Boyhood

I went to see Boyhood knowing as much as everyone else: Directed by Richard Linklater, Boyhood was shot over the course of 12 years following the fictional life of a boy named Mason. I had heard interviews, read articles and heard the odd word of mouth review from coworkers, but nothing could have prepared me for how it affected me or has continued to stay with me.

As I'm come to expect from Linklater, the film was beautiful. It took its time with scenes, letting both the conversation and the moment play out. Just like in real life, the scene doesn't necessarily stop when you think it should. It meanders until the characters have either gotten their point across or the moment has passed. I love this about his films.

Starting as a six year old, we meet Mason, his mother Olivia, (Patricia Arquette) and his older sister, (Lorelei Linklater, Richard Linklater's daughter) living in Texas. Divorced from Mason's father, (Ethan Hawke), Olivia moves her children to Houston to start over, go back to school and try to turn their luck around. Over the course of the next several years, we see the family move a few times, we see Olivia get married, abused and divorced, married and divorced again. We see Mason discovering a relationship with his real father and understand the importance of family. We see Mason starting high school, dropping his voice an octave, gaining facial hair. We meet his new friends, we feel the angst of the public boy's bathroom. We're with him when he meets his girlfriend, when he loses his girlfriend, when he discovers photography and when he sets off for college.

It was about an hour and a half into the movie when I realized that I was so engrossed in it, that I hadn't stopped to think about anything outside of the theater. I wasn't applying anything to my life, I wasn't comparing or making it part of my own story. I just got wrapped up in it and it was such an enjoyable few hours in the theater. It wasn't until we see Mason driving down the empty road to college for the first time, that I heard a girl sitting next to me sobbing and I stopped to realize that these memories are a part of everyone's individual history. I remember that drive myself, only it was a station wagon and I remember the song playing on my blown-out speakers vividly. I remember smiling the entire way there, knowing that something huge was happening in my life and being wholly and completely ready for it.

I remember those pretentious conversations had with friends in late night diners, talking music, parents, technology-ruining devices, and who we "truly are and truly want to be." Mason's rants on the world around him and his own ideals and viewpoints felt so tender and honest that I thought back to my own innocent thoughts on the world around me.

There's a big jump between 18 and all that lies ahead. Looking back on that time in your life, you believe that anything is possible and at the same time, unthinkable that your life is ahead of you. Watching Boyhood as an adult, I found myself relating more to the mother's character, (quite possibly Patricia Arquette's best role to date). After watching the entire film and seeing Mason age and his family age and change with him, she finally breaks down watching him pack for college. She cries and says that time has passed so quickly, she just thought "there would be more of it." For Mason, he can't relate, but for her, (and us) we know that time can go by in the blink of an eye. That afterwards, all you have is the memory of it.

Yet the last scene of the film has really stuck with me. Mason meets his college roommate and quickly skips orientation to go hiking with a few new friends. He's sitting on a rock, looking out at a great expanse of desert, talking to a cute girl about the exact moment he's experiencing. He's happy, he's grateful and he's excited for what's ahead. He briefly glances at the camera, a cracked, shy smile on his face before it cuts to black.

That scene moved me so much, not only because three hours had just passed and I could've sat for another two, but because without knowing what was in store for Mason, you kind of did know. You know because you yourself went through it:. You went to college, you made friends, you discovered so many new things and you slowly and painfully became the adult you are today. And all of those experiences and memories have made up this imperfect person and perfect person you are.

Barf.

Anyway, I really got nostalgic leaving the theater and spent a lot of time thinking about my childhood and teenage years. What I would have changed had I known what I know now. The friends I made and lost, the relationships that I toiled through, the music that I once loved and the beliefs that I held so dearly and inevitably changed so much. I'm so grateful that I went through all of them and more than that, I'm so grateful that I'm done with them. Being an adult is pretty great, but being an adult with great memories is even better.

Whatever, go see Boyhood.

"I'm drinking RUM!"

Okay, fine, FINE, I will totally, 100% concede... I'm back on Team Draper. You did, Mad Men. Here we are... one big, happy family again. (Sorta.) And with that, I launch into the theme of this week's episode "The Strategy" and its theme: family.

In gearing up for the big Burger Chef pitch, Peggy delivers a grand slam hit in rehearsal - pitching the idea of comforting moms who feed their family Burger Chef. Winning quote of the night:

"Who can best validate moms?"
"Dads!"

Peggy feels great about this strategy, until Pete insists that Don be the one to pitch. (And I just don't see his point on squaring them off with emotion vs authority.) Peggy delivers the news to Don, insisting that it was her idea which Don sees through immediately. He's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and is privately overjoyed that he's really back in the saddle. (Two horse metaphors. Sorry.) But now Peggy's original, brilliant idea is tainted.

Megan pays Don a visit in New York and the two have an odd and seemingly unfulfilling weekend, (at least from Megan's point of view). Don is overjoyed to have her back, supplying her with sneak attack hugs, compliments and surprise shopping trips while Megan could clearly care less. We see Megan riffling through her closet on a mission to find her fondue pot to bring back to LA. Don offers to bring it with him during his next visit and Megan suggests that they meet somewhere neutral. A kiss of death if I've ever seen one. I guess it was enough to send Don back to the office to sit with Peggy while she tries to come up with a better idea to top her winning pitch.

The two brainstorm, (in Lou's office) drink and like any good session, one of them breaks down in tears in the end. I very often forget the differences in time periods when I'm reminded that turning 30, for a single woman in 1969, was the equivalent of menopause. Peggy is not only overwhelmed by her need to be at the top of her game and surpass her ex-boss, but she's single, "childless" and sad. What does she know about the voice of mothers for this upcoming Burger Chef pitch? Yet the two, (rather, Peggy) gets to a good place and discovers their new angle: family. And their creative session ends with one of the more touching moments in the past few seasons for me with Peggy and Don sharing a dance to Sinatra's "My Way." Peggy rests her head on his chest, a loving yet vulnerable move that I feel like really showed her cards. Don is her professional equal, her old mentor, her father, her teacher and now her friend. The two have shared so much in the past and I'm so relieved that they've "kissed and made up." (Cue Katie being back on Team Draper.)

