Tag: TV

Killing Eve: Season Two

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★★★
“Sophomore slump.”

[Warning: this piece will contain significant spoilers for the show. READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK!] It was always going to be difficult, if not impossible, for the second series of Killing Eve to match the brilliance of the first. That had ended with mousy MI-5 desk jockey Eve (Oh) stabbing ruthless assassin Villanelle (Connor), as they lay on a bed – platonically, but you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Where would things go from there? The answer, unfortunately, is nowhere particularly much, except for some thoroughly unconvincing plot twists, such as Villanelle going to work for MI-5. Hello? Did everyone forget her cold-blooded murders of agents Bill Pargrave and Frank Haleton in season one? Let’s just pretend she’s one of us, and send her off on a mission without so much as a background check, m’kay?

This is, of course, an attempt to keep the relationship Eve and Villanelle going, bringing them into a close proximity to each other, where that sexual tension can continue to boil, albeit at the cost of plausibility, Not that it was ever the show’s strong suit to begin with. This is significantly less interesting than the cat-and-mouse game between the two of the first series, and frankly, too often borders on poorly-written fan fiction. A main thread seems to be how Eve is slowly becoming more like Villanelle, drifting from thoughts of murder into an actual killing – “With an axe!”, the hitwoman gleefully recounts. [Adding a second meaning to the show’s title, moving her from object to subject. Or is it the other way round? Whatever…] But we also seem to see Villanelle becoming more human. For someone who isn’t supposed to be able to experience human feelings, she certainly appears a pretty damn emotional psychopath.

You can all but ignore the silly plots, such as a convoluted effort to bring down a high-tech entrepreneur selling an uber-Google to the highest bidder, who – wouldn’t you know it? – turns out to be a serial killer himself. Or the marital relationship of Eve and husband Niko: now that both sides have been unfaithful, it should have been buried. Or the brief introduction of another, equally talented female assassin, which is disposed of so quickly, it’s possible I may have made up the entire thing. What keeps the show going, and allows this to remain surprisingly watchable given the weak writing, are the extraordinary performances of the two leads. A contrast in acting styles, between Comer’s flamboyance and Oh’s internal anguish, it proves that both can be equally effective. And there are sequences which still work brilliantly, such as Villanelle’s dalliance with private wet work, stringing up and butchering an unfaithful husband in a window in Amsterdam’s red-light district, like some kind of twisted performance art.

After becoming an under-the-radar hit the first time, the second set of episodes seems to have left a lot of people unsatisfied, for a variety of reason. And the ratings reflect this. Having managed the almost unprecedented feat of increasing almost every week the first time round, this season saw fewer viewers for every part after the debut, than the equivalent in series one. Maybe renewing it the day after that opening episode was a mistake? The final scene of this series ends in a mirror image of its predecessor, Villanelle shooting Eve in a fit of pique after she responds to Villanelle’s declaration of love with “You don’t know what that is,” and walks away. Of course, the renewal and critical acclaim basically make it certain Eve isn’t dead. So it’s less a case of “What will happen?”, than “What cheat will the writers use to get out of the corner into which they’ve painted themselves?” I’m going with a bullet-proof vest.

It’s a shame, since the second volume in the novels went in a very different direction, put the pieces together in far superior fashion and reached the end with a genuine cliff-hanger. Hopefully the third season separates its two leads and gets back to what the show did well, letting each performance shine on its own terms, rather than trying to force oil and water together, to the benefit only of fan ‘shippers. In the penultimate scene of the last episode, Eve  and Villanelle are stumbling through a maze of underground passages below Rome, trying to find their way out of the darkness. Unfortunately, that turned out to an entirely appropriate metaphor for the problems of the second season as a whole.

Showrunner: Emerald Fennell
Star: Sandra Oh, Jodie Comer, Fiona Shaw, Henry Lloyd-Hughes

Tidelands

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★★★
“Attack of the killer cartel mermaids.”

Cal McTeer (Best) has just got out of prison after serving a 12-year sentence for arson leading to murder, a crime she committed as a teenager. Returning to her home town of Orphelin Bay, she finds her brother, Augie (Jakubenko), now working as a conduit for drugs, with the connivance of at least some local cops, and supplied by the mysterious Adrielle Cuthbert (Pataky). She oversees a commune near town called L’Attente with a zero-tolerance policy for dissent, and uses the proceeds of her narco-aquatics to fund a worldwide search for mysterious fragments of pottery. Turns out she is queen of the Tidelanders: the offspring of humanity and legendary sirens who inhabit the ocean. Though Cal doesn’t know it initially, a near-death experience shows that she is of similar stock. Adrielle doesn’t like the competition. And neither does local gangster Gregori Stolin (Koman), who is intent on muscling in on Augie’s business, and cutting out the middleman, to work directly with Adrielle.

