“The Last Recruit” continues the procession of narrative-driven episodes, pushing events closer and closer to their final resolutions. There are a few attempts to wedge some character moments — such as Claire’s insecurities and Sayid’s conscience — into the mix. But for the most part, we get “more of the same” from a series that is far more concerned about getting to the end of its story than it is about how it gets there. And, truthfully, despite the entertainment value of this installment (it is kinda fun to watch), Lost simply isn’t presenting episodes with the same level of craft as when the series began.

The most dynamic element of the episode is its title. The most obvious application is to Jack who, seemingly, becomes Locke’s final recruit in the episode’s final scene. But there are also Claire and Sayid, who are also focal points of the story. In this sense, the title serves as a kind of foundation for the episode’s narrative threads, providing at least a semblance of stability. However, the devil is very much in the details.

The episode begins with a palaver between Jack and Locke. In what could have (and should have) been a tension-filled, riveting confrontation, we get what is, essentially, an exposition dump. The whole scene is designed to explain that Locke needs dead bodies to take corporeal form — and this answers the question of who or what Jack saw way back in season one, when his dead father inexplicably appeared on the Island. The revelation is handled with all the care of three year-old putting away her toys. And the moment robs the scene of any real drama. Not even Locke’s seemingly earnest declaration that he just wants to help Jack and his pals leave the Island resonates as it should.

In any case, the moment serves as a launching point for Jack’s inner conflict in the episode. Who does he believe? Who does he trust? Who does he follow? Prior to meeting Locke, Jack notably asks permission from Hurley — an act that he is indeed willing to follow. Later, he follows Sawyer’s orders to round up Hurley, Sun and Lapidus for a secret rendezvous. But when Sawyer confronts Jack on a sailboat, headed away from the Island, Jack finally listens to his own conscience. Sawyer challenges him to make a “leap of faith” — and that is precisely what Jack does, both literally and figuratively. Jumping from the sailboat, Jack swims back to the Island, back to Locke’s camp.

As Locke says, in the midst of an artillery assault no less, “You’re with me, now.”

It’s important to note that Jack has nearly finished his journey from a “man of science” to a “man of faith.” Despite the unLocke’s skewering of Locke as a “sucker,” Jack seems unwilling to let go of his belief in the purpose of the Island.

Conversely, Sayid’s transformation into mindless automaton finally seems to be cracking a bit. After having been ordered to assassinate Desmond, Sayid seems to hesitate. In fact, his conversation with Desmond, along with the fact that we never see any resolution of Sayid’s mission, opens the door to the possibility that he disobeys Locke and somehow allows Desmond to live. This would be a welcome development, however, Sayid’s arc this season has been so pointless that it’s almost as if the episode is pressing a necessary reset button for his character.

Incidentally, Desmond’s simple question: “What will you tell her? What will you say when she asks what you did to get her back?” is an especially insightful and profound bit of dialogue, highlighting the importance of whether or not the ends justify the means.

Claire also gets some screen time, and an attempt to explain just why she is so batshit crazy (hint: she’s suffering from abandonment issues). In the context of the episode and the series, this makes some sense. And it allows for Kate’s pleas on the dock to carry a great deal of weight. Again, though, this is an example of how the series has had to do some backpedaling. It served a purpose for Claire to be crazy for a while. But now her zaniness isn’t as important, so it’s simply explained away.

The flashsideways storyline continues to intrigue, even if it has very little to ground it in the overall arc of the series. Whether it’s Sawyer and Kate, or Locke and Sun, or Desmond and Claire, or Jack and Locke, the coincidences are certainly interesting — if continually hollow, without any explicit relevance to the characters we already know.

Overall Grade: C+

On the whole, “The Last Recruit” is yet another in a string of entertaining episodes from Lost. Seeing Sun and Jin finally reunite was a wonderful moment, finally paying off years of drama. But at this point, the pacing and emphasis of the episodes seems to point more toward a series that just wants to get to the end, without any particular regard for how it gets there.

“Vengeance” is an episode about confronting the choices of the past. At what point does forgiveness take over for anger? For the actions of yourself as much as for the actions of others? What does it take to find salvation or redemption for the mistakes of the past? What must one sacrifice to achieve atonement? These are the central questions to an installment that, for the most part, isn’t quite as tightly knit as the best that Legend of the Seeker has had to offer. Still, this is an episode that has an important story to tell — one that has meaning far beyond the machinations of its characters.

The story is precipitated by the revelation that Richard’s father, Panis Rahl, murdered the father of Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. Zedd’s brother, with encouragement from Darken Rahl, sets off to hunt down and kill Panis, who is posing as an elderly scholar. As chance would have it, Panis has found Richard, and using his guise as a scholar, offered his services to help find a scroll that is key to unleashing the power of the Stone of Tears. When Zedd and Thaddicus arrive to kill Panis, Richard becomes an unlikely protector — and the familial drama is slowly divulged.

Perhaps the episode’s greatest weakness is the fact that it amounts to little more than an exposition of the past, rather than moving the story forward. Indeed, a lot of the story hinges on flashbacks to flesh out the tension between the characters. This has the potential to derail some of the drama. But as the episode moves toward its final resolution, it finds its footing and becomes a commentary on the hatred we can harbor within us for deeds of the past.

Leave it to Richard to show the way forward.

What really helps the episode evolve beyond a simple tale is its notion that every story has multiple facets — and that even villains often operate from what appears, to them at least, to be a rational and reasonable motivation. Panis, worried about why his son had become ill, disguises himself as Zedd and confronts Zedd’s father. Learning that the father did indeed cast a curse of Darken Rahl, Panis promptly kills the father — an act meant to protect his family.

In the years that follow, Panis realizes the gross error of his ways — realizes that Zedd’s father was acting to rid the world of a great potential evil. But that didn’t stop Thaddicus or Zedd from hating Panis for murder. Nor did it stop them from seeking vengeance — a vengeance thwarted by Richard’s resolve to seek the truth. Once the truth is revealed, Zedd’s act of vengeance isn’t quite so simple.

And as Panis explains, he spent is entire life trying to atone for his deeds. To that end, he helps Richard find the scroll. In that moment, Zedd realizes that it’s time to let go of past hatred. Unfortunately, an attack by the Sisters of Dark thwarts the act of forgiveness. And once they steal the scroll, they set about trying to kill Richard. Panis sacrifices himself, finally atoning for the errors of his past.

Almost as shocking is Zedd’s revelation that Darken would never have been conceived had it not been for his intervention. For years Zedd has punished himself for that act. And, once again, it’s up to Richard to point the way to forgiveness. Zedd realizes that he wasn’t so different from Panis Rahl and that the only forward is to find forgiveness for himself.