Welcome back, Bob Benson! I've missed your pleasing face. While we've suspected Bob's sexual orientation in last year's season, there is no mistaking it in this one. He's back in New York for a very informative trip. While bailing out his client after a sexually permissive run-in with an undercover cop, Bob learns that SCP may have lost the the Chevy business, something better is coming up. It's with this and this alone that he decides to finally pop the question to Joan, his good friend whom he could easily carry on this charade with for the rest of his life, giving her a chance to have a family and giving him a chance to hide in plain sight. Joan doesn't take the bait and insists that she'd rather die hoping that love happens to her instead of making some kind of arrangement. She really is a classy lady.

And Pete Campbell and his insecure, outrageously upsetting way of demonstrating his own deranged vision of family... He comes back into town to pay his "yearly visit" to Tammy, his daughter. Trudy conveniently leaves for the day to avoid Pete but in Pete's mind, it's clearly her "debutante" tactic into inciting jealousy. Meanwhile, he brought his girlfriend along with him to New York, because who says Pete can't have his cake and eat it too? (PUN INTENDED!) Because in true Pete Campbell fashion, he slams his beer down into the middle of Trudy's newly-frosted cake and leaves the room. (Sort of reminiscent of setting his empty tumbler down onto his secretary's chair before leaving for the day. What a dickworm.)

But the episode ends very over-the-top metaphorically and very beautifully. Peggy, Don and Pete meet at Burger Chef for dinner and to discuss their next steps in winning their business. They are a family, demented as it may be. Don, the proud father, is in total support of Peggy, the talented daughter. Pete, the smarmy brother, has been left high and dry by his girlfriend and begrudgingly yet happily joins his family for dinner. The three share a TV-free meal together, just like Peggy envisioned.

I really, really enjoyed this episode and will be very sad to see next week's mid-season finale come to an end. 

Young Adult

Ooof, this movie hurt. I mean, it really hurt. It was one of those stories that is painful to watch yet you can't look away. It's helpful to watch this hungover, because watching someone feel and act worse than you is very sobering.

Mavis Gary is a 37 year old alcoholic divorcee living in Minneapolis ghost writing a newly-canceled young adult series. Her solitary existence is shaken after receiving an email from her high school flame, Buddy Slade announcing the birth of his infant daughter. She decides to rekindle this romance, oblivious and unrelenting against his current marital status and induction into fatherhood. She's an unwelcome presence in her small town of Mercury, Minnesota turning heads and receiving eye rolls at her obvious mission to steal back Buddy.

Directed by Jason Reitman and written by Diablo Cody, it retained the whit and sarcasm we've come to  know and love in these dynamically-charged dialog quips. Charlize Theron easily and seamlessly plays Mavis, a beautiful yet aging emotional wreck, capable of both instilling empathy among her viewers yet supreme hatred all at once. Along the way, she meets Matt Freehauf played by Patton Oswalt,  a fellow high school student whom she did not remember. Matt, unlike most people who hide their high school scars, is reminded of his past on a daily basis. Back in high school he was cruelly beaten by fellow classmates for being an assumed homosexual and left for dead. They disfigured his legs and manly bits, leaving him forever damaged inside and out. The two begin what any great movie tagline would call, "an unlikely friendship" playing out the good cop-bad cop, horrible protagonist and lovable antagonist that you can smell a mile away. They do share some good one liners, (and many, many bottles of bourbon).

Seeing Mavis drive through her old town past Chili's, KFC and Staples made it completely and bitterly believable at what it's actually like to go back home. The scene were she rifles through left behind relics in her childhood bedroom looking at mix tapes, scrunchies and photos is so real and so sad. Mavis's life hasn't exactly gone as she planned, yet we never actually find out what was planned. She was the most popular and beautiful girl in school and now her life is in a tailspin. (I watched this thinking and hoping that all of the beautiful, popular girls I went to high school with were all dealing with these things now but, sadly, according to Facebook they're all doing just fine.) Her mission to win back Buddy is both out of the blue and completely unfounded or based in anything closely resembling normal behavior. Of course we learn there's a lot more to it than that, after Mavis reveals that she's emotionally damaged, depressed and turning to alcohol to both fix and mask these issues.

Her blatant and failed attempts at getting Buddy back blow up time and time again in her face. Matt finally asks her, (after a totally expected roll in the hay), "Why Buddy?" She says, "Because he was the one who knew me at my best." Matt points out that she wasn't her best back then. What's sad and obvious is that she's not at her best now either. Yet after a very public and explosive fight with Buddy's family, it's revealed that Mavis was pregnant with Matt's child at 20 years old and suffered a miscarriage. "This could've been me! I could've done all of this already but I didn't!" This explosion made me get her character but it was revealed about ten minutes away from the end credits and I had long since stopped caring. The plot just felt disjointed and lonely, sadly, like Mavis herself.

Yet it won me back in the final scene. Mavis wakes up in Matt's bed and walks upstairs to share a sobering cup of coffee with Matt's younger, geeky sister. "I need to change," Mavis gloomily says. "No you don't," Sandra says. "Fuck Mercury. You're great." Thinking that Mavis is capable of change, even for a brief moment, is shattered. She got what she was looking for the entire movie: acceptance and validation. She gets up from the table and doesn't look back. All of the things we're supposed to learn after high school is long over was lost on her. She remains the character she started as: beautiful, scarred and worthy of any and all undeserved praise.

"I'm not stupid, you know. I speak Italian!"

After every Mad Men episode, I try to think of one word, one theme that best defines the plot as a whole. This week? Oddly enough, the best word I could use to sum it all up is "loyalty." It seems like every character, hell, every person, is a slave to the groove in some form or another. This theme plays out in this week's episode of "The Runaways" through marriage, brands, father figures, patriotism and comically, (read: tragically) through mental instability.

Stephanie, the niece of Anna Draper calls up Don looking for help. She's pregnant and alone in LA and needs some cash to get her to Oakland where she'll be with friends and people who can help her through her fast-approaching labor. Don is delighted to hear from her and relishes the fact that he can play the role of a gracious Uncle to a family member whom he actually loves. Stephanie is probably the most stable family member he has and loves him despite his secrets. After all, she knows him as Dick Whitman, the loving companion of her favorite and beloved aunt.

