The Daily Beast: "Goodbye, Friday Night Lights"

Yes, last night marked the end of Friday Night Lights and television--and perhaps the world--is a little sadder for its loss.

I have two connected features over at The Daily Beast that tie into last night's series finale ("Always") of Friday Night Lights. The first is "Goodbye, Friday Night Lights," a eulogy for the show, in which I examine the series' legacy and talk (briefly) to executive producer Jason Katims and series lead Connie Britton about the show's influence and its passing.

The second is a fan-centric gallery-style feature, in which I talk to Katims and Britton about some of the more nitty-gritty aspects of the show. Just what was the deal with Hastings Ruckle? Why wasn't there a finale scene between Jason Street and Tim Riggins? Do they think the Julie/Derek storyline worked? Does Katims still stand behind Season Two's controversial Tyra/Landry plot? Was it tricky to play with the dynamic of Tami and Eric this season? How important was it to tie up the storylines of the original cast? What's next for Britton? And why does she so fondly remember the scent of bacon in the air?

The Ring: Endings and Beginnings on the Series Finale of Friday Night Lights

"Texas Forever."

Those words have been spoken quite a few times throughout the five-season run of Friday Night Lights and each time they've been said with a slightly different meaning in mind. Early on, they represented the optimism and vitality of youth, of dreams for the future that were spoken by those who had yet to learn the lesson of loss. But here, they're some of the last words spoken in the series, a statement of freedom and happiness, yes, but they've been tempered by the experiences of the last few years for Tim Riggins.

It's with a great deal of emotion that we've reached the end of the road with Friday Night Lights, which wrapped up its storylines and left the door open for the viewers to imagine the future ahead for the Taylors, for Julie and Matt Saracen, for Vince and the super-team of the Panthers, for Luke and Becky, and for Tim Riggins himself, finally able to build his house on his land.

The series finale of Friday Night Lights ("Always"), written by Jason Katims and directed by Michael Waxman, was a beautiful and poignant installment that ranks up there with the all-time best series finales, so accomplished in its sense of nostalgia, so true to its tone and its characters, and so willing to give the audience not only what we wanted, but also what we needed.

In many ways, the breathtaking series finale brought the plot full circle back to the show's pilot episode, offering up scenes of the players being interviewed by the news crews, those familiar director's chairs popping up once more on the field. Familiar musical themes made their fitting reappearance here. And the "Texas Forever" spirit that embodied those early conversations between Riggins and Jason Street proudly having reached their apex with Tim finally getting that open land he had dreamed about all of those years before.

Likewise, just as the series began with Tami Taylor considering returning to work, it ends with Tami now taking charge of her destiny and stepping out of Eric's shadow to stand by his side. For his part, Eric has finally learned the lesson of compromise and sacrifice that he tries to impart to Julie and Matt in the restaurant; he's able to finally separate himself from his career to see that his stubbornness is actually killing his wife.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, really. In the hands of Katims and Waxman, this was a finale that not only paid homage to the legacy of the series, to the 75 episodes that came before, but also set up an imagined future for the residents of Dillon, one where they would go on to live out their dreams, even if we, the audience, can no longer be the fly on the wall to these proceedings.

It's fitting that the show ended on such an optimistic note. This has been a series that has found its characters struggling to find happiness in a town--and perhaps a world--that didn't want them to, that offered numerous roadblocks and speedbumps on their quest for personal and communal glory. It was a place where, every week, something went wrong for Coach Taylor and his team, or the individuals that made up this wonderfully vibrant town.

Life goes on, as they say, and the same holds true for these characters. The final coda that Katims offers up, set eight months after the Lions win the state championship (and then cease to exist at all in the process), holds open a window to their futures that lay before them, showing us the Dillon-ites at their very best: Tim and Billy, finally united, building that house together; Vince leading the "super-team" of Panthers, Tinker by his side; Luke embarking on military service, as he's seen off at the bus depot by Becky; Jess in her element on the football field in Dallas; Julie and Matt enjoying a moment of domestic bliss; and, finally, Eric and Tami standing as equals together on yet another field, this time in Philadelphia.

It was, in many respects, an evening of long goodbyes.

There was a grace and beauty to the final sequence amid the state championship, the hushed atmosphere and minimal dialogue, the heartfelt prayer offered by Eric to the team, the elegance of that final soaring arc of the ball overhead. It was, amid a series that prized the silent moments, a nearly silent sequence, save the lilting strains of the instrumentals. I had my heart in my throat throughout, my stomach in knots, my eyes misty. And while we knew that the Lions would roar at the Cotton Bowl and bring home a second ring for Eric, there was something magnificent and triumphant about them doing so, and how the action connected from that final pass to one eight months later in Philadelphia. The circle, it seems, is unbroken.

Kudos to Kyle Chandler for pulling off a tightrope-walk of a performance in these final episodes. It would have been easy to vilify Eric for his lack of support in Tami's career, in his patriarchal mindset that his professional goals would naturally come before those of his wife's, that Dillon was where their Christmas tree was and where they would be staying. But, thanks to Chandler, Eric isn't unsympathetic. He's a product of his environment and his upbringing, yes, but the fact that he supports both his daughter Julie and Jess in their efforts to achieve their dreams point towards a root cause that isn't misogyny; it's miscommunication.

Eric and Tami have always had an understanding about their respective roles in this marriage. Just as Tami is able to turn on the charm at the end of last week's episode when she needs to, Eric sees her as the consummate coach's wife, always willing to rustle up a barbeque or some lemonade when the need arises, to always be there by his side, but not to run ahead of him.

Eric's entire identity is constructed around the fact that he is a football coach and he's made huge compromises in pursuit of that objective, choosing to stay in Dillon rather than go to Florida, defraying his dreams of stability and glory in order to safeguard Vince's and the others'. The conversation between Eric and Tami is one-sided because it doesn't even dawn on Eric that there's even a possibility that he would take a leap into the unknown because his wife has a job offer in the Northeast.

Just as he doesn't congratulate Tami when she receives the offer, so to does Eric not really broach the subject when she tries to bring it up, either forcefully or more delicately. It's not a conversation he wants to have, it's not a possibility he wants to consider, despite the way that his attitude cut Tami to the core. Even, as Tami sobs outside the restaurant and says, "What will I tell my daughter?" Eric still can't bring himself to console her or to make it right.

It's only when he sees his future in front of him, those early morning calls from Buddy, the in-fighting and the politics, does he finally see the offer letter from Braemore right in front of him and sees just what Tami, after eighteen years of marriage, is giving up because she "can't win this fight." It's only then that he makes it right.

The future seems to be a point of contention in a number of storylines in the finale, in fact, from Tyra and Tim's conversation about whether their dreams can "merge" at some point in the future to the marriage proposal offered by Matt Saracen to Julie. Eric's anger at Saracen, his disregard for Matt and Julie's wishes, and his insistence that his daughter is too young are all caught up and reflected in the conflict he's enmeshed in with Tami.

While Julie says that she views her parents as her "inspiration," it's a statement that cuts Tami to her core. Eric makes a big point of the fact Julie and Matt are too young to get married and that he and Tami wed at a very different time. But what signal is he sending to Julie if he makes it clear that his goals are more important than Tami's? Does Eric, at some subconscious level, realize the injury he's doing to both his wife and his daughter?

Just as Camelot can't last forever, neither can Dillon, Texas, it seems. The legend was brought up by Hastings and the others on the East Dillon field last week but it's felt sharply here. There's a sense of promise about the future and Tami and Eric's new start--for all of their new starts in life, really--but there's also a sense that something important and mythical has ended.

I loved that Matt nostalgically got down on one knee in front of the Alamo Freeze and asked Julie to marry him... and that Landry, characteristically, brought up that only a few years earlier Matt was nervous about even talking to Julie. Nice to see the two of them together, if only for that one scene. (I also loved the fact that Tyra, Matt, Julie, and Tim had their scene in the bar together, reuniting a large chunk of that original cast.)

There was a nice sense of symmetry between Julie receiving Matt's grandmother's ring and Eric getting his second state champion ring. I loved the scene between Julie and Lorraine Saracen in the house as Lorraine kissed Julie's hand when she saw her own engagement ring. The theme of family, however non-traditional, seemed woven throughout the episode: Lorraine telling Julie to call her grandma, Becky telling Mindy that they were sisters, Tim telling Becky that they're more than friends: they're family.

That's been at the heart of this series from the beginning: the way that people form something resembling a family, whether that's Coach and the team or the ragtag individuals who end up living with one another, each blending together into something bigger than themselves.

While I'll freely admit that I cried several times during the series finale, one of the moments that got me the most choked up was Becky moving out of the Riggins' house as Mindy and Billy drop her off at her mom' house. The final embrace between Madison Burge's Becky and Stacey Oristano's Mindy was overflowing with emotion; the two have come a long way in their relationship since that first night Becky crashed there after leaving home. There's a kinship there, a sense of sisterly love, that's unbreakable, even at a distance. The single tear on Mindy's cheek as she turns away as Becky is caught up in her mother's arms was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

Another? Seeing how emotional Eric was as he lead the team in prayer one last time, each of them knowing that this would be the last time they'd be taking the field together. And the moment that passed between Eric and Vince? Understated emotion at its best, as Eric told Vince that he would never know how proud of him that he was and how Vince in turn offered his thanks for everything that Coach had done for him. We've always known that Eric Taylor was a molder of men. We see here just how much of an impact he's had on the lives of the men he's trained.

But the moment that really got me was one of the simplest: the sight of Jason Street's name on the wall of the West Dillon Panthers' locker room, right there under the "P," as Billy puts the "Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose" sign to its rightful place. It's a subtle moment that underscores the love that both the audience and the writers had for these characters, for the struggles that they endured, and for the men and women that they became. Their presence is keenly felt just as much as their absence.

Glory might fade, but memories last forever.

NBC viewers will have the chance to watch the fifth and final season of Friday Night Lights beginning April 15th.

The Gunslinger Returns: An Advance Review of Season Two of FX's Justified

Lawman Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) is back with a bang as the gripping second season of FX's taut drama series Justified kicks off tonight.

In the time since we last caught up with the beleaguered Raylan, this taut series hasn't lost any of its luster or its off-kilter nature. Season Two, which launches tonight, begins with "The Moonshine War," which picks up exactly where we left off at the end of last season as Raylan, Boyd (Walton Goggins), and Ava (Joelle Carter) attempted to fend off fire from the Miami drug cartel's hitmen.

The action picks up moments later to reveal just how the three manage to live to tell the tale. But rather than sweep last season's plotlines under the rug, there are consequences to the shootout in Bulletville and to Raylan professionally. Will he be held accountable for the death of Bo Crowder? Will he stay in Harlan or return to Miami? Will he choose his ex-wife Winona (Natalie Zea) or Ava? Will Boyd choose the path of vengeance or of godliness?

Fortunately for us, these questions loom over the action of the electric second season, which effortlessly sets up new adversaries for Raylan and the U.S. Marshal Service in the Bennetts, a Harlan County clan of pot growers who rule the county with an iron first.

Or make that an iron fist in a metaphorical velvet glove.

Heading up this operating is Mags Bennett, the matriarch of the clan, played to perfection by Margo Martindale, who plays Mags as a combination of feudal lord and tough-love matron. Her front might be the rundown local store that . operates while cooking up some mean moonshine (or as she calls it "apple pie," 180-proof, cut with some cider, cinnamon, and vanilla for good measure). Mags is ruthless, duplicitous, and above all else, dangerous.