This points to a continuing strength for Legend of the Seeker: namely stories that have thematic resonance. The characters of this episode manage to find forgiveness for others — and for themselves. The lessons they learn are as valuable to them as they are to the audience. And, for this reason, Seeker continues demonstrate why it has become an exceptional series.

Overall Grade: B

“Vengeance” may not be the best that Legend of the Seeker has to offer, but it’s nonetheless a solid, entertaining, and worthwhile episode. Despite the emphasis on the past, it moves the plot forward, but only by way of meaningful character development.

“Zillo Beast” is a vehicle for exploring the consequences of warfare — for examining the moral dilemmas that present themselves during any act of aggression. Exceptional production values allow this episode to showcase its central themes in ways that are as meaningful as they are entertaining. The result is yet another stellar installment of The Clone Wars.

The episode opens with a massive droid assault on the planet of Malastare. Anakin and Mace Windu are present not only to repel the invasion, but also to secure a treaty which will provide essential raw materials for the Republic’s war effort. To that end, Chancellor Palpatine has authorized the use of an “electro-proton bomb” to be used against the droid armies. Part nuclear bomb, part electromagnetic pulse, this is a weapon of great power. And it presents the episode’s first moral conflict: How far is too far to secure victory?

Surely this new weapon can help the Republic defeat the Separatist Army and gain a key tactical advantage in the war. But do these outcomes justify the use of such a devastating weapon? Initially, the weapon seems to work flawlessly. The EMP knocks down the entire droid army, leaving the Republic troopers and Dug warriors unharmed. But an unforeseen side effect — the creation of a massive sink hole — threatens not only the treaty negotiations, but also the delicate balance of the planet.

What the Republic has done is to unleash the dreaded Zillo Beast — a godzilla-like creature that is as deadly and as powerful as it is massive in size.

This leads to the episode’s next dilemma: What to do with the beast? Mace Windu wants no part of killing what could be a last-of-its-kind specimen. But the Dugs want it dead, and they threaten to withhold signing the treaty unless the Republic helps them kill it. To that end, Anakin comes up with a plan to try and stun the creature — fooling the Dugs into thinking its dead, so that they will sign the treaty, and allowing Mace Windu to clear his conscience.

Of course, Anakin’s plan works and the creature is subdued.

These themes work very well because they aren’t presented with a particularly heavy hand. The episode spends enough time on cool action sequences (the opening battle is very well-choreographed and executed) as well as fun moments (pay attention for a nod to the old TV series M*A*S*H by way of troopers called Trapper and Hawkeye). The “fun” elements of the episode provide a necessary balance, keeping the story as entertaining as it is meaningful.

Overall Grade: A-

“The Zillo Beast” is a strong installment of The Clone Wars. It presents a meaningful, balanced story that is both fun to watch and deeply provocative.

“Olivia. In The Lab. With The Revolver.” is a prototypical episode of Fringe. There’s the requisite “weird” science of the week. There are a few connections to the overall story arc. And, on the whole, the result is a solidly entertaining, if somewhat unremarkable installment of the series.

When members of the Jacksonville experimental group suddenly begin succumbing to a strangely transmitted cancer, it’s up to Olivia and her team to solve the mystery before … well, before any more bodies, including Olivia’s, begin piling up. The premise is enough to keep the story focused squarely on both the characters and the overall story arc. And in that sense, the episode manages to be rather successful. The downside is an overemphasis on the mystery elements, at the expense of the characters.

At the heart of this episode is Olivia’s dilemma: Does she tell Peter about his true nature. At first, she’s dead set on telling the truth. Walter does his best to buy some time, so that he can tell Peter on his own terms. But as the episode unfolds, Olivia slowly begins to understand that, sometimes, the truth can do more harm than good. Her realization is thanks to encounters with both Nina Sharp and The Bowling Guru — as well as Peter’s unrelenting help in her investigations. It’s this internal conflict, and not the bizarre cancer story, which really drives the episode forward. And in that sense, the events help to humanize what we’ve already learned about these characters.

Just as important, though, is Walter’s realization that the truth is critical to repairing the mistakes of the past. The specter of the Jacksonville experiments helps trigger this realization. But more than anything, Walter has realized that he must begin to atone for his actions. And the only way to do that is through acknowledging his choices, and accepting the consequences for them. Much like Olivia’s story, Walter’s tale is what keeps this episode interesting and relevant.

The rest of the mystery is rather pedestrian for Fringe. Some dude manages to transfer his cancer to victims in exchange for life-giving energy. He was prompted to do so by a mysterious visitor. And once Olivia finally subdues the cancer guy in her own apartment, all that’s left is to figure out who initiated the whole scenario … and why. Good questions, but hardly worth a whole episode to explore.

Overall Grade: C+

“Olivia. In the Lab. With the Revolver” is an entertaining and meaningful episode of Fringe. The story elements which deal with the interpersonal drama between Olivia, Peter and Walter make for a fantastic tale. Unfortunately, these elements are relegated to a subplot in favor of a decidedly humdrum mystery.

“Everybody Loves Hugo” is a bit of a paradox. It’s a character-driven, thematically rich episode which divulges more than a couple of “secrets” about the story. And yet, it keeps the overall narrative maddeningly vague and elusive. The thing is, I actually liked this episode. I’m just not sure if it’s significantly better than anything we’ve seen thus far from this season of Lost.

As the title suggests this is an episode about Hugo … or Hurley, if you prefer. In the broadest sense, this is about the ascension of his character to a position of authority — both on and off of the Island. In many ways, both story lines make a lot of sense, given what we know about Hurley — about his loyalty and determination, as well as his hesitant sense of self-worth. Ultimately, this is a story in which Hurley is unquestionably a leader. And to that end, the episode is very satisfying. However, there’s little within the episode itself to suggest that its machinations — at least with respect to Hurley — are part of the larger narrative. Instead, it’s the subplots which bear the brunt of the moving the overall plot forward.

In both timelines, Hurley takes center stage. On the Island, he receives a visit from Michael — of all people — which motivates him to take a leadership role. In the Flash Sideways, he receives a visit from Libby (and Desmond) which propels him to take an active role in his own life. There’s a nice symmetry to the two stories: They both focus on Hurley, finally, deciding how to live his life. And in this sense, the episode is a success. Whether it is his actions on the Island or in the alternate reality, Hurley exercises his right to choose what happens to him and those he cares about. And as far as the series of Lost is concerned, this is precisely the kind of story which has made the show worth watching.

In the Flash Sideways, Hurley receives an unexpected visit from Libby. It’s a wonderfully ironic development considering that, on the Island, he visits Libby’s grave and implores her to speak to him. Add in the fact that, on the Island, Hurley will receive vital advice from Michael — Libby’s murderer — and you’ve got a story which contains enough internal conflict to make a truly exceptional episode.

