worshipping, Renaissance Man wouldn’t mind his kids seeing. It’s about the strength and resilience of family and the ability to admit a mistake, even if it is an enormous perspective altering one. I am a big believer in the idea that sometimes it’s necessary to lose the path in order to find it again and if that’s too esoteric of an idea or sounds like fortune cookie wisdom, this may be too sentimental of an experience. Otherwise, there’s plenty of room on this bus.

Westworld: Trace Decay

Dear Westworld,

Hey, what’s up. Quick question for you, have you ever questioned the nature of your reality? Ha! Just kidding. Because that’s the….it’s how the park employees evaluate the …the robots. Anyway. Just want to let you know I’m still a big fan, now I say ‘still’ because what follows may seem like an outright complaint about the show but it’s not, just a polite request and some areas that I feel could benefit from a new approach. This week’s episode Trace Decay left me a little bit frustrated and I wasn’t sure why at first, it was definitely thrilling and continued to add thoughtful layers to the already dense seven layer dip that is HBO’s Westworld, I love it. I love having a show to watch that doesn’t pander or aim for the middle in terms of appeal, I really enjoy the deep conversations and esoteric references and all the little ways it subverts expectations and adds quirky little details to make the park itself seem both familiar and uncanny at the same time. The performances are also spectacular, the things that these actors and actresses have to do, Thandie Newton in particular, is on another plane as far as verisimilitude and depth, it’s almost a requirement to rewatch each episode in order to understand the emotional hurdles these characters are negotiating. And the cinematography? Wow, right? Just blows me away every episode. I could keep going with the praise but what I am getting at, actually, is that it would be really nice if like something, the fuck, would happen. You know?


Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of the slow boiler. Take a show like Bloodline over on Netflix. Great show but it takes awhile and has liberal use of flashbacks (just like you!) to build to an emotional climax. The tension clearly ratchets up from episode to episode, you feel it even though you don’t know what’s going to happen and once it does it’s devastating. Really great drama. And I think that you’re there too, I totally believe in the confidence of the narrative, it’s just that after the most recent episode, the eighth out of ten, I still don’t know what the point is. What seemed to be a huge revelatory moment with the Man In Black more or less confirming he’s an older William, the fact that somehow murdering Mauve and her daughter is how he discovered the maze to begin with made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Visually, it was fascinating, seeing her laying in the middle of a massive drawing of the maze carved out in the ground but how could he have had a bird’s eye perspective and seen this? From the ground it just looked like a series of dirt rows. “And then something amazing happened. She refused to die.” Well, I’m no doctor but it looks like you stabbed her in the small intestine. Probably super painful but that’s not going to flip the switch right away, Mr. Philanthropist. Have you seen Reservoir Dogs? That guy bled like a stuck pig for almost an hour and a half. Anyway, this just felt a little bit rushed and uneven and again, I’m not saying it wasn’t fun to watch but even the spidery, fiercely intelligent Charlotte Hale knows the rule. “Show. Don’t tell, right? Isn’t that how you writers do it?” Except not in this episode. Unless….Wait.


This whole ‘my wife died in the bathtub but it turns out she committed suicide because I go full Renegade while playing Mass Effect so I decided to come to Westworld‘ story. That sounds a lot like a character history. You wouldn’t be resurrecting some of the elements of the film, are you? Particularly my very first theory that was quickly disproved? Heh. Naw. Although that would be a spectacular way to zig when everyone on the internet is now aware of your intention to zag. I have commented on my dislike of the theory because of the way I relate to a young idealistic William, but this would be the best of both worlds. After all, Ford has had a Host operating behind the scenes of the park without anyone being the wiser, who’s to say he couldn’t have sent one out into the world to manipulate and control the board. I mean, I’m reaching here and don’t tell me if I’m right, of course. At this point I have two months invested and I’d rather find out in due course. But how great would it be to drop a bar of soap in the internet’s coffee? I’d love you forever if you did that.


