Need a refresher? If so, be sure to read our reviews for Part 1 & 2, and Part 3 & 4 first.

“Are you happy with the house? I’d like to think it was worth it.”

The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald hang over the final two chapters of David Simon’s and William F. Zorzi’s Show Me A Hero like the Sword of Damocles. Except, in this case, fear hangs over everyone equally, not just those in positions of power. Part 5 and 6 spans events from early ’91 to late ’93, and with this being the final two chapters, the narrative has naturally shifted away from the confines of the judge’s chambers and noisy council meetings, in order to focus on the tenants we familiarized ourselves with from the West side of the Parkway. Hank Spallone (Alfred Molina) is mostly mentioned by name, and seen a brief two times in the whole two hours, before the new mayor Terry Zaleski (Daniel Sauli) takes office. Not much time is spent with Zaleski, but enough to know that he’s the shiftiest Democrat presented in the entire miniseries, and the biggest nemesis to our hero, Nick (Oscar Isaac). Judge Sands (Bob Balaban) and Michael Sussman (Jon Berenthal), so instrumental in getting the housing bill passed, don’t make a single appearance, while Oscar Newman’s (Peter Riegart) greatest contribution is to hand over the housing counselling to the most important new character, Robert Mayhawk (The Wire alumnus, Clarke Peters).

Parts 5 and 6 distance themselves by some margin from the politics that dominated proceedings in the previous parts, and is mostly split between two narrative strings. The first follows Nick, desperately seeking recognition and a way back into office. The more he fails, the deeper he sinks into an egotistical vortex of self-loathing, even costing Nay’s (Carla Quevedo) job by playing political games with her bosses (only to eventually realize that the only one being played is him). At the beginning of Part 5, his friendship and alliance with Jim Surdoval (Michael Stahl-David) is severed because Jim is backing Zaleski for mayor. Vini Restiano (Winona Ryder), the friend Nick comforted in Part 2 when she got shut out of politics, makes a powerful comeback in Parts 5 and 6, only to find herself in direct opposition with Nick when he decides to run against her as City Council President. When she asks him, with tearful resentment, if he really believes in anything but himself, the gist of the message is clear; the ugly, cruel game of politics is frightfully masochistic in nature. As I mentioned in last week’s recap, the strong sense of the corrupt nature of politics being the primal theme of the show rings deafeningly true all the way to the soul-crushing conclusion. For those who have resisted the urge to Wikipedia the real Nick Wasicsko, I will refrain from spoiling, but, with Fitzgerald’s words in mind, you can probably guess what happens.

The second narrative thread is the only one with some hopefulness, though not before it gets tangled up in fear. Billie (Dominique Fishback)—who gets little sympathy from me and whose storyline remains the most ubiquitously irritating thanks to her godawful choice in partner—, Norma (LaTanya Richardson Jackson), who is still reluctant to mingle with white people, and Doreen (Natalie Paul), who has come a long way from her junkie days, all move to the new low-income townhouses. Doreen gets involved with the new local community and through that befriends Mary (Catherine Keener). That’s right, what we expected all along finally materializes at the beginning of Part 6: Mary officially switches sides when she starts to focus on those trying to do right by their neighborhoods and be upstanding citizens. Meanwhile, Carmen (Ilfenesh Hadera) remains stuck in the projects because her name is put on the waiting list for the next houses, but her story’s conclusion is appropriately cathartic all the same. Mayhawk councils a team of volunteers (Mary included) on how to approach and help the new neighbours assimilate themselves into their new surroundings, coyly saying at one point that they’ll be learning more about themselves than the new families. As expected, the predominantly white community doesn’t take kindly to the new residents at first, instilling distrust, fear, and prejudice; all the more reason why the final image is a ray of sunshine.

The tone of the show’s final hours is very much a somber one. As with the episodes that preceded, Simon, Zorzi and Paul Haggis show off their artistic range with equal touches of subtle deftness and emotional hemorrhaging. Recall—and try to do so without getting goosebumps—the final montage of Bruce Springsteen’s eternally tender “Lift Me Up.” The fate of every character reminding us that these are real people’s stories. Then consider the opening of Part 6, mid-sentence in Mayor Zaleski’s speech, “-which for Yonkers has been a long time coming.” We know what he’s talking about, and thanks to this brilliantly understated opening, we also know he doesn’t care.

No, the only one who truly cares is Nick, and there are two profound scenes in these two hours where we see what all that care gets him. The first is when he visits the lottery spin to see which lucky tenants get to live in the new houses. He sits in the back, genuinely happy for the people, but slowly realizes that no one knows who he is and that he’s got no business being there other than to satisfy his own sense of pride. The second is when he literally goes door to door of the new houses to speak with tenants directly, to see how they’re feeling, perhaps get a modicum of gratitude. He gets the door slammed in his face until one person does recognize him. Blind Norma. It’s powerful stuff and the beating heart of Show Me A Hero. A man who jeopardized his political career to get the housing bill passed, but made the mistake of expecting a handshake instead of being satisfied with the work itself.

Show Me A Hero stands next to Simon’s previous sensational miniseries, The Corner (2000) and Generation Kill (2008), and under the auspices of his crowning achievement with Zorzi, The Wire, as essential television that drills into the truth of people. People with flaws and strengths on display, equally weighed. What happens to a good man when he gets a taste of that sweet poison of power? How does one navigate the moment in a person’s career when real change becomes a probable reality? These are the heavyweight questions we’ve come to expect of creator David Simon. The kind that keeps the Sword hanging above all our heads, and that will surely keep me revisiting Show Me A Hero again and again.

9.5/10

Just tuning in? Catch up with our review for Part 1 and 2 here.

“How come the only people talking about this housing thing are white?”

By the end of Part 2, we left Mayor Nick Wasicsko (Oscar Isaac) confounded over the mess the housing crisis created. With council members Henry Spallone (Alfred Molina) and Nick Longo (Jim Bracchitta), along with two others, refusing to budge and “give in” to the supreme court’s order, Nick must either watch his city go bankrupt while the “fantastic four” assholes (an amazingly timed nickname for the four naysaying councilmen) are held in contempt and face jail time, or do whatever he can to turn whoever he can around and get the deal passed.

