Alright, Prepare To Uncouple...

Is the Odd Couple pairing as unbreakable a trope as it used to be? In the evolving world of television storytelling, the OTP (One True Pairing) may be in the throes of evolution.

With the Odd Couple procedural drama Castle kicking off next season minus one of the leading pair (Stana Katic as Kate Beckett), and Sleepy Hollow still a possible renewal despite killing off one of the OTP leads (Nicole Beharie as Abbie Mills) it would seem times are a changin'.

Sexual tension/possible romance between lead characters has long been an audience drawcard. "Shipping" is a term used to describe viewers' emotional investment in the idea of a couple. Many a showrunner will tell you messing with an established "ship" can impact ratings.

But these days TV is in a state of flux, with demand for new material at an all-time high. Programs willing to play with popular formats and tropes are catching the attention of viewers, and as a result networks are becoming more open to experimentation.

The question is, have we reached a point where a series can not just continue, but actually flourish after the loss of its original Odd Couple? 

One of the most notable partner replacement gone wrong in TV history was The X-Files back in the day. Mulder's departure, it can be argued, effectively rung the death knell for the series.

However it's worth noting Mulder was the quirky one in the partnership, and in the cases of Castle and Sleepy Hollow, each series' charismatic quirkster is remaining. Could this be a key factor when it comes to surviving the break-from-trope?

Another point to consider is whether the bold move of ending an Odd Couple pairing onscreen is a reflection of changing times and shifting cultural attitudes. Our belief in HEA (Happily Ever After) isn't what it used to be. 

Are audiences becoming okay with a sparks-fly couple not working out onscreen - or not even getting together in a romantic sense in the first place? Whether death or more mundane life choices lead to a separation, chances are we've become familiar with the bittersweet transience of finding that elusive synergy with another person.

Maybe, as audiences, we're ready to watch and empathize with characters dealing with life once a Grand Love, or the potential for such, has passed. Moving on: is that where the next small screen storytelling trend is at?

My Half a Dozen Fave Female Characters on TV Right Now

Scream Lydia, scream.

Television is a fickle thing: while on paper the concept of a female character can seem ground-breaking, inspiring, and/or relatable, often a viewer’s interpretation doesn’t align with critical consensus.

Instead of a blog disagreeing with certain much-touted female characters pushed upon audiences as positive representations, I thought I'd write about six female characters that engage and interest me to the point where I never miss an episode of the series, in the hopes they make an appearance.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Maintaining an audience is important, and unless people find characters appealing—whether cruel or kind, devious or honest—interest in the show will wane.

A great female character is the culmination of a few factors (all of which apply to male actors/characters as well)*:

-Firstly, impeccable casting. An actor who completely embodies the character understands the person they're portraying on a deeper level, and communicates this to the audience. 

-Writing that creates a multi-dimensional, believable person is (of course) paramount. It's easy to create a character, but taking it to another level, where they seem like a person, is the challenge.

-A show with a framework that provides a wide scope of plot opportunities for the character to grow. 

-Excellent direction. Now and again a director of a tv episode understands the character and the actor so well they help guide a performance from great to phenomenal.

-On point costuming, hair, and makeup. Visual cues can help with characterization, and subtle changes are a great external signal for inner turmoil.

Quinn King in UnREAL
played by Constance Zimmer

I agree with the critics on this one (Zimmer won a Critics' Choice Award for her performance). As the Executive Producer on a Bachelorette-style reality show, Quinn King is a manipulative, ruthless, and complex character. Professionally she's a survivor (reality tv pun) in a male-dominated field, and most of her days are spent avoiding the sharks. 

Relationships with Chet, her lover, and Rachel, her producer, offer insights into the woman behind the ambition. The episode where Quinn was caught reading a bridal magazine was proof even the most cynical and world-weary can occasional fall to the allure of Happily Ever After, no matter how toxic their relationships (or work environment!). Quinn's professional trajectory is achieved through sheer will power and hard work, with ethics more often than not taking a backseat. Guessing Quinn's next move is relatively impossible, which makes for great television.

The key here is believability: Zimmer makes Quinn into an incredibly engaging character you find yourself empathizing with, despite the havoc she's sometimes causing in other people's lives. Her motivations, and her perspective, are so well sold by the ever-impressive Zimmer that in the hyper-world of UnREAL, Quinn feels like a real person.

Mona Vanderwaal in Pretty Little Liars

played by Janel Parrish

Speaking of hyper-realities, Mona Vanderwaal is one of tv's most compelling teenage characters (pre time jump). Over the years Pretty Little Liars has evolved into a complex web of subtext, gender issues and social commentary, to the point where it's bound to end up the subject of a college course - and I'd be happy to give a lecture.