There's also some bad blood between the Bennetts and the Givenses, a fact that's hinted at in the early episodes. Whatever passed between Mags and Arlo has the potential to ignite once again, especially as the vacuum of power left by Bo's death means that someone will likely try to step in to fill his criminal shoes in Harlan. Not a good thing, considering the amount of bloodshed that the Crowders brought to the table.

Mags isn't in this business alone. While she remains, um, distant from the sort of blood-letting that her particular operation entails, Mags isn't above getting her hands dirty when needs must, as we see in the season opener. But she's also the kind of woman who has the reputation for "helping" the locals with their glaucoma troubles. Her enforcers are her sons, played ably by Lost's Jeremy Davies, Brad William Henke, and Joseph Lyle Taylor, the latter of which plays Doyle, a local sheriff as crooked as they come. (Special praise is due for Davies, whose limping, conniving, sadistic Dickie Bennett is a nasty piece of work. This is a gripping portrayal miles away from the endearing genius of Daniel Faraday and there's a wounded animal nature to Dickie's savagery.)

While I don't want to spoil too much, I will say to keep your eyes open for Kaitlin Dever's Loretta McCrady, one of the most spirited and clever character to appear on Justified. Following in the footsteps of the characters played by Winter's Bone's Jennifer Lawrence and True Grit's Hallie Steinfeld, Loretta is another kick-ass teenage girl who doesn't suffer fools gladly and is more than capable of making her way through this world alone. When her father (the always fantastic Chris Mulkey) vanishes, she's taken under Mags' wing. But this girl knows how to fight her way out of a tough situation and something tells me that Mags may have underestimated this pint-sized brawler. (Witness the way in "The Moonshine War" that she takes out the triple-named sex offender harassing her in the grow shed and you'll see what I mean.)

And then there's Boyd Crowder who has one hell of a transformation at the very tail end of the third episode that must be seen to be believed. Boyd ends up in a profession very much suited to his, uh, unique skill set but one can't help but feel that he's looking backward instead of looking forward. With Raylan watching his every move with as much intensity as Boyd's new-found god, something has got to give before long. And once you reawaken that dragon, there will be hell to pay.

All in all, Justified returns with its swagger, precision, and character intact in its second season. Olyphant is once again at the top of his game with a character that he was born to play and the thwarted friendship between Raylan and Boyd remains at the heart of this crime drama. This is an Elmore Leonard-ian drama with all of the quirkiness, violence, and memorable characters that such a description entails. Season Two, off to an electrifying start in the three episodes provided to press for review, promises to delve even deeper into the mindsets of the characters in Lexington and Harlan as the tension mounts for what's likely to be a major brawl between the Marshal Service and those Bennetts. Me, I just can't wait for the inevitable explosions.

Season Two of Justified premieres tonight at 10 pm ET/PT on FX.

Good Police: An Advance Review of FOX's The Chicago Code

There has been a lot of discussion of late about the creative differences between broadcast and cable, between what's possible at the legacy networks and at the basic cable upstarts.

This conversation can really be traced back to the launch of Shawn Ryan's The Shield in 2002. The gritty cop drama singlehandedly transformed the fortunes of basic cabler FX, establishing it as a home for thought-provoking, challenging fare. That legacy continues to this day, amid a proliferation of original programming at the basic cable networks as AMC, FX, TNT, USA, and others shake up the foundations of television, bridging the gap between the FCC-controlled broadcasters and the wild landscape of premium cable.

Nearly ten years after the premiere of The Shield, creator Shawn Ryan has another cop drama in The Chicago Code, which premieres tonight. But unlike its predecessor, The Chicago Code isn't headed to cable, but rather to FOX. In doing so, Ryan offers up what's easily the best new series to hit the broadcast networks this season, an intelligent and gripping series that brings the best qualities of cable programming back to the broadcasters.

In a season where so many new series played it safe to the point of ensuring boredom on the part of the viewing audience, The Chicago Code is an electrifying and compelling drama that's at once familiar and original.

Revolving around an ad hoc task force investigating corruption in the ranks of Chicago police and bureaucrats, The Chicago Code is the sort of television that more networks should be doing. Eschewing a strict procedural format, Ryan gives us a drama that blends together cases of the week with a strong overarching plot as Teresa Colvin (Jennifer Beals), the first female police commissioner in Chicago creates an unofficial squad to take down amoral alderman Ronin Gibbons (Delroy Lindo).

Gibbons is the worst kind of politician: a glad-handing alderman in the pockets of the Irish mob, who is only too happy to appear on camera in times of chaos or strife while lining his pockets with dirty money. Lindo is magnetic here: charismatic, dangerous, and duplicitous at every turn. Gibbons' overt showiness is at odds with the understated drive of Beals' Colvin, grimly determined to clean up Chicago even as she's making enemies at every turn.

But Beals' Colvin isn't on her own in this war against the political machinery, against the tide of amorality and vice in the Windy City. She rose up through the ranks after working next to her ex-partner Jarek Wysocki (Jason Clarke), a maverick cop who goes through partners like others go through tissues. Few last more than six months, some as short as a day. Wysocki is, as they say, "good police." He's on the straight and narrow and, while extremely temperamental, he's smart and sly and doesn't tolerate fools gladly.

There's a nice rapport between Colvin and Wysocki, even as she makes him an offer he can't refuse: he'll be able to take the lead in any open investigation in the city and help her nail Gibbons. Wysocki has his own personal reasons for this righteous crusade: his father destroyed his career trying to take down Gibbons and his brother was slain in the line of duty by an unknown killer. Does this balance the scales? Is vengeance and justice the same thing? These are questions that loom large around Colvin and Wysocki's investigation.

Wysocki, meanwhile, has his plate full with other matters. An ex-wife and a teenage son, a 27-year-old fiancee that he barely sees, a beloved niece (Devin Kelley's Vonda Wysocki) who is now a beat cop in his precinct, and a new partner in Caleb Evers (Friday Night Lights' Matt Lauria), the sort of green behind the ears detective that gets right under Wysocki's skin.

But this isn't the story of two mismatched cops trying to get through the day.

Wysocki and Evers have something in common, despite their vast differences, and that's gut instinct, the sort of good policing that can't be taught in the academy and which few detectives ever have. Caleb's instincts are innate and the young detective is actually a good match for the fiery Wysocki, who abhors foul language (which explains the lack of four-letter words on the broadcast network).

What follows is at times unsettling, at times funny, and always engaging. By offering an enemy in Gibbons, Ryan and his writing staff have wisely given Wysocki, Colvin, and Co. a clear direction in which to fight, an uphill battle that won't be won without losses on both sides. Fighting corruption in Chicago is a bit like trying to stop a leak in the Hoover Dam with your little finger, so the fact that Colvin has drawn a line in the sand and is attempting to fix the faults of the city she loves (faults which she saw first-hand growing up there) gives her crusade some moral heft.

Cases of the week, each interesting in their own right (such as the third episode's bank robbery), sit comfortably side by side with ongoing plots and character exploration. Flashbacks and voiceover don't often go over well, but Ryan infuses these overly familiar narrative devices with crackle and polish here. Here, the well-crafted flashbacks for each of the characters allow the audience to witness them at crucial moments in their life, moments which define them and their actions, and which set them on the path they're on today. There's an element of causality here which is rarely glimpsed on television drama (outside of, say, Lost), and it helps to solidify their characters very early on for the audience.

Knowing, for example, that Teresa's father's business was ruined by payoffs to everyone from local officials to mob enforcers, gives her drive some real meaning, just as the death of Vonda's father propels her to join the force alongside her father. But, fortunately, Ryan also realizes not to overload the audience with too much information upfront and these flashbacks are spaced out throughout the episodes, rather than all at the top of the pilot.

And then there's the Gibbons plot, the sort of long-arc planning that The Wire did so well in its day. Here, there's a fine sense of intrigue and pacing as the bodies start to pile up and Colvin and Gibbons circle one another, each worthy adversaries in this ongoing war who are forced to work together even as they plot against each other. I'll be curious to see whether the Gibbons arc is the story engine for a series of smaller investigations and whether it will be wrapped up by the time the first (hopefully, of many) seasons wraps up later this spring.

Setting and shooting the show in Chicago gives this already fantastic series another jolt of energy. By setting it outside of New York or Los Angeles, there's a real sense of location to The Chicago Code, which is further served by the on-location production.

Ultimately, The Chicago Code is strong television, anchored by an extremely talented cast and some top-notch writing. The broadcasters would be smart to take note of the fact that it's still possible to tell compelling and intelligent stories in the context of serialized drama without high-concept approaches. At the end of the day, this remarkable series comes down to a few good cops squaring off with the black hats, but it does so with style, grace, and intelligence. Not to be missed.

The Chicago Code premieres tonight at 9 pm ET/PT on FOX.

Knowing: Two Hearts, Two Worlds on Fringe

We were never meant to know exactly what other people are thinking.

It's a given fact that our own egos, not to mention our hearts, are saved a great deal of grief by not being able to peer into the mind of the person sitting across from us at the dinner table, or the girl at the coffee shop, or the estranged lover whose mixed signals you're desperately trying to parse. Sometimes, it's better not to know what secrets lurk inside that mind, what true thoughts they're concealing from you, and perhaps just what feelings they're struggling with.

For Olivia, the opportunity to peek into Peter Bishop's mind would be a gift, to be able to separate the feelings that he claims to have for Olivia from the experiences he shared with Fauxlivia. To be able to know, in no uncertain terms, just which version of herself he cares for: the one that's quick to smile, easy with a laugh, or the real her, the one who dresses in blacks and greys, who doesn't often wear a dress, who keeps her heart shielded to the world at all time.

But knowing is a very dangerous thing.

On this week's episode of Fringe ("Concentrate and Ask Again"), written by Graham Roland and Matthew Pitts and directed by Dennis Smith, Olivia gets the chance to know just what Peter is thinking, towards which Olivia is heart is being pulled, and the answer cuts her right to the core. It's not that Peter is in love with someone else; it's that he's still in love with a better version of herself.

The truth, as Oscar Wilde once said, "is rarely pure and never simple."

Fringe has, over the course of the last few seasons, become a series that revolves around some very damaged people and, as members of the Fringe Division have learned more about themselves, that damage has only increased. Peter Bishop is in fact the kidnapped son of Walter Bishop from another dimension; Walter's mental deterioration and memory gaps are the result of actions taken by William Bell; Olivia Dunham is haunted by childhood experiments performed on her by Walter. They're bound together by shared trauma, by mutual damage, by dysfunctional family bonds, even as they learn the truth about themselves. And the truth hurts.

Olivia has realized his keenly of late, still finding echoes of the time she spent "over there" while her doppelganger enjoyed the life she ought to be living, one in romantic embrace with Peter, a scene of domestic bliss and easy casualness with one other. The heartbreak she experienced when she learned of this life was gutting and beautifully portrayed by Anna Torv, delivering some of the best emotionally-laced scenes of the series to date.

Peter maintains that he noticed changes in Olivia, he ascribed them to changes that he was provoking; that the sudden happiness she was existing in was due to their relationship, that her easy laugh was due to being in love. As I said last year, in my piece on "Marionette," the heart sees what it wants to see. Here, we see the flip side of that, as Olivia's rational brain attempts to come to terms with how deep Peter's feelings were for Fauxlivia, with how much he still cares for her, and for which version of her he's pining for.

