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The thing about Shadow and Bone season 1 is that, while there are definitely changes, Alina's story plays out fairly similar to the book, and bringing in Nina and Matthias early pretty much just gives us their Six of Crows backstory in real time. But bringing in Kaz, Inej, and Jesper early gives us a storyline that's cut out of whole cloth. There are certain nods and touchstones that are critical to their duology--their famous “no mourners, no funerals” mantra, snatches of Inej’s backstory, hints towards Jesper's secret--but their actual plot is none of the things they get up to in Six of Crows.

Both stories involving them pulling an elaborate (foolhardy?) heist, yes. But they’re completely different heists in different countries, under different circumstances, with different complications, for different payouts.

Jesper expertly shooting all the volcra attacking the train on their journey through the Fold? Inej making a deliberate choice to take a life in order to save Kaz’s? Kaz facing off against Kirigan/the Darkling and living to tell about it? Milo the goat??? That's all Shadow and Bone.

But for all that, the show nails the characterizations for all three. Even with slight changes and certain things that don't get revealed until season 2, the writing and acting work together to bring these characters to life impeccably. Each is very specific and very true to who they are in the books, and that’s managed while taking basically none of the things they do and hardly anything they say in the books. In a way, it’s televised Crows fanfic, and the show has all three of them down cold. It drops them in a new situation but captures the sorts of things each of them would say and do, how they’d react, and how various developments would shake up the group dynamic. That takes talent, and the show deserves props for it.

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David Tennant's performance as Crowley is such a fascinating mix of intense and languid. He's often so focused, so intent, that he's practically brittle, electric with purpose as his careens through the city in the Bentley or races to avert disaster. Those fiery eyes, that clenched jaw. But in almost equal measure, he slouches and saunters, projecting such indifference that you start to wonder if the production crew had to pour him into that chair, that's how fluid he feels.

My favorite part of this is that we see the exact same two opposing qualities from him in the before-the-Beginning flashback, but as an angel, both look completely different on him. The intense side is pure joy and love, his enormous toothy grin as he ignites stars and elation radiates from him in waves. Meanwhile, the languid side is his relaxed unconcern, cheerfully shrugging off Aziraphale's worries as he considers questioning God's plan and "putting a note in the suggestion box." I love that flashback anyway, but when I noticed how Crowley's usual contradictions were filtered through an angelic lens, I could've eaten the whole scene up with a spoon.

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Rewatching season 2 of Ted Lasso, and I really loved how they play the "Keeley is turned on by vulnerability" subplot in episode 2. Obviously, the whole thing is great, with her masturbating to the press conference where Roy announced his retirement and broke down crying. (Side note: there's zero drama over the fact that she still masturbates while being in a happy relationship, you love to see it.) I love learning that Roy's kink is people doing it in the woods--"Because I could never be that free!" And the resolution, with Roy having Keeley put in her headphones to play the video while he goes down on her, is *chef's kiss*.

But what really stuck out to me this time is how they play the scene where Roy discovers that this is Keeley's kink. When he walks in on her masturbating, she panics and throws her phone across the room. And Roy picks it up, walks across the room, and hands it back to her, asking, "Show me."

You could play a similar storyline on dozens of shows, and all of them would have the SO looking at the video without permission, probably over their partner's protests. In a lot of them, the phone would probably still be in their partner's hand and the SO would get in their space and take it from them.

Hell, in a different context, this very show does something similar: Isaac discovers that Colin is gay when he takes Colin's phone, insisting that he's not kidding about everyone on the team deleting their saved nudes to protect against leaks.

But in episode 2, Keeley doesn't even have her phone. She threw it. It's across the room, and there's no way she could keep Roy from looking at it if he was determined enough. But he doesn't look without her permission. He's curious, sure, and he may be anticipating teasing her about it a bit, but he also points out, "I should know what gets you going." He gives it back to her, asks to see what she was looking at, and then lets her decide whether or not she's going to show him.

Such a small shift in how you'd normally see this kind of scene play out, but the difference is huge.

