Change Your Image
MrPeterJohnson
While I use Letterboxd to log reviews for most films and mini-series I see, I use IMDb to log my scores for TV shows and individual episodes from these shows. I log mini-series and their episodes here as well. This is due in large part to Letterboxd’s strict policy that forbids anything deemed a TV series from its platform. Letterboxd also does not allow for the ability to score individual episode, which is a nice perk of IMDb.
Something I admire about TV in particular is its versatility as a medium. TV allows for longer form storytelling as well as for more episodic, no frills entertainment. The fact that Breaking Bad and Fawlty Towers can both be considered great TV is a testament to this versatility. One of the great benefits of TV over film is its ability to present long form storytelling that allows for a more intimate understanding of a show’s central characters. Think Tony Soprano, Shinji Ikari, Walter White. TV also allows for more straightforward entertainment that can be a respite from our otherwise difficult lives. Think The Simpsons, Cheers, or any old school Western show (Have Gun - Will Travel comes to mind).
Thank you for reading my mini-essay. Hope you enjoy exploring my ratings and reviews. My rating system works as follows:
10 stars = 91-100
9 stars = 81-90
8 stars = 71-80
7 stars = 61-70
6 stars = 51-60
5 stars = 41-50
4 stars = 31-40
3 stars = 21-30
2 stars = 11-20
1 star = 0-10
Reviews
Monster (2004)
Monster Review (from my Serializd account)
Monster tells the story of gifted neurosurgeon Dr. Kenzo Tenma as he reckons with the fallout of his choice to save 9-year-old Johan Liebert's life. Tenma defied his superiors' orders to save Johan, trying to prove that all lives were equal and deserved care. However, the young boy Tenma saves grows into a psychopathic monster who compels others to murder on his behalf.
What follows is an imaginative exploration of the duality of man. In its 74 engrossing episodes, the show traverses Germany and Czechoslovakia in search of answers to the ever-growing mystery of Johan and his twin sister, Anna (Nina as her peers know her). The mystery expands to include an orphanage known for its depraved and covert activities, numerous shadowy figures who affect reality in ways that are perplexing and challenging to decipher, and a sprawling cast of characters all dedicated to resolving the mystery. As the mystery surrounding the twins expands, so too do the psychological, moral, and ethical concerns contained within it.
The show moves slowly, for better and for worse. What's beneficial about this slow pacing is the way it builds a detailed world with a large cast of often compelling characters. This pace can make its sometimes byzantine plot more intelligible. Another benefit of this pacing is how the show can build tension that erupts in some of the most thrilling episodes of anime ever made.
However, a substantial downside of this pacing is that the story can feel like it's meandering without much of a point in sight. Many episodes, especially among the first thirty, hammer home that Tenma is a man of the highest moral character. Establishing this aspect of Tenma is important for the show, but the show's approach can often feel labored in these stretches. This aspect improves as the show continues and finds a wider variety of stories to tell.
Overall, I'm intrigued by Monster. Despite its weaknesses, the show is a thoughtful and gripping exploration of the perseverance of good in the face of mysterious and overwhelming evil.
I have created a separate "review" in which I rank my 10 favorite episodes and my 5 favorite characters. You can find that brief "review" below:
Top 10 Favorite Episodes:
1. Scenery for a Doomsday (1x73)
2. The Wrath of the Magnificent Max Steiner (1x71)
3. The Cruelest Thing (1x49)
4. The Real Monster (1x74)
5. Execution (1x29)
6. A Nameless Monster (1x37)
7. The Demon in My Eyes (1x38)
8. Night of the Execution (1x04)
9. I'm Back (1x67)
10. Welcome Home (1x66)
Top 5 Favorite Characters:
1. Kenzo Tenma
2. Johan Liebert
3. Wolfgang Grimmer
4. Heinrich Lunge
5. Eva Heinemann.
Our Friends in the North (1996)
Checking In On "Our Friends in the North"
Watched this over Labor Day weekend and, as an American, found myself intrigued by the surreal, yet quite real, world depicted. From 1964 and 1995, the series follows the turbulent lives of Nicky, Geordie, Mary, and Tosker, four friends from Newcastle. By observing their lives, we are offered a dramatization of the major cultural and political shifts that occurred in Newcastle and London over the span of 31 years presented. What anchors this dramatization is the way these characters become involved in the changes of their time. Each of the series' nine episodes focuses on a significant year in the lives of these characters, presenting snapshots of these people's lives.