Freud would say that there is no such thing as a mistake. Peter brings Olivia coffee with milk rather than her usual (black with one sugar), not because he's confused but because that's how the "other" Olivia drinks her coffee. It's a tell of the highest order, a sign that Fauxlivia is still on his mind, that the life he led with her hasn't been erased on any level.

But while Olivia would be left to try to talk to Peter about his feelings, to try to find the truth in his words, she's given the instrument of her emotional destruction in Simon Phillips, a Cortexiphan trial patient those file Walter had scrubbed from the program way back way. Simon has the ability to read people's minds, but he can't control his ability, leaving him withdrawn and isolated, living far away from everyone in a world of silence.

While Simon helps Olivia and the group stop an assassination plot tied to Project Jellyfish and a chemical weapon, Simon represents a two-fold purpose to Olivia. For one, he's an example of how her life could have turned out; for her emotional coldness, she still is of the world, whereas Simon has become a virtual recluse, unable to talk to the girl he has a crush on, unable to control his telepathic abilities, unable to walk through the world because he would be privy to everyone's thoughts. Second, he's able to offer Olivia the thing she can't: the ability to know what Peter is really thinking.

Simon's ability walks the line between blessing and curse. Some might see his gift as the most incredible opportunity, but the episode paints it as the curse that it is, leaving Simon a walking basketcase prone to migraines and nausea, unable to shut down the voices that permeate his every step.

But Simon, in the end, allows Olivia to make that determination for herself, to choose whether to remain ignorant or to open herself up to the truth, not matter how damaging it may be. Rather than tell her just what Peter is thinking, he writes in down and gives it to Olivia in an envelope.

The choice is Olivia's then: open the envelope and know, or burn it and remain in the dark about Peter's heart. But Olivia's job and her character demands that she knows the truth, no matter how painful. And in opening that white envelope and reading the single line written within, she has potentially destroyed any chance of happiness that may have existed between her and Peter when she sees that he still has feelings for Fauxlivia.

Knowing is dangerous. But there's something even darker at play here, as Nina Sharp learns when she deciphers the identity of the individual who wrote the First People books, none other than Sam Weiss himself.

Which is extremely interesting. Just who is Sam? Where does he come from? And how old is he, really? These books seemed to have been written quite some time ago, each in a different language, each written by him, the authors' different names a puzzle to be unlocked, opening a path directly towards him.

It was only a matter of time before Nina unscrambled those words and learned that it was Sam who had authored those books. Sam, to whom Nina had sent Olivia after her return to this world. Curious, that. He now appears to be a much more significant character than we had initially realized, here assuming a much more knowing presence than any of our central characters. He's aware of the First People and of the doomsday device, that sword of Damocles dangling over two worlds.

The machine can be used to create or destroy, which is an interesting duality to set up with two worlds in the balance. Good versus evil, life versus death, creation versus destruction. The outcome depends on which Peter chooses, by what harmonic frequency he's vibrating at. Just as the Peter and the machine seem to have awakened each other, vibrating in harmony, so too will each affect the other. Will Peter walk the path of the hero or of the villain? Will he choose to love Olivia or her lookalike? Which world will he save and which will he damn?

It's only fitting that the fates of two universe will be dictated by one man's heart. But, by knowing just what Peter is thinking, by breaking the bond of trust between these two separate people, Olivia may have just unwittingly tipped the balance. One can only hope that she can change his mind. And his heart.

Next week on Fringe ("Immortality"), in the alternate universe, the Fringe team is forced to adjust to Colonel Broyles' absence during an investigation of a bioterrorist who unleashes a flesh-eating insect; Fauxlivia is reunited with her boyfriend; despite remaining determined to save his world, Walternate discovers there are lines he won't cross.

Age of Consent: Patriarchy and Polygamy on Big Love

"It's all been such a waste." - Lois

Throughout its run, Big Love has sought to shine a light on the abuses of the polygamist lifestyle and belief system that the Henricksons adhere to, offering a spectrum of fundamentalism through which to see the center at its core. For all of the abuses at Juniper Creek, the old ways embraced by Roman Grant and his false prophet son Albert, they seem infinitely more sane than, say, the Greenes or Bud Mayberry.

This prism has been useful in the past because it clearly establishes that the Henricksons don't walk the fine line that many other believers of the Principle do. In their vision of this religion, there is the semblance of free will: there are no forcible sealings, no teenage brides, no breaking of laws or inverting the beauty of the divine Principle.

But that's not quite the case as we learned last week. Bill Henrickson, as we know, did take an underage bride in Margene, attempting to rationalize and sanctify that most stereotypical of male middle-aged faults: he slept with the babysitter. Bill invited a 16-year-old Margene into their family, sleeping with her before their marriage and to this day denying that he had any knowledge of her youth, something that even steadfast supporter Don can't quite wrap his head around.

This week's superlative episode of Big Love ("The Oath"), written by Melanie Marnich and directed by Omar Madha, investigates not only the fallout from Margene's confession and its affect on Bill and the sister-wives, but also offers a moving portrait of the stifled role of women in the polygamist system, and just how parallel stories can repeat themselves right under our noses.

It's been intimated throughout the series' run that Margene is more like a Henrickson daughter than one of the mothers. Her attraction to Ben (which makes all the more sense now, given the closeness of their ages), her immature behavior, her naivete and open-eyed spirit all make sense when you realize that she was a girl of 16 when she married Bill and not an adult. This fact is even more disturbing when Margene attempts to justify her behavior and her outward lie towards Bill and the others, saying that she would have done anything to be adopted, to have gotten out of her life with Ginger in that trailer park.

But that's just it, Margie darling, you weren't adopted. You got married.

It's the use of that word, "adopted," that cuts like a knife. In giving herself to Bill, Margene walked away with a family, ingratiating herself with Barb, who was herself chafing against the demands of plural marriage and with her relationship to second wife Nicki. If Barb suspected Margene's age (I don't really think she did, to be honest), she couched it in terms of personal desire: she needed someone to side with, someone to make her happy, and someone to share the burden with, to turn her marriage from a tug-of-war into a more level playing field. But their trinity of sister-wives is not holy, as Bill defied some of the fundamental legal beliefs that he's trying to uphold with his Safety Net program.

Interestingly, the writers have chosen just this moment, following the revelations of both Margene's age and Nicki's own troubled history with underage marriage (seen last season), to bring back the series' first child bride, Rhonda Volmer.

Rhonda, of course, was betrothed to "Old Roman," but her alleged innocence was a mask for some truly horrific behavior. Cast out of Juniper Creek, she claims to have been destroyed by Roman, reduced to living on the streets and "dancing at special parties" (cough), before ending up with Verlan (Friday Night Lights's Kevin Rankin) and settling down. She's turned her back on the Principle and is now a mother... but that doesn't mean that she doesn't have a con or two up her sleeves. (More on that in a bit.)

Rhonda's experience is not unlike Bill's: driven out of his home, forced to fend for himself, turning to a life of prostitution just to survive. But Bill's story is the rarity; far too often we're seeing how women pay the price of polygamy, how their freedoms and (in some cases) civil or human rights are violated in the name of Heavenly Father.

Rhonda had no choice in the matter of being promised to Roman, just as Nicki had no say over being forcibly sealed to JJ. We see first-hand just how this lifestyle has affected Rhonda and Nicki, Barb and Lois, Adaleen and countless others. But does that make Bill just as complicit in upholding the status quo as JJ and Roman? He did suspect that Margene wasn't as old as she claimed to be? Was he blinded by lust and passion that he had to have her, as Don maintains? How is that any different than Roman and Rhonda, really? Could that be why he can't quite make eye contact with his youngest wife?

Lust, it seems, corrupts everyone. The truth behind Lois' dementia attests to this more than anything. While several causes are discussed in last week's episode, the truth is far more damning than a B12 deficiency. The indestructible Lois--who was denied her birthright by Roman Grant, abused by her husband, and forced to let her daughter be sealed and then watch her kill herself--is undone by Frank's libido, her dementia the result of a venereal disease that Frank infected her with it. The price of polygamy, it seems, it the loss of Lois' mind, of countless women's freedom and dignity.

And then there's Cara Lynn, the literal consequence of the patriarchal rule of the polygamist sect, the offspring of Nicki and her much older husband JJ, a girl with everything going for her who nonetheless serves to remind her mother how much of a cautionary tale her own life became. Just what interest does the much older Greg Ivey have in Cara Lynn? Is it just a teacher-student relationship? Or are we seeing the first sparks of attraction between the two?

While Greg offers Cara Lynn an outlet for her sorrow, giving her his phone number in case she needs to talk and telling her about the death of his brother when he was a teenager, there's something more at play here, something untoward that manifests itself when Cara Lynn spies him with his parents at the mall. Greg's shiftiness here, the fact that he's been talking her up to his parents, seem to point towards something shadowy and uncouth, a parallel experience that connects him in those seconds to Bill Henrickson, Roman Grant, and even Frank Harlow. Towards, perhaps, a lust towards innocence and virginity of girlhood.

It's an eye-opening possibility. While other series have dealt with inappropriate relationships between teachers and students (it's become, in recent years, something of a go-to trope), there are implications here that are greater than just Greg and Cara Lynn, but towards a system that operates in a vicious cycle, that rewards male lust and the masculine gaze, and which enslaves its women in a pattern where they serve to fulfill that desire on a regular basis, becoming wives, brood mares, nurses, child brides. It's a system that's predicated on the superiority of its men, its priesthood-holders, and the subjugation of the female.

Barb seems to have realized this of late, seems to have divined that she has her own relationship with Heavenly Father, and that her fate and that of her sister-wives (all of them, that is) is tied up in the patriarchal structure that their religion demands. What Barb is suggesting, and which she hints at towards the First Lady, is that she wants reform in her own way, wants to tear down the religious gender politics of polygamy and forge a new path. It could almost to heresy, to suggesting that women can hold the priesthood and guide their families to eternity with as much right as their men.

Barb's newfound convictions arrive at the same time as Margene's spiritual awakening, as she makes connections between Goji Blast sales and the Book of Mormon, being being good and doing good. Her passion, blossoming in her conversation with Pam (who I'm glad has stuck around for as long as she has), becomes the jumping off point for a spirituality in Margene that we haven't seen before, even as she rails against Nicki for drawing parallels between their experiences. "Your abuse is not my abuse," she screams. She doesn't see herself as victimized, but Nicki maintains that a 16-year-old is not able to make those decisions for herself.

Their argument underscores the changes that Barb wants to make in their religion, seeing herself as a reformer as much as Bill does in his own way. But those changes need to start at home, and Barb hasn't even raised the issue with Bill directly, something that Cindy reminds of her in no uncertain terms. But regardless of what happens with Barb and her quest for a female priesthood, we're meant to see that the seeds of change are a good thing and that the abuses of the past can be undone, the circle broken, the pattern ended. It doesn't have to be, as Lois sadly cries, "a waste" at the end.

Bill's dream sequence, after getting run over ("bumped") by Margene in the Senate parking lot, sheds some light on his state of mind now that the truth about Margene has come to light. Lois' home becomes a hotel, which in turn becomes a banquet room where he meets Emma Smith, one of the wives of prophet Joseph Smith, who tells him that the history books were written by liars and that Smith had no underage brides. The fact remains however that death doesn't erase our wrongdoings, just the evidence of it. Whether or not Bill chooses to believe in Smith's transgressions don't undo his own, just as his wrongdoings won't evaporate after he's gone. The cycle continues anew.

