Pop Culture Round-Up: November 22 - 28

Ha. There should be more awards like this.

I have a hard time with reruns generally, but I am known to allow Seinfeld to run in the background.

Ooo, I wish I could go to that exhibit.

Whoo, NPH! Alright, so the article isn't about him, but, if there's an openly gay man we can all agree on, it's NPH.

I don't know what to make of these stories anymore. So people watch things online. So what? The question isn't how do we stop them; it's the same questions people always ask: how do we turn a buck off it?

"We are becoming people of the screen."

Lists like this are kind of depressing, particularly 15 and 18.

This sounds like it ought to be good.

Aw, just like on Slings & Arrows!

Now that's cool.

That's all well and good, but how is it going to work? It's mostly a book about being depressed, deviating only for craziness and suicide. Can you tell it's my least favourite?

I don't even need to know what this is about to know that I want to see it.

I think Jason Stratham might be hilarious. To whit: "Listen, I've always liked boxing, I've always liked kickboxing, K1, Pride Fighting, UFC, men's Pancrase [hybrid wrestling] from Japan." He's always liked them, okay? Always.

At what point do I need to check myself re: my possibly-not-mild interest in seeing stolen art returned? Because I read this, and I thought, "Ha! It's always the Nazis." Did I just "gotcha" the Nazis?

Supernatural (2005 - ?)

Recently, a friend and I got to talking about how the last two episodes of Supernatural hadn't really lived up to the bar none spectacular season the show has been having. It got pretty involved (as it often does), and I started thinking about this show I have come to love. Truly, it is one of my favourites.

My first taste was a preview recap that Demian wrote of the pilot. It sounded alright. I like Jensen Ackles; I like Jared Padalecki. I had asked Emily, after Angel was cancelled, where we were going to get our "supernatural fix." Still, it wasn't appointment viewing for me until "Home." It was a great episode for a variety of reasons: excellent work from the leads, solid Monster of the Week (MotW), tie-in to the series myth-arc. It was exactly the kind of episode that you want to use to hook viewers (like the season one episode of Buffy "Angel"), and it certainly worked on me. After that, I made a point of getting caught up and staying on track.

Of course, it wasn't always pretty. A scant four episodes later, "Route 666" was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the worst episode of the entire series. It's so bad that I can say, "So, I was watching the worst episode of Supernatural . . . ," and another fan will interrupt to yell, "Racist truck!"

But look at it this way: how good does a show have to be that (a) I can easily point to one episode and call it the worst without any hesitation and (b) it happened three seasons ago? Supernatural is like Veronica Mars in reverse: it gets better with every passing season. Minus the last two episodes (but including the last five minutes of the latter one), this season, the fourth, is the best one that the show has ever had. It feels like everything is finally falling into place.

For seasons past, the majority of the episodes were MotW. There's nothing wrong with that. "Tall Tales," "Heart," "A Very Supernatural Christmas," and "Mystery Spot" are among my favourite episodes. The myth-arc centric episodes, while they were often very good, had a tendency to raise more questions than the show seemed interested in answering most of the time. It didn't much matter once you got used to the formula: hot guys, gore, and bittersweet endings. Good times!

Then at the end of last season, the writers went all in. Dean (Ackles), having sold his soul to Lilith in exchange for Sam's (Padalecki) life, actually went to Hell. There are two main characters on the show, only two, and they killed one and sent him to Hell. How ballsy is that? Sure, we knew there had to be a way for him to get out of there, but still. They went there.

That's when things got even crazier. On Buffy and Angel, they were sure about demons, the devil, and all manner of other supernatural being. God? The jury was out. Supernatural was also quick to sidestep that particular televisual landmine. Sam had faith, Dean didn't, they weren't sure where you went after you died, just that there was some place other than Hell for good little boys and girls.

All of that changed when the gorgeous Misha Collins stepped onto our screens in a blue suit that could have only been chosen to highlight his striking blue eyes and uttered, "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." No vomited up snakes or dark magic for our gang. An angel named Castiel marched into Hell on God's orders and pulled Dean out. Seems the Lord's got a plan for our boy, and it's got something to do with the coming Apocalypse.

