Ian Thomas Malone

TV Reviews Archive

Saturday

23

November 2019

0

COMMENTS

The Mandalorian Season One Review: Chapter 3

Written by , Posted in Blog, Pop Culture, Star Wars, TV Reviews

Note: this review contains spoilers

The breakout sensation that is Baby Yoda does not need much of an explanation. The audience knows absolutely nothing about this character, no name, no species, and certainly no backstory. None of that really matters since the character is one of the most adorable creatures in Star Wars history. There is perhaps another reason why this character has won over the hearts of so many in such a short period of time.

As a franchise, Star Wars evokes a lot of emotion from its fans. People passionately dissect every new minute of content entered into this canon for a very simple reason. They care.

The Mandalorian doesn’t give its viewers many outlets to channel that intense emotion. Its title character has yet to show his face. This isn’t a particularly dialogue-heavy show, dispensing character development in incredibly small doses. Baby Yoda captures the audience’s attention through its sheer cuteness, but also because there hasn’t been anything else presented to care about.

Chapter 3: The Sin was a very effective episode, delivering subtle nodes of character development while also establishing the clear arc of the narrative. Wisely, the show is doubling down on Baby Yoda, who won over the Mandalorian while playfully tampering with his ship’s controls. Every scene featuring Baby Yoda is like an instant endorphin rush.

The whole Mandalorian guild is a little silly, a bit too reminiscent of the Jedi Order. Why do all of these people wear their masks at all times? Don’t the insides start to smell?

At least we finally got a female character with a speaking role. Perhaps not coincidentally, this was the first Star Wars live action installment directed by a woman. Deborah Chow did a great job with the episode, particularly with the framing of the action sequences.

Similarly silly was the idea that asking about the bounty is against the Mandalorian “code,” something that was brought up by both The Client and Greef Karga. It’s hardly outside the norm for a bounty hunter to be expected not to care about what happens after payday. There isn’t really a need to mythologize the taboo nature of his line of questioning.

There’s still five more episodes for the Mandalorian to show his face, but it would be a misstep for the show to go the whole season without this reveal. Boba Fett may not have taken off his helmet in the original trilogy, but his father did in Attack of the Clones. The difference between those two roles is that Boba Fett was barely even a character in Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, on screen for barely more than five minutes. Here, the Mandalorian is a lead character.

This episode featured a couple fun Star Wars throwbacks. A super battle droid appeared in a flashback sequence from the Mandalorian’s childhood. Best of all was when a patron of the cantina uttered “echuta” at the Mandalorian in response to his success with the bounty, a line first spoken to C-3PO by a fellow protocol droid in Empire Strikes Back. “Echuta” is probably the closest we’ll ever get to Star Wars profanity.

Thankfully, the show looks poised to head to a new planet. The dynamic on the planet that’s probably Tatooine was getting a little old, exacerbated by the lack of compelling characters for the Mandalorian to interact with. Carl Weathers is perfectly serviceable as Karga, but the character simply isn’t that interesting.

The action sequences were a lot of fun. We finally got to see a Mandalorian with a jet pack. It’ll be interesting to see how much the Mandalorian mythology comes into play now that the show is heading off planet, but there’s certainly a lot of unfinished business with regard to the fallout of the Baby Yoda jailbreak. Is the credibility of their whole group shot? Who knows, but the mystery is quite compelling.

This episode was hands down the best of the three so far. A lot of the cast has yet to be introduced, leaving plenty of plot for the remaining five episodes. This episode also put the previous one in context as a standalone adventure rather than simply stalling. As long as there’s plenty of Baby Yoda, it seems safe to say this show will continue to be a hit.

Thursday

21

November 2019

2

COMMENTS

Season Three of The Crown Lacks Purpose

Written by , Posted in Blog, Pop Culture, TV Reviews

Cast changes are a predicament that practically every television show faces. The idea of The Crown switching up its entire principal cast every two seasons is pretty much without precedent, though the name recognition of the subject matter makes this proposition a bit less daunting. It’s not as if the Royal Family needs much of an introduction.