Interestingly, Bill creates a composite from Emma Smith and Lois Henrickson, one giving way to the other as the dream continues, the mother of their religion becoming in turn his own mother, each trapped in the web of male domination, one generation after the next. Tragic.

Some other thoughts:

* I was glad to see Rhonda apologize to Heather for "outing" her feelings for Sarah way back when. I still maintain that Heather had feelings for Sarah but that she's either buried them or let go of them altogether. The series has been quite adept at late at tying up these loose ends or paying homage to the small moments from earlier seasons, and this was no exception. Does Rhonda really see the error of her ways or is she looking to push a wedge between Heather and Ben now that she's returned? I'm not entirely sure, but the scene of Heather and Ben kissing passionately should be viewed that whatever thoughts Heather once had towards her best friend are no longer applicable.
* Cara Lynn doesn't exactly jump up and down with excitement when Nicki tells her that Bill wants to legally adopt her. After all, she's just found out that her father is dead and Nicki's already trying to further erase the truth about her previous existence, transforming her into a Henrickson. Despite Bill's desire to make it official, I don't see this process going smoothly.
* Rhonda claims that Cara Lynn's cousin Verlan is the father of her baby, but should we take this at face value? I don't think so. Will be interested to see whether or not the parentage becomes an issue anytime soon. Additionally, as soon as Verlan showed up, I knew that they were after something. Verlan appears to be broke (he gladly accepts the few dollars Cara Lynn offers him) and then he and Rhonda attempt to shake down Alby for $50,000. Curious to see just where this is going.
* Loved the scene where Bill and Barn compared guns. Just perfect.

Lastly, I'm glad that Bill was able to be sworn into the Senate and that, despite his promise to do so, Barn didn't impeach Bill the moment he was sworn in. While that reckoning may still happen, there's a moment of (tempered) triumph as several applaud Bill's swearing into the Utah Senate, after his defiant speech about how their shared religion places those tenets before any legal imperatives. "Persecuting me violates your own scripture," he says. "It makes you all hypocrites and traitors to our history."

Bill may have achieved his goal, brought legitimacy to his polygamist lifestyle by giving them a seat at the table, but he's also painted a bull's eye on himself in the process. After the applause and the cheers of his family, Bill walks the deserted hallways of the Senate by himself. But it's not a moment of triumph, but of paranoia here as he hears someone moving about nearby. Leaving the elevator, he's faced with two paths: one in the light, and the other shrouded in shadows. That Bill chooses the darkened hallway says quite a lot about the choices he's made and perhaps the realization that not all of his actions can be brought into the light.

Next week on Big Love ("The Special Relationship"), Bill makes a deal in the Senate, but finds new obstacles to his livelihood being raised by LDS officials; fed up with interning, Barb considers a dramatic life change that could have far-ranging consequences for the family; a legal obstacle hinders Bill and Nickiʼs efforts to adopt Cara Lynn; Margene preaches the Goji gospel; Rhonda encourages Verlan to do Albyʼs bidding; Lois longs for her old life with Frank; Don takes another hit for Bill.

Televisionary Turns Five Years Old!

Happy birthday!

Televisionary is five years old today. I want to thank all of you loyal readers who have made this site the success that it is today.

For those of you who haven't been around as long as Televisionary itself, the site has gone through several iterations over the past five years, but has always been an outlet for me to specifically write about television.

When I first started Televisionary back in February of 2006, I was working in the television industry and started the site as a way to discuss television outside of the office in more critical terms and sidestep some of the conventions of the development (and later acquisitions) discussions that these conversations tended to fall into during the day.

This was before the pink-slip that changed everything (I'm looking at you, Autumn 2008) but changes in job situations, marital status, and the economy had yet to occur when I first sat down to write Televisionary's first post (which, if I remember correctly was about the UK and US versions of The Office) and decided to pursue a path that would get me back to my grad school training.

Way back when, a few dozen readers who dropped by each day, but, amid an increasingly competitive landscape, Televisionary has blossomed over the last five years, into something much bigger than I ever dared dream.

In the days of semi-unemployment, I gave it my full and undivided attention and utilized the emerging social networking tools to brand myself and the site, landing freelance writing jobs with The Los Angeles Times and The Daily Beast, among others, all while continuing to keep the site humming along.

Last year, I was made the TV Columnist for The Daily Beast after freelancing for them for roughly a year. Now under contract with the IAC-owned company (which is itself merging with Newsweek), it's with a great deal of pride that I look back on the first steps that got me to this place and those tentative early posts on Televisionary. It's been an adjustment juggling both but I hope that this site continues to offer a critical perspective on programming and a community for people who realize the creative opportunities and rewards that television offers.

At the end of the day, while we may not always see eye to eye on everything (television is, after all, a subjective art), I hope that I've been able to share my passion and love for this medium while entertaining, informing, and maybe even coercing you into watching some series you might not have watched otherwise.

So please join me in raising a glass of champagne (and your remote) and toasting five great years of Televisionary and, hopefully, many more to come.

The Daily Beast: "8 Crazy Scenes from David E. Kelley's Wonder Woman"

I've been vocal on Twitter about my confusion about why David E. Kelley was given the right to develop DC Comics' 70-year-strong "Wonder Woman" into a pilot script, which was initially passed on and then given an eleventh hour reprieve by NBC, which ordered it to pilot.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled "8 Crazy Scenes from David E. Kelley's Wonder Woman," in which I sort through Kelley's first draft pilot script to Wonder Woman and choose the most head-scratching, ridiculous, or just plain awful moments therein.

Is this a take on Wonder Woman/Diana that you're excited to see? Or has Kelley gotten the character completely wrong? Head to the comments section to discuss.

My Dinner at Rao's: Food, Italian Style on Top Chef

I have to say that the producers of Bravo's Top Chef were wise to schedule an all-stars edition of the show right now because, week after week, it's been so consistently pleasing and engaging that it's all but removed the bad taste in my mouth from the lackluster last season.

These are strong chefs, visionaries and technicians, and the remaining players have passion, skill, and precision for the most part. Which doesn't mean that they don't crack under the pressure, or that there aren't missteps, because there certainly are. Top Chef was designed to test the precision, execution, vision, consistency, and ultimately the adaptability of a chef and these previous contestants all know that it's easy to slip when the pressure is on.

On this week's episode of Top Chef ("An Offer They Can't Refuse"), the nine remaining chefs had two challenges ahead of them: one in which they had to create culinary art, focusing on the presentation and aesthetics of a dish rather than how it actually tastes, and later to create Italian dishes in the kitchens of a more than 100-year-old New York Italian institution: Rao's.

These two challenges couldn't have been more diametrically opposed: one was about the look rather than the taste; the other was about simple ingredients and not gilding the lily. Would these chefs be able to pull it off while under fire from some extremely knowledgeable Italian diners? Let's find out.

While some of the chefs were initially turned off by the presentation-based Quickfire Challenge, I stuffed my own first thoughts to the back of my head when I began to think about it as a food styling challenge. Yes, the taste is the most crucial thing about a dish and I would have flipped out had this been an Elimination Challenge, but for a Quickfire, I thought it was a good crucible to put these chefs through and throw them off-balance a bit.

Bringing in designer Isaac Mizrahi was, of course, an act of cross-promotion on the part of Bravo but Mizrahi also understands aesthetics and design, so in that respect, he was a fitting guest judge for this particular challenge.

So what did the chefs make? Let's see:

• Angelo: Pineapple skin, curry salted egg, and dill
• Antonia: Yuca potato, lentils, nuts, and seeds
• Carla: Borscht and sandwich with a lattice of cucumber
• Dale: Beet puree, cantaloupe, maple syrup meringue, avocado, and mango
• Fabio: Tuna with a sidewalk of caramel, mushroom umbrellas, and lemon juice
• Mike: Carrot puree, roasted eggplant, and egg yolk
• Richard: Black chocolate ice cream, menthol crystals, herbal salad, mint ice cream dots
• Tiffany: Almost gazpacho, grapes, dirt made of rye bread
• Tre: Smoke salmon, beets, curry noodles, food coloring

It was no surprise to me that Richard Blais won this particular challenge; not only did his dish sound incredible (and entirely edible and delicious) but it looked absolutely fantastic. The interplay between the shades, the minimalist representations and the otherworldly quality to the entire presentation instantly scored him as the one to beat here and Blais was subsequently awarded with immunity from the Elimination Challenge ahead.

As for the others, I thought that Carla did a fantastic job, though she wasn't singled out for praise. As one of the fully edible presentations, I thought that she deserved some recognition for her gorgeous work, while I found Fabio's plate--and his explanation--head-scratching, to say the least. Just odd, with his mushroom umbrellas and story about beautiful women trying to keep it together. If you have to explain that much, there's something missing in the presentation, Fabio! As for Angelo, if you're going to write something on the table ("crocadile" [sic]), at least make sure you spell it correctly. Or just don't do it at all.

Moving onto the Elimination Challenge, the chefs drew knives to see which course they would be cooking at Rao's (antipasti, primi, secondo) for a group of Italians, including the Rao's owners and actress Lorraine Bracco. For some of the chefs, things didn't go according to plan, while others executed some truly stellar dishes that were universally praised.

The trick with Italian cuisine is to let the ingredients shine and to not do anything that's too fussy, overdone, or which overshadows the other elements on the plate. It was advice, given several times throughout the episode, that some chefs adhered to and seemed to understand, while others missed the message altogether.

So what did they prepare? Let's take a look:

Antipasti

• Antonia: Mussels with fennel, white wine, garlic, and parsley ciabatta
• Carla: Minestrone soup with basil oil, tomatoes, and homemade focaccia
• Tiffany: Polenta terrine with Italian sausage, roasted peppers, and kale

Primi

• Dale: Fresh paparadelle, Brussels sprouts, chanterelle mushrooms, pecorino romano
• Mike: Spicy calamari, fresh rigatoni, and tomato sauce
• Tre: Grilled vegetable risotto, marinated tomatoes, and fresh basil

Secondi

• Angelo: Sauteed pork chop, cherry peppers, green olives, tomatoes, and pancetta
• Fabio: Pollo alla cacciatora, polenta al pecorino
• Richard: Fresh pancetta cutlet, broccolini, pickled cherry tomatoes

It was, for the most part, a mixed bag. It was bloody obvious from the start just who had made some crucial errors. Tre's risotto was way too thick and lacked the intrinic creaminess of true risotto, plus the addition of those huge vegetables on top overshadowed the arborio rice, the true star of risotto. It was clunky and ill-proportioned and I had a feeling either he or Mike would be sent packing this week. Likewise, Dale's pasta dish was composed of separate elements, plated together, but that doesn't make a pasta dish, per se, if they don't coalesce on the plate; he should have cooked everything in the pan together and had something resembling a sauce (cream, cheese, something). Likewise, self-proclaimed "New Jersey Italian" Mike Isabella had a major misstep with his homemade rigatoni, which had too much egg (hence the shocking yellow color) and was way beyond al dente. For an Italian not to cook pasta properly, I knew he'd be on the chopping block this week.

On the other end of the spectrum, the women of the antipasti course all did exceptionally well. They each seemed to understand the importance of simple presentation, quality ingredients, and massive flavor, and each delivered a stunning dish, though I was confused by the "Wisconsin" comment one of the Rao's guys made about Carla's soup. (It was just, um, odd.) And Fabio nicely nailed his dish, which was presented in true Italian style as a secondo with a contorno of luscious polenta on the side. Well done.