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Thinking about Ned Low, and thinking about "creative" killers in pop culture. The characters who need to torture or kill in increasingly inventive ways, who turn corpses or body parts into their "art." Thinking of various killers we see on Hannibal, Dexter, Sherlock, and I'm sure many more.

This is what Ned Low does, and it sucks. There's nothing truly creative or artful about him. His crew is bored and discontented as they go through the motions of his grand vision, and his big "symphony" is just his lame attempt to give purpose to a bunch of people screaming. He can sneer that Ed is a "lowborn" generic pirate (even though Ed "got it in one" re: his brother,) and he can call Stede an amateur, but his art is simply embarrassing.

What's more, it doesn't hold a candle to the wonder and beauty created by a ragtag group of misfits who made up a religion purely for the sake of having a big party. For Calypso's birthday, the crew invents traditions on the fly, everyone coming up with their own little twist on these timeless traditions that are only happening now for the very first time. They fill their ship with paper lanterns and pirate-themed bunting, and they fill the night with fireworks and dancing. Wee John serves drama with every brush stroke as Calypso the sea goddess holds court, while Izzy Hands sings a love song 200 years ahead of its time. Even Stede, the rube they tried to dupe into throwing this party, is fully aware of the con and doesn't care, because he's creating something too: he's turning poison into positivity.

This is art. Ned Low is just a sad, pretentious man grasping for importance.

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I love so much that the prison break on Narkina 5 isn't a deeply complex escape plan designed by a small group of highly-skilled individuals to get themselves out, but rather an intelligent, mostly low-tech plan to upset the whole apple cart and give everyone a chance to get out. I love that Cassian and his allies come up with the main pillars of it through careful observation, knowledge, and collaboration. I love that it's set into motion by unexpected variables--the imminent arrival of a new man on the floor, made more urgent by the reveal of what happened on level 2 and why. I love that they bring the whole of Room 5-2D into the plan and everyone takes part, including the new man who just got fried recently, is probably terrified, and isn't prepared for any of this. I love that they send guys to other rooms and up and down the stairs, confronting the guards and encouraging the other inmates to take up arms. I love that Kino's speech calls for them to help one another, and I love that, while the 5-2D guys are able to offer freedom to the rest of the prison, the other inmates still need to be the ones to take it.

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Normally, I don’t like it when a protagonist is dropped into a new situation and immediately starts taking over. You know the type--they know better, do better, and don't listen to the naysayers who've been banging their heads against the wall all this time. It really annoys me.

But with Cassian Andor, he's somehow able to come in and shake things up in a way that genuinely works. On both Aldhani and Narkina 5, he arrives and quickly becomes indispensable.

On the Aldhani mission, Cassian really does know better in some respects--that's part of the point. He's thrown into a group of rebels with a lot of dedication and certain skills but not a wealth of experience, and his practical knowledge is crucial. Whether it's small details, like how to arrange themselves when posing as Imperial troops, or critical skills, like piloting the freighter to make their escape, he becomes a vital member of the team. However, he doesn't steamroll over everything the others do, and he acknowledges when their ideas/plans are strong, like timing the mission so they can use the Eye as cover.

(It also helps that, at this point, Cassian is more invested in his own survival than in the mission itself. When he puts his foot down and insists on piloting the freighter himself, it's not because he automatically thinks he's the best; it's because he's the only one with experience flying a craft like that, and he feels most comfortable putting his life in his hands rather than someone else's.)

Then there's Narkina 5. Again, Cassian doesn't charge in with a “shut up and listen to me” attitude, instantly superior to people who’ve been there much longer. Instead, he collaborates. It's not "Cassian Andor's prison escape plan"--it's an effort by a number of people, and he just does everything he can to help flesh it out and refine it.