In the Flash Sideways, Hurley learns that Libby is a patient at a mental hospital. His own life is very different. He’s a wealthy entrepreneur who owns a fast-food franchise while Libby is struggling with two memories — that of her life in the Flash Sideways, as well as a just-as-real life on the Island. In many ways, this is similar to the conflict Roland faces in The Wastelands book of the Dark Tower series by Stephen King: a character struggles with two equal, but disparate memories causing the character to slowly go insane.

Libby’s struggle, however, is enough to ignite an ember of curiosity within Hugo. And after Desmond makes a not-so-subtle appearance, and encourages Hugo to follow his heart, Hugo goes off to meet Libby and try to figure out how it is that she has such a vivid memory of him, when he has no clue who she is. Their meeting results in a beachside date (not without the intended irony, by the way). After a tender kiss, Hugo “remembers” Libby and we, finally, get a tangible glimpse into the true nature of the Flash Sideways stories: They are the lives that the characters would have lead without ever having gone to the Island — and yet, there’s a way for their experiences on the Island to carry over to their alternate lives.

There’s still a fundamental problem with all of this, though: Put simply, we don’t know enough about the alternate characters to really care about what happens to them. Even considering the nature vs. nurture argument, it’s impossible to say that the Hugo we see in the Flash Sideways is the exact same character we’ve learned about over five-plus seasons of the series. As a result, while his exploits in the Flash Sideways are interesting — and even a bit illuminating — they simply aren’t relevant enough to warrant the amount of time they are given on-screen.

But at least as far as the plot is concerned, Desmond’s presence and influence on Hugo’s actions in the Flash Sideways are quite significant. It’s his interaction with Hugo that precipitates the “date” between Hugo and Libby. And the final scene, in which Desmond runs down a paraplegic Locke (after a not-so-subtle conversation with Linus) is quite riveting.

Overall Grade: B

“Everybody Loves Hugo” represents an excellent evolution of character for Hurley. But the uneven, obscure approach keeps this installment from being exceptional.

How do you place a value on life? If you have the power to decide who lives and who dies, how do you exercise that power?

These are the questions at the very heart of “Desecration,” an episode of Legend of the Seeker that successfully combines suspense, action, and a wonderfully cohesive story about the central question of who lives and who dies. This installment that manages to create a tale that is as meaningful as it is entertaining. Ultimately, the episode is yet another classic installment of a series that has truly matured into a show that is worth watching.

We begin with a surprise birthday party for Richard in the remote little settlement of Dunshire. The opening scenes do an excellent job of establishing the camaraderie of the main characters, as well as providing a much-needed light-hearted setting for what will, eventually, become a very dark and suspenseful tale in which the very lives of our heroes will hang in the balance. Indeed, it is this question about the value of life which drives the episode forward. It’s a thematic concept that does an excellent job of posing a question — and then exploring the question from many different perspectives.

The real heart of the story begins at a magic show in which Kahlan and Cara are teleported to an abandoned tomb with a very limited supply of air. The magician responsible for their abduction is seeking revenge on five men who, inexplicably, managed to evade the lottery that sent men from the village to war against the D’Harans. The magician grieves for the loss of his five sons and wants revenge. And this dynamic manages to deftly establish several key elements to the episode as a whole.

For starters, the magician is willing to sacrifice the Mother Confessor and Richard’s close ally (Cara) for the sake of his own revenge. But we quickly learn that his grief, and desire for “justive” is not without merit. The lottery system that sent his five sons to their deaths, and spared the lives of the five men whom he wants dead, was rigged. The man in charge of the village saw to it that his own son — and four other valuable young men — were spared from the lottery … essentially deciding who would live and who would die in the war against D’Hara. Likewise the magician has made the same decision: deciding that either the five “cowards” (as he calls them) will die, or Cara and Kahlan will die.

This concept is further elaborated by the decision Richard is forced to make: Ensure the deaths of the five men, or the deaths of his two closest friends. Richard, of course, chooses to try and find a way to save everyone. But this, too, is merely an extension of the central question of the episode. As the ruler of Dunshire says to Zedd about the massacre in Richard’s home village, “Did you save every child that was in danger?” Zedd, of course, has no reasonable response because he, like the ruler of Dunshire, made a decision about who should live and who should die.

It’s this complexity of character and story which really makes this episode a classic. The introduction of a monster, known as the Nagax, does a great job to elevate the tension and danger facing our heroes. But more importantly, it becomes an extension of the episode’s central dilemma: When the Nagax “possesses” Zedd, Richard has to decide how to keep his mentor alive, while also protecting the lives of the five men who had evaded the lottery.

This concept finds further expression between Cara and Kahlan, who are fast running out of air. After trying in vain to find an escape, they realize that they can double the time Richard has to find them … if one of them were to die. Naturally, they both decide that they themselves should be the one to die. And they have a scintillating knock-down, drag-out fight over who should die. But at the heart of these scenes is the question about who’s life is the more valuable. That Richard is ultimately able to save all of his friends (and three of the five marked men) may seem a bit simplistic. But really, even the final climactic scene — in which the son of the village ruler chooses to sacrifice himself to save everyone else — merely reinforces the episode’s central theme.

Overall Grade: B+

“Desecrated” is a perfect example of how Legend of the Seeker has matured as a series. It is an episode which combines an entertaining story with a profoundly meaningful questions. And it has the courage to explore the question from many different perspectives. There is no one right-or-wrong answer to be found here. Like all things, it’s a question that people struggle with and, hopefully, find a course of action that suits the common good — rather than personal gratification or benefit.

Introducing the Photograph Gallery!

As part Dauntlessmedia.net’s development to include more original content, I’m pleased to share the Photograph Gallery. This is a new endeavor, one which I’m still working toward figuring out, but it’s been a thoroughly enjoyable challenge so far. Enjoy the pictures!

The long term benefit is the camera’s ability to capture 1080p HD video and external audio — a necessity considering the scripts a writing partner and I have been coming up with. My hope is to begin producing some (very!) amateur videos in the not-too-distant future. Along with my writing projects and reviews (more on the reviews below), I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.

As far as reviews go, I would like to thanks everyone who has sent along messages asking about the status of reviews for shows like Legend of the Seeker, Lost, Deep Space Nine and Fringe. The good news is that those articles will soon be completed — in time for the Fall Season. There’s no explanation for their sudden absence, other than the complexities of life getting in the damned way.

In any event, thanks again to loyal visitors who keeping checking back. You’ll soon see regular updates — whether it be writing, photography or reviews!