Personally, I was shocked to see just how, well, shocked the chefs were that Antonia took home the top prize for her steamed mussels. The point was to do simple food, well-executed with bold favor, and her dish didn't have a ton of ingredients (mussels, white wine, fennel, and garlic) but that was the point! Simplicity, people, done well and with a minimum of fuss. To me, it was certain that the four did a full head and shoulders above the majority of the chefs and I think Antonia earned her win here.

Do you agree with the judges' decision? Should Antonia have won and should Tre have packed his knives? Head to the comments section to discuss and debate.

Next week on Top Chef ("Feeding Fallon"), the chefs prepare fondue and later cater late-night talk show host Jimmy Fallon's birthday party.

Top Chef Preview: Taking On More Than He Can Chew



Top Chef Preview: It's Jimmy Fallon

Eighteen Years: The Holy Grail on Friday Night Lights

It's nearly time to say goodbye...

This week's penultimate episode of Friday Night Lights ("Texas Whatever"), written by Kerry Ehrin and directed by Kyle Chandler, moved the pieces into place for one final emotional sucker punch as we prepare to say our goodbyes to this remarkable and intelligent series.

It was no surprise that, going into the series finale, things would look so dark and grim, as the future of the Dillon Lions was called into question even as the team prepared for the state championship. In fact, everybody's future seemed up for grabs-- from Tami and Eric Taylor to Tim Riggins, from Luke and Becky to Billy and Mindy Riggins--as the episode offered up a sense that anything was possible as these characters considered their own paths, even as we get ready to see them walk off into the sunset next week.

The result was a beautifully realized episode that was a shining example of the kind of deeply nuanced storytelling that Friday Night Lights does best, creating small moments that echo throughout, of lives lived and loves lost, of passions and dreams, and of paths not taken. With so much on the line for so many of these characters, the episode magnificently set up the final game of their lives, both the shot at the state title and their own individual destinies.

Everyone seemed to be falling apart this week, pondering just what the future held for them. Would Tim stay in Texas or head for the Alaskan pipeline? Would Luke throw off the small-town shackles or would he head someplace similar to Dillon? Would Tami take the Dean of Admission job in Philadelphia? Would Eric return to West Dillon? And would there even be an East Dillon Lions team when the dust settled?

But everyone seemed to be at odds with their own expectations for the future, as a sad wind blew through Dillon. Tim Riggins, haunted by his time in prison, unable to adjust to life on the outside (remarkably encapsulated in that scene where he throws his bedding out of the trailer); Mindy contemplating a future in which Stevie doesn't even know his mother because she's surrounded by twin toddlers; Tami seeing the past eighteen years of her marriage as a constant compromise on her part, rather than a shared journey.

It's this last element that's the most gut-wrenching as we see Eric and Tami struggling in a way heretofore unseen on Friday Night Lights until this point. Throughout the series' run, we've seen these two have their differences but typically always come together in a unified front; however, we're seeing a widening chasm open up between them as Eric can't even bring himself to discuss the possibility of Tami taking the Dean of Admissions gig and moving their family to Philadelphia. For all of his openness, Eric is a traditionalist at heart; he was against Tami going back to work at the beginning of Season One and here he's stubbornly remaining defiant to the idea that Tami's work life could alter their destiny and take them out of Texas.

"We live in Texas," he says. "Texas is where I work. Texas is where I have my job." The thought never occurs to Eric that it might be Tami's chance to lead their family's path and that Eric's coaching job might take a backseat to Tami's opportunity. After all, he wasn't crowing about Texas when he had that offer lined up in Florida, or when he moved the Taylors all over the place numerous times before. But now that there's the very real possibility that he might be marginalized in this decision, he's drawing a line in the sand of Dillon. When Tami asks, "How many times have we moved before for your job," he doesn't have an answer because there isn't a rational, honest one.

Eric's entire identity is caught up in being a football coach and, on some level, he sees Tami as an extension of that identity: the perfect coach's wife, always there with lemonade and an easy smile. But the fact remains that Tami's career has taken off and this opportunity is a great one for their family. Would it take them out of Texas? Absolutely. And is that perhaps a scary proposition? You bet. But it could also be, as Tami says, a blessing, given the uncertainty swirling around the Lions.

And, even after we learn the fate of the team (Dillon will have just one football team: the Panthers), Eric still can't bring himself to even have an adult conversation with Tami on the subject. In fact, he hasn't even congratulated her on the offer, seeing it as less an opportunity and more of an inconvenience. You can sense the heartbreak in her voice as Tami sadly says, "I'm going to say to you what you haven't had the grace to say to me: congratulations, Eric."

This might just be the lowest we've ever seen Tami and Eric and there doesn't seem to be any way of bridging the gap between them. It's a true about-face for one of television's most enduring, beloved, and realistic couples, which might be why the sting of betrayal smarts the most as it seems the steadfast support that Tami has given to Eric over the years isn't quite as generously reciprocated.

Yes, Eric is a loving husband, but he's not allowing Tami to find her destiny in the same way that he pushes his "boys" to on and off the field. Eighteen years is a long time to stand in someone else's shadow and I'm glad that Tami isn't meekly going along with Eric's stonewalling.

When the decision about the future of Dillon football comes down, it's the moment between Vince and Eric that gets me every time: the mistiness in Coach's eyes as he tells Vince that he'll be the star of the Panthers the following year, their embrace which says more than words ever could. Everything that Coach has sacrificed has been for kids like Vince and his generosity and spirit with them make his indifference towards Tami's opportunity all the more glaring.

Elsewhere, the denizens of Dillon had their own struggles in this week's episode, which afforded a number of fantastic two-hander scenes, such as those between Eric/Tami, Eric/Vince, Vince/Jess, Luke/Tim, Tim/Tyra, Tyra/Julie, Mindy/Billy, Luke/Becky, and multiple other permutations. The scene where Tami attempted to reassure Julie that everything would be okay and that her parents loved each other very much seemed so real and so upsetting to both of them, Aimee Teegarden's Julie shrinking in her seat like a small child, her mother's words perhaps making her even more uncomfortable than before.

But the question of love and fidelity seemed to loom large in this episode, as well saw one couple fall apart (Luke and Becky) while others finally came together (such as Vince and Jess and Tim and Tyra). I was beyond pleased to see the return of some familiar faces such as Teegarden, Adrianne Palicki, and Zach Gilford, in this week's episode; the writers have always been generous with wrapping up the storylines of the original cast members and there's a distinct sense of having come full circle here, from the news cameras on the field (reminiscent of the early days of FNL) and the returns of Tyra and Saracen to Dillon.

Tyra's return comes at the perfect time for Tim Riggins, who is debating whether to sell off his land and head to Alaska, to set his sights on something that's inimical to Dillon, it seems. These two have so much history that it's telling that it's Tyra who is able to shake Tim out of his despondence, to make him feel something for the first time in a long time. When these two have their roll in the hay (let's be honest, it was inevitable), it feels like a genuine decision on both of their parts, Tyra drawn back to the past she was so dead-set on running from, Tim opting to feel rather than shut down.

Their moment is echoed, perhaps inversely, by the loss that Julie feels, sitting alone in her car outside of Saracen's house, his #7 Panthers sign on its side in the yard. Her scene with Tyra sums up so much about where both characters are heading, as each admits that Dillon is "a hard place to shake."

Luke, especially, wants out of small town Texas, realizing that his recruitment offer is just trading Dillon for another small town existence. Matt Lauria's scene with Tyalor Kitsch summed up his inner conflict. He loves football but he knows he won't be happy if he takes the offer, D3 school or no. But it's Tim's words that truly seem to hit home, as the Lions prepare to go to state, the last game that this team will play together. "Play it like it's the last time you're ever going to lace up," he says, echoing his own experiences. "Play it that way and then move on."

In the end, the real question on many of their minds is whether they're running towards Dillon or away from it. With just one episode to go, I can promise that the results of that soul-searching will be heartbreaking, powerful, and will stick with you for some time to come. The end, it seems, is finally here, the last game, the last showdown on the field. Will the Lions grab the holy grail at the end of the day? And will these characters seize their destinies? Find out next week.

Next week on the series finale of Friday Night Lights ("Always"), the Taylors face several decisions that could change their lives forever; Coach and Tami are caught off guard by Julie's future plans; the Lions go to state.

Guilty Pleasure: Bravo's Million Dollar Listing Returns Tonight

I know, I know: this is the guiltiest of all guilty pleasures in some ways.

But I do believe that when it comes to television, one shouldn't feel guilty about what one finds enjoyable, as long as you're truthful with yourself about the quality of the thing in question.

Which brings us to Bravo's Million Dollar Listing, which returns for its fourth season tonight, amid a cast shakeup that saw the departure of oddball Chad Rogers from the series and the arrival of a new face in Josh Altman.

While Chad irritated me to the point of tears at times, I do have to say that I'll miss him because he added such an unpredictable, weird element to the mix. Between the pocket-sized dog, the bizarre chemistry with his girlfriend, and his social awkwardness, Chad added a certain je ne sais quoi to the mix that will be missed, particularly as he managed to get under the skin of his fellow two real estate agents on a nearly weekly basis.

Josh Altman, who joins returnees Josh Flagg and Madison Hildebrand this season, isn't a Chad manque by any stretch. He's your typical real estate agent who likes to dole out the charm offensive and maintain that he can switch from nice guy to "shark" when needed. So far, I've yet to see any of these agents in shark mode and, from the two episodes provided by Bravo for review, Josh Altman sees to stuck in the nice guy gear, particularly in scenes with his family.

Which isn't to say that there is a lack of drama here, because there is. As in previous seasons, the clients that the guys encounter are often far weirder and more bizarre than you can imagine (unless you live in LA, in which case you encounter people like this on a nearly daily basis) and that holds true here. Josh Flagg co-lists a ghastly McMansion in the Valley that he attempts to unload for his weirdo makeup artist client (Monet) even as he knows that the asking price is staggeringly high. His attempt to lure clients in backfires magnificently.

And scenes for the season promise conflict between newly out Madison and Josh Altman, when the latter becomes involved romantically with Madison's assistant, leading to the much-hyped drunken showdown scene that Bravo seems to be playing on a loop during commercial breaks these days.

While Million Dollar Listing isn't fantastic television by any stretch of the imagination, it does combine the voyeuristic spectator sport of reality television with real estate; the market crash only serves to make things more desperate for this troika of agents, with multi-million dollar homes on the lines. (Though, if you ask me, it still doesn't seem, at least based on what's shown here, that these guys do all that much to earn their hefty commissions.)

Throw in the cheesy music (yes, it's still here during the home detail bits), whiny behavior, and some seriously crazy clients and you have the makings of a genuinely enjoyable reality series about excess in every sense of the word.

Season Four of Million Dollar Listing premieres tonight at 9 pm ET/PT on Bravo.

Flock of Pegasi: An Advance Review of Community's "Advanced Dungeons and Dragons"

It's said that in writing, as with most things, you shouldn't break the rules until you've mastered them. That is, until you truly understand the logic behind why certain guidelines exist, you shouldn't seek to subvert them.

It's clear to me that the writing staff of Community, operating under visionary creator Dan Harmon, not only understands the rules but relishes the opportunity to throw them out the window, stomp on them, and have Leonard repeatedly run them over in the parking lot.