This end of the world stuff is new territory for our writers, and, amazingly, they haven't (completely) botched it. Things are starting to make sense as they pit angel against demon, brother against brother, and Dean against Armageddon. What if we finally bottomed out Dean's self-loathing? What would be left? Apparently startlingly compelling viewing.

Dean goes from hating himself just about as much as anyone could, to finding out that God has a purpose so big for him that He’ll send an angel into Hell to pull him out, to both Sam and Dean thinking that angels are made of stone (in terms of their wills), to finding out that angels are far more human than they could have ever imagined (starting with Castiel’s confession that having faith can be hard and continuing into Anna’s reveal that she was willing to damn herself in order to give being human a whirl).

Guest recapper Cindy has compared the myth arc this season to racism, and it’s a comparison that holds. It starts out with this instant hate of the Other (Dean is automatically assumes that every supernatural being is bad news), moves othering the Other (they might not be bad, but they are certainly different), and has now started to reach an understanding that the Other is just Another You (but not in a cheesy “Angels: They’re just like us!” Us Weekly/Star magazine sort of way).

We know that Lilith has to break 66 seals, and the writers could have easily used that to fill out three more seasons of episodes without a second thought. I don't want to sound too ridiculous here, but they've boldly decided to put that aside in favour of deepening the mythos in a way that previous seasons would not have indicated that they were either interested in or capable of. They're reaching for grand and epic, and they're bound to fall a little short once in a while.

The show's not perfect, mind. It's not the bends in the time-space continuum, the circuitous dialogue, or the way that Sam and Dean seem to trade off days being stupid that really bother me. It's the anti-feminist current that seems to be at the root of every MotW. Women are either T&A, damsels in distress, or lambs for the slaughter, and usually they get to be all three. Rare is woman who is smart and capable in her own right, and even rarer is the one who is smart, capable, and gets to survive through to the end of the episode. I don't need all the fingers on one hand to count these women, and the only one to get moved up to recurring status (the totally bitchin' Ellen Harvelle as embodied by Samantha Ferris) mysteriously disappeared at the end of season two.

Still, you've got Ackles as the goofy brother who can summon heartbreaking depths of emotion week in and week out; Padalecki is the upright brother and talented physical comedian; and Jim Beaver, our erstwhile Ellsworth and now deadpan Bobby Singer, a brilliant character actor and the show's greatest resource. Even if the last two episodes went right off the rails, there's been enough A material this season to trust the show to right itself when it's back in the new year. And a show that's earned your trust? That's something else.

Twilight (2008)

Brief: Bella (Kristen Stewart) moves to small town Forks, Washington with her dad, Charlie (Billy Burke), after her mom gets remarried. She gets instantly obsessed with Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson), who seems repulsed by her but saves her from a car accident. Turns out that thing about Edward is, well, he's a vampire.

Rarely have I read the book before I've seen the movie. Sometimes I read the book afterwards (e.g. Bridget Jones's Diary, Little Women, Gone with the Wind), but, if I haven't read the book before hand, I usually never do. Twilight is a special case: two friends read it in anticipation of the movie, and I followed suit.

I can see why Stephenie Meyer's series is so popular with the pre-teen and teen set: smart ordinary girl, Adonis vampire-boy. It's the kind of doomed, helpless romance that would have had me in tears at 12, and you can burn through it in a weekend. Meyer taps into teen angst deftly, and vampirism as a metaphor for sex has been popular with teen girls for some time. It works because it has all the big scariness of sex (desire/danger/intimacy) without any of the actual scariness of sex (sex). Edward's filled with an overwhelming desire to drink Bella's blood (sex!), but he resists (chastity!). Dreamy, right?

Except that Edward and Bella are easily the least interesting characters in the book. Meyer's does her character and the audience a disservice by making Bella so obviously depressed. Nothing matters to her save Edward, and it makes Bella seem boring and silly (although realistically teenage). Her depression, and the suicidal tendencies that go along with it, go unaddressed. The worst sections of the book are devoted to the time that Bella spends thinking alone and to Edward and Bella's declarations/arguments of love.

Forsooth, I can see how Edward would develop an OME following. On the surface, at least. He's exceptionally good looking, smart, and charming, and he spends all his days struggling against his near-overwhelming natural inclination in order to be with the woman he loves. Once you get past those qualities, though, you can see that he's selfish (according to him, he loves her so much more than Bella loves him), controlling (it works in life or death situations, less so in the cafeteria), and a lunatic drama queen. The latter is actually my favourite quality for its unintentional hilarity. Edward never says anything; he prefers to whisper, chuckle, or roar. Edward's not Edward unless he's freaking the fuck out over one thing or another.

