#torn into two on whether to rewatch act 1 or to just continue on to act 2

[girl4music]

I’ve started Arcane and finished Act 1. Talk about gripping and on the edge of your seat storytelling!

I am impressed with the way they utilise the characters. I love the way the character representation and development seamlessly intertwines with the main storyline and drives the narrative emotionally and thematically. I don’t quite understand everything that’s going on but that doesn’t matter - that will come with continuing and maybe even rewatching Act 1.

I have no words finishing episode 3 except by the gods that was powerful. Or maybe I should say “powderful”.

I did not expect that at all. So she’s turned on her sister then. Silco will condition and corrupt her in her rage and resentment because of what happened between him and his brother, Vander. Feeding the belly of the beast within. Constantly grooming and twisting her inside out until she becomes the monster that she wanted to defeat along with her heroine of a sister.

Wow. Now that’s a sister story worth telling. My guess is that Powder is going to fashion herself a whole new persona. One that derives from the derogatory nickname that she was given by Milo and Clanger and now Vi - which would have hurt the most, of course.

Jinx.

It’s sibling rivalry all around then, isn’t it?

On to Act 2, I’m absolutely loving what I’ve seen so far.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x1 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

At long last, it’s time to rewatch the first episode of season 2. With a suspenseful open ending, season 1 left us waiting for the continuation of Anne’s story, and here it is now. It’s been literal years since I first saw this episode, so of course I’m going in with very little memory of what happens in it. I can’t wait any more, so let’s dive in.

The episode, and with it the season, opens with a beautiful shot of Anne reaching of her window, and then there are more lovely shots of her in nature. i just love the visuals of this show so much. And Anne talking to trees is just on another level. I actually see things from her perspective for a moment and it’s like nature is talking back, and it’s all so magical. This is one of many reasons why I’m so in love with this show. This is one of those “gold opens”, as I call them. But why do I feel like it won’t be the same after the cold open?

Ok, thankfully it’s not as dark as I’d thought - at least for now. But I’m still on my toes. For the moment, however, Anne’s biggest concern is how little scope for the imagination needlepoint provides. Here’s to hoping it remains so for as long as possible.

A delinquent saying grace, how ironic. And he indulges Anne by saying “Gracious Heavenly Father” at her request. He’s playing his role well, that you’ve got to hand to him.

Ah, and here’s Bash’s first appearance. A tough and grim job, being addressed by his nationality, and just overall hardship is what he’s putting up with for the moment - probably has for most of his life. Thankfully, Gilbert stands for none of that stuff. #blacklivesmatter

Good as Nate may be at keeping up his facade, Anne’s curiosity is not making that any easier for him. I love her curiosity and her desire to learn as much as possible about everything (wait, isn’t that the same as curiosity?) and her fascination with science. This is a woman of the future, that’s for sure. She did nothing to deserve getting her story cut short without a warning. #renewannewithane

Poor Anne, still haunted by her trauma... I guess this kind of stuff never really goes away. 

What is Nate trying to pull with Marilla? That guy creeps me out so much.

Of course, Anne is enchanted by Nate and his science and his books, but Jerry’s got him all figured out. It seems he doesn’t really remember how they first met, otherwise I’m certain he’d tell Anne if not anyone else, but even without the clear memory of what Nate and Dunlop are really like, he just knows it. Memory fails sometimes, but instinct almost never does. Poor Jerry has his own trauma now. My boy does not deserve this.

Ok, I love Anne so much, but she can be awfully insensitive sometimes. I mean, I understand that she’s very young, but still. She seems to often forget that not everyone has the same experience as her. Now she’s forgotten that Jerry can’t even read. Of course, she immediately offers to fix this. It’s heartwarming that she’s teaching him to read, but she managed to sound both too patronising and too complicated, all in one sentence. But hey, she’s not a certified teacher, she’s a kid. I’ll cut her some slack here because her intentions are nothing but good.

Oh there it is, Nate has released the gold bug, and now he’s getting Mr. Barry wrapped around his little finger. I just can’t watch this...

I love the Shirbert parallel of working to the same tune. Even miles away, they’re connected in a way. 