Tomas merely shook his head and continued to try gathering his thoughts — like trying to gather creepers on the infernal horizon, he thought.

“That no one’ll remember me when I’m gone.”

Read more »

Or was this monotony?

There you go thinking again.

If not mine own thoughts, what else do I have?

Read more »

“A Pound of Flesh” is perhaps the most fully realized episode of V thus far. Of course, considering the relative mediocrity of the series thus far, that’s not saying a whole lot. But there are some prominent developments — primarily in terms of the hows a whys a number of the Vs have decided to turn against their own kind to form a Fifth Column resistance. The narrative itself is a bit more streamlined than most episodes thus far. The result is a production that is, objectively, an improvement. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that the series has found its voice.

Borrowing a bit from previous V series, this episode focuses on the Resistance taking advantage of a major V broadcast to announce their presence and power. Their first complication is gaining access to a V ship. Once there, they must find a way to enact their plan. It’s around this plot that the episode revolves, augmented mostly by familial issues — Erica’s concerns about Tyler’s involvement with the Vs, and Ryan’s concerns about Valerie’s pregnancy.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment of the episode is that Ryan — the V Fifth Column member of the Resistance — only decides to go on the mission to disrupt Anna’s transmission when it suits his own needs (namely the fact that his wife needs a chemical which can only be found on the V ship). Ryan’s motivations to help his girlfriend are certainly valid, but it shouldn’t have taken that circumstance for him to agree to a mission which would, obviously, bolster the global resistance against the Vs. This is, in essence, the biggest miscue of the episode.

It’s still a significant problem, though, that Ryan will not confront his girlfriend about his own identity. Obviously he cannot keep the secret of his race, and her pregnancy, secret for much longer. So his stated reasons for keeping mum — that he might lose her — are pretty much irrelevant. It’s just an odd and inelegant portrayal of what is, obviously, an unusual and unprecedented situation.

Still, the strong focus on the mission, as well as Erica’s desire to get her son as far away from the Vs as possible, allows for an episode that is much more focused and coherent than anything we’ve seen thus far. The scenes between Erica and her ex-husband are human and compelling and quite natural. They show people who genuinely want the best for their children (Tyler) despite whatever traumatic history might exist between them.

Perhaps the most intriguing development of the episode comes from a discovery by Anna — that Vs are beginning to feel empathy, like humans. It’s the first indication that humanity has a quality that the Vs generally lack, something that could prove to be pivotal in any eventual open conflict between the two species. The fact that humanity can feel compassion for others, to love in other words, can either be a weakness or a strength. And the way the episode unfolds, it certainly seems as though Anna sees humanity’s compassion as a threat to her overall plans — particularly where her own people are concerned.

Indeed, this development is at the very heart of the episode. Whether it is Erica looking for a new home for her son, or Georgie trying to help Ryan on the V ship, or the discomfort Father Jack feels towards Hobbes’ tactics — it’s obvious that the compassion people feel for one another is going to be a major element going forward in this series.

Overall Grade: B

“A Pound of Flesh” actually manages to be an important episode. Whether it is the pirated transmission that “John May Lives” or Anna’s discovery that Vs who feel compassion are compromised, or that Hobbes has a ruthlessly pragmatic approach to battle, there are a lot of significant developments to the series. Of course, V is still a long, long way from functioning at a high level. But this episode is entertaining and focused. And there’s a chance that it could to prove to be a legitimate turning point in the series as a whole.

With “Happily Ever After,” Lost has turned a corner. It finally creates some connective tissue between its most incongruous elements and, once again, focuses squarely on characters — their emotions, motivations and inner conflicts. In terms of production, the episode itself is far from perfect. But with the right approach and intent, as well as some truly important revelations, there’s a sense that, finally, the series beginning to navigate its way out of its self-imposed doldrums.

The focus of this week’s episode is Desmond — and his unique time-shifting abilities. On the Island, Widmore plans to make use of Desmond to help overcome the impending battle with Locke. The question is: How? How exactly is Desmond the key to everything? As it turns out, Desmond is able to make a conscious connection between life on the Island and life in the flash-sideways. And as the episode unfolds, we learn — along with Desmond — that the flash-sideways should never have happened.

Once again, the flash-sideways story is filled with irony. Desmond is a highly successful assistant to one Charles Widmore. After returning from Australia, Widmore even offers Desmond a shot of the famous (and very expensive) MacCutcheon Whiskey, which had previously been symbolic of the distance between the two characters. Desmond seems content with his globe-trotting life, but he’s also single, having never met Penny. It takes a fateful meeting with Charlie for Desmond to begin to understand what has happened — and what must happened.

The interactions between Charlie and Desmond are a bit “hit-or-miss” in terms of their success. Charlie’s discussion of finding true love and Desmond’s comment that “there’s always a choice, brutha,” are exceptional. But Charlie simply walking across a road, or swerving Desmond’s car off of a road into the harbor, or running through the hospital are just a tad bit too extreme to take seriously. Of course, Charlie’s actions serve a purpose, and there’s a particularly poignant moment underwater where Desmond has a flash of Charlie’s hand, with “Not Penny’s Boat” written on it.

This sets Desmond on a quest, of sorts, to find Penny.

His journey will lead him to meet up with everyone from Jack to Widmore’s wife, Eloise Hawking. More importantly, Desmond has a profound encounter with Daniel who, in this lifetime, is just a musician. But after Daniel had seen Charlotte, days earlier, he had inexplicably drawn some very advanced mathematical equations. He realizes that they are for the release of a nuclear bomb — a detonation that should never have happened. Desmond realizes that he must do whatever he can to undo the damage from the detonation. But before his consciousness returns to the Island, he finally meets Penny and, as Daniel says, it’s love at first sight.

If there’s a thematic connection to all of this, it’s in the fact that love — true love — will happen, no matter the reality. What happens afterwards, though, depends entirely on what Desmond calls “a choice.” Do we accept the destiny of our love, and whatever travails arise from following it? Or do we live a sideways life which, on the surface, may seem successful but is, otherwise, empty and hollow? It’s a great idea for the series to return to this idea of choice — especially with the characters of Charlie and Desmond. Their decisions, their choices, a few seasons back had a profound influence on everyone around them. It would appear that the same will hold true this time as well.

As a coda for the episode, Desmond asks his chauffeur in the flash-sideways for a manifest of the Oceanic Flight 815 passenger list. Back on the Island, he’s taken by Sayid, after willing choosing to help Widmore.

Overall Grade: B

On the whole, “Happily Ever After” is a very, very important episode for the series. It’s character-centered and does a nice job of playing off the idea of choice. The pacing works well. But some of the minor character moments are slightly amiss.