Part 3 of Show Me A Hero begins with Nick on the phone seeking help from fellow democrats in New York and getting shut out. It ends with the same Maalox-chugging prologue that began proceedings in Part 1. Nick goes through another mayoral election, this time losing to none other than Spallone, who, of course, used the housing crisis as a way to get voters in the booth. One of the highlights from this mid-section is in Spallone’s victory speech, when he mumbles how they’d have to abide by the supreme court’s decision if all else fails and Catherine Keener’s Mary is like, “um, what’d he just say?” It’s that David Simon blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wit on display again, this time aimed at the cruel nature of political games and the wishful thinking of drawing a line between people’s core issues and the politics that govern them. That line is never straight and rarely connects both ends.

A couple of characters go through major transformations in Parts 3 and 4. Starting with Nick, naturally, who manages to make the crucial vote pass in council before losing the mayoral election, and moves into a beautiful house with Nay (Carla Quevedo) whom he finally marries. He spirals out of politics for the time being. He visits his father’s grave, and says,—echoing Vini Restiano (Winona Ryder) from Part 2—“As miserable as it is when you’re in the middle of things, at least you’re in the middle of things!” One gets the strong sense that the corrupt nature of the political game, and its consequences on the person trying to do an effective job, is the primal theme hiding behind the housing crisis in Show Me A Hero. A point subtly elucidated when someone quotes the show’s title to Jim (Michael Stahl-David), who seems convinced the line comes from Fitzgerald the politician of this-or-the-other district, and not, the Fitzgerald. These people can’t think past their own congressional bubble, and it doesn’t take a Ph.D. in Political Science to figure out what Simon and William F. Zorzi think about that.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the parkway, Doreen’s (Natalie Paul) character arc bends the furthest. Now a single mother, she goes from a decrepit welfare hotel in upstate New York, back to the projects, writes an emotional letter to her son at the end of Part 3, and becomes a full-time junkie in Part 4. Her father, noticing the latter, leaves her be and tells her to reach out whenever she needs to. Could this be Simon and Zorzi telling us, in ever-so-subtle ways, what part of the problem is? In any case, Doreen’s turn to drugs (considering her surrounding) isn’t as suspect as her father’s lack of care, but neither is as surprising as the slew of bad decisions made by a new character. Billie (Dominique Fishback) is a teenager who decides she doesn’t want to go school or work anymore because she doesn’t feel like it. She refuses to listen to her poor mother, and instead, meets a punk at a party, and gets pregnant. That she’s supposedly in love with this idiot comes second to her pretty horrendous life decisions, all the more confirmed when he gets caught and locked up in Rikers. If there are any redeeming qualities to Billie, I’m not seeing them yet, so here’s hoping for some life-changing decisions in the next two parts.

At least Mary continues to grow in redeeming qualities. After Nick’s futile phone conversations at the beginning of Part 3, we see her getting interviewed—hello, Catherine Keener’s highlight reel—over her thoughts on the housing. Her worries are legitimate and not covering up any interior racism, but over the course of the next two hours we begin to see her slowly lose faith in Spallone, and starting to second-guess her protests over housing units that are happening whether she likes it or not. Moreover, she begins to see that not everyone from the other side of town has much of a different lifestyle. In tandem, a conversation with Norma (LaTanya Richardson Jackson) reveals that some black people are just as hesitant to live with middle-class whites as the other way around; preferring, as she says, to “be with her own.” It’s a sentiment that’s all-too-easy to understand, with no room for naïve beliefs like, ‘why can’t we all just get along?’ It’s Simon, Zorzi, and Paul Haggis reminding us again of how complex society is: people fear change and intrusion in their comfort zones, regardless of any big-picture good intentions. The conclusion to Part 4, after Bruce Springsteen obliges with another suitable episode-closer in the form of “Secret Garden,” shows us just how ugly this fear can become.

With Parts 3 and 4, Show Me A Hero continues its strong bid as some of the best television of 2015. If there were any doubts around Isaac’s performance after the first two hours, they’re surely put to bed with these parts: the man is a shoe-in for Emmy and Golden Globe nominations and a strong candidate for wins. My only hope is that Keener and Molina (who is full of frame-worthy facial expressions and GIF-tastic gestures) get recognized too. What I chew on after these two parts is how seamlessly deeper Simon, Zorzi and Haggis go into the political belly of the beast, without grandstanding in the name of democracy. It’s a given that everyone’s got the right to a decent home, and that the people of Yonkers are turning more and more ugly with their racism, but there’s a plethora of problems on the other side of the parkway and it’s good they aren’t going ignored or justified. Oscar Newman (Peter Riegart) gets his 15 minutes in these two hours, bringing forward a crucial question on how different structures of these housing units could lead to crime and disenfranchisement. And, as fun as it is to watch Jon Bernthal huff, puff and roll his eyes, one wonders if Sussman is helping or hindering the cause. In any case, a healthy dose of debate has been injected to both sides of the argument in Parts 3 and 4, while the flawless narrative progression and supremely immersive characterizations continue.

The stage is set for Part 5 and 6 to conclude the proceedings with a bang, but it wouldn’t be a David Simon show without a few whimpers on the way. I expect nothing less, and won’t be surprised if we get more.

Rating: 9/10

Season two of True Detective came to its crooked and sinewy ending last night in “Omega Station” (directed by Brooklyn director John Crowley) where all the dangling threads of this disputed second season were either wrapped up, stamped out, or set on fire. There’s been a lot of hate for this season as this LA-based tale of corruption played out over the past eight weeks, but we stuck with it and the time has come to process. 

First, a breakdown of last night’s episode. Spoilers ahead, obviously.

The episode began in typical doleful fashion with Ani Bezzerides and Ray Velcoro, our sole-surviving detectives on the lam, post-coitus and of course wallowing in their shared brokenness. Ani contemplates the recently surfaced memories of her childhood abduction, feeling guilt over liking that her abductor called her “pretty.” Ray continues to grapple with the truth that the vengeful murder of his ex-wife’s rapist, an event that has come to define his life, was all a lie. Meanwhile Frank Semyon tries to send Jordan off to safety in Venezuela by pretending to insult her, she strikes back with a well-placed “you’re a terrible actor.” Zing!