One of the series' greatest strengths is its cast. Each of the four leads is worthy of praise. Gina McKee's BAFTA-winning turn as Mary is a remarkable example of the way sensitivity can imbue a character with strength. As Geordie, Daniel Craig demonstrates tremendous range as a performer, displaying remarkable restraint in some of the show's most heartrending scenes. Christopher Eccleston gives an excellent performance as Nicky, capturing his character's creeping disenchantment with politics and life in Newcastle. As Tosker, Mark Strong does a remarkable job tempering his character's worst tendencies with a credible sense of vulnerability. Supporting players are quite strong as well, with special regard for Peter Vaughan's portrayal of Felix, Nicky's father.
These performances anchor a solid, if not perfect, set of scripts for the series. One of the show's central narrative elements is the way it generates snapshots of its characters. Snapshots seems an apt descriptor because the writers choose to present characters at specific moments in their lives. Though the series' narrative progresses chronologically, the series' narrative causality is interrupted with the start of each new episode. The series' writing is strong when it connects the lives of its characters to the tides of political and cultural change in the time periods depicted. This strength balances out what I believe to be the more melodramatic and sentimental elements of the script. Nicky's desperation to make a meaningful change births an anti-establishment sentimentality that is laid on thick as the series progresses. Also, that same character's infidelity toward Mary later in the series seems to have little grounding in Nicky's character as developed to that point. (Yes, Mary endures an unhappy marriage with both Tosker and Nicky.)
As far as criticisms go, some elements of the series' make up have not aged well. The old age makeup employed in the episode is not convincing. Mary looks no different in that final episode than she does at any point in the series, and she is supposed to be at least in her 40s.
While I do enjoy the series, the series does contain many tropes common to working class dramas, as well as melodramas that involve the passing of large amounts of time. It should be stated that the series plainly sympathizes with left wing politics against anything else.
Outside of that, the series was a fascinating foray into British drama for me.
Best Episode: "1984"
Barry: Chapter Eight: Know Your Truth (2018)
To "Know Your Truth" Is Hard: Reflections on an Episode and a Season
Just want to clarify ambitions for this review: First will be a discussion/review of the episode, which will be followed by an opinion about the first season as a whole.
In Chapter 8, Barry seems to be finding a way out of his life of crime. At last, he seems committed to pursuing his passion for acting. Much of the episode exists in this space for Barry, but the series eludes to the fact that his past will continue to catch up with him in ways both big and small. When Detective Moss realizes that Barry is the murderer she's been pursuing, Barry seems to be living his best life. Barry is happy with Sally and is set to perform with her again in a more extended theatrical piece. Barry and Sally are much closer to Gene Cousineau now, even joining Cousineau in a lakeside retreat. But Detective Moss is also at the retreat, as she's Cousineau's girlfriend, and decides to bring Barry to justice.
Though the confrontation he has with Detective Moss appears to go his way, Barry will doubtless have to confront his violent past many times again in the future. He can ignore his past or beg for it to be forgotten, as he does in this episode, but he'll always confront his past criminality.
This episode feels bifurcated in its construction. The first half proceeds in the same crime dramedy mode of the rest of the series, while the end of the episode is peaceful and joyful until its conclusion. The tonal shift is often well executed, but not entirely convincing. This is related to what I perceive to be certain shifts in character behavior that seem unnatural. The most notable is Barry, who is less stilted and more outgoing in back half of this episode. The shift seems drastic, given how much Hader's performance emphasizes Barry's stiffness and reticence. The fade to black partway through suggests a certain amount of time has elapsed, so maybe Barry has changed somewhat in this time. Perhaps time makes my gripe null.