So much of Narkina 5's structure is designed to divide the inmates, ensuring that they won't band together by instead pitting them against each other. The least productive table gets fried every single shift--someone's success is always someone else's loss. But Cassian forms relationships. At his work table, he’s a natural leader, doing extra work to help Ulaf and giving Taga the credit for a good idea. He shares observations and plans with inmates from other tables, and he never gives up on getting Kino to join their side--no matter how many times Kino tells him to get his mind off escape, he repeats, "How many guards on each level?" He rejects the Empire’s divisions and is working hard to help everyone, not just himself.

The strongest example of this comes in "One Way Out," when Cassian urges Kino to be the one to address the prisoners. He doesn't have to be the one in charge, out front. He doesn't have to be The Leader in order to lead. When something matters to him, he'll gladly work to make it happen, largely behind the scenes and without much credit, giving others the inspiration they need to step up.

If the balance had tipped just a little too far to the other side, Cassian could've been caught up in a trope that irritates me. But as it's written and performed, this quality is one of my favorite things about him. The Rebellion is going to be so lucky to have him.

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When I rewatched "Rix Road," I couldn't stop wondering what folks in Ferrix must be thinking about Cassian now. This is especially true when, after breaking Bix out of the hotel and bringing her to the getaway ship, Cassian takes charge of everything. He makes sure everyone's accounted for and the ship is ready to go, directing Jezzi how out to get out safely and reassuring everyone. And keep in mind, this is just after he missed his mother's funeral because he knew that rescuing his friend had to take precedence over his own grief.

Because I keep thinking about the Cassian that most of these folks saw last, the one who went around asking for the favors, money, or alibis with the constant refrain of, "I really need this." The one who seemed kind of lost and was always getting into something or another, who worried Maarva when he stayed out all night. After all, the people of Ferrix haven't been following Cassian all season like we have. They don't know what he went through on Aldhani or Narkina 5.

So what the hell do they think of this steady, confident young man offering them direction and reassurance? Where do they think it came from? Did they know he had this in him, is he fulfilling the potential they always knew he was capable of? What do they think happened to him while he was away?

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Shoutout to Maya's family in Echo, because every single one of them could sign. Now, it's true that none of them were especially great at it. I thought it was realistic that some of Skully's lines got really simplistic/stilted, because he didn't know how to say something in a more fluent manner. And when Henry was trying to interpret for Maya with the mortician, I liked the moment where she rattled off some medical jargon and he just shrugged.

But all of them signed, from Maya's grandparents, to her dad in flashbacks, to her uncle, to her cousins. I got the impression that Chula probably started the whole thing when Taloa was young, so Maya was born into an already-signing family. And that is huge. When I worked as an interpreter in a public school, I can't tell you how many kids I worked with who only had the chance to fully communicate with their parents on the few times a year they came to school for conferences/meetings and had access to an interpreter. 90% of Deaf people are born into hearing families, and so many of those families don't learn their Deaf child's language.

And keep in mind, Maya has been living in New York for 20 years. There's no mention of video chats with the family members she was still in touch with, so that means everyone kept up their signing for literal decades even though Maya wasn't around anymore.

I love that, besides the main benefit of being able to build a meaningful relationship with their granddaughter/daughter/niece/cousin, this knowledge helps them out in other ways. Skully covertly rags on Biscuits in front of customers in ASL when he's interfering at the pawn shop. Henry warns Bonnie off by discreetly signing at his side so Fisk's goons won't notice. Bonnie pretends to interpret for Maya with Fisk's goons but really communicates with her in secret so they can figure out how they're going to escape.

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One thing I really love about the Ed/Stede relationship is how damn dynamic it is. I think part of the reason that people continue to gravitate towards non-canon queer pairings, even as LGBTQ representation is slowly increasing, is that a lot of canon queer pairings feature watered-down storytelling. Many stories still lean into "I've never felt this way about another man/woman before, I don't know if I can do this, what will people think?" as a main source of drama, and plenty of others don't really have drama at all, instead giving us blandly-pleasant background couples that don't have a lot going on. People ship non-canon pairings because they're exciting, meaty, and complex, the kind of romances they'd want to see onscreen. (And, well, fans are going to ship attractive characters with each other. It's what they do.)