Another thing. Mauve. I, uh….still not tracking on this one. The only thing that I believe would validate this plotline is if Felix and Sylvester are Hosts who are incapable of resisting her commands but they aren’t aware of it. Or are they are simply hypnotized by boobs? I mean. I would be. Otherwise, she is actively fomenting a Host insurrection under the noses of, well, everyone and the only thing that stands in her way are these two ne’er-do-wells. They can’t possibly think there is still a promotion in here somewhere. More than that, Sylvester surviving having his jugular sliced open was huge cop-out, my friend, it speaks to the crux of this written objection. It’s bad enough that inside the park is basically an elaborate one-sided game of paintball but if things don’t stick in the real world I’m even less likely to feel any kind of suspense or stakes. Granted, someone might finally have figured out some of the shenanigans these three have been up to but then something might actually happen and we wouldn’t want that with only two episodes to go. Heaven forbid.


Okay, this is an outright complaint. We are eight episodes in and Dolores is still having this cryptic nonsensical flashbacks that in no way illuminate what she’s seeing or why she’s seeing them. In fact, they are further obscuring what we already suspect as she discovers what she claims to be her home town and yet another timeline with Angela popping up as a cheerful local. I really liked Dolores in the beginning, I genuinely felt for her, especially how desperately she fought off the Man in Black, that was easy to want some sort of redemption or justice for her. But just like going out with someone who seems to be in need of some emotional support and a kind hand at first, after a few weeks you realize that you’re actually dating a basket case. I’m not trying to be cruel or lessen her struggle by any means but, as far as William goes…the man is on vacation. And I can think of a few things more relaxing than chasing Dolores around the desert while she shouts, “Are you real?! Is this real?!” like going to a party where I get a little drunk and start weeping where your significant other gets a little too drunk and locks themselves in the bathroom. I guess that’s what their story is starting to feel like. She’s tripping balls and he’s getting bored. And he is not alone.


One more thing, what’s up with these monster men running around with Wyatt? They are pretty freaky from a distance and in large numbers but up close there’s no way this thing has a good range of motion.On the whole Westworld has felt largely grounded in reality, even for a show about realistic androids dressed up as cowboys but these cultists or whatever they are stretch the imagination. The show is often compared to a video game and I guess every game needs a heavy of some kind but unless they turn out to be a cameo by Gwar…meh. On the other hand, kudos to you for adding Lili Simmons to the cast. Not to be a super creep or anything but, uh, yeah, she’s a good. Anyway, like I said, you’re doing a great job and at least this week we can verify that you have more timelines going on than the entire Back to the Future Trilogy. How we’re going to sort them out at the end is 100 percent your problem but I feel like we’re in good hands. You seem to know what you’re doing even if no one else is sure, hahaha. I know I’ve postulated enough for a lifetime and, frankly, all I’m suggesting is that considering we may not get to return to you until 2018 I think we all deserve some real closure. Don’t let us down! Or end on an even more mysterious note! Or go another episode without any fucking consequences! Otherwise, I’ll probably lose my shit.

With Love and Violent Delights,
An Ardent Fan


Bonus: I normally post the original version of the player piano jams but I like the Westworld versions so much here they are. Makes you want to go out and start a revolution, politely.



Westworld: Trompe L’Oeil

Finally, some payoff. I was so excited to see an actual plot twist last night that it wasn’t until this morning, while staring at a bottle of milk that I realized what was missing from the episode. The Borden brand of 2 percent has a little cow picture on the logo. I never looked that closely before but the name ‘Elsie’ is written on it and I thought, ‘OH, HOLY SHIT. What happened to Elsie?!’ Last night’s revelation about Bernard was so satisfying that I forgot how pissed off I was that last week’s episode ended with such an obnoxious cliffhanger regarding her fate. I thought for sure it was False Jeopardy, the kind of hollow tease you find on network television right before a commercial break and it would turn out to be Girl’s Name just dropping in on her. But alas, her fate is going to have to wait until next week because there are more important discoveries to be found in Trompe L’Oeil. 