I’m sensing another parallel here - Bash is to Gilbert what Jerry is to Anne: the poorer, less educated honorary brother who is also a member of a minority against which many are bigoted. And just like Jerry does to Anne, Bash reminds Gilbert in no uncertain terms of his white man’s privilege. And both Anne and Gilbert learn along the way to be less insensitive to those less privileged than them, and to fight for this privilege to be evened out. This is beautiful and important, and I love this show for presenting it so eloquently.

Another beautiful visual of Anne in nature, this is a very popular one - at least I’ve seen it going around quite a lot. It’s this one: [image credit: kissthemgoodbye.net]

I too, like Anne, love living in a world where there are Octobers - especially because that is the month I get to go back to uni, and I happen to love it there. What would the world be like without Octobers?

As someone whose hometown is extremely close to the beach, I sort of understand Matthew and Marilla’s lack of thrill at the thought of going there, but also Anne’s fascination and excitement as someone who hasn’t had the chance to go. A friend from the capital (which is almost as far from the sea as my country goes) once told me when she came to visit that she found it weird how people actually live in a city that she and her other friends view as just a holiday destination. I, on the other hand, hadn’t lived anywhere else at that point and was way beyond any fascination with the beach. It’s good to see a different point of view. Someone like Anne can make you rediscover the beauty of every little mundane thing.

Wait, this is Anne’s spot, isn’t it? The spot by the sea where she’d later go when she’s upset, and where Gilbert would pass by on his journey of Anne-memories in season 3? It is, I’m fairly certain of it.

And once again, as Anne looks out into the sea, so does Gilbert. Those two share a brain, don’t they?

I don’t really know what Nate’s deal is. Sure, I know he’s a scoundrel at best, but... can one fake this fascination with gold? Of course, this bit might just be true - he could really be fascinated with gold - with getting it for himself at other people’s expense. That would be in character for the person who gave poor Jerry one extra kick in the face after he was already on the ground. And when Anne asks about it, little detective that she is, his true self shows for an instant. And then the mask is back on and he’s all like “do the right thing” and “moral quandary”... as if he has any morals. This guy disgusts me.

Sweet summer child Ruby is so see-through... Albert, Herbert, Rupert - she reminds me of my younger self. I love her so much.

Oh, great. Just great. Nate’s got into Anne’s head. She has this unfortunate tendency to trust people whether they deserve it or not. And now she’s fallen into a trap.

Oh Jerry, trust me, you do need to know how to read. You do. Although I wonder if his desire to talk and to discuss books wasn’t at the core of his eventual falling out with Diana in season 3 - I mean, the incompatibility between that and her own wishes about their relationship. Either way, reading can’t be a bad thing, can it?

What does Dunlop mean by “She’s just a girl”. What? Does he see her as somehow inferior because she’s a girl? As if I needed more persuading that these two are, to put it very mildly, no good.

Anne is too good for this world, empathising with Dunlop’s sob story (how true is it? I might be falling too) and even offering to be his little sister in her own desperate longing to be someone’s sister. No, Anne, your only brother should be the one Nate is taunting in the barn at this very moment.

Oh gosh, Anne is there, and another memory of her traumatic past is triggered by Nate’s taunting. I can’t watch, I just can’t watch a book being torn up so devilishly, and it seems that this is just the tip of the iceberg. 

Does Jerry remember? I think he might be starting to remember. He’d better speak up soon if he does.

“I’d offer a penny for your thoughts but I haven’t any money.” Wait, does Eliza Barry not own any money at all? Is she that much of a submissive wife? I see now why she raises her daughters the way she does. I feel bad for her, truly. But I wonder what’s eating her husband. Is he thinking of what Nate told him?

Speaking of Nate - how vile of him to make fun of Jerry, calling him a little frog and all that, and taking advantage of the fact that he doesn’t remember who he and Dunlop are. You know, I’m thinking of a song - Little People from Les Mis, and specifically this line: So never kick a dog because it’s just a pup - you better run for cover when the pup grows up. In other words right now, Nate had better hope Jerry doesn’t remember, because I bet he’s not just going to sit around once he does. Nate’s got everyone fooled - everyone but him. And I don’t want to say Jerry was lucky, but in a way he was - to have met those two before everyone else. 

That’s it - once Anne tells the town gossip, it’s all in the bag. She’ll tell everyone and get their attention for Nate. Sweet summer child Anne has done the con man’s job for him. Now he’s getting up everybody’s hopes just to get their money. I can’t even.