Going into this, I worried for Pattinson and Stewart. If Bella's to be taken as a reliable narrator (and let's just say she is, given her attention to Edward), Pattinson's got his work cut out for him: impossibly beautiful, graceful, and eerie, Edward's mouth doesn't match his eyes 90% of the time. Bella's less a character than an audience stand-in (another reason girls love this stuff), so she's got to be all things to all people: depressed without being off-putting, smart without being arrogant, a crafty manipulator of her peers without being condescending. Oh, and believably klutzy. That's my favourite of Bella's characteristics, actually, because it makes her seem more real and more likely to notice how gracefully the vampires move.

What a wonderful surprise it was, then, to see how well Pattinson and Stewart pull it off. Stewart makes Bella a little more sassy and a lot more present, and she has a winning way of pacing certain lines so that they seem more natural and less crazy. She immediately follows up one of Bella's more ridiculous lines, "I'm only afraid of losing you," with another line almost directly on top, playing the scene as though Bella's embarrassed to have said that out loud. It works because her choice makes it feel genuine.

Pattinson's saddled with the more ridiculous character, so it's fortunate that screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg chose to sidestep a lot of Edward's worst characteristics. As written, Pattinson's free to play Edward as teen-in-love first, vampire second. He nails the first scene in the bio lab: we can see how Bella could easily read his reaction as repulsion and how it's obviously (to the audience) an overpowering desire to kill. Later, in the car, when he turned red and let out a high pitched laugh, I totally bought that as a moment of flat out panic. Mostly he toes the line between sexy and creepy, but there are occasions of overacting. At least the chemistry between Stewart and Pattinson is there, though. Damn.

I've liked director Catherine Hardwicke for a while now, and she certainly seems like a natural to take on this tale of teen angst. It wasn't until I started noticing the visual clues she put in (Edward proffers an apple, he sports an arm cuff with the Quileute symbol for cold one) that I started to think of her as clever. Well played, Hardwicke. As much as I thank Rosenberg for reeling the story in, Hardwicke's the one who pushed it out into the lush surroundings (stunning work by DP Elliot Davis) and past the essential whiteness of Meyer's story into colour blind territory. She even has us meet the trio of bad vamps (Cam Gigandet, Rachelle Lefevre, and Edi Gathegi) early, erasing the inertia of the source text.

All in all, it's quite the successful translation. Now if only they could have made it not quite so silly, and given the Cullens more to do. Kellan Lutz nails Emmett in few moments he has on screen, but I always want to spend more time with Carlisle (an unfortunately dyed but otherwise great Peter Faccinelli), Esme (a well-cast Elizabeth Reaser), Rosalie (a well turned bitch in Nicki Reed's hands, although the blonde hair makes her look more like Isla Fisher), Alice (total badass Ashley Greene), and Jasper (an oddly played but still adorable Jackson Rathbone). At least that baseball scene totally fucking rules. Of course they would wear those outfits. B

Also, I don't know if you know this, but Twilight coverage is hilarious. I mean, "Edward Cullen is a dreamboat Nosferatu for Hannah Montana times."? Funny stuff. Very funny.

Pop Culture Round Up: November 15 - 21

Yay! Pretty much any colour other than white excites me, though.

Punk's great, and I totally want you to read about it, but a pop culture curator? How do I get that job?

Didion and Linney are enough to make me forget pretty much anything. Including the fact that I don't get HBO. Sigh.

You should read this entire gallery because Seth Green is great, but what the? How far into the bell jar have I gone that I didn't realize he was going to be on Heroes? Just when I was thinking of breaking up with Heroes for real.

Oh, wait, maybe I should. Tim Kring is an idiot.

They are all good reasons to go see the movie, but it's A that really excites me. Wouldn't it be great to point to something you've done and say, "That about sums me up"?

It is extraordinarily quotable, and it does lend itself to repeat viewings, but I don't know if I'm down with a road trip to Kentucky just for The Dude. Well, maybe I am.

I'm down with that.

A Center for Future Storytelling? Again, how do I get it on that?