Supposedly, this was a popular theory on the interwebs that Bernard Lowe was actually a Host but as far as I can recall there have not been any blatant clues or allusions to this so that sounds to me like pure guesswork. In fact, it’s counter-intuitive; why have a Host in charge of updating behavior in Hosts, it’s got a little bit of a Bootstrap Paradox going for it. There’s got to be a theory about everyone at some point, obviously one or two are going to ring true but what was so well done about the reveal is how efficiently and effectively it was executed. After Bernard is fired under questionable circumstances it’s reasonable to assume he’d want to come clean with Theresa and show her some of the other bizarre goings on in the park. But when he ignores her perfectly rational question about venturing into the park without security, I dismissed this as I was expected to. When he utters the phrase about the other Hosts not being able to see Ford’s secret house, that they would look right past it without noticing, I remembered the title of the episode, ‘a visual illusion or trick of the eye.’

What’s inside this door?” Theresa asks. “What door?” And all of a sudden it clicked. One of the things that bugged me about The Adversary is how Ford suddenly appeared next to Bernard as he was being assaulted by Ford Sr. It seemed a little bit lazy of the director to have someone just outside of camera view but reasonably within a character’s view to pop up unexpectedly but as Evan Rachel Wood states in a quirky, fun interview about Westworld everything has a purpose. In that first scene we are experiencing things through Bernard’s perspective and as far as he is concerned, Ford does appear to materialize. And now we know why.


The phrase ‘blood sacrifice’ was used twice this week and this has several implications. One, somehow Charlotte Hale and Robert Ford are in league and the latter is letting Theresa know she’s been played all along by both of them before murdering her. That seems unlikely since they appear to be fundamentally at odds for control of the park. Two, that Ford is aware of their conversation and has beat them to the punch and he’s letting her know before murdering her. Which is really fucked up. We’ve been skating around morality and ambiguities for 6 episodes now but we’re at least clear on one character. Ford, whatever his reasons, is a bad guy. Maybe not the bad guy but definitely a black hat and remorseless manipulator who has no sense of morality and only wants to maintain control over the park and his ‘little stories’. Although Theresa may have been far from an innocent bystander in the story so far, she definitely didn’t deserve to have her head smashed up against a basement wall, not by a long shot.

Also, why is Ford so calm about this? She’s an important part of the company that funds the park and her sudden disappearance should immediately raise questions. Well, as he mentions off-hand, he has his own Easy Bake oven for manufacturing Hosts and one is currently spinning away like a rotisserie chicken. How much do you want to bet that it’s going to be a replacement for the newly murdered operations leader? The plot thickens. I’m going to dive into some fan theories here, which I normally like to avoid but are impossible to ignore anymore. The biggest one at the moment is that Bernard is actually a recreation of Arnold himself and that the conversations that he was having with Dolores were not Bernard-Bot 5000 but rather the original Arnold 35 years in the past, all the flashbacks and conversations were all a misdirection to make it seem like they are the same person.This would be particularly poetic if Ford, in the ultimate act of disrespect, recreated a doppelganger of his former partner as a soft-spoken, inoffensive subordinate.


Either way it seems like theories about a non-linear narrative are making more sense. After all, with the unchanging nature of the park and ageless androids running around, it seems like an undeniable opportunity to test an audience’s perception. There is another theory I’m still not going to touch on quite yet but it does have to do with different timelines being shown at the same time and I am somewhat comfortable acknowledging it even exists without describing it after this week’s episode. Jonathan Nolan and company had me completely fooled on this Bernard situation so my faith in their ability to continue to do so is reinforced, therefore I’m almost comfortable enough debunking that theory because I don’t like it. Almost.

A word on Mauve and her new acolytes. Although it’s easy to cheer her on as she gains agency and purpose I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with the lab techs Felix and Sylvester, who I just realized are the names of two cartoon cats. I get that the madame can pretty intimidating and self-assured but here’s how this exchange should have ended this week. “If you don’t help me….I’ll kill you.” Felix picks up a Windows tablet, “Sure thing. Let me just (presses OFF button). Okay, that’s that. Want to go grab a future burger? Or some space pizza?”  I assume those things will have been invented by then. And if that should not happen to work because of her uncanny ability to wake up, just turn up the stupid and move on. I’m hoping the show provides a little bit more impetus for their cooperation besides her intimidating presence and their fear of being disciplined.