Sure, Anne, write to Gilbert, get him into this disaster waiting to happen, too. As if he hasn’t got enough on his plate right now. At least, being away, he might have missed out on that drama that will lead to no good, but nay, we just have to worry him, don’t we? And thus the bumpy road of Shirbert’s correspondence continues.

To sum up this episode: beautiful, magical scenery; Nate’s smooth acting has got everyone fooled - especially Anne;  gold in Avonlea?; the similarities between Bash and Jerry; Shirbert share a brain; Anne teaches Jerry to read and write; Anne’s spot by the sea; Jerry doesn’t remember Nate and Dunlop - yet; the gold rush begins.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 123: Room for Ruby

“It's sunny now, but it can always rain later.”

Catch and Release really did change everything. I’ve already discussed it as a paradigm shift, transforming the concept of what the Crystal Gems are: before, a quartet with Steven as the rookie, and after, a fluid group where Steven has some seniority. We’re in an era where Connie, a full-fledged human, is a Crystal Gem. Bismuth, who already was a Crystal Gem but got reintroduced and then left behind, will return as a member of the modern iteration. And two former enemies, Peridot and Lapis, have joined the group (the latter unofficially). So who’s to say a ruby soldier wouldn’t fit in?

Granted, Charlyne Yi’s performs a ruby that’s a little too forgiving, and power combo Raven Molisee (of the highly expressive Molisee’n’Villeco) and Jesse Zuke (of the barnmaster duo Zuke’n’Florido) exaggerate her face and words to the point where it’s at least a little suspicious from the start. But Navy, cleverly named for the gem on her navel just as Army is named for her arm gem, has always been friendly and chipper compared to the other rubies in her squad. It’s believable, despite us never witnessing it, that the other rubies are mean to her for this attitude. And because this is a ridiculous character, it was always possible that her ridiculously jolly attitude was sincere.

That Navy is lying the whole time is irrelevant to the wonder of a show that makes us believe that she might join up. Her betrayal might be predictable, but our status quo is as capable of change as the planet our heroes love; it’s a similar sensation to Alone at Sea, where even though nothing drastic happens there’s a real possibility that Lapis might relapse and go back to Malachite. It’s so much better than an episode where we know from the start that the character-of-the-week will depart by the end of the story.

Navy’s chipper behavior is variably cute and questionable, but I love the massive hint that is the rain sequence. Gems become Crystal Gems when exposed to water, so Navy gets her own little baptism as part of the orientation. But because she’s a false convert, we get artificial rain for her artificial reaction. Yi sells absurd joy as well as absurd frustration, but there’s a cloud hanging over this moment that becomes clearer on rewatch. 

Despite beginning with Steven and Garnet, then bringing Navy along for the ride, Room for Ruby becomes a Lapis Lazuli episode as soon as we head back to the barn. Navy is as one-dimensional as it gets before the reveal, blithely accepting everything that comes her way and seeming incapable of feeling negative emotions, so she needs an external opponent if we want this episode to have a plot. Yes, it’d be fun to see this goofball being a goofball for eleven minutes, but thankfully Steven Universe is willing to go deeper.

Peridot’s bossiness and desire to impress makes her an excellent candidate to teach Navy the ropes, and both can bond with fellow shorty Steven over a shared go-get’em mindset. So it makes sense that our wet blanket is Lapis, who first distrusts Navy and then gets fed up with how easy everything is for her. She’s trying, but seeing another foe-turned-friend have such a smooth go of it isn’t easy, and exploring those emotions of jealousy and inadequacy allows for a wonderful last hurrah before Lapis abandons Earth in Raising the Barn.

Lapis has a tricky role to play here, as she’s straddling the line between protagonist and antagonist depending on how much you trust Navy. Our hero/villain is portrayed sympathetically, as we’re reminded of her traumas and her slow but steady recovery process; she might come across as petty, but it’s understandable pettiness when Navy breezes by in areas where Lapis has struggled. And it helps that unlike fellow Ornery Lapis episode Barn Mates, Navy doesn’t seem to get upset at the negativity; this isn’t Peridot trying to win over a stubborn holdout, it’s a spacy ruby who ignores the venom. But at the same time, Lapis is the only protester in the Navy Parade, and her clash with Steven’s goal of bringing in a new friend makes her a huge bummer. 

