“You can’t run away from your past.”
The dating scene is oftentimes a way to get a fresh start, to move on from whatever bad history you may have or whatever problems you’ve encountered in the past. However, “Wingman” suggests that no matter what you do and no matter who you do it with, the past will always, to some extent, catch up with you. It’s how you handle the situation that determines who you will be moving forward.
“Then who will be called to account?”
When many of your characters have murdered and lied and cheated, accountability oftentimes becomes a major theme as a series draws to a close. How will these people face up to what they have done? Are they remorseful? Will they face the consequences? How will they face the consequences? Throughout “King of Norway”, past, present, and future are intertwined as people must decide who they want to be and, in some cases, who they will have to be in order to move on in life.
“Nothing is written that cannot be changed. It is a small world, after all. We made it that way.”
The most frustrating thing about The Strain is that it’s rarely truly great and rarely truly terrible. It’s just fine, and although there’s quite a bit of potential here, questionable writing and flat acting from many of the cast members drags down what could be a very entertaining show (and what was one throughout that whole gas station episode). The season one finale, “The Master”, is simply fine. It’s fun in places, mind-numbingly stupid in others, and alternating between boring and intriguing during the rest.
“You people are monsters.”
If part one illustrates a Carrie Mathison who is intelligent, capable, and determined, part two illustrates a Carrie Mathison who is adrift, out of place, and drowning. Her home is in the field, outside of the United States and far away from her baby–and therefore her past–and she’ll do anything to stay there because without the work, she has no idea who she is.
“What have we done to each other?”
This is the question Nick Dunne poses to the world in the first minute of Gone Girl, and it hangs over every single plot development and over every ounce of characterization in the remainder of the David Fincher-Gillian Flynn film. It’s a mesmerizing ride, a two hour-plus piece of glorious filmmaking and pure entertainment that immerses you in an atmosphere that never lets go of its frenetic pace, that never ceases to be compelling.
60 MINUTES: Political openings haven’t been the show’s strong suit, and this sketch isn’t changing anything. It avoids really tackling the issues it’s looking at and instead decides to structure everything around lampooning social media, and it doesn’t work very well. GRADE: C
MONOLOGUE: The sequence with Silverman and the audience member is pretty funny, and it’s a good incorporation of the audience into the monologue. Although the rest of the monologue goes on for a bit too long to really deliver the laughs, it delivers nicely for Silverman as a comedian. GRADE: B
“Coach…he’s the best.”
The past is important. The memories you’ve shared with those around you stick with you throughout your life, influencing your decisions and your future relationships. Sometimes, there’s that one moment that fundamentally changes who you become. Maybe, for example, it’s a meeting with a football Coach, someone who takes jail and lying in a ditch somewhere out of the equation.
“I’m going out on my own terms.”
Throughout “Happy Birthday, Zeek”, responsibility to a family is placed alongside an individual’s desires, and the question for Zeek becomes not only whether he wants to do the surgery or not, but also whether what his family wants outweighs his insistence on going out on his own terms. There’s an interesting framing device to the episode in the birthday party–considering a birthday is probably the most personal day of each year–and the show utilizes that party to wonderfully execute its stories, bringing the Bravermans together for one of the last family gatherings we’ll be seeing.
“I’m not like you.”
At the heart of the show, we’ve always had Marco and Sonya, two people with different ways of going about the world, but two people who work well together. Over the course of the season, we’ve seen them grow distant, tension simmering between them after Marco’s murder of the Juarez cops, but we’ve also seen them move toward each other again. In “Jubilex”, they will both be moving forward knowing the other has his or her back.
“It wouldn’t be the meaning you want.”
“It’s the only meaning I have.”
The first half of “Nautilus” throws us into what seems to be another “case of the week” episode, but a flip is switched at the midpoint of the hour when it’s revealed that Samaritan is behind the creation of the game Claire’s playing. Through this revelation, the writers begin to draw ideas and characterization from last week’s premiere, effectively setting up the rest of the season when all’s said and done.
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