Don sends Stephanie to Megan's place to a shockingly warm and welcoming Megan. Stephanie is dirt-covered, yet radiant and all smiles. The two proceed to awkwardly comment on each other's magnetic beauty and share a hug. Megan seems totally okay with Stephanie taking a shower, wearing her robe and making her whatever she'd like to eat. They even chat about Anna Draper, Don's secret first wife and Megan remains the ever-calm presence. But when Stephanie jokingly mentions that she knows all of Don's secrets, (which, c'mon... Megan knows the exact same secrets!) Megan reacts very coldly, completely changing the temperature of the conversation. She scolds Stephanie for her "disorganized plans" and Stephanie graciously takes it on the chin. Megan writes her a large check and sends her on her way.

Meanwhile at the office, Michael Ginsberg is quickly unraveling over the presence of the looming computer, claiming that not only has the radio stopped working because of it but the computer has the ability to turn people "homo." No one seems to notice but Peggy who is understandably concerned and worried for him. Stan and company are having a field day with the discovery of Lou's off-hours hobby - the creation of "Scout's Honor," a humorous political cartoon about a monkey serving for the war effort. Lou finds out that he's become the butt of everyone's joke and takes it out on his staff, making them work late and giving them a speech about patriotism and idealistic dreams.

Don is rightfully upset when he shows up in California the next morning and discovers that Stephanie has already left. While he doesn't know what exactly happened, and Megan isn't telling him, he's upset that Megan didn't call him earlier to let him know Stephanie was leaving or even get a chance to talk to her. Before leaving for the market with her dopey red headed friend Amy, ("Hi, we met on the phone!") she tells Amy not to worry about what to pick up on their errand saying, "I know what he likes." It's just such an odd little moment of Megan claiming her rightful place as leading lady in Don's life.

That night at Megan's party, Don is the odd man out, serving as the dud in the dinner jacket as his wife dances freely with her fellow misanthropic free-spirited friends. Ironically his saving grace is the arrival of Harry and the two escape to a bar to talk shop. Don learns that SCP is secretly advancing towards winning the business of General, the cigarette company, which would mean that Don would find himself without a job. We learn later that this would in fact be the case after his very public temper tantrum written in letter-form and published in the New York Times. With this knowledge, he grumpily returns home after the party has ended and most of the guests have gone home. "You know what would make you feel better?... Drugs!" offers Megan's dopey new shadow. (Was it strange that we first see her painting Megan's toenails and answering her phone? It feels like she's Megan's lapdog, answering to every beck and call. "Paint my nails! Answer my phone! Leave the room! Sleep with my husband!") Megan sends Amy to "tuck Don in" and the three warily engage in a threesome. While it was an incredibly risque move on AMC's part, how awkward was it that this was least sexy threesome ever portrayed on TV? I felt downright sorry for all of them.

In the morning, Megan clearly didn't win at her attempt to keep her husband interested, as he is delighted when Stephanie calls letting him know that she made it to Oakland. Megan childishly bangs around the kitchen, angry and jealous. (Why?!) Don needs to return to New York to deal with the cigarette business and quickly kisses Megan goodbye. Megan sadly stands in the kitchen alone, hungover and wearing the same robe that Stephanie was seen wearing the day before. How did she think that a threesome would keep Don interested or bring them closer? Maybe it wasn't her intention, but I felt like it was all a play in her inability to be "as important" to Don as Stephanie maybe is? I don't know. And did anyone else feel like Stephanie was the one Megan really wanted in this inner bedtime circle?

And how, oh how, am I just mentioning the great Betty Francis debacle? Betty is psyched to be the first stop in a neighborhood mixer party and excitedly gives homework duties to the maid as she prepares the silver and plans the menu. She is over the moon to be the wife of an important public figure and relishes every chance she gets to show off how important they are. (Like walking in to the conversation about the streetlights, "And you want Henry to fix them?" Listen, Sweet Valley High! How bout you let other people finish their sentences!) But Henry and Betty butt heads after they realize they're on the other side of the fence over the issue of the Vietnam War. Betty remains a loyal patriot, supportive of the current war that she knows nothing about, while her husband believes the war needs to end. While the Vietnam War was clearly the most unfounded war to date, (*coughcough* present war(s) excluded), I was a little miffed for her that Henry threw out, "Leave the thinking to me!" later that night. The next day, Betty throws a temper tantrum in the kitchen after Henry returns from helping Sally get her poor almost-broken nose fixed. Let's all say it together, now: "I'M NOT STUPID, YOU KNOW! I SPEAK ITALIAN!" Oh, Betty. Oh, Betty Francis, I can't help it, you are truly my favorite.

And then of course, we come back to Ginsberg and the scene that's left me tightly crossing my arms since I re-watched this episode. After stopping by Peggy's house over the weekend and claiming with certainty that the computer is to blame for the bizarre sexual feelings that he's having for her, Peggy is rightfully relieved with a seemingly normal Ginsberg walks into her office on Monday morning. He said he'd found the valve to release all of these negative waves that he's receiving from the computer and hands her box, a token of his gratitude. Or what Peggy quickly learns is, "the valve" that Ginsberg speaks of. It is his nipple. He cut off his fucking nipple and put it in a box for her. What's even more horrifying, is that I was eating Pepperoni Pizza while watching this and have remained emotionally scarred since. We see Michael being wheeled away on a gurney as a crying Peggy looks on, taking one last turn to the massive computer and giving it the stink eye.

And Don, as we suspected, shows up uninvited to the secret cigarette meeting clearly trying to keep his foot in the swinging door that was once his company. Don states that he knows how to beat the opposition and raises fair points in why General should consider him to be part of their team. The men ask him how loyal he is if he's selling out his own friends. Don replies that he wasn't trying to sell out anybody, he was fighting for his own business.

Everyone in this episode remains loyal to something, if not blindly so. Don is happy that a family member could turn to him in a time of need and wants to dutifully play out the role of Uncle while vying for his position of power in a company that wants to kick him to the curb. Betty remains loyal to her country and the image of power from being the politician's wife yet turns a blind eye to the love and attention that her children deserve. Lou insists that all these "flag-burners" could learn a thing or two about patriotism and loyalty from his beloved cartoon character. And Megan Draper remains loyal to herself. This has to be the most attention I've ever paid to a Mad Men episode and even after a second viewing, I can't stop thinking about all the ways I want to keep talking about it.