Which is why I love this episode’s lesson so much: that it’s sometimes okay to be a huge bummer.

It’s okay because everyone’s going through the world at their own pace, and whether you’re clinically depressed, a survivor of trauma, or you’re just plain sad, it doesn’t make you less worthy than folks in a happier mood. Lapis attempts patience and understanding despite her annoyance, and only snaps when Navy’s attitude turns sickly sweet; feelings of inferiority are hard to work through, but it doesn’t make it okay to be a jerk the whole time. Even after the outburst, Lapis is quick to reassure Navy, acknowledging that it’s an internal problem and apologizing. She wants to like the newcomer, but as soon as she senses the forced perkiness it’s hard for her not to notice that something’s off.

A good twist is something that makes you rethink the plot, but a great twist does this duty while being enjoyable as a plot point on its own merits. The execution of Navy’s betrayal is marvelous, even as it becomes more and more obvious that it’s coming. After spending the whole episode geeking out about Earth stuff, Navy not-so-subtly suggests that she wants to go back to her ship. Steven not only falls for it, but is down to press a huge button without asking follow-up questions; it may seem inconsistent with his growing maturity, but it makes sense that an excitable kid is lost in the joy of making a new friend. The stranger area for me is his exclamation that the Crystal Gems “finally” have a pilot, as if Pearl hasn’t been successfully navigating spaceships this whole time, but again, he’s caught up in the moment.

The twist-within-a-twist is that while Navy has been plotting against our heroes this whole time, her demeanor isn’t part of the act. Yi's transition from earnest giddiness on land versus manic giddiness post-betrayal is worth the price of admission, especially as she merrily explains that she opted not to just steal the ship because she wanted to watch the Crystal Gems suffer. 

And of course, this brings about Lapis’s triumphant laughter at being proven right. Jennifer Paz is awesome throughout the episode, restraining herself when necessary for big bursts of energy to hit home, and it culminates in the sheer joy that comes from righteous vindication. We could’ve gotten a somber moment of Steven’s anguish at being tricked, similar to what we got after Peridot’s duplicity in Message Received, but Lapis allows us a sense of relief despite things going horribly. 

In an episode featuring a character as unsubtle as Navy (being tricky doesn’t stop her from being loud and hammy), I love the quieter story we get from Garnet. We only get a nudge that Navy’s story appeals to Ruby and Sapphire, but we don’t need more than that, so I’m glad we don’t get more. Yes, it would be fun to see Ruby hanging out with Navy, but the episode’s focus is elsewhere and we don’t indulge in fanservice that would take away from the plot. The two balloons Garnet brings at the end are color-coded for convenience, so we don’t need anyone to tell us that the optimistic red message is Ruby’s hopes and the apologetic blue message is Sapphire’s realism. It’s not a novel observation that Steven Universe respects the audience enough to not hold our hands, but it’s still appreciated.

(Also appreciated is a soft moment of Garnet bonding with Steven independent of the plot as they make wishes; Steven may be growing up fast, but he’s still allowed to be a kid sometimes instead of spending every episode in teen angst mode.)

In terms of criticisms, I’m a little torn about the pacing: Room for Ruby meanders a bit in that second act, even though I understand its purpose. Lapis needs to have her tolerance for Navy strained to a breaking point so she’s not throwing a tantrum out of nowhere, so we need multiple examples of frustrating glee. But it does get a little boring on rewatch to have the point driven home again and again that Navy is a perfect little angel, even if it’s all building up to the twist that she’s anything but.

Still, I can’t help but enjoy the nostalgia this structure provides, because major plot points aside, the episode fits right in with classic Season 1. We get a simple story that primes us for an obvious conclusion. Steven will find an unusual solution in his cheeseburger backpack. Steven will learn patience when Pearl takes a while to reform. Steven’s beach party with the Gems and the Pizzas will teach the Gems to respect civilians more. Lapis will grow to accept Navy’s differences. But instead, Steven’s improvisation only goes so far, and he’s impatient again as soon as Pearl returns, and the Gems still don’t care about Fish Stew Pizza, and Lapis’s negative outlook was correct. Steven Universe first made its mark by toying with the conventions of episodes with straightforward morals, and it’s nice to see that legacy continue so late in the series. 