This is, after all, the same collective that has produced over the course of two seasons such innovative and mind-blowing installments of television such as "Modern Warfare," "Epidemiology," "Contemporary American Poultry," "Cooperative Calligraphy," "Abed's Uncontrollable Christmas," and "Basic Rocket Science," all of which tested the resilience and scope of the American sitcom form.

This Thursday evening, the brains behind Community are at it again with another groundbreaking genre- and format-busting episode ("Advanced Dungeons and Dragons") which tests the limits of live-action network comedy by breaking several cardinal rules of writing over the course of its twenty-odd minutes.

While not as confined as its now-legendary bottle episode ("Cooperative Calligraphy"), this week's episode has few locations other than the study room, a supply closet, and the ubiquitous Greendale hallway and very few guest stars. In fact, it's set almost entirely in the study room once again, but the magic of the episode means that it never feels claustrophobic, but instead sets the stage for an epic battle between good and evil.

Say what?

The plot's precis: Jeff (Joel McHale) feels sorry for Fat Neil (Charlie Koontz), a fellow Greendale student who is down in the dumps and who harbors a love for all things Dungeons & Dragons. Joined by Annie (Alison Brie), an ex-headcase who sees the warning signs of "doom" ahead, the two reach out to the group and concoct a plan to help Fat Neil: they'll host a game of Dungeons & Dragons in order to build up his confidence and save him from self-destruction.

The group bands together, as Abed (Danny Pudi) glides effortlessly into the role of Dungeon Master, Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown) and Troy (Donald Glover) offer their support, and Chang (Ken Jeong) just happens to have been there the whole time. But in their desire to help Neil, they exclude "Pierce the Insensitive" from their little D&D gathering, creating in the process a dangerous enemy that could destroy all of their hard work.

Into this already winning mix of elements, the writers have strewn some tantalizing and perilous details: voiceover narration, the use of a non-visual storytelling device, and empathy for a character that isn't in the study group, and therefore isn't typically contained within the narrative focus.

I don't want to say too much about this fantastic episode, lest I spoil it but I will say that it doesn't make a jot of difference to enjoying the episode whether you've played Dungeons & Dragons before or are a complete novice. The rules of the game are spelled out, multi-sided dice produced, and a nuanced and compelling mechanism unleashed in order to bring the world of D&D to life and make it gripping and exciting over the course of the installment. (No small feat, that.) Dragons, elven maidens, gnome waiters, creepy old naked men comprise the cast of this constructed universe and taverns, villages, and mystical medallions are encountered in turn.

Each of our Greendale regulars has a part to play, an Abed-created character to bring into the mission, ranging from Jeff as warrior "Marrrrrr" and Britta as "Lavernica" to Annie as, er, "Hector the Well-Endowed." Look for a painfully funny montage as Annie describes just what Hector is doing--sans words but with hand gestures--to a beautiful elf maiden as she woos her into giving the gang a flock of pegasi, and for what Shirley calls Chang's "hate crime" in the making.

But even as each has a different role to play, our beloved study group quickly reverts to form: Britta championing the gnome cause in her "needlessly defiant" manner; Jeff as cool and detached as ever; Abed once again in control of an imaginary world; Shirley cooing over the cuteness of story elements; Pierce the thorn in the side of the group, the true outsider whose thirst to belong to the collective means that he will forever spit in the (figurative) punchbowl.

(The fantastic opening sequence--complete with new title music just for this occasion--sums up the characters to full effect and with hilarious detail as it offers descriptors for each of the main characters in keeping with the warrior tradition.)

"Advanced Dungeons and Dragons" isn't just adventure for the sake of adventure; in true Community fashion, there's an underlying emotional core to the episode which manages to be sweet without cloying, touching rather than saccharine. Even as the group strives to save Fat Neil from himself, they have to save themselves as well. There's a reason why these events are unfolding the way that they are, why Pierce is so destructive and insensitive, why Neil is in the predicament that he's in.

But rather than tip the balance of the episode into sentimentalism, the revelations contained therein are true to the spirit of the series and the sense of, well, community that the show has fostered since the beginning.

With "Advanced Dungeons and Dragons," the cast and crew have masterfully pulled this Herculean task off without a single hitch, resulting in an episode that's at times hysterical, at times emotional, and always magical.

Community airs Thursday evening at 8 pm ET/PT on NBC.

The Good Wife: What is the Deal With Kalinda?

I've been fairly obsessed with CBS' The Good Wife this season as the series continues to effortlessly fuse together taut legal drama, compelling family conflict, and a smart serialized storyline that has tackled everything from infidelity to personal desire, politics to underage sex.

But the thing that's keeping me awake at night is the mystery surrounding Archie Panjabi's Kalinda Sharma, the kick-ass investigator employed by Lockhart-Gardner-Bond who might not be what she appears. Throughout the season, the formidable Kalinda been thrown off her balance by the inquiries made by her rival at the law firm, Scott Porter's devious Blake, who seems hell-bent on revealing the truth about her past.

And now State's Attorney's office--under the orders of Glenn Childs himself--is conducting their own investigation into Kalinda, something that rubs Cary the wrong way. (I loved the scene between Matt Czruchy's Cary and Blake in the prison parking lot. Was it just posturing or is Blake as dangerous as he seems?) With the walls closing in around Kalinda, the hunter, it seems has become the hunted.

Last night's fantastic episode ("Silly Season") sought to shed some more light onto Kalinda's possible past, lifting the veil of mystery as Blake contended that Kalinda was actually a Canadian national named Leela who had faked her death in a fire. Kalinda, with her indeterminable poker face, didn't crack under Blake's scrutiny, not revealing whether he's got her or is simply barking up the wrong tree.

Which brings us to the here and now and the question contained within this post's headline. What do you think is really going on with Kalinda? And what dark secret from her past is she concealing? Is Blake right in his determination? Head to the comments section to discuss and debate, though no spoilers please. Let's keep it limited to conjecture and analysis, shall we?

Next week on The Good Wife ("Real Deal"), as Alicia prepares to face Louis Canning (returning guest star Michael J. Fox) in a class-action lawsuit, the firm discovers that it has a mole in its midst.

Fighting the Hydra: Thoughts on the Semi-Season Finale of Chuck

I've been candid over the years about my love for Chuck, supporting it and nurturing it and standing up for it whenever renewal seemed like a distant proposition rather than a sure thing. But I've also been upfront about my thoughts about this creatively uneven season, which seemed to veer from strong episodes to really weak ones on a weekly basis.

Last night's episode ("Chuck Versus the Push Mix"), written by Rafe Judkins and Lauren LeFranc and directed by Peter Lauer, was originally intended to be the season finale for Season Four of Chuck, back when the season had only gotten a thirteen-episode commitment, but as with last season, an eleventh hour order of additional episodes meant that the semi-season finale wrapped up several storylines but wouldn't be the end to the season.

Which brings us to the here and now, as I have to take an unpopular stand and say that I didn't enjoy this episode as much as others seemed to. In fact, I'll admit that I'm puzzled by the rave reviews that this episode received, both in advance and post-air. There were some fantastic moments in the mix (I did love the final minutes with Chuck's silent proposal), but it felt stitched together from some sub-par parts and the final act, with its host of happy endings, didn't feel entirely earned to me, but rather tacked on cheaply, an emotional ploy to satisfy in case this was a season (or series) ender.

So what did I really think of "Chuck Versus the Push Mix"? Let's discuss.

First, I have to say that I'm extremely glad that this marks the end of the Volkoff storyline, which intrigued at first and then just grated on my nerves. No disrespect to Timothy Dalton, who was in fine form here, but the character never gelled into something three-dimensional. He was yet another maniacal super-villain with delusions of grandeur and an inability to pick up on the fact, after twenty years, that Mary Bartowski was just not into him.

I'm still not clear as to what Alexei Volkoff wanted, what his MO was, or what his grand scheme was for world domination or whatever. Or why he was so dangerous that it took Mary Bartowski twenty years to catch him, or why she had to walk out on her family in order to do so. There must have been countless times when Mary should have been able to enact her endgame and grab Volkoff, so I'm still confused why it took this long and why it involved Sarah Walker going undercover in his organization to finally pull off the capture of the century.

Which brings us to Point #2: I understand that Sarah Walker is a superspy and is as dangerous as sin, but how was she able to accomplish in what seemed like under a week what Frost was unable to do in two decades? (Yes, two decades.) Here is where things started to fall apart for me, because I couldn't accept last week that Alexei would willingly allow her into his organization, even with the "rogue agent" status she had created for herself, knowing that she was Chuck's girlfriend and wouldn't flip that easily on her country, especially for the reasons she gave. (And, yes, Alexei has proven that he's far from rational, but this stretched credulity a bit.)

In the past, I've been willing to suspend my disbelief when it came to Chuck because the show was firing on all cylinders and it's easy to overlook some niggling things when they're couched in awesomeness. But I've been finding it increasingly hard to do so here, especially in the last two weeks as the Volkoff final act ramped up. There are some things that are easily swept under the rug and there are others that, once introduced, can't be erased from my mind as easily.

That Volkoff's entire network--his most important, powerful, and prized possession--should be concealed behind a door whose security can so easily be breached caused me to sit up. Compounding this are the lasers that even a schlemiel like Morgan can outmaneuver. Without use of the Intersect. The Chuck gang already utilized the laser gag to full effect back in Season 3 ("Chuck Versus the Three Words"), as Chuck had to evade some lasers with cat-like precision, thanks to the Intersect-derived abilities. But to have Morgan do so, so easily, thanks to some yoga (!?!) poses? Suspension of disbelief out the window.

(Likewise, the fact that Chuck did a general internet search for "The Contessa" early on, that he and Morgan were able to climb onto the Contessa with such ease, and that they were able to saunter around the ship without a single guard noticing, all got on my nerves.)

Yes, it was fitting that Alexei should be undone by his jealousy and by Chuck's smarts, utilizing the "ghost" of Orion to get Alexei out in the open and use the authorization code words that Chuck needed to transfer his Hydra network, and it showed some moxie on Chuck's part, but at this point I just wanted the Volkoff storyline to be over. Now that Mary had flip-flopped so many times between good and evil, between Volkhoff confidante and CIA agent, I just wanted this arc to be over already, something I've rarely ever felt with Chuck before.

In watching this week's episode, I found that I was willing myself to like it but that I was failing. And I've never had to "will" myself to like Chuck in the past, as the show has abounded with clever writing, fine acting, and genre-busting fun. Elements that in the past have worked with such precision (Jeffster) seemed thrown in here for no real purpose. While some have raved about the "Push It" sequence with Jeffster at the hospital, I found it a complete turn-off, an over the top scenario that further tested my patience, even as the patients themselves (not to mention the nurses) seemed not bothered in the least.

I'm glad that Ellie and Awesome had their baby (following the world's most easy labor and delivery) and it will be interesting to see just how the writers deal with having a baby in the mix on the show. For the most part, Ellie and Devon have been largely tangential to the plot this season, and I'm still hoping that Chris Fedak and Co. can find a way to bring these disparate elements together.

Which brings us to the very end of the episode, which I thought was actually the best handled sequence in the entire installment, as we wrapped up all of the storylines (Casey is okay! Alex isn't going anywhere! Volkoff is defeated! Ellie has her baby!) and put the focus back onto the Chuck/Sarah courtship. Throughout the season, Chuck has sought to engineer the perfect situation for his marriage proposal but has been foiled by nerves, the CIA, and Sarah herself. Which is why it was perhaps so perfect that the ideal moment was the one right at hand: in the hospital corridor, sitting on a bench together, as a custodian waxed the floor.