Fargo: Eating the Blame

Between characters pretending to be saints while secretly being devils, Lorne Malvo's seemingly omniscient presence everywhere you look and a reenactment of biblical plagues, "God is real" was a tremendous theme in this week's episode of Fargo: "Eating the Blame."

We begin the episode with a flashback, or so we learn later. Milos, the grocery store tycoon and his wife and young son break down on the side of the snowy road leading to Deluth - their new town. Down and out on their luck and now without gasoline, Milos takes to the road to flag down a passing truck, only to get knocked to the ground. He prays to God for a miracle, for some help. And lo and behold from his faceplanted viewpoint on the ground, he sees the iconic red ice scraper that Steve Buscemi's character leaves behind in the film Fargo, marking the spot of the buried money. Milos, now in present day and in the midst of a blackmailing venture and day to day mental torture, learns to again remind himself that God is indeed very real.

My big question is, how is Malvo everywhere and anywhere all at the same time? This dude gets around. Anytime there is a conversation to be had, a plot line to push forward, Malvo is there... just creepin' in the woods, a dark silhouette against a snowy yard.  He's everywhere and he's everything, all-knowing and ever present everywhere you look.

Yet so was Gus, the bumbling cop in Deluth who happens to drive past Malvo by chance and immediately, (yet clumsily) arrest him. Malvo, a master of disguise, (though HOW did no one notice he stole the clerk's glasses?) claims to be a minister in a neighboring town and manages to fool these keystone cops and walk out smiling. When Gus asks how he could just lie like that, Malvo asks him, "Why does the human eye see more green than any other color?" A perplexed Gus pays a visit to Molly in Bemidji to catch her up on his awful day and she answer the question, "Because we're predators."

I've tried and I've tried, but I just don't like Billy Bob Thornton's character. I just don't! He's supposed to be creepy and dangerous, yet silly. I just find him grating. As I mentioned before, he reminds of this guy with a mix of this guy. He's just not believable and I just don't care about his whole storyline, which is obviously the central crux that the show is built on. It just falls apart for me. The scene after the crickets invaded Milos's grocery store and Malvo is standing on top of the roof, God-like and smiling. I mean, I get the metaphorical image here but I felt like we were beaten over the head with it. I half expected him to outstretch his arms like Jesus.

Meanwhile, Numbers and Wrench are hellbent on completing the task of killing Lester, their prime suspect in the murder of Sam Hess. After throwing him in the trunk, (a favorite throwing-spot in this show, eh?) Lester is dragged kicking and screaming onto the frozen lake to meet his untimely demise after he is intended to declare: "I killed Sam Hess." Unfortunately Numbers is tazed, (insert joke here) and Lester escapes for a brief period of time before meeting Numbers and Wrench again in the jail cell.

I'm looking forward to next week's episode mainly so we can see Lester get punched in the face some more.

Computer Chess

Have you seen Andrew Bujalski's Computer Chess yet? Do it. Right now. Greg and I watched this one rainy Sunday afternoon and were absolutely mesmerized.

Computer Chess premiered at last year's Sundance festival and later at South by Southwest. It's filled with little-known stars and one big, nerdy one: Wiley Wiggins! Remember the cute freshman from Dazed and Confused?

Set in 1980 and shot entirely on analog cameras in black & white, a group of men, (and one woman!) gather in a hotel convention hall to compete in a rousing weekend-long game of computer chess. But who will win? Man or computer? For the first twenty minutes or so of the movie, you think that this is all it is, and oddly, it's enough. It's super nerdy, super quiet and even painstakingly slow at times.

Sprinkled with scenes from another convention happening the same weekend, a couples group called "The Seekers" vie for space in the small, feline-filled hotel. A character named Papageorge wanders the halls at night trying to find a place to sleep and does anything but. A lowly college grad attracts the wrong friends. Later, you learn that one of the computer programs has been attracted attention from the Pentagon. Can a computer evolve enough to have independent thought? Does artificial intelligence really exist?

Stay seated until the end. Seriously. A visit from a local prostitute will have you questioning some profound possibilities. It's been a few weeks since the credits rolled and I'm still questioning.

Broad City

Broad City, which first premiered as a web series in 2011, found its way to Comedy Central in January of this year, and most recently onto my Roku box directly from Outer Space. A few people told me about this show but I had yet to check it out. That is, until two weeks ago when I was home sick with a cold, my captive eyes would not dart away from the first half of the series that I consumed like a box of Cap'n Crunch: fast and without abandon.

The show follows two twenty-something best friends around New York City as they attempt work, discuss sexual partners, smoke marijuana and generally hang around. Rereading that, it's a terrible description of what they actually do. Yet, can you try and accurately sum up any TV comedy? "They have jobs and lives and make jokes." (Friends) "They have jobs and lives and make jokes." (Seinfeld) "They have jobs and lives and make jokes and drink. (Cheers)

I'd seen Ilana Glazer only once at my friend Kevin's Stand Up show at Alligator Lounge. I remember that she talked a lot about watching porn and then made the audience sing along with her to a Pizza Bagel jingle. I dug it. She and her co-creator and co-star Abbi Jacobson met at Upright Citizens Brigade and according to Wikipedia she is "of Jewish decent." (Abbi is also a great illustrator and you can follow her on Tumblr here.) The two are seemingly breakout performers who hit it big after Amy Poehler signed on as Executive Producer of the show. Even more lucky for them, Comedy Central just renewed it for a second season!

The two live in Brooklyn in separate apartments with varying degrees of hilarious roommates and neighbors. While Ilana is more sexually-liberated and quick to light a joint, Abbi is more reserved and works hard to jump from her janitorial position at a local gym. (Which looks exactly like the one I go to... I think it is! #shoutout #iworkout) The girls are hilarious and often find themselves in ridiculous, yet sort of believable scenarios. (See episodes "Stolen Phone," "Hurricane Wanda" and "Destination Wedding.")

Greg and I got into a discussion about this, comparing Broad City to Girls. Broad City wins by a landslide in its believability factor. This looks and feels like the New York City/Brooklyn that I know. It's not always glamorous, neat or tidy, but it's the most fun I've ever had watching a story about the town I live in.

Also, be sure to check out Abbi's elated fantasy after receiving a very, very large check. (EIGHT F*CKING THOUSAND DOLLARS!)