The first season is similar in kind to many of the anti-hero stories that have been at the forefront of prestige TV since "The Sopranos". Barry's double life reflects a dichotomy between his aspirations and his criminality. His aspirations steer him away from his life of crime, where he is more gifted. Bill Hader's lead performance does a good job of capturing this contrast inherent within Barry.
"Barry" is rooted in both comedy and crime drama, and manages to balance the tonal shifts between the two with flair. Critical to these shifts are the actors' performances. What appears to be one of the little sung aspects of the show is the quality of comedic performances from the criminal side of the show. While Hader does an excellent job anchoring the show, the Chechens prove to be strong performers in their own right. Though criminals, the actors' sense of comedic timing and delivery ensure that the show's comedic aspirations extend to the criminal world as depicted in "Barry".
"Barry" is teeming with possibilities regarding the ways it will handle how Barry's past will impact him. This seems like it will be the crux of the show's conflict in the future. The personal relationships he's developing will also be significant. Who will be hurt for the wrongs Barry has committed? Sally? Gene? How will Barry's relationships with his former crime associates change? How will the Chechens reconfigure themselves after the devastation Barry has lavished upon them? All that is clear is that Barry is not riding off into the sunset.
Band of Brothers (2001)
Thoughts on "Band of Brothers"
Deciding what is worth saying about "Band of Brothers" is difficult, given how it captures the travails of Easy Company. This appears to show respect for the people who fought hard in WWII. Interviews with members of Easy Company, which often open each episode, are lovely even if they tend not to probe the experiences of these men. The enactments created by the filmmakers dramatize the experiences of these men. The drama here is compelling and the cast is excellent. The writing often matches.
Two episodes stood out to me on a first watch. "Bastogne" is, in my opinion, the episode that most effectively dramatizes the brutality of the war. The desperation that greets people who must engage in combat is depicted here in unsparing and brutal fashion. Bullets whizz by and bombs explode, debilitating those unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such ammunition. Hospitals overflow and resources become scarce. The young, patriotic and hopeful men who are impacted expire or become husks of their former selves. Those who are fortunate enough to remain little harmed in the war must bear the psychological scars that result from the stress and challenges of living in a survival situation. War spares no one within its grasp.
The other episode that stood out to me was "Why We Fight". Compared to much of what came before, this episode was soothing. This is an episode about cleaning up and rejuvenating what has been destroyed. Since that task is complicated and requires tremendous amounts of resources and time, only the beginning of this process is depicted. Victory for the Allied forces means that the hard work of rebuilding the world begins in earnest. This finds expression in the heartrending scenes in the concentration camp. A race of people has been displaced and made to suffer at the hands of the Third Reich. These people's freedom will mean more than just removal from the camps. The trauma and abuse they endured will take lifetimes to recover from. (Another note: This episode's opening long take is a beautiful encapsulation of what this episode is all about).
Ashita no Jô 2: And Then, He Returned... (1980)
He Appeared to Stop, "And Then, He Returned..."
Joe Yabuki is processing a lot of guilt and grief in this episode after killing an opponent in the boxing ring. Even though much of the episode recapitulates events from the previous series, the writers do a good job relaying this information through a mix of character interactions and solitary moments. Seeing Joe's sullen expression as he walks through the city is enough to communicate the despair he's feeling.
The way Joe decides to return to fighting is handled in a way that surprised me. After defending a former opponent from some street thugs, one of the thugs confessed that he's a huge boxing fan and wants to see Joe in the ring again. It is clear that this is the moment that inspires Joe to return to his trainer's gym, but it is unclear how Joe feels about the act of boxing and the damage he can inflict.
Regardless, this was a solid start that provided valuable context for the series in a way that I often found entertaining.
Mezon Ikkoku: The Story of Kyoko's First Love on Rainy Days Like These (1986)
When Rain Evokes First Love
A charming entry in Maison Ikkoku, in large part because of how much it focuses on the central characters' experiences.
What often bogs down many of the early episodes of Maison Ikkoku are the strange inserts of comedy, often slapstick, that distract from the more emotional story developing beneath. Kyoko and Godai are growing and that requires some reflection. The rain provides a perfect opportunity for such reflection. Godai, however, becomes fixated on events he considers unfortunate and unfair, and thinks himself the victim. Kyoko focuses on a vulnerable moment in which she aimed to become closer Soichiro, her first husband as well as the first person she ever fell in love with.