The implications of Navy’s actions are soon made clear, as the loss of the Crystal Gems’ only means of space travel (stolen from the very barn where Steven, Greg, and Pearl first experimented with space travel!) makes Steven’s imminent sacrifice that much weightier. But before that shoe drops, we can enjoy one last glimpse of our favorite little ruby.

(I’m kidding of course, our Ruby is the best ruby.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Charlyne Yi hamming it up and Lapis’s grouchiness paying off? What’s not to love?

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[jackie-says-stuff]

Stranger Things s1 TheoryRant

​​SPOILERS below:.....

THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING - ...SPOILERS BELOW:......

This is the first time in a long time that I've had a show/movie theory - they don't usually have the same depth as books do - so I hope this show continues with the mindf*ck theory thing as the seasons progress.

So, here goes:

I think El is the monster. Literally: she *is* the Demogorgon. Whenever she goes into the Upside Down, it's a clear room with black reflective/watery floor - nothing in it except what she's looking for. But after the gateway opens, something that she is responsible for doing, suddenly it's the magic decay world - for everyone except El.

Lucas says she's the monster, and she doesn't deny it. When she's with Mike, she tells him, "I am the monster." When she and Lucas make up, she still doesn't deny it, and only says, "friends don't lie". After a beat she says that she created the gate, and the two could be taken together, but I think they're separate sentences/ideas. 

As El becomes more "human", the monster becomes stronger, kills and kidnaps more people, and opens more mini gateways of its own. It could be her growing more socialized, but it's probably that she's been unconsciously feeding it her anger/hate/etc., making it stronger, until it starts acting of its own accord. I seriously doubt it's a coincidence that the day she creates the gate, creeper Papa gives her a potted plant, and the Demogorgon has a plant head. 

I also don't think it's a coincidence that Will survived when the "monster" first showed up. He's a kid, her age, when the Demogorgon is still mostly her. It connects to the most outcast/lonely kid nearby, who likes drawing and lives a lot more in his imagination than others, and it doesn't kill him. She (as the monster) just brings him in, and we see her shortly thereafter. It's only after it grows further apart from her personality that it starts killing people... or does it?

Correct me if I'm wrong here, as I'm trying to remember for certain, but I *think* the only time we ever actually see the Demogorgon _kill_ anything, it's when it's killing her "Papa" at the end. All of the other times, it chases people, or drags people into the Upside Down where people may die there on their own (i.e., Barb), but I don't think we actually see it kill -anyone- else. 

We see it feeding on a deer, which Nancy says looks like it was hit by a car - not that it was attacked by an animal. Barb probably tripped over a root or succumbed to the toxic air. Will had the "breather tube" in, which could just as easily have been trying to revive him (see: Demonreach/Dresden) or acclimate him to the toxic air so he could survive on his own, especially since Will looks more plump/healthy/warm when Joyce and Hopper find him than when he was laying in Castle Byers by himself. 

Since "Papa" basically created who El became - killing machine and all - through at least one generation back of LSD science experiments, it would stand to reason that the Demogorgon would want to kill the one person that caused it (El) so much pain. All of the others seem to be attacking in self-defense or to protect its food, which seems to already have been killed before the monster ever got there.

Back to the duality - 

When El is "killing" the monster, she's reaching her right hand towards it. Mirroring her, it's reaching its right hand towards her - even though it technically shouldn't be able to move at all - in the exact same motion/position that her hand is using. 

When it "dies", it's the decay that starts evaporating off of it, to reveal the same type of material and texture as the mini gate. Then, instead of it just evaporating away, Voldemort style, she's sucked into it, with a cloud of disappearing decay... and instead of her collapsing on the floor, she vanishes into it.

I think it split off from her personality/consciousness while she had her "wizard powers" growing, and started taking on a life of its own. To "kill" it, I think she had to reconcile it with her personality and that she's currently doing that in the Upside Down right now.

I think the box in the woods where Hopper leaves the Eggos in the end is the same place in the real world where he found the Aliens-style hatched egg in the Upside Down. (And, yes, I've noted the similarity between Eggos and The Egg.) Speaking of... 

Hopper, he's way too smart to be sucked in by Evil Big Government and to just be complacently working for them, whether or not he gave his word to do so. I think he's working to destroy them from the inside and to close the gateway for good.