“Bounty Hunters” is a solid installment of The Clone Wars series. It features a fun story, plenty of action, and a truly fantastic musical score. In almost every respect, the production is solid. It’s also an homage to Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai — which ought to draw the interest of many viewers. As a standalone episode in the Star Wars universe it’s a classic, even if a few awkward moments keep it from being truly exceptional.

I must confess that, despite knowing about the plot, I’ve never seen Seven Samurai, so I can’t say how faithful or competent an homage the episode itself is. But a successful homage doesn’t rely on viewers having explicit knowledge of the source material. Instead, it uses the original work to help tell a compelling tale. And that’s what happens here. Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka crash land on Felucia and find themselves helping four bounty hunters defend a farming village from marauding pirates led by none other than Hondo (from the Season One Clone Wars episode “Dooku Captured” and its followup “The Gungan General”).

The opening paces of the episode are remarkable for a couple of elements. First, there’s the action sequence in which Anakin’s ship is shot down by Vulture droids. One wonders why a recon mission wouldn’t be made with a more agile ship. But no matter, the sequence is more about the dialogue and interactions between the three Jedi than it is about how they got into their predicament. The dialogue here is filled with playful banter that is absolutely hilarious and revealing. There is a clear camaraderie between these characters, but even so, small rivalries and bickering are also present — the seeds of future strife.

Once the Jedi arrive in the village, we’re introduced to the bounty hunters, led by a female named Sugi. She explains that her band, which includes the wonderfully realized Samurai-like Embo, are there to protect the village. The villagers themselves are small, almost turtle-like creatures who have no history with combat or battle. They beg the Jedi to help but Obi-Wan refuses, citing the need to inform the Republic of a destroyed medical station and the desire to keep the Separatists from learning about the village. It’s sound logic, but it’s also a bit extreme.

Worse still for the episode, Obi-Wan ends up fighting the pirates without actually having explained why he’s changed his mind about fighting. There is the intermediary step of Anakin teaching the villagers how to be fighters — with Obi-Wan’s approval — based on the idea that the Jedi cannot always be there to defend the village. But when the inevitable attack comes, Obi-Wan is on the front line, fighting, with nary a word about why he and his fellow Jedi are suddenly taking such an active role in the battle. This isn’t a critical problem (it is easy to understand why Obi-Wan would defend a nearly helpless village from ruthless pirates), but it is an oversight.

The pirates are led by the colorful Hondo, a character from the first season (who actually managed to capture Obi-Wan and Anakin). Once again he’s an amusing, entertaining villain. His addition to the episode is a decided benefit, not only because of how much fun the character is, but also because of his history with the Jedi.

His assault on the village is swift and deadly, for both sides. It’s remarkable, once again, how realistic the Clone Wars series is in depicting the reality of battle. True, our heroes escape unscathed, but villagers, pirates and bounty hunters all perish. And even the noble, skillful Embo is injured by a cannon blast from a tank.

The tank sequence, though, is the second misstep of the episode. Anakin confronts Hondo in a thrilling battle, showcasing Hondo’s skill with an electro-staff. It sets up what should be a final confrontation in the battle. As expected, Anakin gets the upper hand, with Hondo dangling off of a cliff. Hondo offers a truce in exchange for his life. Anakin agrees, then Hondo pushes Anakin in front of a cannon blast, sending Anakin down to the village below. Hondo is left alone atop a cliff with a cannon trained on the village — and then he leaves, citing the fact that the venture is no longer profitable.

The sequence makes sense — Hondo cannot possible hope to fend off the impending assault of three Jedi, but is abrupt departure is too abrupt, especially with the ominous music and framing shot of Hondo standing diabolically above a village with no immediate defense against the tank. Surely a resourceful pirate could have parlayed the situation into something profitable?

Overall Grade: B

No matter. Like Obi-Wan’s decision, it’s a relatively minor point, which doesn’t significantly diminish the episode’s quality. And when you consider a story about how it is better to teach people how to do something, instead of doing it for them, there’s plenty of value to this installment. Factor in amazing visuals and thoroughly engaging score, and there’s little doubt that “Bounty Hunters” is a classic.

Inspired.

Just about everything in the latest installment of Fringe, titled “Peter,” works at a very high level. The story is deeply personal, complex, and compelling. The episode is perfectly paced. The performances, especially from Walter, are very, very good. Heck, even the intro showcases a whimsical-yet-appropriate 1985-themed graphics and music. There’s no question that this is an episode which has been carefully crafted. What’s most important is that it uses science fiction to tell a story about choices and consequences.

This is the story of how Peter Bishop was brought from another universe into our own. After Agent Olivia Dunham realizes the truth about Peter in the previous installment, “Jacksonville,” Walter visits her to try and explain himself and his actions. And to help her understand the ramifications of his choices. The scene frames an episode told almost entirely as a flashback — to 1985, to be precise — to when young Peter Bishop was suffering from a genetic disorder and when his father was gazing through windows into other realities.

This, then, is the setup. Beyond the wacky science and the nostalgia of looking back in time (with deliberate irony the alternate 1985 has Back to the Future starring Eric Stoltz, no less) is the story of a father desperately trying to save his son’s life. Walter gazes through his alternate reality window and watches his other self (affectionately named “Walternate”) trying to come up with a cure. Why is Walter simply watching Walternate and not conducting the experiments himself? We’re told that the alternate reality had made some advances that ours had not. So all Walter can do is watch and wait and hope that Walternate finds a cure before it’s too late.

Walternate does not find a cure in time. In a particularly touching scene, Walter is called home by his wife, Elizabeth. There he shares one final conversation with his son. And then Peter dies in his arms.

What would you do after you lost your only child? And had the chance to see him again, even if it is another reality? What would you do if you were the only one to save your alternate child? What if you could bring that child into your own world?

Peter’s death is the trigger for an inexorable descent of Walter’s principles. Starting by bringing home his alternate reality window, to show his wife that Peter can live on in another universe, Walter slowly begins crossing lines, crossing boundaries, until his actions effectively put the entire world in danger. When Walternate misreads a potential cure as a failed experiment, Walter decides he has no other option than to literally cross over into the other reality and deliver the cure himself. But events rarely go as planned and, before he realizes it, Walter has the alternate Peter in his own reality and has decided to keep him, causing untold suffering for Peter’s alternate parents … and possibly rupturing space-time itself.

In print, it all sounds a bit too much to take seriously. But the strength of the episode is in how well it conveys the humanity of the circumstances. The technobabble is kept to a minimum and, instead, scenes such as the debate between Walter and his colleague, Dr. Carla Warren (Jenni Blong) take center stage. Dr. Warren serves as the voice of reason and warning. She flatly tells Walter that some lines are not meant to be crossed. It’s the classic sci-fi theme of using technology without thinking of its implications. But here, Walter’s motivations for crossing the line are clear and plausible. It’s hard not to sympathize with him, even if we agree that Dr. Warren is right.