To its credit, the new cast barely need to be reintroduced either. Olivia Coleman, Tobias Menzies, and Helena Bonham Carter all pick up their roles seamlessly, playing the aged Royals with grace consistent with the characters’ trajectories thus far. Pictures of the first generation cast, as well as an early cameo from John Lithgow’s Winston Churchill, serve more as treats for the fans than needed continuity bridges.

While the actors pick up where their predecessor left off, season three often feels unsure of where it’s supposed to go as a story. The previous two seasons of The Crown managed to blend larger historical plots with an intimate family narrative quite effectively. That sense of cohesiveness is completely missing here, the show’s attention scattershot over a spread of plots that share little in common with each other.

Season three feels determined to shine the spotlight on anyone other than Elizabeth, squandering Olivia Colman by reducing her character to a reactionary role. It’s hard to parse what exactly her plotline is supposed to be, as she’s rarely the main focus of any episode. Colman is superb, but she’s simply given nothing to work with, no time to shine. Claire Foy’s Elizabeth received many storylines with which she could advance her character. By comparison, Colman gets almost nothing.

The Crown has always been an ensemble drama, but the Queen isn’t supposed to be reduced to mere supporting character. Philip and Margaret both enjoy several episodes worth of extended focus. The show has always found plenty of time for Margaret, but season three doesn’t really have anything new to say about her as a person. The themes present in her focus episodes retread familiar ground.

This situation is exacerbated by the fact that the show now also focuses on the younger generation of royals, particularly Prince Charles (Josh O’Connor) and Princess Anne (Erin Doherty). The whole point of switching up the cast was to move the ball forward and tell new stories about this family. Too often, the show seems perfectly content to roll around in well-trodden grass, which often comes at the expense of the Queen herself. By the time the show carved out time for the rest of the family, old characters and new, there’s little space left for Elizabeth to have a substantive arc for herself.

There are a few standout elements worth noting. The Queen’s relationship with Prime Minister Harold Wilson (Jason Watkins) receives a fair amount of attention, a peculiar friendship given Wilson’s Labour roots. Menzies’ Prince Philip is the real standout of the season, building off Matt Smith’s early interpretation while leaving his own mark on a man eager to find purpose as age changes his perspective on life.

The Crown is rarely bad television, but it is often quite boring. The events covered feel quaint compared to magnitude of earlier arcs. This show is designed to portray 60 individual chapters in the life of this family. Season three feels like a big waste of time when you consider how much history lies within the walls of this family’s time in Buckingham Palace.

Saturday

16

November 2019

0

COMMENTS

The Mandalorian Season One Review: Chapter Two

Written by , Posted in Blog, Pop Culture, Star Wars, TV Reviews

Note: This review contains spoilers

The phenomenon known as “peak TV” can create a certain aura of expectation around certain shows, or the way they’re supposed to be presented. The Mandalorian is Disney+’s premiere offering, carrying certain natural connotations that this show is supposed to rival other flagship series. Star Wars is a bigger franchise than Game of Thrones, but the two shows don’t need to be of similar scales.

With a runtime of a little under half an hour, “Chapter Two” is an anomaly among dramas on streaming services. These shows can be as short or as long as they want, but the latter approach has almost always been favored, particularly on Netflix. The Mandalorian isn’t playing by the same set of rules.

Baby Yoda is one of the cutest creatures to come out of Star Wars, impressive for a franchise that includes Ewoks, Porgs, and R2-D2. You could probably make the case that this episode didn’t need to do more than simply show Baby Yoda’s face to be a success. He certainly makes an interesting traveling companion for the Mandalorian, who isn’t very talkative himself.

This episode also stands out for its self-contained nature. The conflict was introduced and resolved all within thirty minutes. We learn a little more about Baby Yoda and the titular hero, but this episode does look a little out of place for a show with a serialized narrative, especially one only on its second episode.

The presence of the Jawas seems to confirm that this show has been taking place on Tatooine. That would certainly make the most sense, especially after The Force Awakens introduced a Tatooine clone in Jakku. Any more desert planets than that and Star Wars will start to look a little too much like Star Trek in recycling the same set designs.

Why doesn’t a bounty hunter’s ship have any kind of anti-theft protection? Sure, the Jawas are expert scavengers, but it seems odd that the Mandalorian doesn’t even have an app on his cell phone that lets him know someone is fooling around on his ride. At least he didn’t kill them all like the Stormtroopers in A New Hope.