And, in regards to (the number) Eleven, at first I figured that there were ten other mind control kids running around there somewhere, but now I'm seriously doubting it. 

Symbolism: eleven has the significance of being a doubly strong number - it's the prime number one, doubled, doubling the vibration power of the number one. Therefore 11 is twice as strong as 1, as far as numbers go.

El regularly bleeds from her nose when she's doing her "jedi magic", bleeds from her ears when she does more, and bleeds from her eyes when she does even more than that. If any other kid with similar powers had tried doing half the things she did while at the facility, keeping in mind the symbolism of 11 and it meaning that she's probably twice as strong as they were, they probably would have died by now. 

Will's mysterious slug cough - I'm torn here on whether or not he's infected by the Upside Down, (and may potentially be next season's Bad?), or if that was the way "the monster" was acclimating his lungs to the air/environment (see: Hitchhiker/translation fish). I think I'll have to watch it again before I can make a decision on this, and that probably won't happen for at least a few months. I did some googling on this to see if anyone else had the same theory. There was one reddit post briefly touching on it, but the internet (from my quick search this morning) has otherwise been very quiet on the idea of El literally being the Demogorgon/monster.

Terry: I did see a suggestion that El's mother, Terry Ives, is the monster. That's possible, since she's basically a vegetable right now, but I think the symbolism of mother/child is even stronger than that. 

I am still convinced that El is the Demogorgon for all the reasons shown above - there's far more evidence that way than there is for it to be Terry. But I think her mom's mental/life force is what is giving life to the environment in the Upside Down. 

In other words, she's _literally_ the vegetable. Paralleling Terry carrying/feeding and giving birth to "Jane" (El), her mind is helping feed the Upside Down, which gave birth (via egg) to the Demogorgon.

And, all of that being said, if I'm wrong, I'm going to be really disappointed because it could have been so much cooler.

Thoughts during rewatch:

Just restarted Season One to refresh my memory before Season Two drops, and I'd completely forgotten about the part at the beginning where Will admits the Demogorgon gets him.

In the beginning, they're all playing a campaign that *Mike* spent two weeks creating. And the Demogorgon gets *Will*. The Upside-Down seems focused on Will, but did he get taken there by his own bad roll - possibly literally? Eleven does get very close to the group via Mike. Maybe all of this isn't a coincidence due to where Will lives, and maybe it's created directly from Mike somehow?

Final thoughts after rewatch:

Said by the boys during their D&D session at the end of the last episode:

"The campaign was way too short." "It was ten hours!" "But it doesn't make any sense." "It makes sense.." "Uh, no, what about the lost knight?" "And the proud princess?" "And those weird flowers in the cave?" "I don't know..."

Anyone else think this is referencing the loose threads at the end of Season One? Will is the Lost Knight. Eleven is the Proud Princess? And the "weird flowers" is all the weird organic growth in The Upside-Down? Part two here. 

[theinquisitivej]

Bojack Horseman (Season 4) - A Review

Back in the ‘90s, in a world populated by both humans and anthropomorphic animals, BoJack Horseman was in a very famous TV show. It was a silly, vacuous, ‘Full House’ type of show named ‘Horsin’ Around’, and it was about a horse adopting three human orphans and getting into various wacky shenanigans for half an hour each week, complete with terrible catch-phrases. After nine seasons, the show was cancelled, and since then, BoJack has lived in soul-crushing limbo.

          BoJack is famous and wealthy enough to have anything he could want, and somehow, he even manages to get away with being shitty to strangers and friends without losing their misplaced support. Adoring fans and the general public are happy to be around him, but they don’t want to get close enough to know him, and his friends consistently find just enough reason to never quite sever their connection to BoJack. They allow themselves to be pulled into his orbit and find it difficult to leave, often because they’re dealing with their own personal issues.