Ray tries to get ahold of Paul, and when Lt. Burris answers he realizes poor little Paul Woodrugh is dunzo. Burris reveals his plot to pin all of this on Ray. Ani and Ray freak out for a moment before connecting some rather loose dots: they know Erica/Laura, Caspere’s assistant, is the grown-up child that witnessed her parents’ murder in ‘92, but what about her brother? Ray conjectures (rather wildly) that he’s the set-photographer, Lenny, we met briefly in episode three. Ani and Ray go to Lenny’s house, Ray sees the bird head costume his masked assassin wore and then they stumble upon the missing Erica/Laura. Little sister spills all, revealing rather anticlimactically that the murder this entire story began around—the death of Caspere—was committed by the vengeful Lenny who’s now on his way to finish what he started and kill the crooked cops who murdered his parents. Ray gets to him in time before he can go through with it, but when Lenny listens in to the conversation Ray has with Holloway—more convenient exposition under the guise that Ray is striking a deal with a dead hard drive—his anger gets the best of him and he attacks Holloway. They both die in the ensuing shootout. Ani swoops in to run away with Ray.

Ray and Frank team up to take on the Russians, massacring them at a cabin in the woods and taking off with their money to fund their escape. But these characters are riddled with hubris and Ray can’t help but stop off to see his son one last time allowing Burris a free minute to put a tracker on his car. Ray has no choice but to lead him away from Ani, heroic perhaps, but resulting rather predictably in a last stand in the woods. Ray doesn’t make it and adding insult to injury, his dying message to his son fails to send. Frank has some pretty rotten luck as well, getting sidetracked by Mexican gangsters and ending up stabbed and penniless (except those hidden diamonds!) in the desert where he proceeds to not only die, but be visited by apparitions of those who both love and hate him.  

Ani makes it out on the boat to Venezuela. Burris lives and gets the young Tony Chessani elected as mayor—did I mention he murdered his own father? Who knew he was so ambitious? Ani meets up with Jordan, apparently has Ray’s baby, and passes off all the evidence she has to a writer to finally expose the events that have transpired. She, Jordan, and Nails the loyal henchman, walk off into a Venezuelan crowd toward some indeterminate future.

Here’s what we thought:

[Ananda]

I was not among the naysayers who disliked Season Two early on. Knowing the way things went with season one, I gave the writers the benefit of the doubt that they would take every last second to tell their tale and thus knew I’d be watching every episode. And they did take every last second…but the cramming of explanation and consequence in the last episode proved that they could have been much thriftier with all those used seconds. Many of those dots connecting in the end could have connected earlier with no detriment to the finale. It’s one thing to build a mystery, it’s another to Scooby-Doo a story by sending everyone running for seven episodes and then pull off masks for an hour and a half in the finale.

The logic leaps made in the case were pretty erratic in the end. Actually quite a few people who barely existed within the show came out on top. Tony Chessani is a kid in a speedo in one episode and then rather inexplicably ends up more on top than anyone. Lenny the set-photographer is our super-secret murderer and masked bird-man assassin and yet his reveal is so sudden, and his next move so quickly thwarted, that all these revelations fizzle quickly and pretty soon we’re thinking “Caspere? Caspere who?” If you’re going to spend years plotting revenge—which his house full of photos and evidence would suggest—why act so impulsively and erratically when justice is just on the horizon?

Ok, fine, so side characters don’t get real character development, we mostly care about our three “true” detectives anyways. Paul seemed a little expendable from the get-go, the disadvantage of working for a lesser police organization—CHP, seriously?—and because he just couldn’t seem to figure out what he even wants in life. Similarly, Ray had a bit of an X on his back for being a generally corrupt cop and iffy father, but it seemed like he was headed for redemption by finally involving himself in something that might change things for the better. And maybe Pizzolatto was responding to the flack he got for last season’s treatment of its female characters, but this season he over-corrected severely in giving all these dudes such dramatic endings and allowing the women to escape, but into lives of exile.

So, is any real justice done this season? Our detectives used their skills and cracked the case, but for what? Even in their mutual flawed state, last season’s Cohle and Hart were able to get to a more positive place. Their determination came from a need to eradicate evil, whereas our detectives this season were constantly just trying to keep their heads above water and save themselves.

They may all be messed up cops, but the difference in the origin of each season’s evil—a crazy killer in the first season and a corrupt judicial system in the second—really makes all the difference. At least Hart and Cohle could believe in the value of their toiling, this season’s detectives were allowed almost no silver linings and nary a light in their tunnels. True Detective Season Two’s bleakness stemmed from the cloud looming over their heads, not just the smog that defines Los Angeles.

[Zach]

Coming off the tail end of a convoluted second season, I’m still attempting to parse my way through True Detective’s multitude of conspiracies, cover-ups, and double-crosses while wondering how much any of it mattered. In the end, Ben Caspere’s murderer turned out to be a day player with impulse control issues; the hard drive with the damning evidence of corruption had already been bricked; Frank Semyon chose his suit jacket over his life.

To be honest, I lost the connecting thread of Season Two sometime after the high body count shootout that ended episode four. Pizzolatto took his show in so many directions without ever finding an organically cohesive element to bring those episodes together. It was a show about entrenched corruption. It was a show about damaged children who grew up defining themselves by their trauma. It was a show about the futility in finding fulfillment through redemption. It was a show about Stan. And ultimately, it was a show about evil winning out over good. But it was rarely successful at conveying all those stories at once.

While it would have been reasonable to assume Pizzolatto a misanthropic person from the first season of True Detective, last night’s finale all but confirmed it. The moment that sticks out as bleak for bleakness’ sake has to be when Ray Velcoro inexplicably leads his pursuant tail to the redwood forests rather than buy himself some time in an area with cell service. In our final moment with Season Two’s most notable character and actor, his final message to his son fails to upload. Velcoro was not always a stellar dad in eight episodes, but not allowing him even this minor win feels unrelentingly cruel.

When I look back on this season of True Detective, I’ll mostly remember how little I cared. For most of the season Pizzolatto & Co. tested the limits for endless, self-serious, vapid conversations in darkly lit bars to the tune of bummed out singers. Last night, they pushed the amount of exposition characters can deliver in a finale to the extreme. So little of it ever registered with me on my first watch of a given episode. Two days from now I won’t be able to explain to you what the blue diamond heist was or who was involved.