Kuiil, the Mandalorian’s Ugnaught farmer, is kind of a mixed bag. His affection for the bounty hunter isn’t really all that believable, unless he too is caught up in Baby Yoda love. In many ways, he feels like a character who’s simply there to give the Mandalorian someone to interact with. He’s not terrible in that role, but it’s not a particularly sustainable dynamic moving forward.

Baby Yoda uses the Force to stun the beast so that the Mandalorian can kill it and give the Jawas an egg that looks a lot like a pot of hunny right out of Winnie the Pooh. Weird climax for a weird episode. Not sure that the Jawas would want the creature dead since they seem to love those eggs.

It doesn’t feel entirely fair to call Chapter Two filler, a fun self-contained narrative full of action and cuteness, but this show has yet to establish its broader purpose. Will we figure that out before the season finale? I’m becoming increasingly skeptical. Chapter Two worked as a light-hearted adventure, but the effectiveness of this approach will likely diminish with repetition.

Thursday

14

November 2019

0

COMMENTS

The Mandalorian Season One Review: Chapter One

Written by , Posted in Blog, Pop Culture, Star Wars, TV Reviews

Note: This review contains spoilers

The Mandalorian carries a lot of weight that most television series don’t really deserve. After more than a decade of waiting, the first live action Star Wars show is finally here, a drama that also happens to be the flagship offering of a new streaming service. The kind of hype that comes with this terrain would be enough to destroy a planet the size of Alderaan.

To its credit, episode one never feels like it’s trying to juggle all this weight. Instead, it’s mostly an introductory narrative, one that isn’t particularly full of answers or compelling reasons to care about the characters. With regard to the latter, it doesn’t exactly need to give a reason. Star Wars already has plenty of fans.

As a lead, The Mandalorian is a challenging character to get behind. The helmet doesn’t help, limiting Pedro Pascal’s range. As far as this episode goes, how you feel about the title character could largely boil down to how cool you find his costume.

The breakout character in episode one is perhaps unsurprisingly Werner Herzog’s Client. There’s some obvious joy to be had in seeing such an iconic director amidst a group of Stormtroopers, but Herzog plays the role with complexity that makes you wish he were in more scenes.

The first half of the episode relies a bit too much on Mythrol (Horatio Sanz) to carry the narrative. He’s funny and the perspective is helpful as a means to introduce the show, but he’s also a guest character who isn’t going to be around for the long haul. At times, it felt like the episode was kicking its feet, waiting for the big action to begin.

The sight of The Mandalorian and IG-11 fending off countless foes on Arvala-7 was spectacular. The whole sequence brings out the best in Disney+, merging high quality production values with the comfort of one’s own home. The sets are all lavishly designed, but it wasn’t until the blaster fire picked up that everything really started to feel like Star Wars.

The end reveal of a baby from the same species as Yoda, the name of which remains a mystery to this day, felt like a bit of an unnecessary big finish, like the episode wanted to end on a note that would get everyone talking. It worked. We’ve never seen a baby Yoda before, unsurprising for a species that lives for hundreds of years.

While there’s no established norm for runtime on a streaming service, at 39 minutes, episode one feels a bit on the short side for a show meant to be the premier offering for the whole streaming service. That’s not to say that the episode should’ve padded itself with extra filler, but the delivery felt a bit underwhelming. Worst of all, at times, it felt a little long. Not exactly a great sign for an episode shorter than most network TV dramas.

Chapter one was a passable episode of television that never felt like it was trying to win over viewers who weren’t bound to tune in already. Star Wars is a big deal. This episode felt small. That’s not the worst thing in the world, especially since it accomplished some world-building, but Star Wars deserves better.

Tuesday

5

November 2019

6

COMMENTS

The Morning Show Is an Elaborate Disaster

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There is a sense of irony in the decision by Apple to include a program like The Morning Show as part of its marquee offerings for a new streaming service. The rise of entities like Apple + suggest that the future looks pretty bleak for broadcast television, many of which rely on their morning shows to buoy the costs of their news divisions. If Apple and its streaming competitors are successful, the industry that The Morning Show fictionalizes may not be around for all that much longer.