Ed/Stede is fantastic because it has all the complexity and drama of a non-canon ship paired with explicit onscreen confirmation involving declarations of love and physical intimacy. Both characters are equally capable of bringing the drama and the hilarity, and they're magnetic together. I just love watching the dance they do over the course of the series. Instant connection! Maybe betrayal! Friendship that's hurtling toward more-than-friendship! Causing havoc on aristocratic party boats! Cuteness and fluff, anguish and near-death experiences! Issues with trust! Emotional arguments! Dramatic saves! Mermaid fantasies!

That's part of why it can be so stunning that this show is actually real. It's not just that the characters are queer. It's that this is entirely the sort of story that would be queerbait on most shows, gripping and compelling but with no intention of "going there." Throw in the casual queerness of so many of the other characters, and it just gets more and more mindbending. We might be inclined to ask what we did to deserve a show like this, but with every breath, the creatives/cast/crew are telling us that this is a show we've always deserved.

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Okay, a defense of, "It was a fine fish. It was, whatever."

Honestly, I don't think it reflects Stede's actual thoughts about the fish in episode 5, particularly the idea that he was just trying to make Ed feel good. That scene, to me, is the epitome of, "We just pass the time so well." After having spent the day apart, Stede and Ed both take genuine pleasure in hearing about the other's day. Stede seems charmed by Ed's fish story, and there's real feeling behind, "Oh Ed, that is beautiful!" Much like the feeling behind Ed saying, "That wasn't a long story at all," about Stede's cursed suit.

Sure, it's not specifically about the fish, it's about Ed, but it's not Big whoop, it's a fish. Still, Ed is excited about it, so let's encourage him. Frankly, Stede isn't that good at pretending to be interested in something when he's not. It's I love Ed, and Ed loves his fish. Look at him with his fish, isn't he wonderful? I don't doubt Stede's delighted reaction here for one second.

However, when he's flying high, having just had sex with his boyfriend for the first time and now seeing his long-held dream of being a famous pirate has actually become a reality, he's blindsided by his boyfriend's sudden declaration that he's leaving to become a fisherman. Early in the scene, Stede is trying to deescalate the situation--"This can be whatever we want it to be," "Ed, you're panicking,"--but he's flailing too, because he doesn't know where this is coming from or what's actually going on.

So when Ed comes out with his fisherman declaration of all things, Stede's brain short-circuits a little. He doesn't know Ed has already ditched his leathers, he doesn't know about the intense reasons behind Ed's need to figure out who he is, and he doesn't realize that Ed is latching onto fishing as a desperately needed way to be quiet and sit with himself. And Stede says, "It was a fine fish. It was, whatever." What he actually means, though, is probably something more like, Yeah, it was a great fish, but not so great that I thought you'd leave me for it?!?

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On the one hand, it's irritating when I Google Image search "Steven Grant" and get pictures that are obviously Marc Spector, or vice versa.

On the other, I love that I can look at a still image and immediately know which alter it is.

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I love what Andor does with "Narkina 5" so much. At the start of the episode, Cassian is still doing anything he can to try and stop what’s happening, shouting to the Shoretroopers that he’s just a tourist who’s done nothing wrong. But the second he gets on the prison transport, all the fight leaves him, and while he’s still utterly freaking out, it stays internal. We just see the panic in his eyes as the ship takes off.

In a lot of genre stories--including a lot of Star Wars stories--our captured hero would come in cocky as they're brought to prison, mouthing off to the guards or seizing their first opportunity to put up a fight and try to escape. In response to torture, they might shakily pick themselves up and then make a smartass comment, just to prove they haven't been broken.

Cassian doesn't do any of that. This isn’t that type of story. This isn’t some action-packed prison-escape romp. This is prison. This is the Empire throwing people down a hole and leaving them there.

And Cassian doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t look at anybody funny, and even as he still observes everything around him, he keeps his head down. He is submitting, because he knows the guards have all the power and won’t hesitate to torture him if he steps one foot out of line. As he’s introduced to the prison, with its expectation of constant labor and the ever-present threat of severe punishment, we watch Cassian wrestling to come to terms with the idea that this is going to be his life for the next six years. Always under pressure, always in fear, stripped of any dignity or agency.