Just as important are the scenes between Walter and his wife, Elizabeth (Orla Brady). Throughout the episode, Walter expresses his desire to do what’s right. First, he doesn’t want to interfere with the other reality. Then he plans only to do what he must to save Peter. But whereas Dr. Warren represents the voice of reason, Elizabeth represents the voice of emotion. As Walter says to Olivia, “You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child.” And through his wife, who acts as one would expecting a grieving mother to act, Walter realizes that reason cannot win. He decides to keep Peter, knowing that doing so means depriving Walternate of his own son.

The moral dilemmas of the episode are exceptionally portrayed. In effect, the Walter we’ve been watching is something of a villain — he’s the one who initiated the travel between realities. He essentially abducted a boy for his own needs. And this episode humanizes Walter in profound ways. Whether or not we agree with his actions, we understand them. And that’s important if Walter is going to continue to be a likable character. Though, after this episode, it’s difficult to see how he can atone for what he has done.

Just as important is what the episode means for the overall arc of the series. There are small moments, like learning about how William Bell is obsessed with fundraising and learning how Nina Sharp loses her arm (she tries stopping Walter from crossing over and her arm gets caught between worlds). But the big picture seems a bit clearer. Walternate surely must have been furious about what has happened to his son. Perhaps the coming “war” between realities has been fueled by revenge and a need to reconnect with his own son. Either way, Walter’s actions in taking Peter are what has caused the rift to begin with.

In terms of criticisms, there are a couple of points. First is, of course, the very dense layer science fiction that viewers must accept to be able to engage with the human story. The episode balances these elements extremely well, but there is a bit of a barrier to the story. Secondly, there are some minor quibbles in terms of plot devices. Walters cure for Peter just happens to break as he tries to cross realities. And there’s the matter of him building his machine on a sheet of ice. But these are very minor points in what is, overall, a very personal human drama.

Overall Grade: A

“Peter” is, without question, the best episode of Fringe thus far. It’s a strong, character-driven story which focuses squarely on the power and responsibility of choice. Walter is constantly faced with choices in this episode and every decision he makes is plausible and understandable — even if he makes the wrong choices. In the end, this is a fantastic story, one with the power to effect not only the characters and series, but viewers as well.

6.01 – A Time to Stand: A-

“A Time To Stand” is a powerhouse of an episode, kicking off the sixth season of Deep Space Nine in riveting fashion. There’s not a whole lot of thematic or character depth to the story, but what it lacks on those fronts it more than compensates for in the form a purely visceral experience. In a word, the episode is epic. And it sets in motion a new reality for the series, one that is dark, grim, and balanced on a knife’s edge.

6.02 – Rocks and Shoals: A+

Gritty and nuanced, “Rocks and Shoals” is an episode that breaks down epic conflict into personal terms. And it’s through the moral and ethical dilemmas that the characters face that the episode weaves its story. The episode isn’t about conflict so much as it is about choice — about how we conduct ourselves within the confines of an open conflict — and how our choices illuminate who we are. To that end, the episode is near pitch-perfect. A truly outstanding installment.

6.03 – Sons and Daughters: C

“Sons and Daughters” is an uneven, melodramatic and schmaltzy affair. It’s an episode that certainly has its heart in the right places, looking for personal dramas and character explorations within the backdrop of war. To that end, it’s approach is commendable. But it’s in the details — the writing, acting and pacing — that the episode ultimately stumbles. Of course, the episode also commits what has become a cardinal sin for Deep Space Nine using a TNG character in a guest role. The results, more often than not, have been disappointing. Such is the case here.

6.04 – Behind the Lines: C+

“Behind The Lines” is a disquieting episode. As it is intended to be. Once again, this is a story about loyalty, duty and, ultimately, choice. The explicit decision by Deep Space Nine to explore these concepts is praiseworthy. And it’s good that they are taking a multifaceted approach. But sooner or later, there’s going to have to be a change in direction — otherwise we’ll simply be following the plot and rehashing the same old conflicts over and over again. That’s not to say that this episode is poorly conceived or made, rather that there is a growing fatigue in perpetuating some of these conflicts.

6.05 – Favor the Bold: B+

“Favor The Bold” is an episode about setting the stage. Big events are on the horizon, but before they can happen (with any measure of meaning or depth) we have to understand the motivations and choices of the characters that are swept up in those events. That is the mission of this installment and it succeeds quite well — even if it never truly escapes the feeling that it is, after all, a preamble to something much more momentous. The result is a mitigated success.

6.06 – Sacrifice of Angels: A-

“Sacrifice of Angels” is the thrilling, nail-biting conclusion to what has been an expansive, epic and ambitious arc. In typical Deep Space Nine fashion, it keeps the focus squarely on the characters, even while presenting some truly breathtaking visuals on screen. And, likewise, while many events draw to a close, many more are open-ended and uncertain. It’s not a perfect installment — there are just too many predictable moments — but it is a visceral one, evoking plenty of emotions.

6.07 – You Are Cordially Invited…: C

After the grim, intense episodes of the war arc, Deep Space Nine certainly needed to lighten the mood and show that, even in wartime, lives do go on. “You Are Cordially Invited” certainly fits the bill with not only its premise, but also its approach — mixing whimsical and humorous moments within some interpersonal conflicts. But the problem is that the episode feels a bit too much like overindulgence. The humor is a bit cringe worthy and the conflicts are thoroughly melodramatic. And when the excess of “ritual” is factored in, you have an episode that, while well-intended, just doesn’t quite hit its mark.

6.08 – Resurrection: D

“Resurrection” is an appallingly bad episode. From premise to script to production nothing works at all. “Mirror universe” stories are usually fun or insightful. This one commits the worst sin of all: it is downright boring. Oh sure, it’s got plenty of built-in action or drama or suspense. Problem is, the action is pedestrian, the drama is hollow and the suspense is predictable. It’s the worst sort of collection of elements all rolled into one really dreadful episode.

6.09 – Statistical Probabilities: C+

“Statistical Probabilities” is an uneven episode. It starts off haltingly and with a great deal of nonsensical moments. There are a fair few truly solid scenes which convey deeply meaningful commentary. But there’s an over-the-top finale which undermines the seriousness of the episode. It’s as if the episode wanted to walk a fine line between comedy and serious commentary and never really found the right balance. The result is an episode which has value — both in terms of entertainment and thoughtful discourse — but is otherwise an average overall production.