Whereas Cohle and Hart improbably but mercifully made it out alive at the end of the last season, three of season two’s main characters were offed to little effect. It mattered to me when Velcoro appeared to be shot down in episode two, but by the time Vince Vaughn was limping through the desert, getting teased by an anonymous, imagined group of young men, these characters had all done enough incoherent mumbling for a lifetime. There existed some flashes of intrigue, exhilarating moments, and occasionally memorable lines of dialog in this season. Mostly, True Detective’s second season left me looking for more satisfying answers. Thankfully the Internet helps to fill in some of the unexplained gaps, but I resent the need for a Spark Notes study guide to watch such mediocre TV.

[Nik]

Well, thank God that’s over.

A lot of the same frustrations I’ve had with the finale have already been summed up, so I’m afraid my reaction won’t provide much balance, just more bludgeoning. Nic Pizzolatto should take a long vacation and think real hard on how to handle a possible third season (too soon?), otherwise he’ll be remembered as something of a one-season-trick pony. Season One contained exemplary, layered world-building and immersive character development paving the way for a climax that froze our emotions with fear, only for a positively unpredictable and life-affirming resolution to thaw them. That the same writer managed to follow-up something like that, with something like…this…is a more compelling mystery than anything that happened over the course of the past eight weeks in the made-up town of Vinci and to its half-baked, morose, characters. Or should I say “splenetic,” to go in line with the kind of vocabulary these sanctimonious gangsters and corrupt cops tend to drop in casual convos? There should be a GIF of Ray and Frank talking about how apoplectic they’re feeling, a GIF that would sum up True Detective’s mind-numbingly self-indulgent second season to a tee.

What’s funny is that I, like Ananda, wasn’t hating on the second season from the start. I was enjoying the vibe even if it was heavy-handed, I was getting attached to the characters (well, let’s be honest; to Ray), I was digging the pensive scene transitions and the bird’s-eye-view cinematography of the snake-like urban LA jungle. But, sometime around Frank and Jordan’s thirteenth baby conversation, before Colin Farrell’s husky Texan drawl grew into a parody of itself, and long after I stopped caring about who killed a corrupt asshole politician; I got tired and realized that the opening theme song was developing and evolving more convincingly than any character this season (seriously, the use of Leonard Cohen’s “Nevermind” is the only true highlight here). If a season only has eight episodes, and five of them feel like they’re spinning wheels on matters no one cares about, jumping through time like Doc Brown on speed, and introducing further layers of corruption and cartoonish villainy (I’d put money that there’s concept art of Austin Chessani in some Looney Tunes artist’s basement) to hammer the same fucking point across; I’m sorry, but that season is a major fail.

In that respect, HBO’s prez Michael Lombardo made a point when he claimed that the finale is “enormously satisfying.” After an enormously disappointing five and a half episodes, with a few lightning-fast glimpses of greatness and the painful experience of watching four fine actors trying their best with trite dialogue, the finale was satisfactory (let’s not get carried away with big adverbs). Paul was long gone before he was ever a goner, but at least he’ll be remembered as the heroic dude that he actually was, and there was enough emotional investment with Ray’s arc concerning his son and his newly-formed relationship with Ani, that his demise hit all the right chords. Except that I agree with Zach in that the “failed-to-deliver” ender was an unnecessarily bleak twist of the knife. Frank’s end was fitting; stranded alone to bleed to death because of his pride, and Ani—as the truest detective of them all—deserved to get out and imagine what life with Ray would’ve been through their son (let’s face it, the guy was a trainwreck and would’ve probably screwed up somehow had he made it out). Importantly, and in contrast to Season One, there was no place for a happy ending here and Pizzolatto rightly saw to that. The cycle of corruption continues to spin, and well-intentioned characters will make one-too-many terribly human mistakes that’ll get them killed.  

If I could give any advice to Pizzolatto, it would be to take his sweet time before writing a third season. Everything that went wrong this season stems from the writing, and it’s painfully obvious how rushed the whole thing was compared to the brilliant first outing. Take your time, don’t give your characters dialogue that sounds like third-person narration from a dollar-bin crime novel, create a mystery that people will actually want to invest in, and for God’s sakes, add more truth to your detectives.  

Come to think of it now, there was something enormously satisfying about that finale: we’ll never have to hear that clinically depressed bar singer ever again.

Topping the first season’s elaborate dick equation would be nearly impossible to do, but season two of Silicon Valley had plenty of funny moments of its own. Although director Mike Judge stretched the plotline thin throughout the season, there were so many great comedic line in each episode that it was barely noticeable. Below we’ve gathered the 11 best moments from Silicon Valley season two, let us know your favorite in the comments.

11 Best Moments From Silicon Valley Season 2

Gilfoyle: “If Blaine dies on our live-stream it could be good for us. I mean, we’d get a lot more traffic.”
Dinesh: “Well, and it would probably lead the cause for regulations in the stunt industry. So, in the long term, we’re saving lives.”
Dinesh: “Obviously his incessant suffering will be a strength.”
Gilfoyle: “But our ability to enjoy it is an opportunity.”

Russ: “I’ve got three nannies suing me. One of them for no reason.”
Russ: “All of a sudden, I’m 22 years young, and I’m worth $1.2 billion. Now a couple decades later, I’m worth $1.4. You do the math.”
Russ: “Synergy, bitches!”

Richard: “Had Endframe accidentally put a tequila bottle on their Delete key, I guarantee they would have struggled to delete half of the amount of files that we did. At best. Or worst.”

Erlich: “Look at them. They’re like two genetically enhanced Ken dolls. Do you know how much Bitcoin they’re worth?”
Erlich: “Oh shit, they’re splitting up. Cameron’s the left dominant one, right? I’m gonna come at him from the right side, try and herd them back together without spooking them.”

Dinesh: “It’s a messaging app that lets you send the word ‘bro’ to everyone else who has the app.”
Gilfoyle: “So it’s exactly like the Yo app.”
Dinesh: “Exactly, but less original.”

Richard: “It’s starting to feel weird letting all these firms suck up to us.”
Erlich: “If you can’t enjoy this many people kissing our ass at this level, then I feel sorry for you. I mean, we’re getting our dicks sucked at the AT&T park.”
Dinesh: “We’re standing on the field of the World Series champions!”
Gilfoyle: “It’s totally lost on me.”
Dinesh: “Yeah, I don’t give a shit either.”