I really appreciate the show's willingness (not to mention Diego Luna's) to let us see how lost and hopeless Cassian is in this episode. There’s no need for him to be seen as the hero, that he’s someone who’s still in control of his circumstances. Instead, we see Cassian in a situation where he's utterly powerless. Where he’s going to survive, not by defiance, but by doing the only thing he can do in this crucible of misery and dehumanization.

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Even though Syril positions Cassian as his nemesis, I find it interesting that it's actually Dedra who is a villainous foil for Cassian. In many ways, they're opposites--she's as cold as he is warm, she figures out how to "dispose" of rebel pilots like it's a brain teaser while you can see in his eyes that it costs him every time he takes a life. Cassian's emotional intelligence? Dedra could never. But their biggest commonality is also one of the biggest assets they bring to their respective sides.

Both Cassian and Dedra have a keen understanding of how their enemy thinks. Cassian knows his oppressors very well, and that gives him vital insights into fighting them. Even as a thief, he knows how to get away with it because "they're so fat and satisfied" they won't even notice him sneaking in. He knows that they have to move forward with the prison break after the massacre on level 2--he realizes the Empire will fortify, making it impossible for them to act later, but he also knows they have a real chance now because "power doesn't panic."

Meanwhile, part of what makes Dedra such an effective investigator is her ability (and willingness) to imagine how the rebels think. She's the only ISB officer to recognize the pattern in the stolen Imperial technology, the careful randomness of the thefts to camouflage their true purpose. She says, "If I was them, this is how I'd do it." She also recognizes the heist at Aldhani for what it really is, more significant than a mere robbery.

On the face of it, these two characters couldn't be more different in the tone they bring to the series, the image they present of themselves, and the way they interact with others. But in this particular way, they're very much alike, and that spells bad news for their enemies on both sides.

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Obviously, Syril Karn views himself as the Inspector Javert to Cassian's Jean Valjean. But what I find most interesting about this is that, almost immediately after this vendetta is born, Syril is fired from Pre-Mor and forced to take a desk job. He has all the obsessive resentment and self-righteousness of Javert but no authority to actually act on it. No jurisdiction, no company-issued weapon, no investigative apparatus to command.

In a way, this makes him even more dangerous than he would've been if he'd remained a corpo who was dogging Cassian's every move, because all that crusading energy has nowhere to go. No one will listen to him screaming about Cassian, and all he's really capable of is filing false reports to ISB in the hopes that he'll catch their eye. Without the ability to actually do anything with his seething anger toward Cassian, it just festers and builds, which contributes to the increasingly off-kilter behavior we see from him later in the season. Syril has less power now, but that just makes him less predictable and more determined.

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So far, I think my favorite thing about Ruby Sunday is what I'd call her spirit. Granted, her own "bad luck" is far less severe than Davina McCall's, but when she tells her friends about it, she's laughing. When her seat belt won't pull out in the taxi, she gives them an amused see what I mean? face. When her grocery bag splits open on the sidewalk, she groans, but in the very next shot, we see her cheerfully carrying everything upstairs in her arms.

Then Davina calls to tell her they weren't able to find any trace of her biological parents. Not a thing, anywhere--Ruby herself is the only proof that they ever existed at all. It's Christmas Eve, it's Ruby's birthday, and Lulubelle's arrival has freshly stirred up her feelings about having been left on a church doorstep as a newborn. And any hopes she had have just been dashed. How does Ruby respond to all this? Blinking back tears, she tells Davina, "It's really very kind of you to let me know yourself."

We know that Ruby is inquisitive and determined, that she can see a ladder in the sky and think I'll give that a go, and that she can roll with it when musical improv is sprung on her in front of a goblin king. All good qualities for a companion to have! But I think this is an important trait of hers too.

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The autistic joy of a Doctor exploring their new TARDIS console room—you love to see it!