It’s part Banshee, part True Blood, and part its own strange creation. It could well have been just a crime drama with familial overtones, an antipodean take on Sons of Anarchy: Cal’s father was lost at sea, and her mother spent what should have been the resulting inheritance on buying the local bar. Yet the makers opted to add fantastical creatures into it, though the sirens themselves are only ever glimpsed in cameo, at least for the first series. It is refreshingly gynocentric: Cal vs. Adrielle is the dynamic at the core, and considerably more interesting than Augie vs. Gregori, with neither woman prepared to give an inch of ground.  There’s no doubt who’s in charge, Adrielle dealing ruthlessly with any challenges to her authority, helped by the seer she keeps chained up in the basement.

It doesn’t end in any meaningful way, and I presume this first Netflix original series to come from Australia will be returning to expand further on the mythology set up in its debut run. For example, I was intrigued by the brief depiction of an apparent anti-siren secret society, run by local women who lost their men (one way or another) to the creatures, and maybe this will be developed further next season.  There’s something of a soap-opera feel to it as well, in that almost everyone is uniformly attractive, and seem to be having copious amount of sex – whether for pleasure or power. The sunny seaside setting also lends itself to plenty of cheesecake for both sexes, whether it’s shirtless beach bods, or Adrielle’s apparent aversion to bras.

Best makes for a solid heroine though, who takes no shit from anyone and, as is clearly demonstrated from her opening scene, is more than capable of taking care of herself – in or out of the water. She and the better-known Pataky are always worth watching in their scenes. While I’m not quite as convinced by anyone else, there was still enough to get us through these eight episodes, and leave us hungry for some more fish tales.

Creators: Stephen M. Irwin and Leigh McGrath
Star: Charlotte Best, Elsa Pataky, Aaron Jakubenko, Jacek Koman

Hanna (TV series)

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★★½
“More is less.”

I was quite surprised to hear about Amazon taking up Joe Wright’s 2011 movie of the same name, and turning it into a TV series. There didn’t seem to be an enormous amount of point: the film was perfectly self-contained as it was, and didn’t appear to need expansion. Having now watched the eight 50-minute episodes from the first season… I’m still not sure of the point.

The first three are more or less a stretched-out version of the original movie, beginning with Hanna (Creed-Miles) and her adoptive father Erik Heller (Kinnaman) living completely off the grid in the middle of a European forest. They are re-located by the CIA black operation which had attempted to turn Hanna into a super-soldier, under the control of Marissa Wiegler (Enos – amusing to see her and Kinnaman on opposite sides, since they were partners on the American remake of The Killing), and from which Erick had freed her. Hanna is kidnapped, and taken to a secure facility, though escapes and has to make her way across Europe, solo, in order to be re-united with her father.

So far, so adequate, though the knock-off Chemical Brothers electro-noodly score served mostly to remind me of how good the original was, and we could certainly have used more of Hanna in action. It’s in the middle section that this completely loses its way. If you’ve seen the film, you’ll know on her trans-continental journey, the heroine is befriended by a British family and their daughter, Sophie (Barretto). Here after they part ways, Hanna takes a detour to Britain, hangs out with Sophie, and spends the middle episodes being a teenager, with all the annoying brattiness that entails. Was there anyone who wanted to see this? Certainly not me, and this very nearly went into the “Did not finish” pile as a result, because it’s extremely annoying.

The series does somewhat redeem itself over the final couple of episodes. We discover that the project from which Hanna was spawned, is still operating – and this comes as much of a shock to Marissa as anyone. Hanna and Erik head towards the complex which houses it, with the aim of liberating all the other proto-Hannas, pursued both by Wiegler and the combined forces of the military-industrial complex. However, not everyone necessarily wants to be rescued… The series ends on an open note, and Amazon recently announced there will be a second season. To be honest, you couls get caught up by skipping the first six episodes entirely, and just watching the movie, then parts 7-8.

The series does fill in much more of Hanna’s back-story, in particular how she became part of the project, and I also did like the way Wiegler’s position shifts over the course of the show. It will be interesting to see where she goes in the next season, since her position is now little less precarious than Hanna’s [and as we see at one point, Marissa has some skills of her own!]. On that basis, I’m not prepared to write this off yet, since it will now have to find fresh earth to till. Hopefully Farr does a better job there with original ideas, than of transforming his own work for the small screen.

Creator: David Farr
Star: Esme Creed-Miles, Joel Kinnaman, Mireille Enos, Rhianne Barreto

Codename: Villanelle vs. Killing Eve

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Credit: Entertainment Weekly

“You are an evolutionary necessity.”