          While you can’t help but cathartically enjoy spending time with BoJack for his cynical jokes and his egotistic indulgences, you slowly realise that he is a sad, lost person. He hasn’t done anything important or fulfilling for the best part of two decades, and there was little substance to the thing that made him famous in the first place. He has made mistakes and hurt people, but what’s worse is that, despite his efforts to be better, he keeps finding new ways to damage himself and those around him. Born from a home that showed him no love but saddled him with huge expectations, BoJack went into the world, got famous, and it still isn’t enough. He’s desperate for some answer that will fix his sadness, but the more he tries and fails, the more he fears that he is broken beyond repair; that he’s always been broken, and the only thing he can ever do in life is repeat the same cycle of ruining everything of value he touches, and getting nothing in return to sooth his endless dissatisfaction. BoJack is a reverse Midas, doomed to never hold onto golden things.

Did I mention this is an animated comedy?

          Well, a year ago I watched all three seasons of ‘BoJack Horseman’, this show from Netflix that really deserves your attention. It’s witty and very amusing at times, but it stuck with me less for its comedy, and more for its powerful drama (though its sense of humour strikes a chord with my own more and more as the seasons progress). Its moments of humanity and sincerity resonated with me because it looked at characters who felt real, whose issues, personalities, and traumas felt developed enough for the inhabitants of this ludicrous world of animal people to feel tangible. There were no predictable arcs, no clean progression for the characters to undertake and come out as fully-adjusted people with all their problems neatly resolved as a result. With some shows, you’re watching to see how things end, and discover how the fictional characters have lived once their story is finished. ‘BoJack Horseman’ is not about endings, but the state of ongoing. Its characters aren’t heading to some obvious end-point, they’re just endeavouring to sustain themselves and find meaning in a world that often robs us of control. It’s not a neat story where the main characters find an answer to their worries and then get to live their lives free from trouble. It’s a series of attempts to figure out life made by people hoping to find some philosophical solution to the daily problems they face, and then those convictions are tested on a day-to-day basis until something bad happens to make them break under pressure. Because in life, nothing really concludes. There’s always tomorrow, and there’s no way to know for sure if you’ll be okay with whatever it has in store.

          And yet as scary, as impossibly daunting as that is, we never stop hoping. BoJack often talks as if he’s given up on ever improving, surrendering himself to the notion that he is a lost cause. But every now and then, he manages to find a glimmer of hope to cling onto, whether it’s through the little moments of goodness he sometimes finds within himself, or by interpreting external signs in the world around him as proof that he should keep trying to move forward. Life is impossibly hard, but we somehow find the strength within ourselves to keep facing it. That’s what ‘BoJack Horseman’ is about, and that’s why it’s one of my favourite shows.

          That is my review for this show overall. I think, or at least hope, it works as a spoiler-free introduction for the uninitiated, as well as a reflection on the show’s successes for people who are already familiar with it.

          But I do want to review the specific themes of Season 4, which recently released in its entirety and is what prompted me to write this. I’ll still keep this spoiler-free, but this is just a way of processing the ideas this season prompted in me, and my way of articulating why this might just be ‘BoJack Horseman’s best season yet.

Season 4

A lot happened this season, so I’m going to try and get a handle on it by looking at what each of the five main characters went through during Season 4.

          Todd, the undeterrable force of optimistic positivity who crashed on BoJack’s couch one night and never left, continues to be an uplifting presence in the show that saves it from becoming too bleak. His development doesn’t occur in an arc that you notice gradually unfolding each episode, so you may think he comes off a bit short at first. However, episode 3, joyously titled ‘Hooray! Todd Episode!’, works so well as a self-contained thorough examination of his role, both in the show and in the lives of those around him, that you don’t feel lacking in rich Todd content. Considering how heart-wrenching the rest of the show can be, it’s immensely rewarding to see Todd tend to himself and his own identity, quite possibly gaining the most healthy and content mindset in the entire series.

          I’m glad I recently rewatched the entire series before Season 4 came out, because I had completely forgotten where the last episode of Season 3 had left Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter. If the previous season wasn’t fresh in my mind, I would’ve been blindsided by the swiftness with which we move into Mr. Peanutbutter running for governor. In the past, Diane has gone from potentially being the most mature and level-headed character in the show, to being almost as unsure about her life and as disillusioned with her career as BoJack. Meanwhile, her husband Mr. Peanutbutter, a yellow Labrador Retriever whose naivety and relentless happiness would be grating if his chipper charisma wasn’t so infectious, has stayed more or less the same. He occasionally shows his emotional insight and how he is less oblivious than you might think, but he’s still the same chipper dog we knew back in Season 1. Their relationship is fascinating to watch, as you initially think they’re completely wrong for each other, until you start to notice the good things they do for one another, and you start to root for them. But as Diane starts doubting herself more and her patience with Mr. Peanutbutter stretches thinner and thinner, you start to worry. Seeing what has been building up for three seasons come to a head in Season 4 is explosive, but not so dramatic all at once to make it apparent which way their relationship is heading. This fictional marriage is believable, organic, and a brilliant illustration of how people are often drawn to relationships that make them feel like they can be a better person, even if they fear that this is not who they really are.