Mona is a dork who transforms herself into an It Girl after the disappearance of queen bee Alison. When Alison's friends are bullied and blackmailed by cyber-presence "A", it turns out to be Mona, who is then admitted to a psych ward; the girls became her dolls, but Mona's actions stemmed from insecurity, and revenge. Thanks in part to a genius IQ, Mona is a manipulator and a survivor. Kidnapped in later seasons, she spends weeks in an underground bunker, forced to pretend to be Alison - blonde wig and all.

Five years into the future and Mona is still brilliant, yet still obsessed with the schoolmates she never managed to make into friends.

The point is you're never quite sure where Mona stands, and Parrish's performance has made Mona arguably the show's most popular character. When Mona smiles she's either happy, hoping to fit in, gloating over secrets (knowledge is power for this clever hacker), or mimicking human emotion for her own ends. The few times the character is truly emotionally vulnerable, Parrish's delivery hits it out of the park.

Dr. Cassandra Railly in 12 Monkeys

played by Amanda Schull

What I love about Cassie Railly in 12 Monkeys is that on paper she is not a character I would relate to, yet the no-nonsense doctor (well, virologist) is portrayed in such an emotive and subtle way by Schull that the audience can't help becoming instantly invested. 

Cassie is kidnapped in the pilot. The guy, Cole, turns out to be time traveller, and tells her where he will be in one year's time before disappearing into thin air (literally). When we next see Cassie, a year has passed and she's a bit of a mess: both her professional career and her personal relationship have unraveled. Still, she's determined to help Cole stop the plague that has almost wiped out humanity in the future.

Cassie really holds her own in this plot. There is an eventual romantic development between Cassie and Cole but it's natural and organic, and doesn't overwhelm the dominating storyline (i.e. saving humanity). Cassie has to do the best she can in her timeline to help Cole with his mission, as he is regularly pulled back to the future. Some of her choices are tough, and occasionally Cassie's responses are unexpected but in some sense understandable (thanks to great writing). 

Obviously the psychological and emotional pressure on the character is extreme, and there is a sincerity and depth to Schull's portrayal that's made her one of current sci-fi television's most rounded female characters.

Lydia Martin in Teen Wolf

played by Holland Roden

I keep meaning to blog on the modern gothic aesthetic of Teen Wolf; even just in terms of cinematography this is a beautifully presented production. Every episode offers a number of shots that could be printed as stills, framed, and hung in a gallery.

Then there is Lydia Martin. Originally the bitchy, beautiful best friend careful to hide her high IQ, clueless to the existence of the supernatural, Lydia's life is reshaped as she begins to discover the true nature of her friends. But the character truly comes into her own with the revelation Lydia is a banshee.

The writer's take on this mythical creature is unusual and frankly, fabulous, amplifying (bad joke) two elements of the traditional tales: sound and death. Lydia is drawn to scenes of death, or impending death, often in a trance-like state (meaning she's driving one place and suddenly finds herself near a corpse, no memory of her change in direction). She also "hears" premonitions in the form of sound. Since most banshees don't manage to hold onto their sanity, Lydia's journey is not an easy one. 

Roden plays the disturbing scenes with an eerie gravitas. At the other end of the spectrum are Lydia's more comedic/fun moments, delivered with equal pizzazz. The key here is the extremely complex character development the writers have spread over a number of seasons, which the actress's topnotch performance turns into into riveting viewing.

Agent Peggy Carter in Agent Carter

played by Hayley Atwell

Peggy Carter was an unusual choice for Marvel's first female-led series. Not only because of the lack of a modern setting, but Peggy isn't a leather-clad vigilante, alien, mutant, or wonder woman (ha!). She's an educated individual whose greatest fight, it could be argued, is against gender prejudices (as the show is set in the 1940s).

Turns out these elements are what make Marvel's Agent Carter so memorable, and so entertaining. Peggy's head is always held high; she battles both super villains and bureaucracy with focus, inventiveness, bravery, and zest. But Peggy is also human - occasionally she gets hurt, and it's this three-dimensional representation that makes Peggy resonate with viewers.

One of the best moments in the series was a flashback to Peggy as a naive young romantic who turns down the chance to become a spy due to her pending marriage. The stark contrast between the past and present versions of the character highlight how much Peggy has changed over the years, and makes the audience empathize with her more. Atwell's nuanced performance combined with quality scripts make the series one to watch.