"Honey, These People Are on Drugs and They All Have Venereal Diseases."

It's been three weeks since Don has been accepted back into the arms-length-arms of SCP and as we all expected, he hasn't left his office yet. Based on his fast acceptance of their strict terms of employment at the end of the last episode, I sort of thought Don would've been a little more amiable to his coworkers and superiors. But it looks like Don has never been more frustrated or willing to throw his own private temper tantrum.

For the fair price of $100 more a week, Peggy gets the unlucky job of overseeing Don in a new business pitch. While she's hesitant to accept this "reward," she does get a bit of satisfaction in knowing that Don has to answer to her. But Don being Don, he's not going to answer to anyone. Instead he shirks his responsibility to write tags for Peggy and openly stays in his office playing solitaire and chain smoking.

And can we blame him? Well, yes, actually. Don's a dickworm who needed a kick in the pants. He's lived in a world where he was on top, in charge and could do no wrong for too long. Now at the bottom of the totem pole, Don still thinks he can rest on his laurels and expect that the company will be thankful and overjoyed that Don's charming presence has graced the halls of SCP once more. But alas, it is just Roger who is happily checking up on him to see if he's doing his job, (really, just showing up to work on time). But in the end, Don, to everyone's delight, is still working out of a dead man's office with the door closed.

Meanwhile, Mona and Roger must deal with the heartbreaking news that any parent in the tender year of 1969 dreads getting: "My daughter's in a commune?!" Roger reluctantly gets involved and the two drive upstate in an attempt to talk some sense into their daughter Margaret. A very different Margaret steps out of the dilapidated farm house and a dirty, poncho-wearing yet oddly attractive 'Marigold' descends the stairs towards her well-dressed, sophisticated parents.

Mona immediately reminds Marigold of her responsibilities as a Mother and insists that she stop being selfish and not abandon her family. Marigold, clearly discovering that life is pretty sweet when you reject traditional society, tosses back some hefty insults at Mona and sweetly hand slaps her for how well she did her own job. Mona quickly resigns to the fact that Marigold will never listen to common sense and flees the scene while Roger, no stranger to the exotic call of the bohemian lifestyle, decides to stay and see what Marigold's new life is all about.

Roger gets a taste of reality after a night on the farm. Sure, he got to smoke some grass, peel some potatoes and sleep in a loft with his spiritually enlightened daughter and be "the cool dad" but things went South quickly after Marigold slinks off into the night to have sex. Come morning, Roger tries and fails at literally carrying Marigold out of this situation. Some heated words are tossed at Roger and he quickly realizes maybe he wasn't the father of the year, walking, (presumably) towards the train, covered in mud with his tail between his legs. What's interesting about Roger, is that he himself shares a bed with multiple partners of varying ages and disciplines, expands his mind on Acid and still shows up to work in a suit and tie. Seeing him on a farm, quick to jump in to the fun and play the roll, is still wearing an expensive suit at the end of day. Connected, but not all the way there to the two worlds he has his feet in.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be called out, but I really found it interesting how the men and women were portrayed in this episode both in and out of the office. Peggy gets a raise and is put in a powerful position overseeing her former boss, only to have to cater to his whims and be patient until he comes around on his own. Marigold and her other free-loving female friends are the ones shown doing the work, peeling the potatoes and raising the children while the men, (the 'man') rolls joints and shrugs his shoulders at the mention of gathering firewood. The same man who wakes up Marigold next to her sleeping father to go have a roll in his own hay. I don't know, maybe it wasn't meant to be pointed out, but I thought this juxtaposition between the two sexes was very interesting.

The subject of man vs. technology was a huge theme during 'The Monolith.' The new, looming presence of the office computer seemed to both delight and unnerve people in different ways. (By the way, I LOVED seeing how a computer needed to be installed and take days to do so!) Don's quick friendship with Lloyd, the "LeaseTech" representative who sought advertising advice over a smoke, proved to be unlucky in that it only furthered Don's inability to feel like he's really "at work" again.

Frustrated, Don does what Don does best: proceeds to secretly binge drink in his office, breaking one of the biggest rules that will keep him employed. Valiant Freddy Rumsen comes to the rescue and brings him home to both sober him up and give him a dose of real talk. "Do the work," he says. Don says he doesn't need to hear this right now, to which Freddy says, "You're hungover, this is the best time to hear this." The talk seemed to do the trick and Don gets to work early to finish up on those tags for Peggy. For all the things we can blame Don for, being good at his job isn't one of them. I was so glad to see him back at his typewriter, clean shaven, humbled and ready to truly do the work. But as I said at the end of last week's episode: "We'll see."

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

In tuning in to our (totally not stolen) HBO GO account, I stumbled upon Seeking a Friend for the End of the World and decided to give it a whirl. What starts as a comedic, dark tale of a pre-apocalyptic society dealing with the impending arrival of a devastating astroid, quickly dove tails into a rom com right before our very eyes. 

Steve Carell and Kiera Knightley play an odd couple who meet during the last three weeks on earth. It begins much like any dark comedy about the end of the world would: snarky newscasters delivering the traffic report with, "We're fucked, Bob." Radio DJ's reporting the countdown to the end of days, "all while bringing you the hits." It was a perfect blend of Shaun of the Dead meets Zombieland. 

In the wake of devastation, it took an interesting turn in seeing just what people would do with knowing that they're going to die in three weeks time. Some people keep going to work, (with weeping secretaries and announcements of new positions: "Anyone want to be the CFO?"). Some people hire Hit Men to go ahead and kill them when they least expect it, others choose to spend time with family, (and get a chance to tell their dads to go to hell in person). Others riot burning cities while the majority of people simply do what they've always wanted to do: just drink booze, smoke cigars and wait this out.

A cast of surprising characters were sprinkled throughout the movie including Linda Carell, (Steve Carell's real-life wife who ironically plays his fictional wife who immediately leaves him in the opening scene). Rob Heubel, Patton Oswalt, Adam Brody, Rob Corddry and Connie Britton have a few minutes of screen time. Connie Britton wins best line of the movie during a party at her house: "Hey, everybody! Sarah and James brought heroin!" as others shout, "Oo! Bucket list! Bucket list!"