          Princess Carolyn is one of my favourite characters throughout the show (though if you ask me on another day I could say the same for any of the five main cast members). When we first met her, this pink cat was introduced as a side character in BoJack’s life; she was his ex-girlfriend and the agent that bailed him out of the troubles he got himself into. However, since ‘Say Anything’, the seventh episode of Season 1, ‘BoJack Horseman’ has fleshed out Princess Carolyn’s character. She’s torn between her romantic side and the pride she takes in her work, as it allows her to help people, and she believes she’s good at it. Her life is a tug and pull between two things she dearly wants, but she can never quite keep hold of either of them. The impact of one episode focusing on her in Season 4 was admittedly lessened for me because (without getting into spoilers) I wasn’t buying it and the episode reminded me of one ‘How I Met Your Mother’ episode which it ended up following a similar path to, so I saw the ending coming. However, the progression of her character was still terrific to watch. Princess Carolyn is the master of keeping up a juggling act even when things aren’t looking too good, but in Season 4, we finally saw her stumble as she lost some faith in herself.

          Finally, BoJack’s storyline, as always, left me feeling raw in the most bittersweet and satisfying way. The sixth episode, ‘Stupid Piece of Sh*t’, gives us a telling glance at the inner workings of BoJack’s mind. It provides a poignant look at how crippling anxieties and self-doubt manifest themselves on a day-to-day basis and why they can feel so inescapable at times, while also somehow managing to be hilarious through narration that can hit close to home as we find it mirroring our own thoughts. Hollyhock is a welcome new presence in the show. She represents a more innocent, younger version of BoJack that has come into his life at a key moment when he has the potential to change and become a better person. The moments when she challenges his cynicism create an entertaining and often hilarious dynamic, and BoJack’s trepidation around her is understandable and heartbreaking.

          My favourite element of Season 4, however, was the storyline with Beatrice, and the devastating way this culminates. The only major criticism I had rewatching the first three seasons was how the cruel behaviour of BoJack’s parents, and how they are responsible for many of BoJack’s deep-rooted issues, seemed to be exaggerated to almost cartoonish effect. These scenes would be darkly humorous, but given how seriously the show took its deconstruction of BoJack and the rest of his life, it seemed mismatched whenever it would have a joke where Butterscotch or Beatrice would be excessively cruel to a young BoJack. In the absence of any explanation as to why they were so harsh towards BoJack, the only way we could take their mean nature was as a dark joke about the cruel unfairness of life. Season 4 retroactively fixes this issue for me, because it provides context by characterising Beatrice. We, as omniscient observers, are informed of the past, and are allowed to see how BoJack has inherited the wounds of the past and is haunted by family ghosts. But despite our omniscience, we are powerless to help BoJack, who may not fully comprehend what he has inherited, and can only ask why he suffers as he feels its effects. ‘BoJack Horseman’ has gained a reputation for having each season’s penultimate episode be a gut-wrenching climax to the dramatic thread of each season, and Season 4’s is no different. I will say nothing more about it, because it’s the kind of television that is so excellently crafted and so not worth spoiling that it feels clumsy to even attempt to describe it through words.

          Season 4, like each of ‘Bojack Horseman’s seasons before it, has more going on than I can adequately address in one review. It continues to deepen its lead characters to the point where they have gone far beyond being fictional and start feeling like real people living tangible lives that we are checking in on. The humour and the drama has never been balanced better, and I would argue that each half is at the top of their game. As I reached the final shot of the season and heard the closing music, feeling full of more hope and happiness for BoJack than I had ever felt before, as fleeting as it may be, I knew that this really was one of my favourite shows.

10/10.

Sad, silly, beautiful, and sobering, ‘BoJack Horseman’ is brilliant television with exceptional character writing. It is worth your time.