With the second series of Killing Eve starting this month, and one of our most eagerly anticipated TV shows of the year, it seems a good point to take a look back at Luke Jennings’s original source material, and its translation to the small screen. Codename: Villanelle was originally self-published by Jennings as four separate novellas, the first (with the same name) appearing in February 2014. It was followed by Villanelle: Hollowpoint in August, then Villanelle: Shanghai and Odessa in February and June of the following year.

It wasn’t Jennings’s first published work: far from it, with Atlantic appearing back in 1995. These were mostly what Jennings calls “politely received but unprofitable novels,” adding “Our income was, to say the least, patchy.” That probably explains why he was dance critic at The Observer newspaper for 14 years. Which in turn explains the entry in his bibliography which stands out as most un-Villanelle like: his co-authorship of The Faber Pocket Guide to Ballet…

Codename: Villanelle was optioned for the screen relatively quickly after the first novella, in spring 2014. Initially pitched to Sky Living, they turned the project down, but it was reworked by writer Phoebe Waller-Bridge, to put more emphasis on Eve, and these modifications also triggered the title change. It was a wise decision, I think. Codename: Villanelle seems very passive, a label given to a character (and half-meaningless unless you’re an expert on French perfume). Killing Eve is considerably more active, and also reflects the shift in focus from the hunter to the hunted. It helped get the show picked up by BBC America, and in autumn 2016, the show was given the go-ahead for an eight episode first series. But such was the advance buzz, that a second series was commissioned before even the first episode was broadcast.

This proved to be a wise decision. For it became a word-of-mouth hit, with ratings increasing by two-thirds from the first episode to the last. Critical reaction was no less enthusiastic: Killing Eve was included in more TV writers’ top tens for 2018, than any other show. Sandra Oh’s performance as Eve was particularly lauded, and she won the Golden Globe, Screen Actors’ Guild and Critics’ Choice Television Awards for her portrayal. The success of the series helped propel the first book onto the best-seller lists, and allowed Jennings to quit his day job at The Observer. The second volume, No Tomorrow, was published in October; we’ll have a review of that up later in the week.

But for now, we’re concentrating on the first book – and in particular, comparing and contrasting the show with its source material. What are the similarities? And, perhaps more interestingly, what are the differences? [Of necessity, what follows include significant spoilers for both TV and literary incarnations]

Villanelle

“They had recognized her talent, sought her out and taken her from the lowest place in the world to the highest, where she belonged. A predator, an instrument of evolution, one of that elite to whom no moral law applied. Inside her, this knowledge bloomed like a great dark rose, filling every cavity of her being.”

As noted above, the book leans considerably more towards Villanelle than the TV series in balancing the characters. In the show, she is initially a blank slate, and only slowly is her background revealed, as Eve peels back the layers behind her fake persona. The novel, however, fills in the basic details by page 13, while Eve doesn’t even appear until almost a quarter of the way in. Villanelle is a convicted triple-murderer, having taken revenge on the criminals responsible for killing her father – just one of a number of incidents that illustrate her socio/psychopathic nature [let’s not get bogged down in labels]. In the TV series, it’s a less family-oriented crime which gets her put away: castrating and murdering the husband of a teacher/lover.

She is then spirited out of prison by a shadowy group, known as “The Twelve” and trained in a range of lethal arts, becoming an assassin employed by them. “Shadowy” is putting it mildly for the TV version. Entirely opaque is probably closer to the truth, since we know almost nothing about them. The novel, in contrast, opens with a depiction of their meeting, and The Twelve deciding to unleash Villanelle on a target. We still don’t know who they are or their goals, however. They clearly don’t mess around though. While Konstantin, Villanelle’s handler, is in an “is he dead or not?” limbo at the end of season one, there’s no such doubt in the book. He’s 100% dead, killed by Villanelle after he has been rescued by her from kidnapping – just in case he divulged any incriminating information. Guess you never know. That’s considerably more brutal than in the show, where Konstantin does indeed “go rogue”.

The Vilannelle we see is considerably more anti-social than in the book, where she is entirely capable of hanging out with people as and when necessary. The version on the page is considerably more sexual too – likely impacted  by the TV show being on basic cable – with a habit, after completing an assassination, of finding some random stranger – male or female, she’s not bothered – for a meaningless fling. For her, it’s all about making them want her, and the resulting power she has over them. [There’s also a rather gratuitous scene, describing in unnecessary detail the unpleasant sexual fetish of one victim]

Eve Polastri

“Eve Polastri is looking down at Lambeth Bridge and the wind-blurred surface of the river. It’s 4 p.m. and she has just learned, with mixed feelings, that she is not pregnant.”

