If everyone is an unreliable narrator of his or her own life, then are there really reliable accounts of anything when you bring human nature in, when you factor in different perspectives and psychological issues and even memory? Even a recording–even the cameras used to film this show–may not display the full picture, and that’s an idea that is ever so pervasive throughout this pilot.
“Whatever you decide, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you, and I wish you luck.”
In the type of environment Carrie and Quinn and Saul and the rest live in, the concept of choice becomes muddled, and your own agency oftentimes becomes secondary to what’s happening around you. Moving forward, Aayan must decide whether or not to tell his story in exchange for a ticket out of Pakistan, but either way, he’s still doing something that’s the result of him simply being thrown into a situation unwillingly. He wanted no part of this, he’s afraid, and ironically, the fact that he’s an aspiring doctor is used to trick him, to get him into a room with Carrie, to get him to hear an offer that would allow him to live out those aspirations elsewhere.
KIM JONG-UN COLD OPEN: Bobby Moynihan’s physical comedy makes this sketch much funnier than it should be, but at the end of it all–thankfully, only three minutes–it’s still pretty awful. There are no jokes here, and this seems like something the writers came up with in about 15 seconds. GRADE: D+
MONOLOGUE: Oh hi, Kristen Wiig. I never expected you to show up. Never. Anyway, the monologue is just perfectly average, with some pretty bland singing, a cameo by Harvey Fierstein, and a few middling jokes. GRADE: C+
“We all get our strength from you.”
“The Waiting Room” tests that strength, placing Zeek under the knife and the rest of the family in a waiting room. Waiting can oftentimes be an extremely difficult thing to do because you’re left with your own thoughts, left to think about, in Adam’s case, possible worst case scenarios. Hospitals save lives, but the ambience in a waiting room is anything but pleasant because each person, to some extent, is fearing the worst.
American Horror Story has dealt with all of the themes currently being dealt with in Freak Show. However, for all the explorations of the repressed in society and for all the emphasis on the “freaks” of the past three seasons, this is the season that looks to tackle the issue head on, placing all of its characters within the confines of an actual “freak show” and expounding on the “us vs. them” mentality that’s ever so pervasive in these types of situations.
“A man cannot live by two names.”
A dilemma many superheroes must deal with is the question of how to balance a personal and a professional life, how to, in this show’s case, balance Oliver Queen and The Arrow. Throughout the season three premiere, we see that dilemma being applied not only to Oliver, but also to those who’ve come into contact with him, to those who’ve structured much of their lives around him in one form or another.
“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.
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