The Morning Show assembles an A-list cast for a narrative that dramatizes the backstage fallout that the #MeToo movement brought about. Morning show staples such as Matt Lauer and Charlie Rose found themselves transformed from beloved American fixtures to personae non gratae practically overnight. For many, #MeToo represented a long-overdue course correction for workplace sexual harassment.

Others feel that #MeToo went too far, casting men out from society without due process. Those men in particular would certainly like to return to their former glory. The Morning Show likes to entertain the grievances of these men, aired through Steve Carrell’s Mitch Kessler, co-anchor of the titular broadcast who found himself cast out for sexual misconduct that he somewhat vehemently denies.

Mitch Kessler serves as an immense drag on The Morning Show. He’s insufferable in practically every scene, which inevitably carry an aura of “bothsideism” by token of the large amount of screen time that the character eats up. He exists solely for the demographic who ask the question, “What about the men?”

The problem with keeping Mitch around is that it prevents The Morning Show from being able to move on from the incident that sets the show in motion. Remaining co-host Alex Levy (Jennifer Aniston) is presented as a woman understandably caught between two worlds. She doesn’t condone Mitch’s behavior, but she sympathizes with him in a way that makes it difficult to relate to her character, especially in the absence of other redeeming qualities.

The Morning Show never presents a reason why its audience should care about any of these people. Alex isn’t a very likable person. There’s a fair bit of sympathy that one could garner for the sexism of her situation, as studio executive Cory Ellison (Billy Crudup) treats her as damaged goods rather than a woman with a career independent of her disgraced co-host. The show does a remarkably poor job of presenting anyone to root for.

Reese Witherspoon’s Bradley Jackson is ostensibly meant to function as protagonist, but the show banks too heavily on the character’s “viral” moment in its first episode, where Bradley passionately fact-checks a protestor at a coal mine. Bradley is set up to be a rival for Alex, but it’s unclear why a general audience would be expected to relate to her brand of news. Bradley’s desire to highlight hard news is immediately contradicted by her heated political moment, while claiming to be sort of a conservative-libertarian centrist. It’s as if Bradley was crafted by a person who knows literally nothing about news.

Most tiresome are the long-winded monologues presented several times each episode, moments that reek of self-importance in the utter absence of substance. The acting is good, but there’s just nothing behind the curtain of The Morning Show. Its stellar production values can’t mask the fact that this show wants to be about the value of news and the #MeToo movement without taking a stand on either.

The Morning Show has entertainment value as a big budget soap-opera, but the act grows old fairly quickly. The A-list cast makes the whole thing a bit more watchable, but that’s hardly a novelty in the streaming era. Apple invested quite a lot in this show, but clearly not enough in its writing department.

Friday

1

November 2019

0

COMMENTS

Still Packing Plenty of Laughs, BoJack Horseman Sets Up the Endgame

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It’s hard to believe how different the TV landscape looks since BoJack Horseman made its debut in 2014. As more and more streaming services pop up to do battle, placing a higher premium on each studio’s back catalog, Bojack found itself in an unique position. Comedy Central bought the syndication rights to the comedy-drama, the first streaming series to make such a reverse commute back to cable television. As the oldest of Netflix’s Originals still making new episodes, this two-part final season brings about a contemplative aura, fitting for a show known for its honest portrayals of mental health.

BoJack Horseman has always stood apart from other animated series for its willingness to let its characters grow. Much of comedy stems from the audience’s familiarity with the figures on screen, but as a lead, BoJack has spent most of the series trying (and failing) to change. The titular horse spends much of the first part of the season still in rehab, haunted by figures from his past, but the tone is quite different. In the past, there’s a natural sense that BoJack will relapse and return to his obnoxious ways.

It’s rather remarkable that an animated show can so perfectly express the palpable fatigue present on a cartoon anthropomorphic horse’s face. BoJack looks tired. He’s ready to not be the guy that audiences have known, loved, and often been frustrated with.