Even on the most superficial level, the small-screen version of Eve is radically different. In the book, she’s British and aged 29. The change in nationality was something BBC America required. Given their audience, it’s somewhat understandable, despite the resulting, somewhat clumsy need to explain why a Yankee is working for the British security services. That Sandra Oh is two decades older than the original Eve diminishes the suggestion in the novel that Eve and Villanelle are two sides of the same coin. Both are professional, childless women who have turned to their work, to the exclusion of almost everything else. Instead, the generation gap creates other echoes, almost a mother/delinquent daughter relationship.

Despite her youth, book Polastri has risen to become the head of her department at MI-5, which arranges special protection for visitors to the UK who are deemed at risk. She’s already intrigued by the whispers of Villanelle she has found, but this becomes a full obsession after the assassin takes out a Russian fringe politician on Eve’s turf, causing the civil servant to lose her position. Both versions then have Eve being recruited for an off-book operation to hunt Villanelle down, cutting ties with her previous colleagues.

This brings tension to Eve’s marriage with Niko, though much more so on television. In the book, while they still have their disagreements when Eve puts work before previously-arranged social engagements, there is a reconciliation (of sorts) towards the end. Niko and his academic pals help Eve crack a USB password, the device containing information that leads to an operative associated with The Twelve inside MI-5. Their marriage is certainly in a far better place at the end of volume one, than series one.

Eve vs. Villanelle

“She knows who I am. Killing Simon was a message, addressed to me. She was saying I can take you, and the people you care about, any fucking time I want…”

It’s at the nexus of the two main characters, in their relationship, that the TV series and book diverge most drastically. Because, in the novel, there pretty much isn’t one. Eve and Villanelle have virtually no conscious interaction at all. Emphasis on conscious, since the most time they spend together is when the killer slips into the spy’s Shanghai hotel room while Eve is sleeping and “inhales her warm smell.” What there is, is strictly adversarial: Eve regards Villanelle solely as a threat who must be stopped. “It’s just beginning,” are the three words from Eve with which the first book ends, as she puts a Glock 19 pistol in her bag. There’s little doubting her intentions.

What Phoebe Waller-Smith did in the show, was broaden and deepen that relationship, in a myriad of ways, both little and big. It feels more like Clarice Sterling and Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs, with a charming psychopath playing games against a dogged, somewhat dour bloodhound. By deepening the discord between Eve + Niko, and her overall discontent with life, and playing up Villanelle’s bisexuality, the TV show has added a slab of unresolved sexual tension between the pair, which simply wasn’t present in the first book. It has certainly helped make the show become a firm favourite in the gay community, though thanks to the wonderful performances of Oh and Jodie Comer, it’s far more than ghetto TV.

I do have concerns, however. In a Reddit AMA, Jennings said, “The fandom drives the success of the books and the show, and also influences it. Killing Eve: No Tomorrow would be a different book if I hadn’t spent time listening to fans.” It seems a perilous route for any creative person, to let the consumers dictate where your story goes. I’ve already seen Xena: Warrior Princess destroyed when its makers started pandering to the demands of gay fan ‘shippers. Will Killing Eve go the same way? We can only hope it doesn’t.

Sheena

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We recently wrote about the movie version of the Sheena story, Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, but that was not the most recent adaptation. For Sheena would eventually return in form of another TV-series that ran for two seasons and 35 episodes from 2000-2002. It’s quite likely that producers Douglas Schwartz and Steven L. Sears hoped to cash in on the trend of action-adventure TV-shows that were then popular thanks to series like “Hercules” and “Xena”. Sears himself was enjoying quite some success with “Xena – Warrior Princess” which he wrote several scripts of and partly co-produced.

Unfortunately, the “Sheena” show was nowhere near as captivating as “Xena” was. Sheena (Nolin) is far from the “cute but a bit naive” version that Tanya Roberts played. Here, Sheena is more a kind of eco-terrorist, fiercely protecting “her” jungle of Maltaka – so you’d better behave if you go there! Along comes Matt Cutter (Nelson) with his constantly ironically snarky companion Mendelson (Quigley). Cutter is out for the quick buck, leading tourists in the jungle, trying to forget his former career as a CIA-agent (!). But after clashing with Sheena in the beginning they quickly establish a working relationship – usually meaning Sheena will draw the poor man into another harrowing adventure of hers.

Obviously, there are plenty of terrible things that can happen in the jungle, be it big game hunters, terrorists, military coups or tribal wars that have to be prevented. While the show quite obviously had a very limited budget – I couldn’t escape the fact after some time that they always filmed at the same five locations – I give the film makers credit. They tried to make their show as diverting as possible as they could, with the time and money they had at their disposal.