With the world in total chaos, mild mannered Carell and Knightley narrowly escape a riot outside of their apartment building and set off on a buddy road trip with different goals. Carell wants to reconnect with a past love, (who Knightley mistakenly misplaces a letter from her that he was supposed to receive months ago) and Knightley wants to try and make it to England to see her family even though all flights are cancelled. 

The rest of the movie is essentially Knightley being adorable and saying quirky things and Carell falling in love with her. There are moments of humor during which the couple stops at a "Friendzy's" restaurant that appears to be open. The staff is ecstatic to throw an ongoing party, hugging patrons and rolling on Ecstasy, insisting that everyone must try today's Specials because, "the kitchen has gotten really creative lately" before quickly falling into a pile of bodies set to orgi. 

They make their way to a guy Carell used to know with a plane, who turns out to be Martin Sheen, Carell's father. HE HAD DADDY ISSUES?! They share a meal, play harmonica, and then Carell carries a sleeping Knightley onto Sheen's plane and sends her off to England before retuning home to listen to records in her abandoned apartment. Knightley wakes up during flight and insists they return so that Knightley can die beside Carell, a man she just met and has shared one backseat roll in the hay with. 

While I know that this is, obviously, a far fetched premise and we're supposed to laugh throughout all of it and try to blindly accept the story lines, I was really disappointed that it turned heartfelt. These characters didn't mean anything to me and they shouldn't have. If I had to spend my last days on earth with whomever was next to me, I'd probably fall in love with them too. Because what's at stake here? Absolutely nothing. 

Just what would you do if you knew you had three weeks to live? (You can't choose falling in love with Steve Carell, that one is taken.)

"I know how I want you to see me."

This week's Mad Men episode "Field Trip" may have truly made me, (sllliiiigggghtly) more empathetic with Don's plight. While I'm not quite ready to get back on the Don Draper train to Pityville, I will say that I at least stretched my legs at the SorryCharlie Depot.

Poor Don can't get the attention he feels he deserves from his reliable and trusting secretary Dawn. What with her new responsibilities as head of Personnel, her phone is ringing off the hook and Don is no longer at the top of pile of priorities for someone with her schedule to deal with. And speaking as someone who used to be an assistant for a number of years, how infuriated did you get at watching Don pitch a fit for having to dial a number... BY HIMSELF?!

After Don discovered that his wife Megan may possibly be making the wrong impression out in LA and trying a little too hard to nail certain auditions, Don jumps on a plane to go "surprise her." Moments after a post-coital cuddle on the couch with a throughly surprised Megan, the two immediately get into a fight about the real reason why he's out there: to reprimand her for her actions. (And aren't post-coital fights the absolute worst time in the history of time to have a fight? ::zip::)

Megan quickly finds out that Don has been lying to her for several months about his job. He doesn't "not have a job" but is simply collecting a paycheck. (Oh, how Don enjoys at least the appearance of things.) But don't worry, he tells her, there's no one else and he hasn't even been drinking that much. Megan then delivers the best line in the show: "So with a clear head, you got up every day and decided that you didn't want to be with me." BURN. Don, incapable of truly understanding anyone else's reactions to his ridiculous actions, doesn't seem to get the fact that the only reason Megan is out there in the first place is because of him. He was the one who changed his mind in starting over again in LA, leaving her stranded. Once again, he remains the solitary planet in the universe that all objects must gravitate around.

Meanwhile in McMartyrland, my favorite neighbor Francine returns to have lunch with Betty. They discuss Francine's new part time job at a Travel Agency and how challenging yet truly rewarding hard work can be. Betty offers, "I thought children were supposed to be the reward." While it's a lovely sentiment, we all know Betty has already won "Worst Mother of the Year" ten times over. She returns home to find her housekeeper helping Bobby with his homework and quickly agrees to chaperone his field trip to a local farm. (Though quickly cutting off Bobby's excitement over this fact.)

The field trip started out so nicely... Betty and Bobby had a "conversation" on the bus, Betty poisoned Bobby's opinion of his teacher, Betty and another mother poisoned the air with their cigarette smoke and other haughty remarks about the teacher's braless appearance. Betty even took a swig from the bucket to taste the sweet, warm, barfy milk fresh from the cow's teat! Things all went south quickly, when Bobby traded Betty's sandwich for a bag of gum drops. Betty lights up a cigarette and reverts to her icy self, even making Bobby eat the gum drops as a punishment. How ironic was it that Bobby must be throughly confused at seeing his mom actually want to eat lunch after so many years of being overweight, and now he's been punished by being forced to eat his mistake. Oof. "I wish it was yesterday," poor Bobby said later of the field trip. Betty is the worst mother on the planet, yet still takes time out of her day for punishing her children and those around her, for not praising her for being the opposite.

Meanwhile, Don quickly returns to New York to, (finally) try and get his job back. He goes to get an offer at another firm before stopping by Roger's apartment, (pre-BLT/LSD) to shove the offer envelopment in his face. Roger tells him to return on Monday, but fails to let the rest of his partners know that. Whether or not it's just Don being Don, he truly believes that they were going to be seemingly happy to see him return to the office. And of course, they are not.

After a day of waiting around in the creative office, flipping through magazines and pretending that Dawn is still the person responsible for getting his coffee, (did I mention that I used to be an assistant?), he's finally called in to a meeting of the partners to find out what the final verdict is. They'll have him back to work, but under certain rules. #1 No private meetings with clients. #2 No drinking at the office unless it's for client entertainment, and #3 He must report directly to Lou. (Side note: how is Lou still there? With a two year contract, no less!) As much as everyone would be okay with letting Don quietly fade into oblivion, I suppose they realized that he is still under contract and it would be much too expensive to buy him out as a partner. Without so much as a whimper, a hint of ego or dissent, Don simply says, "OK."

FADE TO BLACK.

It will certainly be interesting to see how Don's assimilation back into SCP goes from here. He has quite a few relationships to patch up and quite a few changes to make in his own life. Do I think he can do it? On one hand, I could care less. On the other, well, only time will tell.

A Day's Work

This week's appropriately titled Mad Men episode 'A Day's Work' was successful in illuminating just how difficult it is for our cast to complete a full day's work. How could they, what with bouquets of card-less flowers causing confusion and secretaries who are incapable of being in ten places at once! Even if it wasn't Valentine's Day, it's a wonder anyone gets anything done!