Season six feels like a show ready to go out on top, lining up all its principle players for meaningful conclusions to this delightfully surreal journey. There aren’t as many completely over the top storylines, such as Mr. Peanutbutter’s ill-advised run for governor or Todd’s stint at “WhatTimeIsItRightNow.com,” but the slightly quieter tone works well for the season. BoJack still has plenty of zany antics, but the story arcs feel deliberately aimed at the end game.

This season is a massive improvement over last on the joke front. Plenty of them will sail over the heads of people who don’t live in Los Angeles or work in digital media, but there’s quite a few laugh-out-loud moments in practically every episode. BoJack also experiments with its episode narratives, unafraid to give the spotlight to minor characters.

There are a few episodes where the show feels like it is spinning its wheels from a narrative standpoint, revisiting arcs that were better off left alone. The trouble with two-part final seasons is that you get more episodes than usual, but there’s also an increased focus on the final destination. Not every episode needs to be spent driving the characters toward that goal, and some of the plotlines seem stuck in the middle.

Season six is a delight that shows how much gas BoJack Horseman still has in the tank while also making a strong case for why it’s probably time to wrap things up. Plenty of animated shows carry on indefinitely, but BoJack’s never been quite like anything else on television. Few programs have had such a keen understanding of emotion, but BoJack has always excelled at defying expectations.

 

Thursday

26

September 2019

0

COMMENTS

Titans’ Second Season Raises the Bar

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Season one of Titans covered quite a bit of ground in just eleven episodes. The first live-action adaption of the wildly popular DC superhero team carved out a niche that set it apart from both from the animated adaptations as well as the broader DCEU. The show managed to establish its core team plus a number of supporting characters who were promoted to the main cast for the second season. While many streaming shows drag their feet through inaugural seasons, Titans spent its time investing in a pretty cast of characters alongside plenty of action sequences to hold the audience’s interest.

For fans of Teen Titans Go!, the large cast of Titans might be a bit intimidating. There’s not one, but two Titans teams, with original members Wonder Girl (Conor Leslie), Hawk (Alan Ritchson) and Dove (Minka Kelly) still in the fray as Dick Grayson (Brenton Thwaites) attempts to train a new generation. The presence of Jason Todd (Curran Walters) gives the show two Robins, an interesting sibling-esque dynamic that explores the nature of what it means to be the Boy Wonder.

Titans is a show as much concerned with the past as the present. After finally arriving to the famed Titans Tower, the narrative hints at earlier strife while gradually explaining what broke up the original group. The pacing is a little frantic at times, a product of the show’s rather short episodes for a drama on a streaming service, but there’s never the sense that the narrative is kicking its feet.

Few shows feel as connected to their parent network as Titans, the television embodiment of the DC Universe service. It’s not inaccessible to casual fans by any means, but the show offers plenty of nods to longtime DC fans. Dick Grayson made his live-action debut in 1943, a lifetime before Jason Todd made his in Titans’ first season. Todd himself is quite an interesting figure in Batman lore, but the character also reveals aspects of Grayson as well as Bruce Wayne that no prior adaptation had sought to explore.

So far this season has exercised restraint with the Dark Knight, finally depicted in a speaking capacity after cameo appearances last season. Iain Glen plays a competent Bruce, suave and paternal, while keeping the spotlight on his sidekicks. It’s not Batman’s show, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be apart of it, a line that other superhero franchises have struggled to walk.

Fans wishing for the sense of comradery enjoyed in past Teen Titans adaptations might be a bit disappointed in Titans’ take of the group dynamic, but the familial bond remains. Rachel (Teagan Croft) remains the emotional core of the series, a girl trying to find her place in a world that doesn’t quite understand her. Anna Diop and Ryan Potter give nuanced takes on Starfire and Beast Boy respectively, taking their characters in new directions that build off their arcs in season one.

Season two builds upon the foundation of Titans’ impressive inaugural effort, a show that uses DC’s rich lore to offer a fresh take on the beloved franchise. With Teen Titans arch-nemesis Deathstroke (Esai Morales) in the fray, the show is quite poised to dive into territory that other adaptations have shied away from. It’s definitely not the Titans many expected, but the show is one of the more interesting superhero offerings currently on TV.