Sheena has changed quite a bit from her previous version; she is no dumb blonde in the jungle, she reads Tom Clancy and romantic novels, has her own cave, is trained in the mystical art of transforming into any animal with whom she has eye-contact (I immediately had to think of the old TV-show “A case for Professor Chase” when seeing this) by Shaman Kali (Moorer) and has absolutely no qualms about killing off evil-doers in the jungle – and there are plenty over the course of the show).

Usually she transforms into what she calls the “Darakna” – which essentially means she puts black mud on her body and gloves, with bone claws on to slash her enemies to death. Don’t worry: it’s neither bloody nor (after the first time they show it to us) very exciting. I just wonder if, by doing that, she also immediately became super-powered. though she already is a strong fighter. Or if it just made the killing easier for her, as she then wasn’t “quite herself” (to quote Norman Bates!).

It seems the producers were going for some kind of developing love story – differently to “Xena”, there are no overlapping story-arcs, just stand-alone episodes. But if so, they blew it. It seems all the efforts of Cutter were in vain, after early in the second season, Sheena has sex with a random stranger after a couple of unsubtle compliments from him. A couple of episodes later, we are asked to believe that Cutter gets together with an Asian women he once met in a training unit at the CIA. Oh, and we have to suffer through the usual episode where Sheena meets her “first love,” or the one where a special-mission leads Cutter’s ex-wife into the jungle.

Nolin and Nelson never have much chemistry with each other, that would let them appear as anything more than good friends. There’s no Xena-Gabrielle spark here, if that’s what you were hoping for! So if you thought we were getting the Sheena-Cutter-happy ending no one was asking for, you’d be wrong. Cutter says good-bye to another beautiful blonde at the beginning of the last episode, who thanks him for “showing him the world”, and the rest deals with a tribe mistaking constantly monotonously babbling wanna-be-snark Mendelson for a wise, old leader with the same name. The series ends as unspectacularly as it began.

That said, while the show (like most shows of its ilk at the time) is underwhelming compared to “Hercules” and “Xena”, I do think the screenwriters really tried to come up with as inventive stories as possible, given the fact that the “adventures in the jungle” was already a genre as dead as a door-nail. There are some good ideas here: plants that raise certain hormones in your blood, making you love-struck as well as murderous (therefore having Cutter and Sheena try to kill each other); a female black Rocky in the jungle, faced with countless attacks by her opponents; a kind of “X-files”-episode, with the audacity to play that show’s musical theme a couple of times in the episode; or the dangerous giant ants that eat anything. setting Cutter and Sheena in quite a distressing position.

There are also some “guest stars” though you shouldn’t expect the A-class of actors here. I noticed Grand L. Bush (whom I know from a minor role in the James Bond-movie Licence to Kill some 11 years earlier), make-up specialist and occasional actor Tom Savini (From Dusk till Dawn) and the Tarzan of the 60s, Ron Ely in a villain role. At least the team tried, though you hardly ever can speak of three-dimensional villains here. You also have to forgive the typical 90s CGI-morphing and masks that were terrible, even in better and more prestigious TV shows of the time than this one.

All in all, “Sheena” is not a great show but given its limitations I would say the people in charge tried to do their very best. Though while I could still binge-watch “Xena” today, “Sheena” is something that I would probably only watch again if I woke up at 2 a.m. and regular TV didn’t offer anything better at that time.

Creators: Douglas Schwartz and Steven L. Sears
Star: Gena Lee Nolin, John Allen Nelson, Kevin Quigley, Margo Moorer

La querida del Centauro

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★★★
“This land is Yolanda…”

A sold enough entry, this benefits from a well-written script, but gets marks taken off for having a heroine who is rather too passive. Yolanda Acosta (Paleta) is sent to a higher security facility when she is recaptured, following an escape from her previous prison. It’s a mixed-gender facility (common in Mexico), and she comes to the attention of Benedictino Suárez (Zurita), a.k.a. “Centaur”, a  local crime boss who is also incarcerated. He falls hard for Yolanda – the title translates as “Centaur’s Woman” – and when his escape plan comes to fruition, offers to bring her along with him, to the ranch on which he’s hiding out. And that’s where the problems really start for Yolanda.

Firstly, her teenage daughter, Cristina, is on the outside, being taken care of by Yolanda’s sleazy step-mom., who is trying to sell off Cristina’s virginity. Second, is the ensuing power struggle between Centaur and a rival; using Cristina as leverage, Yolanda is coerced into going undercover at a local gym where they operate. Third? Local cop Gerardo Duarte (Brown) who wants to use Yolanda to arrest Centaur. Initially, he offers immunity to her, but eventually their relationship becomes more… personal. Finally, and by no means least: did I forget to mention Centaur is married? And his wife, Julia (de la Mora) does not take kindly to rivals; on her orders, one of Yolanda’s cellmates has an eye gouged out.