Let's talk about Peggy. Poor, poor, poor Peggy. She's been treated like she's on of the boys for so long that she forgets how girlish she really can be. What started as a normal day in the office, quickly turns after one elevator ride with the guys who tease her about her single and sad status. She exits the elevator, realizing it's Valentine's Day and immediately assumes a card-less bouquet of flowers sitting on her secretary's desk is for her. Not only that, she assumes they're from Ted.

In what should have been a quick answer to the identity of the flowers, Shirley, Peggy's secretary, lets her believe they're for Peggy and goes off to sulk. Throughout the day, Peggy's frustration with the possibility that they really are from Ted gets the best of her. She returns the flowers to Shirley's desk claiming that she doesn't want them in her office anymore only later to come out insisting that they should be thrown away. Only then does Shirley confess that they're actually from Shirley's fiancee. Peggy explodes, claiming that everyone knows Shirley is engaged, why does she need to rub it in everyone's faces with flowers and embarrass Peggy like that. It was mortifying to watch and I was thankful when it was over.

And across the office, another battle of boss vs. secretary brews. Sally Draper, after ditching a funeral in the city for shopping, quickly loses her purse and finds her way to her father's office for help. Only she discovers the despicable Lou sitting in her Dad's office. Confused, she makes her way to her Dad's apartment to wait for him. Dawn returns to her desk from buying perfume for Lou's wife only to get an earful from Lou about how this is all her fault. My favorite scene follows in which Dawn and Joan are called into Lou's office with a request that Dawn be taken off of his desk. I really like the way that Mad Men is handling this issue of race in the workplace because we actually get to see Dawn scream, rather justifiably, at her wretched boss. Joan lets this happen because it's the right thing to do. I guess I enjoyed this scene so much because after so many years of seeing race being handled in the way that, well, race was handled in the 60s during this show, it was refreshing to see this issue changing in the way that it presumably did during this time.

Dawn is moved to reception only for Cooper to wander out and see her, making claims to Joan later that we can't have a "person of color" sitting as the face of their company. "People can see her from the elevator." Maybe it's just me, I never would've pictured Cooper's character saying this. So in an effort to quell the furies of unrelenting bosses, Joan does what any good head of personnel would do: she gives her title and position to Dawn, removing her from reception and rewarding her with a much better job. Joan then takes up Jim's suggestion and rewards herself with a better office, leaving her personnel responsibilities to someone else. I loved how that all played out.

But now to the matter at hand, (ugh), Don Draper. Last week I was frustrated over the fact that I couldn't decide whose story this was anymore. This week I'm going to say that I hope this turns into Sally Draper's story. She has completed her metamorphosis into a full-blown teenager and is walking and talking beyond her years. Realizing that her father has been lying to her about temporarily losing his job, he drives her back to school trying to engage in conversation with her. Sally has become one of the only voices of reason in Don's life, challenging him when he's caught in a lie and forcing him to tell the truth, or at least a version of it. Don has a lot of apologizing to do with Sally and Sally certainly isn't waiting around for her father to magically become a father. But they're trying. The car fight was one of the best father-daughter spats I've seen in some time.

And when Sally finally exits the car at her school, she pauses at the door and says, "Happy Valentine's Day. I love you." Seeing Don's face absorb what just happened as the door closed was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. His daughter has barely expressed anything to him in the past few years and he certainly hasn't earned it. To see his daughter not only tell him that he loved her, but to mean it must have blindsided Don like nothing else could. While I still have ice running through my veins at the mention of Don Draper's name, Sally was able to melt away a few paths with that last line.

And let us sing.

The Crocodile's Dilemma, You Betcha

Recently I listened to several podcasts from TV Critics instructing its listeners on how to view the upcoming pilot of the new FX show Fargo, which is: Whatever you do, don't compare it the movie Fargo. While the Coen brothers sit as two of the show's Executive Producers, the characters and plot loosely rely on the movie's story, and the show itself is set in frozen Minnesota... that's about where it ends.

Jerry Lundegaard, (William H. Macy) is essentially replaced with Lester Nygaard, (played by Martin Freeman) whose plights border only on a few similarities. For one, Jerry Lundegaard, while not the brightest bulb, at least had a direct plan to get out of his present financial predicament. Lester is just unhappy, bad at his job and doesn't claim any responsibilities to the situations he finds himself in. (And may I say, Martin Freeman does a terrible impersonation of a Minnesotan. I thought Southern accents were hard, but c'mon, eh?)

Lester meets Lorne Malvo, (Billy Bob Thornton) who's like a weird hybrid of Anton Chigurh from No Country for Old Men and some mythic, yet comedic character from an old Looney Toons rerun. You were supposed to fear him, yet be able to laugh with him. I suppose this is a page from the Coen brothers character playbook. Yet I don't believe I, well, believed Lester. (Loved him failing to deliver an eerie and foreboding message to Colin Hanks' character later in Deluth, "Thar be dragons...")

At any rate, Lester and Lorne meet while waiting to be seen in a hospital for different head injuries. Lester relays his reason for sustaining his injury, (an old High School bully still, somehow, tormenting him in his adulthood) and Lorne, being that he's a Hit Man, offers to take care of this situation for him. While no authority was given, Lorne takes it upon himself to complete this job with seemingly no ulterior motive other than, perhaps, he's standing up for the little guy. We see this later as he implores the kid working at the motel to pee in his boss' gas tank, but then immediately gets him in trouble for it. Perhaps we are to believe that Lester is the kid holding the magnifying glass over the anthill.

We meet other characters along the way including the Chief of Police and the other officers working under him. Like Bob Odenkirk, (!!!!) and Molly Solverson, a woman we know will eventually take his job when the time comes. (This is what's called foreshadowing...)

The trouble doesn't stop for Lester, clearly, after his bully is found dead in the local strip club and he'll soon by implicated by the Chief of Police himself. Lester is bullied at home by his unhappy and dissatisfied wife for a great number of things: his inadequacy at work, his inadequacy in bed, his inadequacy at not being able to fix home appliances. And just when I thought this episode was going to pass by with just a few peaks and valleys, Lester totally kills his wife. Not just kills her, beats her body in with a hammer.