Wednesday

11

September 2019

41

COMMENTS

Bill Burr: Paper Tiger Struggles To Get Past Its Flimsy #MeToo Commentary

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Analysis of the #MeToo movement and subsequent “outrage culture” has become popular fodder for comedy specials. Bill Burr: Paper Tiger dedicates its first act to commentary on the nuances of feminism, intersectionality, and the nature of sexual harassment accusations. Burr clearly feels obliged to comment on this point in American culture, but he’s not very good at mining the humor out of this complicated minefield.

The presence of Dave Becky as an executive producer, who was caught up in Louis C.K.’s masturbation scandal, feels a bit out of place considering Becky’s conciliatory tone after the backlash. Burr suggests the importance of “due process” in a segment with little humor, his candor conveniently leaving out the situations where such efforts to combat sexual harassment were met with institutional pushback.

The theme of Paper Tiger is quite simple. Burr doesn’t want to hear about how life might be hard for anyone else. This dynamic is best illustrated through a bit where he talks about how a #MeToo accuser described a man “vigorously” masturbating. Burr describes this approach as the only way to achieve self-pleasure as far as he knows, comparing the alternative to something that Sting might practice. If he spent more time listening to women, he’d know that masturbation as an activity enjoyed by people of all genders can, in fact, have a rhythm described as something other than vigorous.

Sure that might sound like nitpicking, but the whole segment highlights a broader issue for the special. For all the talk of Burr wanting to “trigger” people, his most outrageous bits never feel edgy enough to pack the desired punch. He talks about wanting to drive by a woman’s rally yelling outrageous things in an effort to see people flail around in agony, struggling to contain his laughter at the imagery. Sure, “owning the libs” has become an internet meme, but the whole segment plays out like Burr actually believes he can inspire such terror with his words.

A telling moment in the special came when a heckler shouted about consent as Burr lamented the plight of women who enjoyed rough sex in the #MeToo era. Understandably, Burr was annoyed at having his rhythm disrupted, but he also reacted with indignation at the idea that people were questioning his very understanding of consent. His reaction exists in stark contrast to his opening segments, a man who doesn’t want you to think he’s a sexist pig while telling jokes that depict him as such.

He’s provocative for sure, taking aim at Stephen Hawking and Michelle Obama, occasionally earning a chuckle in the process. The jokes themselves don’t really dive deeper than surface-level humor about living with a debilitating disease like ALS or being a First Lady with ambitions beyond mere photo ops. The shock value is there for those who laugh at things they wouldn’t feel comfortable saying in public.

A good barometer for whether or not you find Paper Tiger funny is whether or not you laugh at the mere thought of a person taking offense to something you said. Such amusement can be had without a person actually running around screaming in terror at said words. An abstract “snowflake” can certainly substitute for the real thing.

Is Burr actually offensive? At times, sure, but more of in the eye-rolling “offensive uncle at Thanksgiving” vein than something people might actually be outraged by. Comedians often claim they’re on the verge of “cancellation,” as Burr himself suggests, a point instantly disproven by the very existence of the special. He says, “This is going to be my last show ever,” something that only feels edgy or amusing to people who preface every offensive thing they say with that ominous foreshadowing.

As someone who belongs to a group that Burr took aim at, there isn’t much to be offended by in the notion of being told transgender women “discard” their penises. It’s a joke that’s been told a million times that lacks any basis in the fundamental process of bottom surgery. Are we supposed to laugh at the idea of a gender-neutral bathroom on a plane when literally every bathroom aboard every plane is fitted that way?

Burr is much stronger when he turns his humor inward. He talks about his temper and his desire to deal with that anger for the sake of his child. Similarly, his bits about his wife are fairly funny, even though much of it is similarly laced in the denial of any semblance of advantage afforded to him as a straight white man.

At one point early on, Burr suggests that the #MeToo movement “had to happen.” He does seem like a fairly likable man throughout the special, an Archie Bunker-like figure trying to be a good father while struggling to process the ever-changing world around him. Undoubtedly, there are plenty of people out there in similar boats, resistant to change that might come at a cost to their own standing in the world.