You have to feel for the heroine, whose chief concern is simply wanting the best for her daughter. But every time Yolanda tries to do the right thing, circumstances conspire to foil her, and she inevitably ends up mired in deeper trouble. It reaches almost Shakespearean level of tragedy, with death following in her wake, from prison to the ranch. Even Duarte ends up believed by most to be dead, though this is mostly for the benefit of his health. since there’s a mole inside the police department who is funneling information to the cartel. He’s left to carry on his investigation as a “ghost”, with the help of allies on the force, which complicates his efforts to help Yolanda and Cristina extricate themselves.

The performances are solid enough, and the characters here almost all occupy a morally grey middle-area. You may not endorse their actions, yet you can see why they decided there was a need for them. I was particularly impressed by de la Mora, whose portrayal of Julia puts her over as both smart and brutal. She knows her position as Centaur’s “legitimate” woman leads to both power and risk, and wields the former to mitigate the latter. She also keeps incriminating evidence about Centaur elsewhere, with a “dead woman’s switch” of regular text messages, and instructions to release it in the event the messages stop. That’s genius.

I’d like to have seen Yolanda be rather more active. Admittedly, her options are limited, especially once her daughter comes under the control of Centaur as well. However, she is set up in the prison as a character with no qualms about getting tough when necessary. Once she’s back on the outside, that physicality seems almost to evaporate for 30-odd episodes. When she goes undercover in the gym, she ends up having to face Lola, a relation of Centaur’s rival who has taken a dislike to Yolanda, in an unsanctioned match. Otherwise, she seems curiously reluctant to get her hands dirty, even in defense of Cristina, and with no shortage of firearms around, of which she could take advantage.

The rest of the show, however, is quite savage for a TV series; one death in particular is by head-shot of impressive nature, more befitting The Walking Dead. It ticks along quite nicely, though it’s never less than obvious whereabout we’re going to end up, more or less from the point Yolanda arrives on the ranch. We eventually get there, and the table is set for a second season. Not sure the sequel will exactly become a priority, yet I’ll leave this show on my Netflix watch-list for potential viewing.

Created by : Lina Uribe and Darío Vanegas
Star: Ludwika Paleta, Humberto Zurita, Michel Brown, Alexandra de la Mora

Ingobernable: season two

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★★★
“Mexican stand-off”

The second season follows immediately on from the events of the first, with Emilia Urquiza (del Castillo) on the run, after being framed for the death of her husband, the President. It’s not long, however, before she’s brought into custody… at least for a while. Her friends in the resistance, led by Canek (Guerra), are still active however, and soon get her broken out, to continue the fight. It’s a lot less linear of a series, with a multitude of threads being spun, merged and dissolved in the ensuing power struggle for control. The interim president, who is more than slightly sympathetic to Emilia’s situation – even after she has taken him hostage (above) – calls an election to choose a replacement, with two main candidates. Curiously, the more “progressive” is the military officer. On the other hand, the shadowy “X-8” group and its leader Santiago ‘Santi’ Salazar (Franco), is working feverishly behind the scenes to consolidate its hold over the country.

It’s considerably more complex than the previous series, which was a fairly straightforward, “woman on the run” scenario. This time round, while Emilia is still the central character, she is just one of the many pieces which are moving round the chessboard, in a quest for power. It requires paying greater attention than your typical telenovela, and with hindsight, perhaps deserved better than the “viewing while I get in my daily treadmilling” that it received. It probably didn’t help that an entirely different actor took over the role of Emilia’s father in the second season, which confused the hell out of me [the original had health issues which prevented him from returning], or that one episode in the middle was entirely a dream!

I still generally enjoyed the murkiness, however, watching the characters navigate their way through treacherous shoals of shifting loyalties and hidden agendas. A bit of a shame about the ending, though let me remain spoilery vague. While “the act” in question obviously sets things up for a third series, it’s glaringly obvious as it approaches. Probably doesn’t help that I was already wondering why no-one had tried it. “The act” would have solved a lot of problems, for a lot of people, if carried out over the previous 26 episodes.

The main positive is the breadth of interesting and pro-active female characters here, beyond Emilia. The one particularly worthy of note is Ana Vargas-West (Ibarra), Chief of Staff of the President’s Office. She ends up even more deeply embroiled, as she tries to juggle her CIA employers, links to X-8 and an apparently genuine desire to help both Emilia and the country. Ana has really dug herself a hole with her fingers in so many pies, and it’ll take all her political skill to survive. There’s also Zyan Torres (Tamara Mazarrasa), a soldier who ends up working as the lieutenant to Santi, and Kelly Crawford (Isabel Aerenlund), lurking even further back in the shadows than X-8.