Now French cinema is being rejuvenated? Was it withering before?

I think that's an excellent pick. It was my favourite show when I was a kid, and he was a total badass.

Yes!

I should probably be upset by some of these, but I find them too funny instead.

You guys, my mom is not going to be impressed when I tell her about this.

So, my obsessive reading and sometimes overwhelming social schedule of late have made me happier? Actually, that makes sense.

Is it bad that after six years, I've still never been there?

Why is there only one photo with this profile?

See? All stolen art stories are WWII related. Or maybe not.

Aw, poor unscripted shows. No, wait, I only watch one unscripted show. Never mind then. Ha.

NOOOOOOOOO! I cannot underestimate my reaction to this news to you. It's melancholy that's been bubbled over by rage. I don't mean to alarm you, but I love Lee Pace now. Also, that show is genius. But where am I going to get regular doses of Lee Pace? Or Jim Dale? Or Chi McBride? Fuck, Television. Why do you have to be like this? That's gangsta love.

Quantum of Solace (2008)

Plot: Picking up directly where Casino Royale left off, Bond (Daniel Craig) kidnaps Mr. White (Jesper Christensen) to get information about the events that lead to Vesper's death. What he get is a shadowy organization tied up with ecopreneur Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), deposed Bolivian dictator General Medrano (Joaquín Cosio), and Camille (Olga Kurylenko), a woman on her own quest for revenge. A quest that M (Judi Dench) would prefer Bond put on hold.

Let me just tell you this right now: Jack White and Alicia Keys should never sing together ever again. Separately I like their voices, but together it's horribly, insufferably sharp. What a terrible fusion of styles. In trying to remember the song in order to describe it to you here, I wound up with Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" instead. It's better that way.

I forgot this movie. The very next day, I walked into the office and thought, "Wait, what did I do last night?" That's how little an impact it had on me. I was so excited for the reboot and liked it so much that maybe I set myself up for disappointment. But the buzz wasn't very good and a co-worker specifically detailed his problems with the movie for me, so maybe I wasn't it. All I know is that the movie is treading water.

At what point are we going to get to the real Bond? Sure, I celebrated the thug with icy menace in his glare last time around, and I still do. I still love that Craig makes him feel like not only someone who could kill you with his bare hands but also probably will. And just for funsies. It's his favourite approach to problem solving (Malcolm solves his problems with a chainsaw/And he never has the same problem twice). What I wonder is when we are going to get past this malcontent who doesn't care what he's drinking and barely pauses for seduction. It's supposed to be fun to be Bond.

It's a toss up whether screenwriter Paul Haggis (co-writing with Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, and an uncredited Joshua Zetumer) or director Mark Foster is more responsible for the inert, in between feeling that this movie produces. Foster filmed the chases and fights in that shaky, handheld, Paul Greengrass-style that makes it difficult to tell what's going on (especially when most of the key players don't have heads. Is it hard to find convincing stunt doubles nowadays?). On the other hand, Haggis wrote in the foot, car, boat, and plane chases (what's next? Rocket ships?), and he's responsible for the ridiculous dialogue that poor Dench and Amalric are saddled with (No, florist do not say that. No florist would ever say that. Also, "a nice way of saying that everything he touches seems to . . . wither and die?" Withering implies protraction. These people just die, straight up, and it's a little rich, considering the source).

There are still things I do like. I quite like Kurylenko as well as Kurylenko and Craig together. She's smart, pushy, and accesses vulnerability in a childlike way that makes sense with her origins. Amalric is so rad. I love the way he turns on a dime (I love you! I kill you!). And Tom Ford, we owe you a great debt for those impeccably tailored suits.

I don't need gadgets. I like it when things blow up. I don't want to see Bond turned Bourne in a generic actioner. Where is the intrigue? Quantum has been moved into position as the shadowy conspiracy, and the survival of certain key players suggests that they'll be back in future installments. While that's great for Felix (Jeffrey Wright), what does that mean for the rest of the series? Why do I get the feeling that this is only part two of a trilogy? If so, what happens when it ends? B-

Even you must be in to you

Did you know it's been a year since the last time People told us which men we could find sexy based on what they had to promote? I know! I could hardly believe it either. Three makes a rule, so let's make it a rule that I'll criticize their picks every year.