Sometimes the best moments are the smallest ones, and the silence of Chuck's proposal played out magically, allowing us to infuse the scene with our own emotions and sense of fulfillment rather than let the dialogue do the talking. After a season of talking about proposals and false starts, it was a canny way to make Chuck's actual offer seem dramatic, engaging, and romantic, and Sarah's acceptance all the more heartfelt and genuine.

But that small moment wasn't enough for me following what was largely a lazy episode that was full of narrative holes and forced emotion. And, yes, I even surprised myself with how little I enjoyed it. I'm hoping the writers, given the next batch of episodes, can find a way to win me back, because I don't want to wax nostalgic about Chuck: I want to enjoy it again.

What did you think of this week's episode? And of the last thirteen episodes as a whole? Head to the comments section to discuss and debate.

Next week on Chuck ("Chuck Versus the Seduction Impossible"), John Casey, Chuck Bartowski, and Sarah Walker are sent to Morocco to rescue Roan Montgomery (guest star John Larroquette); Morgan Grimes plans to meet Alex's mother; Mary spends some time with her family.

Indestructible: Truth and Consequences on Big Love

"We're not holy. We're all unholy." - Barb

As dire as things have been for the Henricksons in the past, things looked especially bleak at Christmas, even as Bill noted that they had made it through the darkest day of the year and into the light. But that's the problem with the sunlight sometimes: in the harsh light of day, you can't avoid the seeing the truth right in front of you. Things are not what they seem: plum pudding contains no plums, after all.

On this week's gut-wrenching episode of Big Love ("Certain Poor Shepherds"), written by Jami OʼBrien and directed by David Petrarca, the family has to contend that their own inner secrets may be the thing that destroys them in the end. Even as they make their way onto the ice--to the ironic strains of ABBA's "Knowing Me, Knowing You"--in a show of unity, Bill and his wives are anything but a singular unit, each concealing something in turn, a hurtful truth that puts further strain on this already aching clan.

But as the snow comes down and the Henricksons gather outside in their Living Nativity, putting on a show for the entire neighborhood to see, one can't shake the feeling that each of them has been playing a role for some time now. The darkest days, it seems, are still yet to come.

Before we get into anything, I want to discuss the truth about Margene's admission this week. I had a brief inkling of the truth of her situation last week when she spoke about being a few credits shy of her high school diploma; for some reason that fact stick with me and made me wonder if she wasn't younger than we thought she was.

The truth is that Margene is younger than we thought. She and Ben were even closer in age than we believed over the first few seasons (making their mutual attraction all the more understandable, perhaps), as both she and Ginger lied to Bill when they met. While the family believed that babysitter Margene was 18 years old when she and Bill wed, the truth is far different: Margene was only 16 years old, below the age of consent. Which makes her pre-marital relations with Bill unlawful and morally reprehensible.

It's no surprise that the family reacts the way that they do. They had the wool pulled over their eyes by Margene and welcomed her into their family without knowing what they were doing, believing that she was an adult with the ability to make her own decisions, rather than a minor that they were bringing into their polygamist lifestyle.

For Bill, with all of his talk of cleaning up the compounds and purifying the faith, it's a slap across the face. He's railed against the abuses of Juniper Creek his entire adult life, against forcible marriages, underage sealing, against everything that Roman Grant and his ilk have perpetrated over the years, twisting their religious beliefs and corrupting them altogether.

What happened with Margene goes against everything he has been fighting for, and striving to build with Safety Net. Her lie makes him complicit in the web of abuse, even though he had no knowledge of his actions. Their marriage to Margene began with the basest of lies. From her point of view, it doesn't change anything: what difference could two years shaved off her drivers license really matter? But the truth is that there are forcing looking to take down Bill, looking to round up the polygamists and recriminalize their lifestyle. Two years can make a huge difference at the end of the day, if people were to learn of the truth.

And that's what Margene doesn't quite see. It's not a matter of hiding her drivers license when Bill asks for it or hedging about her true age. It's a shocking betrayal that cuts to the heart of their marriage and puts their very future in jeopardy.

And clearly, as we see at the shelter, it's affecting how Bill sees his youngest wife, as he suddenly treats her at a distance, keeping her at arm's length until he can determine just how to react. How does one recover from his? Does it fundamentally change the way he sees Margene? How any of them do?

While Bill might not know what to do with Margene, Barb runs away from the situation, fleeing the shelter to return to the darkness of the empty houses, seeking solace in the plum pudding and the bottle. This season has seen Barb tempted to experience new things, to taste from the forbidden fruit, but here she has given herself over to excess. As she lurches about the kitchen drunkenly, there's a real sense of sadness and loss over her life, as she finds herself unable to process this latest betrayal.

Her naked drunkenness, her shame, and her anger all coalesce in that scene in the kitchen, as the family enters to find her eating plum pudding out of a can by herself. I don't for a second believe that Barb is an alcoholic, but her behavior is troubling here; she's thrown off one of their strongest beliefs (abstaining from alcohol) because her voice isn't heard in their marriage or in their religion. Still reeling from the horror in Nicki's voice when she attempted to give a blessing to Margene last week, Barb lives in hope that Bill will see her point of view and allow her to bless the congregation. (No way; instead, he asks Ben to do so.)

She is seeing her good works go up in flames. The time and energy she put into the casino have been completely eradicated; her beloved ice cream bar replaced by some slutty dancers grinding away to "Santa Baby." Her marriage has been based on lies. Her quest for religious equality stamped out by traditionalist Bill. The promise of eternity has been damaged by their sin in inviting Margene into their marital bed.

Barb's drunkenness is more than an escape; it's an attempt to stop feeling, to numb the pain and the frustration and the compromise and the lies. Standing in the snow after, her loneliness and isolation is palpable, even as her sister-wives and Bil gather around her. But it's her words that cut like a knife: "We're not holy," she says, sadly but resolutely. "We're all unholy."

Interestingly, that viewpoint is echoed by Alby, for all of his talk of purifying the compound. But Alby's thoughts on purity are very different than anyone else's: he takes it upon himself to poison all of the dogs on the compound, turning on Lura and threatening to have her children reassigned. He kicks Adaleen out of the big house after learning that she still has that "monstrosity" inside of her.

Even more intriguingly, both women flee Juniper Creek and end up at the Henricksons, looking for refuge. In the last three episodes, we've been seeing a nexus of power and influence building up around Bill within the polygamist community. His church is now filled with new faces, his homes bursting with cast-out polygamists (Adaleen, Lura, Lois).

As I said a few weeks back in my advance review of the fifth season, I believe that the endgame is upon us and that Bill will eventually receive his true destiny and will become the true prophet of Juniper Creek, ushering in a new age for polygamy, one that's markedly different from the amoral corruption of the Grants' rule.

There's a moment at the shelter where Lura finds herself trapped between Bill and Alby, between her new life as an outcast and her old life as the prophet's wife. But the scales have fallen from her eyes; she now sees her husband for the monster that he is. She chooses to stay rather than to return and there's hope in the scene where she blinks her eyes after removing her false eyelashes; it's as though she's seeing for the first time in a very long time.

It also connects to the faux plum pudding and the other false faces encountered in this episode, to the lies told to Cara Lynn about JJ by Nicki and Margene and the way that Bill doesn't want to see the truth about his mother. It's not until Bill sees the results, does the truth about Lois hit home, but he can't deny just how widespread her mental state is when Lois takes the kids in search of Santa and has a complete breakdown at the drive-through. It's a gutting reversal for this fierce woman, so canny, so conniving and brilliant, who is undone by her own mind. (Kudos to Grace Zabriskie for pulling off this tough transformation with honesty and grace.)

Nothing is as it seems until we're presented with proof. Just as Bill sees evidence of Lois' dementia (even in the face of her "indestructible" nature), Cara Lynn needs hard proof of her father's death before she can let go. Convincing Gary to drive her to the compound, she stands in the burnt wreckage of JJ's clinic, the realization hitting home that her father is dead even as Adaleen attempts to continue to lie to her.

But Adaleen does finally come clean to Cara Lynn, just as she finally does to herself, realizing that she doesn't want to carry this child to term. She destroys all of her hormones, sweeping the empty bottles into the trash, but interestingly, she chooses to return to Albert, to her grieving son, to promise her eternal support and steadfast love. It's a shocking about-face for Adaleen, but she's always been a survivor at heart.

Elsewhere, Bill nearly crosses a line with his condemnation of Alby in front of his young children, even though he's telling the truth. But these children, already reeling from their mother's flight from Juniper Creek, don't need to see the harshness of their father's true nature. Not yet, anyway. Just as Cara Lynn contends that she always saw her father as a "good man" ("He taught me how to ride a bicycle," she says sadly), so too likely do Alby's children not see him for what he truly is. But it's a testament, perhaps, to Lura's strength that she doesn't go back to Albert and to the compound, even with the threats he throws at her.

Last, I just want to say how happy I am that Tina Majorino's Heather Tuttle is back in the mix this season; I've missed Heather and I'm glad that the writers sought to bring her back for this final season. Her perspective and outlook are needed here, even as she and Ben seem to be heading for romantic territory. I loved Ben's shock upon seeing her, and how much Heather had changed since they last met.

Seeing, it seems, is believing.

Next week on Big Love ("The Oath"), with his swearing-in ceremony only days away, Bill searches for ways to overcome the anti-polygamist sentiment swelling among state officials; Barbʼs strategic attendance at a First Ladiesʼ fashion show triggers
lingering resentment between Nicki and Margene – and between Barb and Nicki; Rhonda and exiled polygamist Verlan try to shake down Alby; Margene and Pam find their niche with Goji Blast and Michael Sainte; Nicki pushes for Cara Lynnʼs adoption; Lois learns the source of her ailment; Ben rewards Heather for her sensitivity.

The Daily Beast: "Charlie Sheen, Two and a Half Men, and the Hollywood Machine"

Yes, Charlie Sheen, the troubled star of CBS’ Two and a Half Men, has finally entered rehab, amid a production shutdown on his CBS sitcom, produced by Warner Bros. Television.

Over at The Daily Beast, you can read my latest feature, entitled, "Charlie Sheen, Two and a Half Men, and the Hollywood Machine," in which I talk to television industry insiders--from writer/producers to household name showrunners--about why the hell it took so long for Sheen to go into rehab.

And I look at the self-perpetuating system that enables stars like Sheen to indulge in such bad behavior as showrunners and producers--speaking on condition of anonymity--discuss their own culpability in the issue.

Fringe Fridays: 140-Character Testimonials

I asked, you answered.

To celebrate the arrival of another Fringe Friday, I took to Twitter to ask you to sum up why you loved FOX's Fringe in 140 characters or less. No small feat, given the rampant love for this mind-bending sci-fi drama, which recently moved to Friday evenings during its fantastic third season.

The responses I got were not surprisingly impassioned and intelligent, and demonstrated why Fringe has struck a chord with its devoted viewers. (Among whom, I count myself as a member.)

Curious to see just what Fringe-philes had to say about why they love the show? You can check out the responses below, which I will continue to update throughout the day. And don't forget: there's an all-new Fringe tonight at 9 pm ET/PT on FOX!

Fringe in 140 Characters or Less:

mtoddcohen: "I love #FRINGE b/c it's dynamic, intelligent, and perfectly blended with unexpected humor. In short, it's science with charm."

SterlingCooper1: "I love Fringe b/c it continues where the XFiles stopped, it shows us what real love is about and that nothing is as it seems."