William and Dolores finally consummated their hastily assembled and most likely ill-fated romance. As much as I’d love a happily every after their conversation this week makes it very clear they are passing each other on journeys that are going in the opposite direction. William is now completely invested in the narrative and wants to let go of his real life in favor of the fantasy found in the park while Dolores wants the opposite. She’s done being part of someone else’s story and is in search of something true. I know this point as been made to death but if Westworld has a real weakness it’s in the action which is fun, well-choreographed, and even shocking at times while also being complete spectacle and ultimately irrelevant. Which is rough because this week had a train ambush, an exploding horse, and an ambush by Ghost Nation warriors, but sadly, no real suspense.

Charlotte Hale seems to be a tough as nails, give-no-shits corporate executive but as much as I appreciate her confidence and cavalier sexuality, I have walked into a room where two people had very recently been to Bone Town, Population: every one else but me lately, and it is not a pleasant experience. Depending on the ventilation, temperature, and intensity of the coitus, it’s like taking a shower in someone else’s pheromones and not in an appetizing way. It’s kind of like sushi. You start with the basic stuff, drink some sake, and then work your way up to the weirder, more frightening sounding rolls. Jumping right into the middle of the nasty stuff when you’re not ready is off-putting and I believe Theresa has had grounds for a sexual harassment claim. Charlotte’s endgame is still somewhat mysterious. She’s looking for 30 years of data gleaned from the park but what kind of data? To what purpose? Are they trying to perfect AI or perhaps enhance the human mind through it? Or is there a military or government connection, it’s hard to believe the intelligence services wouldn’t have a lot of interest in manufacturing spies.


No bonus this week since there were no pleasantly weird player piano covers of the music I listened to in High School but I do leave you with this interview with star Jimmi Simpson who, in spite of playing weirdos and geeks almost all of his career, is super charming, down to earth, and well spoken. Do I have a potential man-crush developing? Time will tell. Keep that white hat on, William.

Westworld: The Adversary

Last week’s episode Contrapasso opened on a scene in the cemetery outside of Pariah and the camera fixed on a cross with a bell hanging off of it. We then cut to Dolores who is staring off into space apparently hearing the voice of a supposedly dead Arnold directing her to find him. This scene stuck with me for some reason that I didn’t understand right away. Although this is kind of my hobby I am very slow to pick up on symbolism the first time around but my mind will keep returning to a thing until I finally decode it. It was the bell that I kept going back to and then I remembered why it was not a decoration. Back in the olden days people weren’t so good at determining whether or not someone had entirely given up the ghost or were simply in a vegetative state indeterminable from death without modern technology so every now and then they would bury these people and hear odd sounds coming out of the ground for a few days afterwards. Supposedly some investigation revealed that, on occasion, an apparently dead person was not so much, so to avoid undue nightmare fuel for all involved a string would be ran from the coffin up to the tombstone with a bell attached to it just in case said occupant wakes up on the wrong side of the lawn. This is largely apocryphal and was not widely practiced but as a narrative device it’s pretty clever. Arnold, from beyond the grave, is ringing that bell through Dolores to raise him from the dead.


The Adversary continues to lend credence to the apparently obvious theory that the other park founder is somehow still alive, hiding somewhere, possibly still coding. I don’t know, to be completely honest I felt a little frustrated by the episode as a whole. Where last week we finally saw some forward progress as far as character development and story, that abruptly came to a halt with this latest offering. Dolores and William were completely absent. The Man in Black and Teddy Flood got into some shenanigans. Elsie discovers who is smuggling data out of the park but is captured by False Jeopardy. And Mauve is now more or less fully autonomous with the foolish assistance of Felix and The Bully From Every 80s Movie Ever. She’s the real star of this episode somehow commanding the room and discovering her agency while in her birthday suit. I mean that has a compliment to Thandie Newton, although she clearly has an existential crisis or two to handle you wouldn’t think for a moment that she isn’t in complete control of the situation despite being as naked as a jaybird.