Burr best illustrates the problem with Paper Tiger when he remarks that the #MeToo movement appears to be winding down, having seemingly handled the most egregious cases. If that’s the case, maybe so too should standup comedians find something else to talk about. Maybe soon, we’ll see a special dedicated to outrage for the people who are outraged about outrage culture. Hopefully it’ll be funnier than this lopsided routine.

Wednesday

4

September 2019

145

COMMENTS

Sticks & Stones Isn’t Very Funny

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Five Netflix specials into his career resurgence, Dave Chappelle has a lot of problems with the way his jokes are being received in the #MeToo era. In the old days, comedians could punch down and tell tired jokes about the LGBTQ community, “alphabet people,” and nobody cared. Similarly, if you were a successful older man, there was a time when you could get away with making a younger woman watch you pleasure yourself.

Hearing Chappelle lament the dawning of the #MeToo era, you might get the impression that life is pretty hard for him. Sticks & Stones is largely centered around the reasons why he feels this way. Trouble is, the whole foundation of his routine is centered around faulty logic.

Chappelle is upset that people can’t make gay jokes anymore, seeming to forget that he can in fact, make those jokes. Sticks & Stones is full of humor directed at the LGBTQ community. He’s afraid of being “cancelled” while ignoring the fact that he’s currently being paid tens of millions of dollars to perform for one of the biggest outlets in show business. Paranoia aside, Dave Chappelle is far from canceled.

There is a fair amount of revisionist history about gay jokes present in Chappelle’s routine. He’s still upset about a time when Comedy Central objected to the use of a well-known anti-gay slur, wondering why he as a straight man wasn’t allowed to use it on television. Chappelle goes on to suggest that you can’t offend the “alphabet people” at all, putting aside the decades where it was considered taboo on television to portray an LGBTQ individual in a positive light. It’s kind of odd to see a comedian who’s been around as long as Chappelle try and act like gay jokes weren’t mainstream for a very long time.

Chappelle does seem to understand that there’s a reason why the transgender community isn’t collectively a huge fan of his. He’s also right that there is a fair degree in humor in the basic plight of the transgender identity. As a transgender woman, I laugh about the various ironies of transition all the time.

There are plenty of funny jokes to be told about the transgender community. Dave Chappelle just isn’t very good at that kind of humor. It’s not particularly original to compare transgender people to figures like Rachel Dolezal. The joke is certainly not all that funny in the year 2019.

Chappelle is hardly alone as a cisgender man in not really understanding the transgender identity. He takes that a step further in deciding that things he can’t understand must not be real, or the same as a person wanting to go around shouting racist Asian stereotypes. The theme of Sticks & Stones seems to be that Dave Chappelle doesn’t care about things that don’t directly affect him.

Lacking empathy can certainly be amusing, but Sticks & Stones is a tired routine by a man who forgot to layer jokes into his act, too often sounding like a pundit on Fox News. Chappelle used to be a master at making people laugh at inherently uncomfortable topics. He’s still willing to wade into controversial territory like pedophilia, but his bits just aren’t that funny. Chappelle allows the very notion that he shouldn’t be saying things to serve as the humor instead of actual jokes.

There are bits and pieces that prove Chappelle is still capable of understanding nuance. He uses a fairly amusing allegory about LGBTQ people riding in a car to describe the differences among the various groups within our community. Listening to him describe the ways that gay white men live have better opportunities transgender people sends a very different message than the special’s broader out of touch opinions of this changing world.

Dave Chappelle hasn’t lost anything because women now feel more comfortable speaking out against sexual harassment. Gay jokes aren’t as mainstream as they used to be, but Chappelle isn’t going to have his career ruined because he still thinks certain slurs are funny to say out loud. Dave Chappelle is doing fine.

The only potential hindrance to Dave Chappelle’s career is the fact that his edgy humor isn’t as funny as it used to be. The jokes in Sticks & Stones lack the complexity of his earlier work, sounding less contrarian than simply out of touch. Dave Chappelle shouldn’t worry about being “cancelled.” The far bigger threat to his career is the fact that he’s becoming quite a bore.