Gilfoyle: “The picture is so blocky, it looks like Minecraft.”
Announcer: “Unbelievable! I have never, in all my years of watching fights, have seen a finishing combination more furious.”
Erlich: “Gavin Belson just shit everyone’s pants.”

Gavin: “I don’t want to live in a world where someone makes the world a better place better than we do.”

Jared: “Do you think maybe you sweat from your urethra?”
Jared: “Can you put a dollar value on not wetting your bed?”

Dinesh: “This guy falling off the cliff is the first good luck we’ve had.”
Gilfoyle: “Even when his sobbing shakes the camera, there’s no blocking it all. The quality is great.”
Dinesh: “This guy is going to drink his own piss? That’s too good. We’re going to fail by succeeding.”

Erlich: “One of you is the least attractive person I’ve ever seen. I won’t say who. *Glances at the man on the right*
Erlich: “Here’s my concern: Who the hell picked out that shirt for you?….Then you married poorly.”
Erlich: “There is a linear correlation between how intolerable I was and the height of valuation.”
Gilfoyle: “He put his balls on the table?”
Dinesh: “On purpose?”
Richard: “I don’t see how it could be by accident.”

Game of Thrones season 5 is over, and boy are we crushed.

Season finale “Mother’s Mercy” was anything but merciful. Ananda and Bernard were absolutely wrecked by the string of tragic events that unfolded in the episode. It saw the demise of several key characters, though one particularly unexpected and cruel death was the main cause of our hosts’ misery. All bets are off now, as several popular GoT theories bit the dust along with one of the show’s most popular characters.

What did you think of “Mother’s Mercy?” Do you need a drink as bad as we do?

Game of Thrones – “Mother’s Mercy” Reactions

It’s time to decompress as we near the end of Season 5 of Game of Thrones, so it goes without saying (but we’ll say it anyway) there may be spoilers ahead if you aren’t caught up on this season. Consider yourself alerted.

It’s been a while since we’ve expressed all the feels we’ve had this season of Game of Thrones. But believe me the feels are real. Cersei has been a royal b****, like literally and while we’re totes excited that it’s all blowing up in her face it hasn’t led to a better outcome for poor Margaery or her brother who are also toiling away in cells right now. Man, you give the religious fanatics an iota of power, amirite?

Another reason kids shouldn’t be kings. So ill-equipped to deal when the shit hits the fan.

Meanwhile Jon’s attempt to join forces with the Wildlings was colossally cut short by the White Walkers in last week’s episode, finally bringing some much-needed action to a rather tepid couple of weeks. Especially with Arya getting slapped around because she wants to hold on to a bit of her identity, and Sansa getting, well, violently introduced to the sadistic family behaviors of the Bolton family, and Bran 100% AWOL this season, it’s exciting to see any of the Stark clan kicking ass.

While last week’s episode was a great reminder that GoT is capable of serious action (and another reminder that no one is safe, phew Jon that was close), last night’s episode reiterates something that I’m continuously surprised to hear people complain about: the supposed “line” that Game of Thrones continues to cross. I don’t know who keeps drawing this so-called line, but seriously, dude, just quit.

Think major and beloved characters can’t die? Think again. Think they can’t die in gruesomely awful and sinister ways? Wisen up friend.

Let’s list off every awful and evil possibility and GoT has probably been there, done that—or is getting there shortly. In George R.R. Martin’s world (or the one expounded on by the show’s writers) pregnant women are stabbed to death in the belly. Mystical religious women give birth to shadow babies that murder at their bidding. Innocent women are raped. Good people get their throats slit (or heads chopped off). Sadistic sociopathic bastard sons are given free rein to dismember and enslave. And, like we learned last night, kids can die. No matter how good of heart and adorable they are.

I mean, are we forgetting those poor farm boys burnt to crisps at Theon’s bidding a few seasons ago? This HAS happened before, guys. Poor greyscaled Shireen, another victim of the mindless ambition that fuels those seeking the Iron Throne. Stannis Baratheon has lulled us into believing he may be the lesser of a few evils vying for the throne right now. But no. He’s just as ambitiously evil as the rest of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s revealed at some point that this damn throne is like the one ring in LOTR, giving off some mind-scrambling vibes to those who seek it. One of Dany’s dragons needs to drop that sucker into Mount Doom.

Really hoping this mean Davos, Shireen’s best friend and the only voice of reason in Stannis’s house, is the one to take down this guy. It’s hard to imagine him continuing to back Stannis after this kind of batshit cray.

And moving on to Dany! What an exciting day in Meereen. We’ve got some solid banter between Daenerys’ boyfriend Daario and her betrothed Hizdahr zo Loraq, while Jorah fights for her affection in a more physically tenuous sort of way, and new sidekick/bestie Tyrion (this is by far my new favorite development in the series) spouts off sarcastic wisdom. But Dany can’t just have a lovely day out anymore, not with her people rising up against her. It quickly turns into a White Walker situation when the masked Sons of the Harpy circle in on Dany and her crew in an assassination attempt. Then (FINALLY) the Mother of Dragons starts to earn her title. Drogon swoops in to save the day and Dany rides off Harry Potter style.

I’m hoping she spends some time in the wilderness with Drogon, becoming one with her dragon and preparing to be the most badass leader this GoT world has ever seen. I mean let’s be honest, it doesn’t matter who wants to take on the Iron Throne anymore, the White Walkers could waltz up and take it out from under them with their limitless army of dead. We’re going to need some supernatural aid in fighting the world-wide war we’ve been building up to.

So my advice as we head into next week’s finale, just go ahead and jot down anything and everything you can possibly think of that would be horrible, evil, or downright shocking and make your peace with it all. Like some mystical fucked up mathematical equation, there are no lines in Game of Thrones. If you’re going to be a fan, you’ve got to expect the worst—and admit to yourself that this is exactly the reason you watch this show.

Valar morghulis, my friends. All men must die.

Last night in media you were either jazz-handing your way through the Tony Awards, screaming at LeBron on your television screen, or getting rather depressed at the unfolding events in Westeros. Which means you probably missed that HBO gave us TWO new True Detective Season 2 trailers.