TorreyHam: "Fringe is a prime example of how TV can excel far beyond film in terms of connecting with viewers. We are lucky to have it."

SnapTheJap: "aside from the terms 'Walternate' and 'Fauxlivia" it's self-contained sci-fi that SEEMS feasible. Next-Files."

Kaelity: "#Fringe is thrilling, creepy, funny, romantic, smart, beautiful, heartbreaking and a tweet is not enough to say everything."

Cortexifans: "Love #Fringe 'cause it makes us feel, think, imagine. Has amazing cast and crew work and makes a Fringe Family with the fans."

brandollars: "Sci-fi amazingness with plenty of mystery & more importantly, real characters with believable drama."

DamianLovesTV: "because it is 50% scary, 50% science-y, and 100% awesome. plus it was my first cover story!"

CathTerrierette: "I can tell you why I love #Fringe in just ONE word: Walter!!!"

r1pvanw1nkl3: "john 'effing noble"

LostBoneyBoot: "It is intelligent, engaging, intriguing television, with strong characters whose stories are developed authentically/honestly."

scriptgrrl: "doppelganger love triangle"

_Dani_79: "I love #Fringe cause it's the g8est series ever.I adore Anna Torv.She is the best actress on TV@themoment.She totally rocks!"

manissag: "b/c there's nothing else like it. It's a mix of sci-fi, drama, action, & comedy. #Fringe is TV brought to the next level ;)"

Starbuck7121: "Two words: Anna Torv. She melts my brain. Plus, #Fringe is beyond brilliant. It pretty much blows my mind on a regular basis."

paperplanesca: "I love Fringe for it has such a smart way to show 'impossible' events look scientifically possible!"

ActiveDoll: "unusually successful mainstream SF, fringe's strength lies in subtle casting, & constant reimagining of the underlyng arc."

EnergyTanks: "Fringe embodies the best elements of sci-fi TV of the past 30 years. Also, the cast is incredible."

HouseBonesLove: "I love Fringe because the cases are mind blowing and every episode just keeps getting better! Yay for Fringe Friday!"

spcebaby: "I <3 Fringe b/c it puts the 'Science' in 'Science Fiction'!"

kyrssy: "John Noble, nuff said."

dianadavis76: "I love #Fringe because it's innovative, thought provoking, well written, well acted and exciting! I can't wait for each week!"

witharmsakimbo: "I love #Fringe b/c it underlines the human core in a world dominated by science. Plus I get a weekly dose of Joshua Jackson!"

aimeeinchains: "Most heart-felt, thought-provoking, well-written, best-acted show. Action, Science, family, love; speaks to the soul."

BIGANDER: "for its delicious strawberry flavored death."

truffle_shuffle: "You thought the X-Files was good? Not as good as #Fringe."

JudeLaBarre: "Walter and his relationship with his son. Also how the writers resolve the intricacies of having parallel universes."

On tonight's episode of Fringe ("Reciprocity"), the doomsday device is assembled at Massive Dynamic, but a worried Walter asks Nina for help in understanding Peter's relationship to the weapon.

Sick Day: Parks and Recreation's Cast Shines in "Flu Season"

"Stop. Pooping."

The MVP award for last night's fantastic episode of Parks and Recreation ("Flu Season") goes to Rob Lowe, for his sensational delivery of the above two words as Chris succumbs to the virulent strain of flu infecting everyone in Pawnee.

Chris' ouright outrage and horror, upon learning that the "microchip has been compromised," is transformed into self-loathing and ultimately a complete and utter breakdown as he vomits into a drawer, makes friends with the hospital room floor, and manages to make would-be girlfriend Ann at ease with him for the first time during their nascent courtship.

But the heights that "Flu Season" reached (which, I might add, for all of their strengths are topped by other upcoming episodes this season) are due to the tremendous work being done by all of the members of Parks and Rec's talented ensemble.

For all of the scene-stealing done by Lowe here, there are standout moments for Aubrey Plaza (throwing her blankets on the floor and getting under Ann's skin), Chris Pratt (the super-straw; yanking the desk drawer off of its track), Nick Offerman (the giggle alone as Ron and Andy run off alone was worth the price of admission), Aziz Ansari (the spa scenes), and Rashida Jones (Ann's end-of-shift freakout at April).

But it was Amy Poehler's Leslie Knope who took the cake as she attempted to make her way to the "Chamber of Secrets" to make her presentation, creating a denim scarf out of her jeans, stealing powerful flu medication from her fellow convalescent patients, and generally behaving in a hysterically delirious fashion. (Two words: "Leslie Monster.")

But most comedies would have had Leslie deliver her speech in a stupor, having her wreck the moment with bizarre non sequiturs and fever-dream ramblings. Which is why Parks and Recreation has managed to establish itself as one of the smartest comedies on television, as it doesn't fall into this sitcom trope but instead inverts it, having Leslie step in and save the day with a brilliant speech about being a part of history, transforming her from a sick woman who believes the floor and the walls have switched places to an accomplished public speaker with the audience in the palm of her hands.

And that's really the magic of Poehler's Leslie Knope: her dynamic optimism comes from the heart. Unlike the vast majority of politicos or public servants, she means the words that she says and nothing, not even mind-altering illness, will stand in her way when the crunch arrives. Standing at the podium, Leslie is nothing less than perfect, nothing less than persuasive, and nothing less than the Leslie Knope that we know and love.

(It's also, perhaps, the moment where Adam Scott's Ben really sees Leslie for the first time.)

There is no "nope" for our Leslie, the eternal cockeyed optimist and big dreamer, and this week's episode went a long way to reaffirming just what makes the character tick. While the humor might come from Leslie's attempts at flight and evasion in the face of illness (loved the bit about her throwing up the Claritin), the episode truly soars when it lets Leslie be her passionate self, getting her to the podium with her red folder and her attempts to save the Parks Department.

When push comes to shove, this is a woman who you want in your corner, whether she's trying to save a pit (or a lot), a parks department, or pony-sized horse (watch "Harvest Festival" for that one). And that's a testament to both Poehler and the writers operating under showrunners Greg Daniels and Mike Schur: it's a rarity to have a character that can be both funny and sympathetic, brazen and compassionate, out-there and relatable, all of which Leslie embodies. It's even more rare when that character is the female anchor of an ensemble cast.

All in all, "Flu Season" was a fantastic episode that showcased the charm and skill of this fantastic comedy ensemble and managed to advance the plot, while giving a very pregnant Poehler plenty of tummy camouflage. And, as fantastic as this installment was, the third season of Parks and Recreation just gets better and better. Take it from someone who has now seen the first seven episodes no less than five times. This is one season--truncated though it might be--that you will want to watch again and again.

And I didn't even need to have any flu medicine to say that.

Next week on Parks and Recreation ("Time Capsule"), Leslie wants to bury a Pawnee time capsule, but an odd suggestion from a local man (guest star Will Forte) causes unforeseen consequences.

Leave It, Ricky: What Did You Think of The Office's Scranton/Slough Crossover?

I'm of two minds about last night's crossover cold open on NBC's The Office ("The Seminar"), which, if you missed it, can be viewed in full below.

Let's be upfront about this: I'm an obsessive fan of the original UK Office, so the chance to see Ricky Gervais don David Brent's goatee was absolutely priceless, but I've also given up watching the US version for a while now as, in the last few seasons, it's descended into a bit of a tired and humorless mess.

Having said that, I thought that the chance encounter between Steve Carell's Michael Scott and Gervais' David Brent was a bit of a hoot at first, and easily the funniest cold open The Office has pulled off in quite some time (from what I remember of the last few seasons I watched).

Seeing the simpatico spirit that exists between the two men, each versions of each other, was unexpectedly touching, even as the two joked around and David asked if there were any jobs going around at Dunder-Mifflin.

Was it wonderful to see David Brent up to his old tricks, telling vaguely offensive jokes, giggling naughtily, and waxing philosophically about the nature of comedy "tickling the mind"? Absolutely. But there was also something oddly troubling about the sequence as well, something that got under my skin last night.

Could it be the fact that Gervais himself spoke out against appearing on-screen on the American version just a few years back, decrying it as potentially "desperate"? Or could it be the fact that the encounter seemed to establish that the events of The Office, unfolding in Slough and Scranton, are in fact taking place within the same narrative "universe"?

It's true that, over the last few seasons, these two characters have gone in wildly divergent directions in terms of their outlook and behavior while still retaining a bit of the same shared blueprint at their core. I think that Brent would have skewered Scott alive had the two had to spend more than a few minutes together; Gervais' boss is inherently a terrible, awful individual, while Michael is more of a bumbling idiot who fails to read social cues and offends because he's in search of the perfect punchline, a quest to achieve acceptance and (in his mind) fame.

But the fact that we're now meant to believe that these two paper merchant bosses and their similar staffs are in fact co-existing got under my skin in a way that the showrunners clearly did not intend. (Am I alone in this thinking?)

With Steve Carell set to leave The Office at the end of the season, it seemed likely that Gervais would make a drop-in on the show before Michael Scott heads to the paper warehouse in the sky (or, well, wherever Michael is heading next) and while I spent those few minutes chuckling, it wasn't enough to keep me from turning over once the credit sequence began. These days, the Office I most want to visit is Wernham Hogg, if I'm being honest.

But I am curious to know what you thought of the encounter between Gervais and Carell last night: was it a stroke of brilliance or a desperate ploy? Head to the comments section to discuss.

Yup, Archer Is Back Tonight: Why You Need to Watch

FX's subversive animated comedy Archer returns tonight and not a moment too soon, for television needs the gonzo spirit and out-there humor of this Adam Reed creation.

The first seven episodes of Season Two of Archer, provided to press for review, might be the strongest to date, offering up a virtual cornucopia of sight gags, double entendre, shockingly foul language, superspy hijinks, and one of the worst examples of humanity in HR executive Pam Poovey.

To say that these memorable characters are flawed is an understatement of the highest order; they're so morally corrupt, so self-absorbed and tragically insane, that it makes for obsessive and unpredictable viewing. And that's perhaps the beauty and magic of Archer: in creating a cast of characters who are so reprehensible in every way, it's impossible to turn your eyes away from the carnage--both physical and personal--that follows in their wake.

Along the way, Sterling Malory Archer and his covert cohorts at ISIS are tasked with protecting a slew of important VIPs: from a slutty, seemingly nymphomaniac teenager in the season opener "Swiss Miss" to a Chihuahua-toting actress in "Movie Star," while a pipeline, a blood sample, the wee Baby Seamus, Cyril's sex addiction, Pam's thirst for gossip, Mallory's Hollywood dreams, and Lana's low self-esteem all play right into the various plots unfolding his season.

Building on the strength of the first season, creator Adam Reed deepens the characters here, giving screen time to supporting characters like Krieger and Ray Gillette and broadening the world of ISIS exponentially. Familiar faces (voices?) make their return appearance here, as well, giving some sense of continuity and serialization to the adventures of Sterling Archer and Co., even as the throwaway lines and dirty jokes leave you gasping for air on the ground. (Hmmm, flashbacks to Judy Greer's Cheryl here.)

The result is a gleefully psychotic comedy, and I mean that in the very best possible sense. Archer is a touchstone for the sort of subversive humor and no-limits comedy that FX embraces and I'm glad to see that a break between seasons hasn't dented the delightfully twisted psyche of this unique series.

With spies like these, who needs national enemies?

Season Two of Archer premieres tonight at 10 pm ET/PT on FX.