Uehara Yuri in Good Morning Call
played by Mori Erika

Good Morning Call is a Japanese series on Netflix adapted from a manga. The story follows the evolving romance of two teens at the same high school who end up sharing an apartment after a real estate scam. Very sweet, and fun viewing. I enjoy noting the cultural differences, and the way the show's pace and visual tone differ from American programs. (Side note: The actors eat a lot onscreen, and I like that food isn't just a prop.)

Yuri, played by Mori Erika, is the sister-in-law of the male lead character Hisashi Uehara. Every now and again the show delves into deeper fare with moments of emotional intensity and complex dynamics between characters that are more implied than explicitly explored in the dialogue, and it's these sudden subtle forays (bold contrast to sillier moments) that make the show entertaining.

Erika's character has a mischievous side, but when the laughing, fashionable, professionally successful young woman turns up at Nao and Uehara's apartment—rain-soaked and devastated—to announce she's getting a divorce, the audience sees a whole other side to Yuri.

Considering the language barrier (meaning for English-speaking audiences Erika is communicating largely through tone, body language, facial expressions, and her eyes), the actress' ability to hint at the emotional depths/inner turmoil of the vivacious character is really impressive.


(*Two shows I haven't mentioned with notable female portrayals are Game of Thrones and Downtown Abbey. Both brilliant, but I find what happens to the character's too sad for regular viewing, so I only catch an episode now and again; not enough to really comment on character development.)

The Magicians: Thinking Outside The Box

QUIT DICKING AROUND. DO SOME GODDAMN MAGIC.

Someone gave me a copy of Lev Grossman’s novel The Magicians a few years back. A strange sense of ennui, a greyness, wraps itself around the tale. I could never really relate to the emotional veil that seemed to encapsulate the characters’ experiences. The novel’s protagonist is self-absorbed, intelligent, detached, and depressed: neither the traditional hero nor antihero. Grossman’s sentences were beautiful, and he played with established tropes quite brilliantly, mutating them into new and clever incarnations, but at heart I’m more a lover of the traditional hero’s journey.

Saying that, the book was unique and unsettling and offered insight into an alien mindset, which is always appreciated. The television series managed to hold onto that same, cold emotion while showing more of what simmers beneath the surface of each character: a fascinating mix of cold bleakness, burning resentments, and repressed passions.

I don’t generally address aspects of a novel-to-tv series adaptation: expecting anything other than a new twist on an old tale is shortsighted. I prefer to appreciate the way each medium presents the story. But in this case, I was surprised by my vastly different reactions to particular elements of the narrative in a small screen format (more on that later). Please note: spoilers for episodes 1-3 ahead...

To my mind, at its core the story is about power. In this world I think it’s fair to say knowledge is power, and magic is, in a sense, a metaphor for both power and pain. A lot of television shows today are about saving people, about grandiose love, about noble achievements (whether undertaken willingly or unwillingly). The Magicians is none of the above, which instantly makes it a more difficult sell, and a more interesting one.

Dean: This school exists for a single and timeless purpose. To reveal your innate abilities and hone them to the highest degree. Now what you do with it after that is entirely up to you. If you want to take over the world, we don’t teach that, but give it a go.

The gist of the story is that Brakebills is a secret magic college (pretty much) that accepts Quentin but not his friend Julia. She goes darkside, joining the hedge witches, who will do anything to obtain scraps of spells. Add in books about the magical land of Fillory—with a much darker sell than Narnia—and the audience realizes Quentin and his new friends have a creepier adventure ahead of them than Lucy and co. ever did.

Stylistically, the pilot is slightly erratic, and the second episode rushes the audience (I would have loved to casually hang with the Brakebill’s crew longer and get a more rounded impression of their characters before seeing them immersed in adventures and trials), but the third, to paraphrase Goldilocks, is just right.

That's not to say each episode doesn't have wonderfully memorable moments. The first time Quentin performs magic (and subsequently faints, way to go Q) is fantastic, and the pilot closer introducing The Beast is magnificent. I also loved the way they opened the second episode, like a crime scene procedural, magic-style. The ominous, almost bleak tone often plays against a whimsical humor (Quentin's magical "testing" is bizarrely funny) creating a signature style from the get-go (perfectly showcased by the hedge witch/book sex scene).

The lackadaisical attitude to student welfare scattered through the episodes is also disconcertingly hilarious.

Eliot: That is what’s left of the third year class. Were 20, now 4. No one knows why.

Quentin: They're just gone?

Margo: Rumor has it killed.

Eliot: Or flunked, or got bored, or died 16 perfectly natural deaths. Whatever. We all signed this waiver, hope you read yours—it says spellwork is not unlikely to murder you and if so, oh well.

Margo: So stay on the garden path, kid.