Monday

26

August 2019

0

COMMENTS

13 Reasons Why Returns to Form in a Messy, Entertaining Third Season

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For all the narrative issues surrounding 13 Reasons Why’s lackluster second season, two stood out as the most damaging. Without the tapes to anchor the narrative, the show turned to the Baker’s ill-advised trial against the school to serve as a plot device for each episode. The absence of Hannah’s voice as the narrator was filled with her presence as a ghost haunting Clay (Dylan Minnette). News of Katherine Langford’s departure from the cast allowed 13 Reasons Why to move on from the story it existed to serve, leaving behind a strong group of compelling characters to center the third season around.

A large amount of season three is dedicated to a new character serving as the show’s narrator, a person barely aware of Hannah Baker’s story. Amorowat “Ani” Anysia (Grace Saif), a transfer student to Liberty High finds community among Clay’s friends, who have rallied together in the wake of a narrowly avoided mass shooting. Ani’s home life is a little complicated to say the least, living in the same house as Bryce Walker (Justin Prentice) as her mother cares for his grandfather.

Ani’s presence at the heart of the narrative is way too convenient for the show’s own good. The main plot of season three is the murder mystery surrounding Bryce’s death, with Ani serving as the link between the disgraced rapist and his former life back at Liberty. The connection makes some sense for the sake of the story, but it’s a decision that’s hard to square with what is ostensibly the broader point of this show, to show how the characters are moving on after all they’ve been through. Instead, for whatever reason, much of the post-Hannah era is defined by a brand new character who seems to find herself in practically every scene. That’s bound to be polarizing, even under the best of circumstances.

Season three remains enamored with controversy, presenting a three-dimensional portrait of Bryce Walker via the same types of flashbacks the show used for Hannah’s backstory. The decision to reveal Bryce’s death in the trailers gave the show some leeway to explore his story without appearing completely tasteless, but the narrative has an uncomfortable determination to humanize him. Morality isn’t black and white, but time spent exploring the grey of Bryce comes at the expense of other characters who haven’t spent the show committing brutal rape.

With Ani taking up a large chunk of the screentime, the show was wise to dispense with many of the tertiary tape characters who no longer had a place in the new dynamic, some of whom aren’t even mentioned at all. A big strength of season one was that it started as Clay & Hannah’s narrative, in keeping with the book, but grew to encompass all the characters who stood out over the course of the narrative, namely Jessica, Justin, Tony, Alex, Zach, and Tyler. Once upon a time, the supporting cast had a reason to play second fiddle to Clay’s journey.

The completion of Hannah’s arc left a void, not only at the top of the cast but also for Clay’s sense of plot progression. Ani was brought in to address the first issue, but the show took a puzzling direction for Clay. In the wake of whatever sense of closure he felt after Hannah’s funeral, Clay has developed quite the savior complex. Generally speaking, trained professionals are supposed to be the ones dealing with drug addicts, rape survivors, and potential mass shooters. In the world of 13 Reasons Why, Clay and his band of friends try to save everything, a group dynamic not all that dissimilar from that of Stranger Things.

Season three returns the show to top form, a narrative as delectable as it is irresponsible. Worldbuilding has always been 13 Reasons Why’s strongest asset, crafting a deep lore within its unique interpretation of high school life. These characters have grown to mean so much to each other over the past three seasons, a depth reflected in its immensely talented cast.

The murder mystery works well for the format, giving the show new life through fresh corpses. Regrettably, 13 Reasons Why hasn’t figured out yet that it doesn’t need plot devices for each episode, or thirteen episodes at all, but the investigation into Bryce’s death flows a lot better than last season’s trial. The writing is strong, constantly finding new elements of its characters’ personalities to explore.

There are plenty of frustrating moments to cringe at, especially for a show so painfully aware of the negative attention it has received. The victims heal, while still sharing screen time with their perpetrators in a dynamic that’s bound to make anyone uncomfortable. This season doesn’t do a lot to shed its controversial image besides shedding some of the more viscerally upsetting imagery.

13 Reasons Why isn’t for everyone, but even with its many hiccups, the show remains immensely well-crafted television. The acting is superb, compelling enough to carry the show through some of its weaker moments. The narrative has a habit of stumbling over itself, somehow managing to retain its power. Season three doesn’t correct every wrong of its lackluster sophomore effort, but the show remains one of the most intriguing programs in this crowded TV landscape.