The show, which returns with an all new cast and plot June 21 at 9pm on HBO, has thus far only hinted at plot and characters and now it, well, it hints a little bit more? The first trailer is another non-verbal mood-focused trailer letting us know that, similar to the first season, we should probably prepare for some Debbie Downer characters in the midst of some truly dark cases. Well at least we know they’re keeping the theme of cops-who-need-antidepressants alive.

The second trailer gives us our first taste of dialogue. Colin Farrell’s Ray Velcoro asks immediately if he’s supposed to solve this thing. We’re hoping this means he’s moody AND cocky. Love a cop who knows what he’s good at a la Matthew McConaughey’s Rust Cohle. Vince Vaughn’s Frank Semyon claims to be “no good on the sidelines,” so we can only hope for some rogue bad-boy action on his part. And Rachel McAdams’ Ani Bezzerides generally looks tired, wary, and needing of a stiff drink. Given the twisted mystery of the first season, it makes sense that neither of these trailers would give us a whole lot more to go on, plot-wise, but our appetites are still most certainly whet.

Watch below and let us know if you’re as excited as we are:

One of the key advantages of writing for TV is how well it supports asymmetrical storytelling. Because of its long-form nature, you can do wonderful things on TV like dedicate an entire 47-minute episode of Breaking Bad to Walter White chasing a pesky fly around a meth lab. Movies—particularly expensive ones based on TV shows—are incredibly unforgiving in this respect because there’s less time to work and a ton of ground to cover. This, in a nutshell, is why “last hurrah” standalone movies based on a TV shows typically fall short.

Entourage falls short. It also falls into the same trap most series-ending movies do: by trying too hard to pay service to all of its characters, it serves none of them. It’s spread too evenly and too thin and is virtually indiscernible from an episode from its TV mother. The hallmark of the franchise is its simultaneous idolization and lampooning of those with celebrity status, but in the case of this movie, that idea isn’t expanded on in the slightest. We’re still watching five Hollywood sleazeballs do dumb, rich-white-guy things and freaking out over problems none of us can relate to.

Things pick up where the show ended, with agent extraordinaire Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven) coming out of his cushy Italian retirement to reunite with his old pal, movie star Vince Chase (Adrian Grenier), and their party-posse of semi-lovable Queens cats: Drama (Kevin Dillon), Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) and E (Kevin Connolly). Ari’s been elevated to studio head and offers to finance a movie for Vince to star in. Vince agrees without hesitation and with one caveat: he insists on directing.

Vinny’s dream production is being paid for by Texas billionaire Larsen McCredle (Billy Bob Thornton), who backs Ari’s studio. Ari, who’s still managing the anger issues that almost cost him his family in the show’s last season, is stuck in the aggravating position of middleman between dubious McCredle and lackadaisical Vinny. To ensure the film isn’t a sour investment, McCredle sends his brash son, Travis (Haley Joel Osment), out to Los Angeles to oversee the project.

E should definitely be getting back together with his pregnant, picture-perfect ex, Sloane (Emmanuelle Chriqui), but he’s too busy screwing random chicks and not giving a damn. Poor guy. People still don’t take Drama seriously as an actor, and to make his career outlook even worse, a video call of him jerking off for his girl by a pool gets leaked to the Internet. Whoops! Turtle’s still being Turtle, driving the guys around and managing his various “side businesses,” but he bungles a date with UFC champion Ronda Rousey, who subsequently breaks his arm for his rudeness. What a hoot!

Even as someone with limited knowledge about the HBO series, it was easy to identify the film’s rudimentary game plan: watch the crew of idiots act like, well, idiots, one last time. One last time. It’s that mantra that sinks movies like this, movies that are overly concerned with paying tribute to the “essence” of their beloved characters when they should be taking them to new places. Director Doug Ellin has no such ambition to elevate the show’s material, cinematically, comedically or narratively.

Where the movie does have the show beat is in its celeb cameos. Boy, there are a lot of damn cameos in this movie, and they’re all as empty and unfunny as you’d expect. Ellin rains cameos down on the film like salt from a shaker, to the point where the film tastes like the Pacific goddamn ocean. I refuse to dignify this lazy cliché by naming any of the guest appearances, but to be sure, some of the biggest celebs in Hollywood run through the film like a deluge of rabid soccer moms through Walmart on black Friday. It’s loud, it’s annoying, and it’s so contrived I cringed every time I saw one of their well-pampered faces move into frame. “Here we go again.”

It’s disappointing that Entourage follows its TV counterpart’s formula so closely, but hey, the formula ain’t half bad. It was good enough to make the show successful for eight seasons and develop a passionate fan base, which is nothing to scoff at. The core cast members have crackling, effortless chemistry, and watching them volley insults, dumb questions, and dumb advice around their little circle of buffoonery is pretty entertaining. Piven has always been the standout of the group with his frenetic, quasi-Napoleonic schtick. He and Robert Downey Jr. have mastered the art of making pomposity irresistibly endearing. The biggest surprise of the film is how good Osment is as the petulant prince billionaire. He’s a great jerk, sidling through the film Texas-style with a cocky grin that’ll make you forget how gosh darn cute he was as a kid.

The film’s advertising has boasted that, even if you’ve never seen the show, you can still join in on the fun. As the saying goes, just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Despite the tidal wave of testosterone and dude-isms it is, the movie’s got no balls. It takes no risks cinematically, narratively or comedically. I’d say Entourage will at least please die-hards who’ve stuck with these characters since their introduction in 2004, but something tells me even they’ll be underwhelmed by this hollow, middling piece of pop culture slop.

Doug Block isn’t afraid to be open with his audiences. In 2005, Block made 51 Birch Street, a documentary about his parents’ complicated marriage. Years later he followed up with The Kids Grow Up, a documentary about his daughter moving off to college. Now, after making two films about his own family, Block turns the camera around to his own line of work.

112 Weddings is Doug Block’s look back on 9 couples he worked for over the last 20 years as a wedding videographer. Now, years later, Block has come back to interview them and see how they’re doing. Block uses the sober testimonies of his past clients, along with profiling an engaged couple about to get married, to explore the way marriage changes people over time.

HBO will air 112 Weddings on June 16th in the US, but Canadians are lucky enough to see the film in theatres when it opens on May 23. We talked to Doug Block about his film during Hot Docs earlier this year, be sure to check out our review and read the full interview below.