6.10 – The Magnificent Ferengi: C-

“The Magnificent Ferengi” isn’t as much of a nuisance as most Ferengi episodes are on Deep Space Nine. That’s not saying much though, is it? To give the episode some credit, it weaves a story that is amusing enough, and the characters aren’t so over-the-top comical as is typical of a Ferengi episode. But even with a more serious subtext, the episode isn’t all that good. It never finds the right balance between seriousness and comedy. And the production itself is flawed, with implausible writing and poor performances.

6.11 – Waltz: A

“Walz” is one of those memorable episodes of Deep Space Nine that, whether or not an audience actually enjoys the story, they’ll nonetheless be provoked into thought. And, perhaps, that is ultimate the intent here: To get people thinking about the shades of grey between good and evil and if there really is anything such as “truly evil.” What makes the series so compelling is how effectively it utilizes its characters as a means to convey this kind of commentary and exploration. Such is the case here.

6.12 – Who Mourns for Morn?: C

“Who Mourns For Mourn?” is lightweight affair that ends up being an entertaining and engrossing episode, despite the fact that it’s not all that good or well-written. What this installment has going for it is a consistent approach which, no matter the circumstances, keeps events moving along at a pace which is brisk enough to keep the story from getting entirely bogged down in minutiae. It’s a comedy and, to that end, it plays on one of the more subtle (and consistent) comedic elements in the entire Deep Space Nine series: the character of Mourn.

6.13 – Far Beyond the Stars: A+

Engrossing, profound, and visceral, “Far Beyond The Stars” is an example of what Trek — heck what science fiction — can become when writers dare to take chances — when they dare to dream remarkable dreams. It’s an episode that is both painfully obviously and brilliantly subtle. And if you can allow yourself to be lost within the narrative, which is very easy to do thanks to the design and direction of the episode, then this is an installment which transcends not just Deep Space Nine but the science fiction genre itself.

6.14 – One Little Ship: B-

Oh, the cliché catchphrases one could throw at “One Little Ship.” Everything from “Size matters not” to “Honey, I shrunk the runabout!” would work, and then some. This episode is based on a thoroughly preposterous idea that, somehow, inexplicably, actually works. It’s a “boatload” of fun. And that’s “the big and the small” of it.

So yeah … on to the review …

6.15 – Honor Among Thieves: B

“Honor Among Thieves” is a strangely affecting episode. For the most part, it’s an exercise in pseudo-film-noir, playing on spies, double agents, criminal underground organizations and plenty of conspiracy theories. But it’s the human touch that allows this episode to rise above its subject matter. In that sense, its two main characters are perfectly cast, written and performed. In the end, it’s not so much about cops-and-robbers as it is about trust and fellowship … and duty.

6.16 – Change of Heart: C+

“Change of Heart” is a quiet, intimate and personal story, despite being set against the backdrop of the Dominion war and an intelligence mission of the utmost importance. It’s a story about who far we go for those we love. The episode itself isn’t exactly well-written or executed. There are significant issues with pacing and plotting. Much of it seems to be superfluous. But it’s the final moments of the story which carry the most weight and which will have a lasting impact far beyond the episode itself.

6.17 – Wrongs Darker than Death or Night: A-

“Wrongs Darker than Death or Night” is a powerfully emotional tale — one that is almost never comfortable to experience. But that is the point. It’s a story that forces the audience to look inside the mind of a “collaborator” and decide whether or not the ends justify the means. It’s very rare for a tale to eloquently make a case such as this one. But the truth is, this is an episode which is exceptional in its nuance and complexity, even if its setup and conclusion feel a bit too contrived.

6.18 – Inquisition: B+

Now that’s a good episode. Not great. But very, very good. “Inquisition” is an installment that starts off slowly and becomes very suspenseful. It begins as one story and ends as something altogether different. It is, by definition, an evolution. And the end result is an episode that is easily a classic, providing some solid character work and some very insightful commentary.

6.19 – In the Pale Moonlight: A

“In The Pale Moonlight” is often hailed as one of the finest episodes of Star Trek ever produced. And in many ways, it’s easy to see why. It’s a gripping, plausible personal character deconstruction amidst the backdrop of war. The story is filled with intrigue and deep moral conflicts. The performances are noteworthy. The final scenes of confession — of admitting then ignoring — the events of the story are revealing and, in many ways, shocking. This is an episode which changes the entire course of Deep Space Nine. And the grim story challenges the very preconceptions fans have about the Trek franchise.

How much more could a viewer want from a single episode?

6.20 – His Way: B-

I dunno. “His Way” is probably a bad episode. It’s certainly soapy and mushy and runs for far too long. But I like it. It’s probably the Sinatra-style lounge music and setting and dialogue. Maybe it’s the story of being true to yourself. Whatever it is, the episode can be a thoroughly fun, distracting hour.

6.21 – The Reckoning: D+

Deep Space Nine does The Ghostbusters. Badly. For the first half of “The Reckoning,” we get a solid episode about faith and prophecy — about how far one will go when belief alone isn’t enough to provide answers to complex, and potentially dangerous, questions. But then the episode switches gears into an overtly paranormal story which is utterly ridiculous in both concept and execution. The end result is a very, very poor installment.

6.22 – Valiant: D

“Valiant” is an installment that has some interesting goals but is, otherwise, a very poorly realized episode. The problem starts with the fact that its premise is simply too implausible. But the this is compounded with some poor writing, directing and acting. Ultimately, this is an episode that is entirely forgettable.

6.23 – Profit and Lace: F

What on Ferenginar were they thinking? “Profit And Lace” is easily one of the worst episodes of television … ever. From start to finish it’s not only bad, it’s mind-numbingly annoying and insulting. There are, perhaps, a few moments where, morbidly, one might chuckle. But the rest of the time is like swallowing rusted metal shards.

6.24 – Time’s Orphan: C-

“Time’s Orphan” can, at times, be a thoroughly visceral experience. Unfortunately, though, that’s all it really has going for it. The premise is a bit suspect, coming across more as a contrivance than a legitimate source of drama. Worse still, the episode presents a kind of “false choice” for its characters, forcing them into situations that seem disingenuous.

6.25 – The Sound of Her Voice: B-

“The Sound of Her Voice” is an affecting episode not because of how it tells its story, but for the implications of its story. Much of the episode feels uneven or aimless. And the central “revelation” is contrived and silly. But in the grand scheme of things, these criticisms almost do not matter. It’s the lessons the characters take away from the episode, and it’s what is said in the final scene, that make this episode a truly moving and emotional (if somewhat flawed) installment.