Character-wise, I think the small screen embodiment of Quentin, played by actor Jason Ralph, is what draws me in. I love the way he conveys Quentin’s issues with a nervous stammer, anxious posture, and fidgeting ways. Visually he bleeds insecurity. (Side note: His interactions with partying, Wilde-like Eliot are the show's strongest scenes. That character, portrayed by Hale Appleman, is as amazing as readers of the novel could hope.)

I feel like Quentin is always drowning. In reality, the story revolves around him but he has yet to realize it, and I love this. He isn't powerful, or devious, or playing the long game. He wants to conform and survive the system: that is all.

Dean: Now your meds. Quentin, you haven’t been depressed. You've been alone. And you are not crazy, you’re angry. And you are correct. Everyone, everyone medicates, out there. Here, we hope you won’t need to.

The most problematic element for me is Julia. In the books she was my absolute favorite, a lone rogue more than a little dark and odd. In the show I feel no empathy or connection with the character whatsoever: her storyline doesn’t engage me. I’m not sure if it’s the writing, the casting, or both. Likewise Alice, who I also quite liked in the books, seems a collection of clichés and tropes rather than a real girl. I never forget the actress is "being Alice", and that’s problematic.

For me, standout female characters are Margo, Professor Sunderland, and Eliza. What do they have in common? On reflection, all are empowered. In contrast Julia and Alice lack power in the form of knowledge, and are on the hunt: Julia for magic spells, Alice for details of her brother's fate. 

I would normally be engaged in both searches, on the side of the underdog, but I’m not, which makes me consider this the one notable flaw in the show at present. Julia and Alice are also quite humorless, which doesn't help with empathy and engagement, while the others tend to have moments of whimsy, or wit.

(The actor who plays Julia and the actor who plays Pete were both in Gossip Girl, which I realized while pondering the thought Quentin is like Dan Humphrey: he considers himself an outsider while on the fast-track to becoming the ultimate insider.)

The best part of the show's writing is the way the characters are tied to the lead Quentin: the animosity between him and Penny, his reverential relationship with the Dean, his out-of-character increasingly selfless attitude with Alice, his wary interactions with Margo (mostly through Eliot at this stage), his crackly friendship with Julia’s boyfriend James, and even his chilling first meeting with future nemesis The Beast.

Quentin's interactions with Eliot and Julia are the standouts. His evolving odd couple pairing with Eliot is one of the best aspects of the show (when they confide in each other it fleshes out the characters immensely). Then there is his complex friendship with Julia.

The uncomfortable, attraction-never-addressed issue is a strong part of the set-up. In the pilot, Julia and Quentin's argument is about more than Fillory; it's the way you snap at friends when sexual tension not acknowledged is in play.

In regards to their showdown, I’ve seen a lot of online talk placing Julia as the victim in this scenario, but I actually saw Quentin’s perspective as well. (Not sure if that’s because of the novel?) To me, Julia used Quentin’s friendship to fill in the gaps in her relationship with the less mentally compatible James, all the while aware of Quentin’s attraction to her, and since this is a common real-life practice I dislike, I could see where Quentin’s simmering resentment came from.

 Eliot: Funny little irony they don't tell you. Magic doesn’t come from talent: it comes from pain.

On the technical front, not sure I’m sold on the occasional slight camera shake to create a more documentary feel (I’m guessing). I do appreciate the number of shots each episode that make for beautifully composed stills. Sound is skilfully used on this show to create atmosphere, most notably in the pilot's closing scene. In terms of costuming, the male characters are MUCH better dressed than the female characters. 

In regards to set design and location, I love the modern day and Old World mash-up that is Brakebills. A promotional shot of Quentin approaching Brakebills, dwarfed by the grass and the building in the distance, barely registering against the vastness of the institution, contrasts sharply with the street shots of graffiti (which I think of as symbolizing the hedge witch underground magic scene) where Quentin dominates the frame. I love this distinction.

Final note: Syfy, the quality of your new programming has massively improved in 2016, but what’s with the floating sex scenes? The Expanse and The Magicians both (albeit one scientifically-based and one magically-based). You honestly don't need it, especially before we get to know the characters—it feels way gratuitous. The storytelling is more than enough.

The Expanse: High Quality Science Fiction Television

Contains spoilers for episodes 1-4.

In the last few years many small screen outings marketed under umbrella term "sci-fi" have seen the genre's reputation take a hit—or should I say laser. Quality has ranged from the meh to the atrocious, with stunning exceptions being 12 Monkeys and Continuum. Thankfully The Expanse makes three: confirmation perhaps that intelligent science fiction television is set to become a welcome trend.