Can you get into the origin of this idea? When did you know you had a good concept for a documentary feature?
I knew it from the first wedding. I couldn’t believe they were paying me to do [wedding videos]. The prime concern of any documentary filmmaker is always access, and I was getting extraordinary access. Seeing an ordinary couple in one of the biggest days of their lives is fascinating, but to be paid well for doing it is like going to heaven. I was really taken with the weddings, and I was naturally curious about [their future]. I always thought it would make an interesting movie to come back years later and start asking them very nosy questions about their marriage.

What do you find different about going from autobiographical films to focusing on other people’s stories?
Well, you don’t have to face your cast every night [Laughs]. I don’t know, they have their own challenges. I love autobiographical films when they’re done well, and I work really hard to try and do mine well…

For quite a while I toyed with the notion of bringing my own marriage into it, but I just decided that I’d been there with the last two films. I thought “Do I really want to drag my wife into this?” She was perfectly happy to not be in it. The film works perfectly fine on its own.

What draws you to doing these intimate stories?
They just seem to fit a style I’m used to. I never deliberately said I’m going to make personal or autobiographical documentaries. I certainly didn’t plan on that, it just kind of evolved on my second film. There’s a certain intimacy and candor you get as a one person crew that really works [for me], and it sort of dictates the style. It’s not about getting the most beautiful images. The biggest benefit is that you can just shoot without fundraising. I get an idea for a film and I go do it.

You know there will be some level of evasiveness or deception from the couples you’re interviewing. Are you trying to break through that, or thinking of ways to make them open up to you?
With this kind of interview, particularly when the couples are framed in a two-shot, you can see their body language and facial expressions as the other’s talking. You get a kind of feel for their dynamic as a couple. What they don’t say is probably more revealing than what they say. Their reactions to each other was kind of my secret weapon, and I hate to phrase it that way because it sounds much more aggressive than I mean it to.

I was surprised at the level of candor. I try and create an atmosphere for the couples. Everything is for their comfort, to relax them and make it seem like it’s no big deal. Because my voice can be in the interview it can be much more conversational. Our dynamic, our back and forth is very much a part of it. I think it’s important to establish the fact that we had this kind of quick, surprisingly intense relationship for a very short period of time on a very important day of their lives.

Do you think your intense, brief relationship with the couples on their wedding day is why they were so open with you years later?
I think so. I think it was partly that and partly that they trusted me. I worked really hard in the editing to honour that trust.

So it didn’t take long to get everyone to agree?
I used the first 9 I asked. I came to realize that if I sat any of the couples down I could have had a really interesting story. I think if you dig down under every couple they’re bringing an epic story of their families into it. Each partner brings this long family history to the partnership. There are multitudes of stories within any marriage, it just depends on where you put your focus. I tried to put the focus on different aspects, in some cases how they met, how their parents reacted, or what children did to the equation.

Before you went out and started filming, did you have any set ideas or goals in mind about what you wanted to learn from the experience?
I tend to think in terms of what audiences will get out of it more than what I’ll get. I went into [this film] wanting to explore a subject like marriage. I figured if I had enough couples and a diversity of experiences it could create this mosaic-like view of marriage. I’m sort of captive to the specific experiences of these couples, so once I got the first couples I went for other couples that would make good contrasts. I ruled out certain couples because I thought they were too similar to another couple and their story.

How did you meet Heather and Sam, the couple about to get married?
I met them by accident. It occurred to me early on to get a new couple, because it would be important to see this perspective. I actually met them at a screening of a friend’s documentary. We learned Heather was getting married, I said “I’m doing this film,” and Heather’s friends quickly volunteered her.

I love all the couples in the film, but they’re amazing. Some of the things they have to say about marriage were so thoughtful in a way that only unmarried couples are. I think once you’re married and in the thick of it you stop talking about marriage and start living it, but they were really eager to talk. Their wedding was beautiful. To me, it was one of the greatest weddings I ever shot. I’m just stunned at what you get when you pick the right people. I think when you’re on the right track with an idea the documentary gods start smiling on you.

Throughout the film you like to show how time is the biggest factor when it comes to marriage.
Time has always been really important in all of my films. I love cutting back and forth through time, but I think you have to be judicious in how you use it so it doesn’t feel like a gimmick. I was looking at relationships over time, and [the film] went in some surprising directions during editing. It was kind of a surprise to look at marriage as an institution. I didn’t even realize I asked so many questions related to that, like the idea of what changes when you sign on the dotted line. I started to realize in editing that every single one of these issues would be the same if they were living together. It has nothing to do with marriage, it just has to do with time together. Be there long enough together and life is gonna happen, and there are bound to be tests. Parents are going to be ill, they’ll die, you’ll have kids, hopefully they’re healthy, maybe they’re not, but either way it’s testing your relationship. So what is different about being married? That was really interesting to explore. The whole notion of how, in the last 100 or 200 years at most, humans married out of this thing called love. It was always for security, economics, legal protection…Love had nothing to do with it, and that alone was interesting. Love is a hard thing to keep alive for a long period of time.

Your film seems to be resonating with people a lot. What have you noticed from audiences as you start to show the film?
It’s just an intriguing concept, so I’m not surprised. I thought it would be an audience pleaser because I thought the humour would translate. I’m thrilled it’s coming out theatrically in Canada. I think it’s a good date movie [Laughs]. It sounds cheesy, but I think it’s a really good movie for couples to see together.

What about the couples in your film? Have you shown it to them?
We showed it to as many of them as we could at one time. We had a little mini screening at HBO. It was nerve-wracking, but they really loved it and I was so relieved and thrilled. You never know how people will react, but they felt it was truthful and well-intentioned.

Have you thought about profiling more weddings?
I don’t know. I could go back. It would make a great ongoing series, which is something I’ve certainly considered and it may well happen, but I think there’s a big difference for me. I think a big reason why this films works the way it does is because of my relationship with the couples. It’s part of the dynamic. It gives the audience a short little window into [the marriages], but with the careful editing we did each one has a little dramatic arc to it. It feels like a complete, satisfying story. The trick was how to weave them all together so it wasn’t like one wedding to the next. You bring couples back, you bring up certain ideas to couples and they come and weigh in and then bring it all together at the end. The weaving together of these stories was the hard work.