Godai and Kyoko seem to have distinct modes of remembering uncomfortable moments.
Kyoko becomes attached to her memories and they inform her experiences. She names her dog after her dead husband, for instance. In this way, her attachment instantiates her past experiences in the present. She also chooses to repeat past actions in the present. Even though her umbrella trick failed when she attempted to court Soichiro as a high schooler, she tries the same trick again at the end of the episode with Godai.
Godai, on the other hand, likes to blame particular circumstances for any unfortunate event that transpires. As such, Godai is unable to learn from his experiences because he denies his culpability in making those events transpire. This is reflected in his lackluster efforts to study for his college entrance exams from earlier in the series.
As such, the rain more than evokes past memories, it also evokes ways of remembering. In evoking these ways of remembering, the rain also reveals a little bit about what makes these characters tick.
Phoenix: Top Quality Crims (1992)
"Top Quality Crims" in High Quality Episode
I'm often fond of gritty police dramas, but it's a genre I don't watch too often. So, it is a pleasant surprise that I found this show while looking for more programming to add to my Watchlist. It is gritty and, based on the testimony of Australian viewers, captures the nature of Australian police work at that time with verisimilitude.
In the first episode, "Top Quality Crims", we meet Inspector Jock Brennan, who is leading an investigation into a series of armed hold ups in his precinct. Brennan believes these hold ups are being conducted by John Mercer, who is a member of one of Melbourne's prominent crime families. As an old school cop, Brennan expresses disdain for the structures that aim to impose their strictures on his police work, viz. The Superintendent's advice and the advice of Ian "Goose" Cochrane in forensics. Brennan rallies the police force together to bring John Mercer to justice and, after succeeding, they decide to party. The force is to attend the Police Club's "Christmas in July" party which seems to be a pleasant experience, until an explosive detonates at the party. The episode ends on a still of Brennan's shocked expression.
The show adopts realist techniques to capture the police work that will be a defining feature of the show. Interiors of the police headquarters subsist on tracking shots that focus on each officer as they move through the offices. As such, there is an emphasis on individual subjects evocative of early Warner Bros. This choice narrows our focus to that of the individual subjects. It is rare to see establishing shots in many of these locations. The choice to use natural lighting means that a number of shots feature actors who are shaded in darkness. Some of these shots would be considered poor lighting in traditional studio contexts but, given the aesthetic aims of the series, add to the grittiness the filmmakers are deploying to tell their story.
In addition to these formal choices, the dialogue for much of the series is said to have been improvised by the actors. When considering the aims of the writers, i.e. To present a credible presentation of the reality of police work in Australia, this may appear to be an odd choice. What do these actors know of how police officers converse with each other? Well, allowing the actors to speak from their understanding of their characters allows them to embody these roles in distinct and naturalistic ways. Paul Sonkkila's performance as Brennan seems to benefit the most from this. Sonkkila's Brennan projects a jaded and embodied understanding of the commands of closing an investigation. He jets around the office seeking advice which almost always ignores. His intuition guides him, for better and worse. While everyone else is committed to delivering realistic, if occasionally witty, speech, Brennan's distinct and authoritative manner make him stand out among the cast.
My biggest gripe with the episode is that the notion of realism employed here can become monotonous at times. While the tracking shots through the office are an inspired formal choice, they are employed here with such frequency that their impact begins to decay after its repeated use.
Also, few of the players in the cast shine outside of Sonkkila. Some of this may be due to how much development and change these characters will experience throughout the series, which may influence the performances in turn. As is, the commitment to realism means that most of the cast projects little personality past a general cynicism about their livelihoods. This cynicism is embodied in their wry observations and cutting verbal jabs at one another.
To the episode's credit, the improvised dialogue does provide for some of the most memorable quotes. "I'd like to hear piss off explained in depth" is one of many glorious lines spoken throughout the episode.
