A Reformation

Sometimes, you are surprised.

Not always pleasantly, I'll admit as much. But I stuck with it, The Walking Dead. And while I won't say that it's the best thing I've ever seen, it's shaping up well. I thought I would have abandoned it by now, dumped it on the side of the road like a dead badger, or the sad, forgotten promise of Glee. Season 1 didn't set me on fire. And I was open to it. I wanted it and was totally ripe for the picking. I hadn't been overexposed to the zombie genre, so by the time season 1 started, I was nowhere near annoyed with zombie tropes. My zombie experience was limited to watching Shaun of the Dead. Really. I don't like any sort of scary films. I don't watch them, I don't think of them. 10 minutes alone with Scream, or any other sort of lightweight thriller and I'm sleeping with a rolling-pin-as-makeshift-weapon under the bed for the next year. They terrify me.

I liked it at first. I liked most of the male characters. Except Shane. I liked the setting, I liked the concept. But the season wasn't very strong, and it didn't seem to go anywhere. The women are still a huge problem. Really, really huge. They are ALL annoying. Without exception. Whiny and moany, and useless. Sitting ducks. And I really don't like watching television shows with terrible female characters, it feels like such lazy writing.

I wasn't sure if I would come back for season 2. But I did. I was unimpressed with the pilots on offer, and I'd decided to drop Glee. I was also still on a downer from a summer without Mad Men, so I decided to give it a second chance.

And I'm glad that I did. It's not different, I'll say. It's the same as the first season. The women are terrible. Shane is terrible. They've made plot adjustments from the comics that seem...unwise. They've been sitting on a farm for what might possibly be the last five years doing nothing. But, I think I'm just getting used to it. Getting used to the pace, and what it has to offer. Daryl is just the best thing ever. I don't know if it's the fan love or if it was the intention all along, but they've transformed him from an annoying, rash redneck into an awesome, sympathetic, crossbow toting redneck.

So for now, I'll keep watching. And hope that it keeps on getting better. Fingers crossed!

In Case You Were Wondering...

I never did watch another episode of The West Wing. 


I've had 10 months to watch them. *sigh* 

A Return to Bad Form

Clearly, I don't keep my promises. Well, not promises, I wouldn't say things like that to all...none of you.

I did remove myself from the summer slump. How I managed it without Mad Men, I don't know. I could have rotted there forever, and no-one would notice. I mainly have Breaking Bad to thank, as I slowly catch up the US schedule. The writing, the characters, the plot...it's all marvellous. I can't think why I didn't start watching it before. I love Bryan Cranston, I love Aaron Paul. The secondary characters are just brilliant - Skylar, Saul, Hank, klepto-Marie. I've almost finished season 4. 

And from the summer feasting on meth lab madness, we are swiftly deposited in the lap of the pilot. I know, I'm a little late. It's practically NOVEMBER, for fuck's sake. But, ah well, I'm lazy and no-one cares anyway. So, the pilots. The most interesting to me this year were:

Ringer, the new Sarah Michelle Gellar vehicle. The premise looked interesting, and I do like Gellar. It's a shame though, that my patience is so limited that I couldn't stick with it. Then again, I don't have the patience for a lot of things - I am the woman who paid to see A.I twice and walked out after 45 minutes. Both times. 

The pilot episode feature an appearance of the worst incidence of green-screen I have ever seen, and I mean really, actually, cross my heart seen. Not the usual overstatement of grand hyperbole that I go for. It involves a speedboat, fake wind and bad dialogue. I'd just about had it by this point. 

I told you I wasn't patient.

With one down, I placed all of my eggs in the prehistoric basket. What's that you say, "foolish"? Well, yes. Probably. Terra Nova has been billed as exciting sci-fi. Plus, it's executively produced by Spielberg (whatever that means), so it has to be good, right? 

I was disappointed. I was expecting good things, and I do like a little light sci-fi with my evening drinks. But I have Fringe, and that's actually good. So I won't watch any old tripe. I don't know what sort of vibe they were going for with Terra Nova, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a Shipwrecked-meets-low-budget-Jurassic-Park-but-with-no-good-actors vibe. And I have a strange kink for cheesy natural disaster films. So my threshold for hokey is quite low. 