In line with its cable-ish location, the show remains a bit edgier than most, for example, depicting Emilia being fire-hosed down in order to extract information out of her while in captivity. While there’s no shortage of gunfire and death either, on the whole this season is closer to a Mexican House of Cards, with political shenanigans coming to the fore. Though I’m not sure how accurate a portrayal of Mexico it is: this isn’t exactly made in conjunction with the local tourist board, shall we say. Season 3 seems inevitable, so stay tuned. Or, I guess, subscribed…

Star: Kate del Castillo, Erendira Ibarra, Alberto Guerra, Luis Ernesto Franco

Queen of the South, season three

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★★★
“Turnabout is fair play”

We arrived here with Teresa Mendoza (Braga) having gunned down Don Epifanio, and made an implacable enemy of his estranged wife, Camila Vargas (Falcon). Epifanio had become the Governor of Sinaloa, a position Camila took over, using it to buttress her position at the top. She formed alliances on both sides to assist her further: notably General Cortez (Arias), who provided military muscle, and with DEA agent Alonzo Loya, to whom she fed intelligence about her rivals. However, Camila’s increasingly strained relationship with her teenage daughter ends up being used against her.

Meanwhile, Teresa is on the run after killing Epifanio, and is holed up in Malta for the first few episodes, before returning to try and set up shop in Arizona. This is a process fraught with difficulty, as she has not only to deal with La Comisión, the narco-committee who currently run things, but also corrupt local sheriff Jed Mayo (an amusingly thinly-disguised version of notorious actual Arizona sheriff Joe Arpaio). Further problems ensure when her supplier, El Santo (Steven Bauer) summons her to Colombia in order to find and address a traitor, an encounter which leaves Teresa in need of a new supplier. Then, with the tables turned and the roles reversed, Camila being on the run, she contacts Teresa to make an offer of a replacement product source – in exchange for taking out Camila’s foe.

The first few episodes, when Teresa is faffing around in the Mediterranean are very disappointing. It feels more as if the cast and crew wanted a holiday somewhere pleasant, rather than it fitting into the gritty scenarios which were a strong point over the first two seasons. My other major complaint about this season is the feeble attempt to represent Phoenix and Arizona. As someone who lives there, I can assure you that Phoenix is nowhere near as… arboreal as is depicted here. Trees. Trees everywhere. It looks like the season was mostly filmed in Dallas, as for the first two series, which explains a lot and is rather irritating. Rather than fake it badly, come to sunny Arizona and film here, dammit!

Grumbling aside, it did improve in the second half, after the roles were reversed and it was Camila who was scrambling to find shelter from her enemies. It was a nice switch, and a harsh reminder for those living in the narco-universe, that you can’t trust anyone, no matter how close they may be to you. I was pleased to see a definitive resolution to the love-triangle between Teresa, James (Gadiot) and the boyfriend from her previous life, Guero. We also enjoyed the ongoing quirkiness of King George (Ryan O’Nan), though the final episode showed a VERY dark and vengeful side to his character. On the other hand, the guest appearances by rapper Snow Tha Product and her microbladed eyebrows… Well, we ended up derisively referring to her as “Miss Tha Product”.

It all finishes in a relatively tidy fashion, rather than the semi-cliffhanger which marked the end of series two, and it would be an adequate way to draw the line if that turns out to be the end of the show. The status of a fourth series is uncertain, a notable change from last time, where its renewal was announced before the season finale was broadcast. However, the rating for this series were only fractionally lower than the second set, and in the key 18-49 demographic it was USA Network’s most-watched renewal [as opposed to new programs]. I’d not be at all surprised to see Teresa return once more, and at least the strong nature of the second half bodes better for a fourth season than if it had gone in the other direction.

Star: Alice Braga, Veronica Falcon, Peter Gadiot, Yancey Arias

Strong Girl Bong-soon

  By

★★★
“A not unpleasant Korean stew.”

The 16-part series proved an unexpected sleeper hit in its native land, more than doubling the audience from debut to finale. This is all over the place in terms of genre, with comedy, thriller, romance and action threads. While they aren’t equally successful, it does a pretty decent job of managing most of them, and is surprisingly accessible for a Western audience. The heroine is Do Bong-soon (Park B-Y), the latest in a matriarchal line of very strong women. She has been brought up to keep her power suppressed, due to the potential issues it can cause; Bong-soon has also been warned that if she misuses them, and hurts an undeserving person, they will go away. [Let’s not worry too much about how this presents an easy solution: slap one innocent, and she would become just like everyone else…]

Additionally hampered by low self-esteem, she has so far largely flown under the radar, but that ends when she stops someone from being bullied by an organized crime gang. The incident is witnessed by Ahn Min-hyuk (Park H-S), head of a game company, who is dealing with a stalker and hires Bong-soon as his bodyguard. She starts to fall for her boss, but is conflicted due to having feelings for long-time friend, In Guk-doo (Ji). He’s now a local cop, investigating a series of kidnappings which have terrorised the local area.