On the whole, a strong first episode. I know who many of the most significant characters are and I can perceive the various ways they will struggle as the show continues. The aftermath of the final scene in this episode will doubtless play a major role in these characters' lives moving forward.
Score: 67/100 (equivalent of 7/10)
Aka-chan to boku: Nakumuchi wa kiraida!! (1996)
Nakumuchi wa kiraida!!: Nii-san, I Don't Know What To Do
A solid first episode, as it establishes the context for the series quite well. The Enoki household changes irrevocably when Yukako, wife of Harumi, dies while saving her baby, Minoru. Harumi is a busy salaryman and has little time to spend at home, so his eldest son, Takuya, ends up doing much of the work of raising Minoru.
This episode shows the many ways in which Takuya's responsibilities to Minoru place a strain on his life. He struggles to complete his homework, his neighbors blame him every time Minoru cries, and he has little time to play with his friends. Takuya deals with these pressures as a 10-year old child and tends to absorb criticisms instead of confronting them.
One of the strengths of this episode is how much it presents of Takuya's state of being. While there appears to be more to explore with regard to Harumi's condition, the episode wisely chooses to focus on Takuya. His emotional stake in the situation he finds himself in is paramount, and establishing this early is beneficial for the show. Sure, much of the cast feels mysterious to me because of this, but centering Takuya centers the series.
Another aspect of this episode I respect is the way significant backstory is conveyed with visual information. Most noteworthy is the scene that depicts the circumstances of Yukako's death. The animators do just enough to make the geographical space clear: a truck is coming (and won't stop) and Yukako pushes the baby stroller out of danger. The following scene, in which Himaru tells Takuya about Yukako's death, is economical in a different way. This scene contains axial cuts between a one shot of Harumi as he walks toward Takuya and Minoru, both of which are contained in a two shot. The cutting stops once all three are in the same space and Harumi breaks the news to his children.
While I respect the way Takuya's life is fleshed out, as well as the formal choices used to convey important backstory, there were some choices I found grating. The rationale Takuya provides when asked Harumi won't hire a babysitter seems a bit cheap. It is surprising that the showrunners dismiss this obvious solution to Takuya's problems with something as simple as, "I don't want a stranger in our house." Then again, that is coming from me, who was baby sat by many people in my youth.
If I have another gripe, it would have to do with the animation quality. Character designs are often fine, but some of the animated movement left something to be desired. This was most noticeable in the school scenes. Two come to mind. The first is a scene in which a kid dribbles a football and the movement becomes disjointed and choppy relative to the more smooth movements of the characters performing simpler actions. Also, there is a notable scene in which a still image of Takuya's school campus is featured as audio of campus life plays over top.
On the whole, a fine start to the series. It does well to establish the emotional core of the series while allowing the viewer room to ruminate on future developments.
Score: 51/100.
Death Note: Desu nôto: Chinmoku (2007)
The Sound of "Silence"
After two years of not watching "Death Note", I decided to pick up where I left off (episode 17) and continue to at least this episode. Much of the viewing so far has been exciting. This is due, in large part, to the way the show builds up to this episode.
Some of the writing is a little thinly conceived in spots, but the writers have a good sense of broader narrative movement. As an example of how thin the writing can be at times, every supporting character felt like a stock character. Even Misa, whose unabated affinity for Kira (read: Light) proves to be a unidimensional, yet overwhelming, motivation for her. Misa commits two fateful actions in order to serve Light: she gets Shinigami eyes to help find L's real name and she uses the Death Note to kill criminals as Light instructs her to do. Misa appears subservient to Light more so than she is to any law or moral code.
Subservience also seems to define Rem's protectiveness of Misa. When Rem realizes that Misa could be caught by authorities for the way she uses the Death Note, Rem realizes that she must sacrifice herself to save Misa. The fact that Light hinges his scheme to kill L and Watari on the subservience of Misa and Rem demonstrates Light's capacity for exploiting people's motivations to achieve what he wants.
This episode, "Silence", is shrouded in inevitability. Light's plan to kill L and protect himself, developed much earlier in the series, is realized here in horrific fashion. Every character impacted, sans Misa, becomes aware of their role in Light's perverse design.