But the problem with an episode called The Adversary is that there wasn’t one, at least not one that was apparent. Teddy explaining the Native American myth to MiB was interesting but it felt like framing the same mystery we are already pondering in a different way. Like. We get it. There is a frickin’ maze. Not sure what’s at the center of it, but Arnold is involved. Over six episodes now it’s clear that, when it comes to the showrunners for Westworld, the watchword is ‘restraint’. But that also means that we still don’t exactly know what the stakes are or what the point of the story is beyond the Hosts being manipulated into sentience and a mysterious new storyline. It’s also important that I reference a certain fan theory that is gaining traction without actually sharing it. I wish I hadn’t read it because of certain obvious implications for some main characters but the less happening away from that theory the more it feels like it might be true. Which is fueling my frustration for the show because that theory is seeming more solid by the week and is actually pretty clever, however I’ll take a dumber show if it means it’s false. I know that’s a little cryptic but take it from someone on the other side, you’re better off not knowing. Anyway.


This episode also marks the first time I genuinely laughed at something that was supposed to be funny after six hours of glacial, contemplative science fiction. Lee Sizemore did not miss a beat while swapping out margaritas during his rant to Theresa and it caught me off-guard for a moment. There is so little levity in the show that it felt out of place but I forgive it because of how badly it’s needed. If we’re going to be concerned at all for the human characters at some point it would be nice to actually like one or two of them. With Felix we’re almost there, I just need a little more from the guy and if they are trying at all with Elsie they are way off the mark. The next closest character is probably Bernard but that’s only because Jeffrey Wright has a sort of milquetoast sweetness to him. But he’s also clearly up to something himself when Elsie walks into his office and asks what he’s up to. “You know. Business as usual,” is his response. No one in the history of bullshitting has ever failed to sell that line so completely, and his poker face leaves something to be desired.


Speaking of Bernard, his encounter with the first generation Ford family of bots was one of the more unsettling encounters so far. I’ve had a feeling since we first encountered Mini-Me that the kid was somehow a young version of Robert Ford himself but it wasn’t hard to guess that considering they dress almost identically. There are a lot of really strange implications going on in this scene, particularly how long Ford waits to stop his Dad-Bot from attacking Bernard. There’s no way of knowing how long he was standing there or how far it might have gone if he hadn’t been but it occurred to me that he let it go just far enough to scare the other man, he clearly wasn’t in a rush to save him. Second, who gives someone a replicated robot version of their family as a gift? Third, who keeps a replicated robot version of their family and teaches it to be more alcoholic-y. As someone who adamantly chastised an employee for have the gall to cover a nude Host, it’s a little hypocritical to then spend your spare time having intimate personal conversations with a robot version of yourself. Up until now Ford has occasionally come across as eccentric but this encounter with him is the first real indication that the man is severely unbalanced.


Speaking of crazy, young Robert does two things that should have had old Robert hitting the panic button. I’m not sure why it didn’t stand out as a stronger scene but it has significant bearing on the direction of Westworld. The robot boy killed his dog and then lied about it. More to the point, he did it because Arnold told him to in order to stop the dog from doing any more harm after it killed a rabbit. This is the first real insight into the supposedly dead former founder’s motives or reasoning and it’s no accident who he acted through. Arnold is sending a message to Robert directly: your toys are now my toys and I don’t like the way you’ve been treating them. If he’s willing to kill a robot dog for simply following its nature how would he feel about a human being doing the same? Particularly if that nature is into sexual assault and murder? Probably not good.


Kudos to the showrunners for including a little Easter Egg in the form of what was clearly Yul Brynner’s Gunslinger in the background of the basement office that Bernard visits. It was brief, they did not linger out of sentimentality but I dug it, nonetheless. It also says volumes about the park itself that there exists this floor with flickering lights and dated technology, still powered but mostly abandoned and forgotten, they are not clearly not very good at keeping their basement clean, metaphorically or otherwise. Who knows what else has been forgotten down there. Also, the true horror is that there are clearly no OSHA guidelines in this nightmarish future. The horror…. Anyway, I’m feel like my whinging about the pace of Westworld because it’s one of the few shows that I actively follow week to week, rather than let finish and watch in one or two big pushes. My attention span is kaput, Netflix and the rest have ruined me for traditional television watching habits, I want the whole show and I want it now and although I’m willing to complain now I’ll bet dollars to pesos that when the first season wraps up the whole thing will play out like a great film. But until then.


Bonus: The episode opened with a player piano cover of one of my favorite songs ever. If somehow the show fails to reach its lofty goals at the very least we’ll always have the music.