For more info, visit the official website for 112 Weddings

I Am Big Bird

I Am Big Bird is, not surprisingly, one of the more popular titles at the festival this year. Directors Dave LaMattina and Chad Walker tell the life story of Carroll Spinney, the man behind Big Bird and Oscar The Grouch. Spinney’s story is quite interesting, from his childhood goal to become a puppeteer to his hiring on Sesame Street and loving marriage to his second wife Deb. The problem is that LaMattina and Walker refuse to let Spinney’s story breathe for a single moment, instead relying on a barrage of maudlin tactics to choke tears out of viewers. This includes a loud, obnoxious, seemingly never-ending score, and incredibly manipulative editing choices.

LaMattina and Walker’s lack of confidence in their material is disappointing because Spinney’s story is definitely worthy of a documentary. Carroll and Deb’s love story is touching when they explain it, and when the film steps back it’s much better at getting an emotional response (a clip of Spinney, dressed up as Big Bird, singing “Bein’ Green” at Jim Henson’s memorial while choking back tears is the film’s only truly moving moment because the clip plays without any editing or interruptions). LaMattina and Walker’s heavy-handedness kills any chance of Spinney getting any kind of proper treatment, making I Am Big Bird a puff piece more than a documentary. The absurd praise thrown on Spinney and his family reaches nauseating heights by the end, with suggestions of their politeness helping another family move on from a tragic death along with contributing to Barack Obama’s election win in 2012 (!). Spinney’s life deserves more than this mawkish treatment.

Private Violence

HBO has good, effective documentaries down to a science by now, and Private Violence is yet another example of it. Director Cynthia Hill gives a vérité look into two lives: Kit Gruelle, a former victim of domestic abuse advocating for justice, and Deanna Walters, a mother trying to put away her abusive husband for good. Hill’s intent is to show the complexity with abusive relationships, and to explain why telling a victim of abuse to “Just leave” does more harm than good. Hill nails this aspect 100%, but the lack of any serious legal consequences for abuse is one of the most shocking parts of the film. Walters, who was driven across the country by her husband in his 18-wheeler and mercilessly beaten for days, is fighting to get him convicted for kidnapping and not for the abuse. Kidnapping is a felony and can get him put away for over 20 years; assault of a female is a misdemeanor and can only get him a maximum sentence of 150 days.

Hill cuts back and forth between Gruelle’s advocacy efforts and Walters’ attempt to move on, and the result is effective in its (somewhat) narrow focus. Walters’ case is used as a main symbol of the systemic problems of dealing with domestic abuse, while Gruelle’s visits of other victims paints a bigger picture of how widespread the issue is. Granted, Hill’s film will come across as a boilerplate social issue documentary to some, but her work is still powerful and informative. HBO’s involvement will most likely increase the film’s popularity, and as Private Violence shows this kind of subject matter needs to be looked at.

Mateo

Matthew Stoneman had dreams of becoming a pop star, until he went to prison for four years in 1997. Stoneman became obsessed with mariachi music and learned Spanish during his time in prison, coming out of jail reborn as a “Gringo Mariachi.” Matthew, who now goes by Mateo, repeatedly flies to Cuba so he can make a new album of songs inspired by the music scene in 1950s Havana.

Despite the four year journey director Aaron I. Naar took to make Mateo, there will be inevitable comparisons with Searching for Sugar Man. Both have an element of discovering a musical treasure (it’s not my kind of music, but Mateo actually is pretty good as a singer/songwriter), and that alone makes Mateo mostly enjoyable. Naar ends up surprisingly carving out a complex portrait of the white Spanish singer, whose life seems split into two halves. In Los Angeles he lives the solitary life of a hoarder, mostly going to different gigs so he can fund his trips to Havana. In Cuba, Mateo shows himself as quite the sociable person, even if his affinity for prostitutes can get very creepy.

Naar doesn’t come down on either side of his subject, a smart decision elevating Mateo beyond the “Gringo Mariachi” hook. Naar’s doc does flounder around the middle, as scenes of Mateo in Havana begin feeling repetitious, but a neat epilogue of sorts in Tokyo adds another fresh layer to the proceedings. Mateo won’t do much for an average viewer, but those interested in the subject matter will find themselves having a good time with it.

Portrait of Jason

Finally, a few words on Shirley Clarke’s landmark documentary Portrait of Jason. Hot Docs has a nice retrospective program, and this year they snagged the 35mm restoration of this 1967 classic. Over one night, Clarke filmed Jason Holliday, a charismatic hustler with plenty of stories to tell. From frame one, Portrait of Jason shows its awareness as a documentary with some layer of artifice. The image is out of focus, we hear the crew talking in the background, and Jason repeats the same line twice (“My name is Jason Holliday”) before admitting it’s a fake name.

Looking for “reality” in Portrait of Jason is a fool’s errand. Clarke and her crew, never seen but frequently heard, keep asking Jason to tell different stories (“Tell the one about the cop”). The film feels less like a profile or interview than people asking for Holliday’s greatest hits. Jason performs for the camera, delivering his stories with plenty of bravado and exaggerations. Attempts to dig deeper into his life show signs of a troubled childhood, but even stories of Jason getting abused by his father are told in the same overdramatic style.

Watching Portrait of Jason soon becomes an exhaustive, but necessary, experience. The questions will keep flying: How much of this is rehearsed? Is Jason telling the truth? Does he know what Clarke and her crew are going to do? That core question of what’s “real” never gets answered, making the film exist in a space of nothing but a series of subjective points of view. Clarke’s involvement of herself (many scenes end with the a black screen, while Clarke says to keep recording sound despite the reel ending) throws things into more chaos, as the expectation of her authorial hand providing some kind of grounding for the view goes out the window.

This approach will frustrate people (there were more than a few walkouts at the screening), but the questions Clarke’s film brings up are necessary reminders of the level of trust audiences give documentary filmmakers. The ethical qualities of Portrait of Jason continue to get blurred, with Clarke giving him more liquor as the night goes on and, by the final reel, openly attacking him to provoke some sort of response that fits their definition of something genuine (“Be honest, motherfucker, stop acting.”). There’s plenty to dissect in Portrait of Jason, something I don’t have the room for here (and better people have done excellent jobs already), but this is vital viewing for anyone who considers themselves a fan of documentaries.