L and Rem both confront their mortality. Rem at least has the privilege of knowing that her death will protect someone she cares for. L, however, understands that his death is more of tactical significance to Light. Both concede to how clever Light is, but that does not make their inevitable demise any easier for them to bear.
The show's writers try to provide L backstory before he dies, but this decision seems to arrive too late. The greatest value of L in this story has been his unparalleled capacity for deduction and the ways in which he uses that deduction to pursue Kira. L's loss is also a tremendous loss to the police force and their ability to bring Kira to justice. While humanizing L through backstory is a sound idea, the fact that it is placed in this episode and that it's presented in such abbreviated rendered L's past in sufficiently defined. When L dies, images that present his childhood feel as if they could use more emotional heft, or at least more emotional grounding. There is perhaps some sentimental value to seeing these images, though. Knowing that L was once as defenseless and vulnerable as anyone else provides shades of humanity to his character that are unseen through L's nonchalant, yet cerebral exterior. Even so, an image can't communicate the reality of his life during his childhood.
More valuable in enriching L's character are the scenes in which L socializes with Light one last time. These present L's introspection as well as his softer nature. I refer first to the rooftop scene, in which L seems to acknowledge his fate and the feelings it conjures from within him. In addition, I refer to the scene on the stairs, in which L massages Light's feet.
There were notable formal choices made by the episode's filmmakers that reminded me of Brian de Palma's playful expressiveness. These choices compliment the mood of inevitability in the episode. Notable to me was the use of liturgical music when punctuating the episode's most dramatic moments, especially the internal monologue that closes the episode. (Some may also note Misa's haunting song as well). Also, the selective use of the color red stands out against the greens, greys, and blues that dominate the episode's color palette. The use of red is most notable toward the end of the episode, with special regard for its appearance during Light's closing internal monologue. Pacing is also much slower here than in previous episodes, allowing for a different kind of dialogue than the scheming and logistics that provides the show much of its substance.
With all of that said, I'm glad to be watching "Death Note" again after such a long time. The filmmakers of "Death Note" know how to deliver the larger plot developments in the story with intensity and flair.
Round the Twist: Skeleton on the Dunny (1989)
It Ain't Funny: "Skeleton on the Dunny"
Tony Twist has chosen to move his family from the city to an old lighthouse after his wife dies. His children include Bronson, Pete, and Linda, each of which is left somewhat ill-defined by this episode's end. "Skeleton on the Dunny" has the unenviable task of establishing the context that will inform the rest of the series while showing viewers what types of stories to expect.
Expository information is doled out in a way that feels less labored than in many similar pilots. This comes from the way the screenwriters create contexts in which the information can be presented in the course of a standard conversation. One may consider how the opening car ride or the conversations Tony has with neighbors reveal significant information through dialogue.
However, the ghost story element feels undercooked, which is fine given this episode's primary function. There is little real conflict in this story. The crux of the conflict comes from how dismissive the Twists are of Bronson, who sees a ghost in the dunny. This is a trope of horror stories such as these, and it grew tiresome seeing the story develop in such a derivative fashion. The ghost story felt more like a distraction than an integral part of the episode. (The chintzy visual effects don't help the story either.)
Also, the characters seem a bit formless at the moment. This is normal at the end of a first episode, but it irked me nonetheless. Pete and Linda appear to be temperamentally quite similar, while Bronson is the fearful child whose observations are dismissed as exaggerations. Tony seems to be the closest to possessing dimension, as his enthusiasm and gregariousness endear him to his family and his new neighbors.
In spite of those issues, I still look forward to seeing what the series has in store. This show seems like it will proceed with an episodic structure akin to "Scooby Doo, Where Are You!" (1969-1970) or "Ghost Stories" (2000-2001). As such, I'm anticipating a monster-of-the-week structure. With this structure, the series' intrigue will stem in part from the complications each monster brings before they depart at the end of the episode. Another aspect of the series' intrigue will be how the characters interact with these complications. The core of the show will be the bonds that are rooted in the Twist family and the community surrounding the lighthouse.