All these threads and more, intermingle and develop over the course of the series. The crime gang, who are trying to redevelop the area, seek revenge on Bong-soon, only to become semi-permanent residents in hospital. A group of young local wannabe gangsters turn to Bong-soon as their leader. Her parents go through relationship difficulties. The psycho kidnapper’s attentions target a victim too close to our heroine for comfort. She tries to leverage her bodyguard position into achieving her ambition, which is to design video games. She has a gay supervisor, who has a crush on their boss. Yeah, there’s a lot going on here: everything from a soppy post-teenage love-triangle to something which borders on Silence of the Lambs.

Credit is due, therefore, that the end result is even watchable, given this scattergun approach, though obviously some elements are not very interesting from my perspective. It’s hard to see quite who might enjoy all the angles; on the other hand, perhaps this is a case of there being something for everyone? Park B-Y is admirably deadpan as Bong-soon, dealing with the bizarre hand life has dealt her, and the action scenes, although less frequent than I’d like, are decently handled: the highlight is probably her duel with the entire crime syndicate in a warehouse. It works better for me in the first half, when the various elements gel into a more coherent whole: later on, it becomes almost entirely about the kidnapper or the love triangle, and the switches in tone feel more jarring. I can’t say I’m eagerly anticipating a second series, yet didn’t mind what’s certainly a different take on the genre of super-powers.

Dir: Lee Hyung-min
Star: Park Bo-young, Park Hyung-sik, Ji Soo, Jang Mi-kwan

GLOW: season two

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★★★½
“Twoooooooo….”

I don’t typically binge-watch shows, being generally content with an episode or two per week. For the second season of GLOW, Netflix’s original series (very) loosely based on 80’s TV show Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, we made an exception and blitzed through the series in a couple of days. This in itself is a recommendation – with most of the episodes running barely 30 minutes, it was very much a case of “just one more…” Before we knew it, we were done, and left with a vague feeling of emptiness and slight regret at having burned the 10 episodes so quickly.

Is it as freshly original as the first series? I’m inclined to say not quite, mostly because it’s treading in its own footsteps. Some aspects have improved – not least the wrestling, which (under the continued tutelage of Chavo Guerrero, who makes a cameo on the final episode) is now probably better than anything the real Gorgeous Ladies ever managed. But the balance seems to have tilted. It feels more like a soap opera with occasional interludes of sports entertainment, while its predecessor went the other way. This series is also rather more strident and obvious in its morality, not least a ham-handed shoehorning in of a #MeToo narrative that had #MeRollingMyEyes.

If the first season was about the struggle up the mountain to make the show, this one is about the fight to stay on the summit and avoid cancellation, in the face of evaporating sponsors and an unengaged TV station, as well as the ongoing relationship between its top stars: former soap star Debbie, a.k.a. Liberty Belle (Gilpin) and bit-part actress Ruth, a.k.a. Zoya the Destroya (Brie). This comes to a literal crunch when a coked-up Debbie genuinely breaks Ruth’s ankle during a match – an incident inspired by a badly dislocated arm suffered by Susie Spirit in the real GLOW.

Some scenes, and even entire episodes, are great: the GLOW parody of “USA for Africa” is perfect, as is the anti-teen sex PSA Debbie assembles. And the eighth episode is, save for the final few seconds in which life decides to imitate art, an entire TV episode of the supposed show. It’s a faithful recreation of the style – albeit with rather less wrestling than the “real” thing – and is glorious, something I’d happily watch every week. The performances throughout are beautifully nuanced, with the best being Brie, and Maron as the show’s good-hearted bastard director Sam Sylvia.

But there were enough flaws in the writing as well as weaker episodes (especially during the first half); combined with the lack of any much sense of building on the previous season, I have to give it a slightly lower rating. Debbie’s coke use, for example, comes out of nowhere and goes there too. Maybe things like that will become more relevant in any third series: this one ends with the cast and crew heading to Las Vegas [finally catching up with the real GLOW, who were based out of there]. Until then… Well, we’ll just have to watch Lucha Underground instead.

Created by:: Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch
Star: Alison Brie, Betty Gilpin, Marc Maron, Sydelle Noel