The Expanse is incredibly sophisticated, in every aspect. I usually equate the Syfy network with clumsier outings where emotional elements of the narrative suffer and the camera work/editing is too blunt and formulaic. This series is so above and beyond (had to work in a reference) the expected standard that I thought it was a cable series. The Expanse is television at a filmic level; stylistically, the fusion of camera work, editing and soundtrack world-build beautifully.

The lighting, the motion, and the angles: all elements glide seamlessly together. Instead of being aware I'm watching a show, I feel like a story is happening in front of my eyes. 

Having never read the books, I can't comment on the plot transition, but the onscreen narrative is fantastic, and the understated dialogue in the scripts gives the impression a dozen thematic spider webs are rippling under the surface of every interaction.

The way the lines are delivered is also note-worthy (which I assume is the director's handiwork): no uncomfortable pauses or loud over-pronunciation from actors wishing they were working in theatre. Naturalness infuses the scenes, something many shows strive to achieve but never attain.

Three locations dominate the story: Earth, Mars, and the Belt (Ceres). Societies on the cusp of war are great fodder for intrigue, drama, and transformative character development. In The Expanse we meet both the grunts and those at the top of the food chain.

Cultural prejudices and philosophies that have sprung up over the years are among my favorite elements. Hearing the word “Martian” applied to humans living on Mars was startling: for a second I thought aliens were being introduced to the storyline, before realizing the humans on Mars seem like aliens to the other cultures. (For some reason I kept thinking of Dickson’s Dorsai, especially Donal, during the scenes with the Mars-ians.)

I hope we get to go to Mars soon. Earth feels like a cold paradise, empty of initiative and drive, but with the hubris of history, while the Belters are the grimy, mutated, underbelly survivors. Mars remains relatively mysterious, a closed society whose citizens (so far) display disdain for the other cultures.

The show simmers, a sense of apprehension cloaking every scene. War feels inevitable, but the leads are struggling to hold off the conflict. From the dissension on the Belt to the morally questionable political machinations on Earth, the audience is shown every culture, warts and all—except for Mars.

On the character front, Miller is my least fave, partly because I rarely click with the disillusioned detective character, and partly because he does the man-version of a breathless woman—you know, the husky, soft delivery of lines that people obviously dig since it’s practically part of the trope.

I like Holden. Great to see Steven Strait in a leading role, and the reluctant hero is one of my preferred character types. Martian officer Lopez was also fantastic; what a performance. Here's hoping he was injured and not dying at the end of episode four. (This show has no qualms killing off seemingly major characters without fanfare, a recent TV trend I can get behind.)

One of the most interesting relationships for me is the Naomi/Amos dynamic. I feel it’s inferred he has a psychopathic personality disorder, in that he cannot differentiate between good and bad reflexively, in terms of moral decisions, and Naomi is his compass. 

I’ve seen a lot of comparisons to Battlestar Galactica and I hope that doesn’t dissuade viewers (like myself) who found Battlestar too melodramatic and occasionally histrionic, dipping into bouts of grandiose dialogue. For me, The Expanse is a very different animal.

Criticism of the show as “too complicated” induces eye rolling. Dumbing down sci-fi is a contradiction in terms. The greatest works of the genre sweep the audience into an unfolding world. The misguided idea the audience should “know” everything in the first five minutes, and understand everything courtesy of an extremely limited perspective, is the antithesis of what makes science fiction great.

And to clarify—I don’t find the series complicated or confusing at all. I find it interesting, engaging, and highly entertaining. Within a sentence or two a character's role is made clear. Each scene offers information on the different societies, and the story. How can people be confused? The world is believable, and the endless shades of grey are fascinating. 

If I have any real criticism, I think the lead-in promotion was problematic. I’m a sci-fi buff, and even I nearly missed The Expanse. The hero pic of the girl floating in space made me think of Sandra Bullock in Gravity, and most descriptive text promoting the show online referenced a missing person or heiress, bringing the film with a part-dog Channing Tatum to mind. I filed the series under the “simple sci-fi” moniker: one of those shows that would be a who-dunnit in space. In no way did the promotion imply the scope and complexity that greeted me upon viewing the pilot.

The Expanse feels like a series created by people who love the genre, and who respect the intelligence of their audience. The future tech is cool but doesn’t overshadow the story, and isn’t used to fill in a lack of plot. The expansiveness (accidental pun) is riveting. 

Hopefully Syfy will continue to produce this kind of material, at this level of quality. I think a lot of the show’s success comes from a network placing their faith in the production team’s talents. Clever, entertaining, complex in an engaging way, and easily one of the year’s best new shows. Kudos to all involved.