1. Alright. He's got Austrailia to promote, and, while I think he's a little passé at this point, I wouldn't hold it against you if he got you all hot and bothered.
2. Oh, hells ya. I would have put him in the top slot over Jackman.
3. Mmm-hmm. A lot is made of his good looks on the show as well, but who can blame them? That man is foxy.
4. Oh, goodness. Is there something timeless about suits, Zac? Thanks for that. When it comes to singing and dancing, he's tops, but I could do without the rest.
5. His character gave me the creeps on Lipstick Jungle (he's so into her, it's weird), but, again, if you got the vapours, I wouldn't hold it against you.
6. It's not okay, Blair, but I understand the temptation.
7. Not to sound creepy and weird about the young'uns, but, yes please. This time last year I would have said no, but something has changed about our Chuck Bass. He's a sexy vampire that cannot be denied.
8. I don't see it.
9. Um, maybe from the music? I wouldn't know because I don't know his music, but he just looks like a regular dude in that photo.
10. He's not wearing one here, but I find his Liberace style ensembles off-putting.
11. What the? I would normally stick up for him, but neither that photo nor that hair are doing him any favours.
12. Oh, hells ya again. That is right.
13. Speaking of (supposedly) sexy vampires, I cannot get a read on this kid. I've been bombarded by coverage, and I just cannot tell if he is good looking, weird looking, or both.
14. Yup, he sure is. All grown up and workin' it like he should.
15. Not for me, but it's accepted by this point.

How does this year stack up? Last year the ratio was 7.5 to 14, an improvement over 2006's 6.5 to 15. Now we've got 8 to 15. On par with last year, then. At least I think you were trying this time, People.

Role Models (2008)

Story: After a particularly bad day, Danny (Paul Rudd) crashes his work truck into a school's statue where he has been hawking an energy drink as an alternative to drugs. Beth (Elizabeth Banks) helps Danny and Wheeler (Sean William Scott) plea bargin their way into 150 hours of community service, and they are assigned to Sturdy Wings, a Big Brothers-type after school program run by a recovering drug addict (Jane Lynch). Wheeler gets Ronnie (Bobb'e J. Thompson); Danny gets Augie (Christopher Mintz-Plasse).

Listen, this movie is totally funny. Possibly even funnier than it has any right to be. I know that it looks kind of dumb and probably not funny, but those looks are deceiving. Sure, you might have wondering things like, "Doesn't Scott play the same role in every movie? Isn't Ronnie pretty one note? Is Mintz-Plasse a legitimate actor now?" Or you might be wondering, "How do I get Paul Rudd to marry me?" Fortunately, I have answers to three of those questions.

1) Doesn't Scott play the same role in every movie? Yeah, but that's not as important here. For one, you probably realized you should avoid that slightly glassy, mostly happy stoner dude sometime in 2000, so you're probably not as oversaturated with the trope as some would be. For two, it works here. He plays naturally enough that even though he may not like him all the time, you certainly feel like you know the guy. It ends up working in his favour more often than not.

2) Doesn't Ronnie look pretty one note? Um, yes. In fact, for a good chunk of the movie, he is pretty one note. A child of a single mom that acts out? Fancy that. The shock value of a child with his vocabulary gets old pretty quickly, but there's enough real need and realistic trashiness that you're on his side when he yells, "Fuck his shit up!"

3) Is Mintz-Plasse a legitimate actor now? Sure is! You might of thought he would cost on McLovin' for forever (and who would blame him if he did?), but he's got the chops. There's real, hard to ignore vulnerability behind his every action, making it virtually impossible not to root for him.

4) How do I get Paul Rudd to marry me? Wish I knew! Oh, Paul Rudd, what would we ever do without you? What would co-writer and director David Wain without you? You co-wrote the screenplay, and you still make the best lines sound like fresh improvs (maybe they were? Wain is into the sketch comedy, after all). You've got a winning way with a one-liner, dramatic chops, and movie-start good looks. Truly, that you are not a more popular leading man remains a mystery.

The movie's not perfect: it's far too conventional, Lynch's character's past is milked for all its worth (not that much, although she remains wonderfully off), and Paul Rudd doesn't dance nearly enough. Still, it's funny. Wain's got enough chops to make you think that he's capable of worthwhile comedy even within the confines of the studio system. That's enough for now. B

Pop Culture Round Up: November 8 - 14

I was hoping this would go away.