The gruesome scenes didn't end there as the first show of this limited season surprised its audience with some hard hits. The likable Chief of Police is shot in the back by Lorne while coming to confront Lester, leaving a pregnant wife at home. Lester, realizing he's about to be in quite a bit of trouble, fakes an accident by ramming his own head into a wall and is knocked out cold next to his brutally murdered wife in the basement.

I don't want to say that the show was made better because they filled it with violence in the third act, but they certainly fooled me in the direction it was going to take. While I wasn't riveted in the pilot by any means, I was impressed with FX taking another chance on a bold idea, (The Americans...). I'm looking forward to the remaining nine episodes in this limited season. And in surveying our vast and countless options in television programming recently, I really would say we're looking at the Golden Age: Pt Deux.

It's Good (the Worst) To Be The King

Remember that time Joffrey totally died?

Everything was going so well there at first. He had just wed a Ms. America contestant...

He then started unfairly picking on his uncle, reminding us why we truly wanted him to die...

And then he totally went and got all dead!

Whose Story is This?

I've started in on Season 7 of Mad Men with one major thought in mind: I'm no longer going to pay any attention to Don Draper's character anymore. It just feels so over, like it's no longer his story anymore. But whose story is it?

The show's premiere, appropriately named 'Time Zones,' was perfect for drawing the comparisons and differences between the East and West coast and our cast of characters strung in between. It's a few months from where we left off after Don was suspended from work, Megan has moved to California along with Ted and Pete Campbell. (PETE! More in a minute on that...) From the time Megan so stylishly steps out of her convertible to pick up her decidedly-the-same handsome husband, my brain switched off and I no longer wanted to pay attention to his side.

You know who I did want to take notice of? PETE CAMPBELL! Oooooh, Pete, how I've missed you so! He came back with flying colors, (speaking of color - that tan! That sweater!). We follow Megan and Don's short-lived trip together as they try and squeeze in a normal husband/wife visit, except it's anything but. (How 'bout Megan's agent? I loved him. "I will not!" (Except, can we talk about Megan's "fixing your teeth" comment from her agent? Eesh.)

Megan is seemingly at home in her newly decorated, newly acquired apartment with a view of the canyon. With coyotes howling in the background, I couldn't help but imagine what will happen later this year for the cast out in LA. It being 1969, I'm assuming they're going to cover the Charles Manson/Sharon Tate murders, conveniently located within close proximity of where I'm imagining Megan is living.

One glaringly uncomfortable blip in Megan and Don's storyline was the fact that Don has Megan convinced that he still has a job. And later, during the meeting with Freddy Rumsen, we learn that Don still truly believes he has his job because he's still getting paid. Don takes the red eye back to New York "to work" and is conveniently sitting next to a charmingly disturbed widow played by Neve Campbell. The two share a dramatic and emotionally bonding experience on this overnight flight, yet he turns down a chance at another fling. Has he changed? Absolutely not. And you know what? I couldn't be less interested.

Back in New York, our East Coasters aren't doing all that well either. Roger, (oh, Roger, I've missed you too) wakes up in a pool of naked bodies after a night of enlightenment. ("I feel like we really got somewhere last night.") Sharing a bed with whomever is welcome and throwing himself down the rabbit hole has his daughter taking notice. Over brunch we see her "forgiving" her father for his transgressions. We get the feeling that she's joined some sort of new age group, (cult?) and provides yet another example of the general storytelling/smattering of what it was like in the year of 1969.

Peggy, nowhere near where I thought she'd be this season, is catering to a new stand-in boss. She's pushed herself into exhaustion and is finding herself overworked and alone, feeling like no one else wants to push themselves to do good work like she does. Seeing her breakdown in her empty apartment in one of the last scenes was truly heartbreaking, if not obvious. I think we're all just waiting for Peggy to take that next step into something truly scary: being okay with normalcy.

And in other news, Joan is still struggling with that last foothold before she really believes she's a part of the upper epsilon at, (what's this agency called again?). And Ken, poor Ken, is starting to sound more and more like the old, disgruntled Pete Campbell, (but with one less eyeball). I'm looking forward to seeing what the Francis family has been up to. What kid is playing Bobby now? And though a few months have passed in the storyline, Sally is what, 27 at this point?

While the premiere of Season 7 did not blow me away, it was nice to meet up with everyone again and see where they've gone. As the 60's draw closer to an end and certain moments have yet to be lived, (Manson! Woodstock! MAN ON THE MOON!), this episode merely served as a jumping off point for what I hope will continue this season: Don Draper being dragged away by wild coyotes.

Pssh! More like Mellow King

Oh, how I choose the wrong times to watch scary things alone. With Greg traveling this week, I thought, "Sure, I'll definitely watch the finale of True Detective by myself." (Even better idea? Following it with a viewing of Blackfish. I'm an idiot.)

While it was creepy, yes, (just try and get that image out of your head) I couldn't get over the fact that this was just like the ending of any high school horror movie ever made.

1. Marty ran UP the stairs in the creepy, creepy hoarder house.
2. Rust was brutally stabbed three times and lived for no reason whatsoever.
3. There was a chase scene that led into some abandoned maze full of failed attempts at whittling.
4. The Yellow King's voice somehow traveled the length of this scary maze and served as a narrator for Rust's epiphany. (WHICH WAS A VORTEX?!)
5. Rust and Marty are friends! All is well.

I just can't understand how this season opened the flood gates open to some pretty visceral concepts about humanity, religion, murder, women and you know, the whole underbelly of consciousness and then just, well, ended.

Things that never, ever, got tied up:

1. What the hell did the Tuttle's have to do with any of this other than EVERYTHING? Did it really just come down to one insane man? And how the hell did we finally get to see the insane Yellow King only to have him die, like, immediately!
2. Harrelson's family dynamic: they spent an awful lot of time on this subject and I guess we should be happy that his daughters came to see him in the hospital, but honestly it didn't matter at all so why show it?
3. Are the killings really over? Did the Yellow King just carry on the tradition of his family? Why the hell was his dad, (Old Bill) tied up and ready to die in the back shed? What's the point of any of this if it only works to get super creepy?
4. The Yellow King and his sister: What. The. Shit.
5. Good and Evil, Heaven and Hell, Consciousness and whatever... Was this really all summed up because Rust had an acid flashback and felt positive about his dead daughter? Let's look at stars!

If you really want to know what the Yellow King was about, you should probably check this out.