So no more Terra Nova. I didn't even make it to the end of the pilot. 

I did give Revenge a go (just for Emily VanCamp, who I love), and also Person of Interest (because my JJ Abrams fascination is akin to my Douglas Coupland masochism). Revenge seems enjoyable, if a little contrived. But the cast is good, and it's achingly aware of itself, so you never know. Maybe I'll watch it instead of Glee this year. Person of Interest, on the other hand, is so confusing that I don't think even Jim Caviezel knows what is going on. Which he should probably be happy about.

Once again, it seems, pilot season was a bit of a bust. Nothing on the scale of last year, of course. But J.J. Abrams has lost two years in a row now. So it's back to the standard stuff. Complaining about Grey's Anatomy, yet watching it all. Failing to stop watching True Blood. Absorbing every second of The Good Wife. See, I threw that in at the end there to prove I could do something other than complain...

Nothing Changes

So, it's been a long time since I've posted anything. I had a summer slump. All right, more like a life slump. But, don't hold that against me - it's not over yet. I plan on a few more weeks of slumping before returning to the world of get-off-your-arse-and-do-something.


Summer television isn't made for aiding get up and go. It's made for lounging and antipathy, annoyance and sleeping. I thought that is I had a little break, things would be better when I got back. I could go away, sun myself <looks at rain> and return to a world where everything is better.


Except, when the time comes, you turn on your television to find what? Mad Men taking a year off. What the fuck? Really? I'm sorry AMC? Do you think that your contract negotiations are more important than my need for a regular helping of Draper with a side of Peggy? The answer is no! Sookie Stackhouse is not only still a total moron, but is actually having sex with Eric Northman and managing to make it look dull.


I shall return to my summer hibernation in the hope that all this madness had ceased by the time I awaken.

An Update

'Twas my NY resolution this year to watch the entire series of The West Wing from the beginning. I've never seen it (how?) and thought it was about time.


Anyway, about a week ago I started to despair (maybe) that it was May (MAY!) and I had managed to watch a grand total of 0% of the show. Poor showing. Really.


But no more! Episode 1 has been watched and filed and episode 2 is ready for action. Probably in August.

You Know it's Over...

When you spend more of the episode cringing behind your hands in embarrassment than you do actually watching.

And that is all that I have to say about the fracking awful, badly written, badly thought out, inconsistent finale of this years' Glee.


I shall be spending 40 minutes a week doing something else from September.

Token Title Containing the Word "Dead"...

Okay, so I have important things to be doing. I have a child to raise, and I would quite like her to realise that there are eyes, and a nose, and other features on my face. It's not just a rectangular black ThinkPad lid on top of my shoulders. I have a life to lead, friends to see, a grandmother to organise, a crazy mother to keep at bay. I have a million billion things to organise, a hyperbole conference to attend, and I'm supposed to be working out how I can get my life back, also known as going back to work.


And yet, all I can really think about is the latest installment in the Southern Vampire series, the imaginatively titled Dead Reckoning. Well, not the actual book of course, it's mostly badly written tripe made interesting by the television adaptation. Not so bad that I might stop reading it, but there you are. That's me. Shitmagnet.


So no, not the book, just the far, far more important issue of whether Sookie is going to end up with Eric or not. I am royally annoyed to discover that I actually care about this. I spent a little time wondering why on Earth I should be allowing such trivial matters to invade my brain space, but then I looked at this picture and I was no longer lost for a reason.

I am hoping that Charlaine Harris is going on a bit of a walkabout, and we'll be back to business as usual in the next book or two (though business as usual seems to involve rather a lot of beating around the bush and no romantic resolution or happiness). But there are little hints there, hints of a Beel and Sookeh reunion. Now, maybe I've been swayed by the rather on-point blog post on the Sookieverse about the borderline abusive sex scenes between Sookie and Bill, but the thought of that story line being revisited turns my stomach.


But then, why have Bill, when you can have Eric. Really?


I feel better now. Less frivolous. Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. World peace next.