Hey, good for Wally!

"His basic tenet is that good manners will spring from 'the ability to ignore the faults of others and avoid falling short yourself'." Sounds about right to me.

"Chuck and Blair are the king and queen. Everyone else, except Serena, is a pawn." What? Eric is a rook at the very least.

When I first saw a link to this article, the subtitle was, "Geek superstar or parasite?"

As a Christian, I've never found that there is a correlation between religion and niceness either. He's right about our need for voluntary association, though.

I want to compete on this show.

See? Most stolen art does have to do with WWII.

I don't normally go in for Angel Cohn in a big way, but this photo gallery had me laughing pretty hard. I think I'll go read it again.

"Did it have to be so filthy? I mean, really, if Rambaldi can prophesize the future, he might have advised me not to wear $500 shoes."

Listen, trying to pick a movie to see this weekend or any weekend is hard. Do yourself a favour, and let me pick one for you via my latest Culture article.

Over in the advice section, Miss Smartypants takes on cleaning issues, academic issues, sleep issues, and grammar issues. Got issues? Sure ya do. Send 'em over to advice@culturemagazine.ca.

If you're looking for more Culture goodness, I'd recommend Will's potluck article in the food section and Steve's TV article, "Smart People like Dumb Things."

RocknRolla (2008)

Story: Lenny (Tom Wilkinson) wants to get in good with a new Russian, Uri (Karel Roden), so he offers to smooth over the building permit process for Uri's new stadium. Things go poorly when the seven million euros Uri owes Lenny disappear along with Uri's favourite painting, so Lenny calls in his number two, Archie (Mark Strong), to sort the whole thing out, a complex scheme that involves an accountant (Thandie Newton), the Wild Bunch (Gerard Butler, Idris Elba, and Tom Hardy), and a dead rocker, Johnny Quid (Tom Kebbell).

Writer-director Guy Ritchie, back on track at last. No Nietzsche quotes, no Ray Liotta. Just London's underworld, more slang than you can shake a stick at, and a handsome man (Strong) narrating it at all as the pieces fall into place. The audience gets the full story sooner than the characters, making the entire thing fun rather than boringly "twisty." And, really, Mark Strong is one handsome man.

The enterprise isn't perfect: I'm not sure why we needed Chris Brown and Jeremy Piven, the plot doesn't come together in a way that feels particularly clever, and they sort of lost me on the whole "and that's why I'm keeping the painting" monologue.

But the movie's entertaining. It moves quickly, and I find myself starting sentences with "Now, we all like a bit of the good life . . .." It's not quite a real rock'n'rolla yet, but he's getting there. I'll stay tuned for a sequel. B

Pop Culture Round-Up: November 1 - 7

Born Republicans? That doesn't sound right. Well, maybe it does.

Sad.

Poor Jamie. I'll still love asparagus, don't worry!

If Bertram Cooper knows enough to buy a Rothko, the Tate should have been all over that.

Yes! Now I will only call him a duck.

Does anyone else feel like Shostakovich is everywhere nowadays?

I'm sure there will still be plenty of other stupid public figures.

Stolen art that doesn't have to do with Nazis? Huh.

So ugly we didn't even run a picture!

Do we really need three?

Also sad. And fun to read.

Chuck Bass but not Nate? Nate sleeps with everyone and then forgets about it! He would have taken the prize if I had written that list.

Veronica Mars (2004 - 2007)

Veronica Mars (or V-mars) is the real reason I came up with TV Thursday. I re-watched all three seasons this summer. Afterward, I wanted someone to talk to about what I loved, what I missed, and my lingering issues with the show. The answer was right there before me: you, gentle reader. I can always talk to you. Not only is V-mars in my personal pantheon of favourite shows ever, but it also happens to be one of the best shows ever made. Though season three barely reached the glory of season one (surely one of the greatest seasons of any show to ever be recorded), its cancellation still stings. For me, the strength of each season is a combination of three elements: the season mystery, the supporting characters, and Veronica herself.

The creators could not have been luckier to have had Kristen Bell in the lead role. She is a genius at creating a multi-layered, believable, mature character who felt like a real teenager. Veronica was tough and jaded when we met her, making her vulnerabilities and her occasional rebellion, as well as her even more rare silliness, that much more moving.