6.26 – Tears of the Prophets: B

“Tears of the Prophets” is one of those moments in a series that has repercussions far beyond the final moments of the episode. The story — and more importantly the implications of the story — reverberate long afterward. That is the case here. But the issue for this episode isn’t whether or not it’s important to the overall arc of the series — indeed, it’s a critical story — but the means by which the story is told. With that in mind, this is a classic, but hardly and exceptional installment.

“Welcome To The War” is the best episode of V to date. The plot is fairly well-focused with plenty of action, intrigue and new developments. There’s an underlying subtext about how far people are willing to go to get what they want — each of the characters in the episode seems to face a choice of this kind. All of this shows that the quality of writing is progressing. But alas, the thematic elements are buried too deep within the narrative — buried so far under the flash and glitz of everything else — to be especially valuable. Worse still, the series still hasn’t done enough to make either its story or the majority of its characters compelling. The result is an episode which is clearly an improvement, but the series still has a long way to go before it’s anything close to a legitimate series.

The story kicks off in fine fashion with an attack on Erica by the same individual responsible for stabbing Father Jack. It’s a fast-paced, kinetic sequence which does its best to pull people in. And it establishes a couple of things: First, there’s a clear and present threat to Erica’s safety, and that only heightens her anxiety about her son who is on the V ship, but not answering her calls. She heads off to the local V office only to be rebuffed by a holographic projection of her son. Needless to say, she’s not happy. In terms of motivation, Erica’s are the most immediate and understandable of the episode. She just wants her son back — and she wants to get rid of the Vs. To those ends, she will follow just about any means possible.

In fact, that choice presents itself soon afterward when the Vs, still intent on turning the warehouse bombing from the previous episode into a positive, arrive at the FBI office with “evidence” explaining how the building was destroyed — and who the culprit is. Anna’s representative, Marcus, says “Our technology can measure ordinance fragmentation, chemical composition and projected blast patterns. Together it calculates and creates a simulation of the explosion.” Through their technology, they identify the kind of explosive used: C4 (not all that impressive). But they go one step further and show an entire assembled room of FBI agents that their simulation includes a fingerprint on the C4.

Let that sink in for a moment.

They get a fingerprint from a simulation. Not from actual security footage. A computer simulation. And the entire FBI staff accepts it without question. No one asks how a simulation can pick up a fingerprint on the C4 and not, say, a strand of hair? Or, I don’t know, the number of people involved in the explosion? Or maybe even the identities themselves? If the sensor readings in and around the warehouse are good enough to pick up the subtleties of a fingerprint, how could they not pick up any other information about the culprits? I understand that the Vs are just going for misdirection here — they aren’t concerned about finding the human culprits (they think it’s the Fifth Column, not humans). But how on Earth could *none* of the humans — FBI agents, no less — even question the veracity of the simulation? Demand an explanation of some kind? Instead, the buy the whole thing — hook, line and sinker — and race off looking the “the bad guy.”

It’s this kind of ridiculousness that keeps V mired in mediocrity. Instead of focusing on the moral and ethical and emotional issues of a superior force slowly infiltrating and taking over our society, we’re treated to the mundane, procedural and ultimately hollow methods of how that infiltration is taking place. The scenes dealing with Erica’s desperation over the well-being of her son work. These nonsensical cloak-and-dagger whodunnit sequences are essentially worthless. Even if the scene itself managed a bit of tension, it’s dispelled by implausibility.

At any rate, it’s not a total loss. The “culprit,” named Kyle Hobbes, is a known mercenary and terrorist suspect — a real Ham Tyler type of guy. Erica (finding her powers of intuition after losing them during the simulation) realizes that the Vs are targeting Hobbes because they see him as a threat. For Erica, the best hope she has of saving her son and the planet would be to make an ally of a dangerous, immoral criminal, like Hobbes — a guy with the training and tenacity to be a true resistance leader. With Ryan in tow, she heads off to confront Hobbes and make him an offer he cannot refuse.

Perhaps the best scene of the episode, in terms of tension and character, is the confrontation between Erica, Ryan and Hobbes. Erica is one tough adversary. She boldly strolls into Hobbes apartment complex (she finds it thanks to another implausible plot device) and, once there, lays it on the line. Hobbes certainly isn’t easily swayed. But when Erica brazenly calls in a SWAT team and offers Hobbes a way out, he realizes she’s a force to be dealt with. As Erica will later say, “Welcome to the war.”

More importantly for Erica, this is the line she is willing to cross: aiding and abetting a fugitive, a man who is a known murderer, simply to further her goals. If there’s a criticism here, though, it’s in the fact that the episode isn’t deft enough to contrast the implicit support of Erica’s decisions with an opposing point of view: someone who will not cross that line. Doing so would give the story the complexity it needs to legitimize the series as a whole.

Erica’s new partner, Ryan, is facing questions of his own. His girlfriend, Valerie, is pregnant. And she’s not taking it well. The hybrid fetus inside her is causing some very strange reactions and cravings. In a particularly amusing scene, she contemplates eating a dead mouse caught in a mousetrap. Ominous indeed. Ryan’s decision, then, is when and how to tell her about himself. Curiously, though, this subplot is almost entirely about Ryan — Valerie seems left without any choices of her own to make.

Oh, and Ryan does find out what the R6 is — it allows humans to be “tracked” by the Vs. And our good Father Jack has been injected with the stuff.

The other significant plot developments take place on the V ship. Anna and Lisa “interrogate” Tyler, looking for a psychological weakness they can use on Erica — a way to pry Tyler away from Erica’s affections long enough to … do whatever it is they want to do with him. They find it in a memory of how Tyler’s father left Erica. Eventually, Tyler will return to his mother, armed with the psychologically powerful argument that she has to let him go, but he won’t abandon her like his father did. It’s an interesting take on the “conversion” element of the original series and points to an ability of the Vs to be subtle in their machinations.

Less subtle, is Anna’s response to the growing threat from the Fifth Column. Inexplicably, the Vs do not have a lot of soldiers with them and their reinforcements, seen in the previous episode, are too far away to be of immediate help. Anna, revealed as The Queen, decides to give birth to a new army herself. She chooses a mate, uses him to impregnate her, then eats him as “nourishment” for her newly fertilized eggs. There’s a curiosity factor involved here, in terms of how the Vs procreate and such. But the whole scene, right down to Anna’s fangs, is downright gratuitous. I get the sense that the scene could work for viewers … but it’s anything but subtle

Overall Grade: C+

I just cannot take “Welcome To The War” seriously as either legitimate drama or pure popcorn entertainment. V seems stuck between wanting to be thoughtful and suspenseful and intriguing and campy. A good series can find ways of balancing many different styles and approaches. But so far, this series just hasn’t found that balance.  There is some potential here, but realizing that potential feels a long way off.