Season one's big mystery was Lilly's (Amanda Seyfried) murder, but the murder connected to the other mysteries of Veronica's rape, her mother's disappearance, her break up with Duncan (Teddy Dunn), and even her parentage. One of that season's great strengths was that it sprinkled at least one clue about one of these mysteries, if not more, in every single episode. We always saw Veronica working to bring these mysteries to a close, and watching a teenage girl trying to solve such overwhelming cases while still dealing with being a teenage girl and solving often personal mysteries of the week (MotW) made for some pretty compelling drama.

Even in the midst of all this, the writers took time to develop the supporting characters in such a way that we cared if we saw them in the next episode. Weevil (Francis Capra IV) and Logan (Jason Dohring) were standouts that season, thanks to tremendous talent, charisma, chemistry with Bell, and links to the season mysteries (not to mention the HoYay. Oh, the HoYay was strong between those two). Weevil went beyond young thug thanks to his emotional ties to family, Veronica, and Lily, and Logan's family situation and self-destructive streak pushed him past the poor little rich boy archetype.

All of these things came to a head in the season finale when Veronica finally solved Lilly's murder: Aaron Echolls (Harry Hamlin), Logan's famous actor dad, had an affair with Lilly and killed her in a fit of rage with she threatened to go public. It was incredibly well developed (Aaron's violence, abuse, and philandering were well established over the course of the season), and it had satisfying repercussions that lasted through the rest of the show.

Season two began with a mystery carried over from season one (Felix's murder - a plotline that was once again was heavy on Logan and Weevil) and picked up a new mystery (bus crash) by the end of the season opener. Despite the fact that she early on drew the erroneous conclusion on that the bus crash was meant for her, Veronica was never particularly emotional invested in figuring out who caused it. Entire episodes could go by without any forward motion on the case, and it became difficult to see why we should care when Veronica didn't. Episodes like "Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough" stood out instead because of their creative mix of MotW and character development. "I am God" provided boatloads of information about the crash, as well as a renewed fervour on Veronica's part to solve the case, but, at episode 18, it came too late in the season to spark audience interest in the same way. It didn't help that it followed "Plan B," which, for me, was the high point of the season.

"Plan B," episode 17, saw the conclusion of the Felix murder storyline. This mystery arc was far better handled than the bus crash. It was addressed in nearly every episode, had a tangible emotional involvement for two main characters (Logan and Weevil), and drew Veronica in. It showcased Logan and Weevil at their worst (Logan planting drugs) and best (Weevil's courtyard declaration). Like the conclusion of Lilly's murder, it had rich emotional and plot ramifications that rippled out for the rest of the season and the series.

Cassidy 'Beaver' Casablancas (Kyle Gallner) was by far the standout of season two, so making him ultimately responsible for the bus crash was good in theory. The writers carefully sowed the seeds of of his abuse, and it was abundantly clear that he was one seriously sad, messed up kid by the end of season two. So why, then, did they suddenly write him as a sneering villain? It was obvious that Gallner was talented enough to switch back and forth between the personae, as he did in those final scenes. It was also obvious that Beaver was very smart, so we could believe that he was a criminal mastermind/evil genius (although that stuff with Curly Moran never really added up for me). Throwing in the possibility that he murdered Keith Mars (Enrico Colantoni), Veronica's dad, was cheap. Keith and Veronica's relationship was central to the show, and there was just no way it would go on without it.

It didn't help that the last two episodes also focused on Aaron's murder trial, recalling the better handled season one mystery and manging to be risible simultaneously. That the defense would base their entire case on the idea that Veronica was a slut (I am not making this up) and that the prosecution would be absolutely unable to counter this was a slap in the face to intelligence and dedication of the audience. The two narrative reasons for the disaster of a trial were satisfactory: 1) Aaron finally confesses that he murdered Lilly to Veronica and 2) in Duncan's best move ever, he has badass motherfucker Clarence Wiedman (Christoper B. Duncan) kill Aaron; however, the trial was emblematic of the way things would go down hill in season three.

New network, new structure: season mysteries were dumped for three smaller arcs. When things didn't look good for the show, the two smaller arcs were followed by five stand alone episodes. The first arc, a serial rapist on campus, came from a realistic post-secondary place, and the culprit was handled well. The entire thing fell apart for me when Veronica revealed that Claire faked her rape and accused the Lilith House of faking the series of rapes, a charge which they did not deny. In hindsight, it's clear to me that the first two rapes were real (especially given that the first victim didn't report it), and Parker's (Julia Gonzalo) rape was real. The rest are questionable, which is murky moral territory, even for this show. That the Liliths held Pis responsible for their friend's suicide attempt and subsequent institutionalization and that they wanted restitution wasn't the problem. Even that Nish (Chastity Dotson) would draw the conclusion that the Pis were responsible and getting away with something horrible once again wasn't the problem. It was the idea that such radical feminists would chose to fake that particular crime that rankles. They knew that both Veronica and the police were on the case, and Veronica cracked the case in two episodes makes it all the more ridiculous that they would do it in the first place. Just how stupid are these girls supposed to be?

The second mystery, Dean Cyrus O'Dell's (Ed Begely, Jr.) murder, was better handled by far (sensing a pattern here?). It relied on solid detective work, and, despite the fact that Veronica is herself a rape victim and that she held herself responsible for one of the rapes, both Veronica and her dad were emotionally involved in solving the case. The case pointed clearly to two possible murderers and, in a nicely done moment, indicted a third.

Unfortunately, Veronica, the character, hit a real low point in season three. In season two she was sort of all over the map, but it tied into a believable emotional place: for two years, her life had been hell, and now it just . . . wasn't? What was she supposed to do with that? Solving Lilly's murder hadn't fixed everything, and it makes sense that it would be difficult for Veronica to move forward. One of the show's strengths was that they would let Veronica be an asshole once in a while (we all do it, after all), but they took it too far in season three. Instead of maturing and growing up in college like we would have wanted her to, Veronica started wildly jumping to conclusions in her cases (often nasty ones like when she accused Weevil of holding up the on-campus casino, even no there is no way in hell that Weevil would ever get violent with Veronica) and showing a shocking combination of indifference and judgment toward her fellow man (what was with her immediate dislike of the perfectly friendly Parker? why was she so tough on Max when he fell for a hooker? how could she not see that Piz was pining away for her?). In short, Veronica slid toward insufferableness.

When Veronica broke up with Logan for sleeping with Madison (Amanda Noret) while they were broken up because she held Madison accountable for her rape (a complete retcon), Veronica's character's low point hit its nexus with my biggest problem with the series on the whole: the complete lack of accountability for Dick's (Ryan Hansen) involvement in her rape. There were plenty of other good reasons for Veronica to dislike Madison, so there was no reason to go there. There was no indication at the time or at any point thereafter that Madison knew the drink she handed Veronica was drugged; all she thought it was laced with was saliva and sugar. Dick was the one who put the GHB in the drink; Dick had every intention of drugging and raping his girlfriend; Dick plied Veronica with alcohol after he drugged her; Dick put Beaver in the room with Veronica; and Dick told Beaver to rape her. And what does Dick get for his troubles? A busted surfboard? Fuck. I understand why the writers would want to keep Hansen on the show (he's a treasure), but, from a narrative point of view, the fact that Dick gets away with everything and that Veronica doesn't even blame him or try to ward other women off is the most glaring narrative failure on the part of the show.

The stand alone episodes were hit and miss (the first, "Un-American Graffit," is arguably the worst entry in the series), although they seemed to be pushing the show closer to a procedural and away from its noir roots that helped it command attention and critical praise in the first place. The series went out on a high note with the two-parter "Weevils Wobble But They Don't Go Down" and "The Bitch is Back," an episode that once again proved that a Veronica wronged is the best Veronica to watch. It also set up what could have been an interesting fourth season if they picked up where season three left off: Sheriff Van Lowe (?), the dissolution of Piz and Veronica's burgeoning relationship, the certain knowledge that Veronica and Logan remain as in love as ever. Most importantly, what would happen after Keith put himself on the line for Veronica (again) even though she lied to his face and possibly cost him the election?

We'll never know, so we'll just have to take the show for what it was: a brilliant and occasionally flawed gem, centred on a truly worthwhile protagonist, surrounded by talented and dynamic supporting players, and mounted on a seething underbelly of noir. Ah, television: sometimes you're just so damn good.