MIRROR MIRROR II now back in stock
I’m happy to report that Julia Gfrörer and I once again have copies of our horror/erotic/gothic comics and art anthology Mirror Mirror II available for sale at her Etsy shop. It’s an absolute murderer’s row of artists; if you like our sensibilities at all, you’ll like this book.
With work by:
Lala Albert
Clive Barker
Heather Benjamin
Apolo Cacho
Trung Lê Capecchi-Nguyễn
Sean Christensen
Nicole Claveloux
Sean T. Collins
Al Columbia
Dame Darcy
Gretchen Felker-Martin
Noel Freibert
Renee French
Meaghan Garvey
Julia Gfrörer
Simon Hanselmann
Aidan Koch
Laura Lannes
Céline Loup
Uno Moralez
Jonny Negron
V.A.L.I.S. Ortiz
Claude Paradin
Chloe Piene
Josh Simmons
Carol Swain
‘Paradise’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 4: ‘A Holy Charge’
“You’ll still be scared shitless, but you will not believe the joy. You’ll be playing with your kid, watching them splash around in the bath or play soccer for the first time, and sometimes, Annie, I swear it feels like your heart will fuckin’ explode.”
“My dad used to say if you were lucky you got a few moments where you got to experience life at full volume. That’s how he put it: ‘life at full volume.’ Those moments when you’re completely present, and everything slows down, and all the textures and colors and sounds, they all go, like, hi-def.”
I’ve struggled to explain the power of Paradise. On the surface level (haha, no pun intended) it’s one of the goofiest shows I’ve ever seen, combining the basic premise of Fallout with the aesthetics of an NBC prime-time drama. Yet somehow, time and again, the goddamn thing hits me like a freight train. I like to think I’m not a sucker, a mark, a cheap date when it comes to drama. So what gives?
It’s simple, as it turns out: Paradise is a show about life at full volume. It’s a show about moments when it feels like your heart will fuckin’ explode. It’s a maximalist emotion machine, using both human interest and post-apocalyptic/survivalist/political-thriller/sci-fi genre tropes to blow the part of you that feels love and hope and grief to smithereens, as often as possible. I’m not sure I’ve ever watched anything quite like it.
‘Twin Peaks’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 8: ‘Drive with a Dead Girl’
We know who that killer is now, and that makes Twin Peaks a fundamentally different show than it was an episode ago. With the show’s central mystery solved from the viewer’s perspective, you can already feel the force of storytelling gravity tugging the case towards its resolution. There’s only so long you can leave the killer on the loose without making Agent Cooper and company look incompetent, which cuts against the core appeal of the character.
I wrote about Twin Peaks Season 2’s eighth episode for Pop Heist. (Gift link!)
‘Industry’ thoughts, Season 4, Episode 8: ‘Both, And’
We live in an era of impunity. Crimes of world-historical scale are being committed before our eyes on a daily basis. The elite in both America and Britain are becoming known as the Epstein Class — a coterie of rich, pseudo-smart racist perverts pushing global politics to the right as part of their project of enriching themselves and exploiting the most vulnerable to feel more powerful. The Trump Administration is so lousy with these figures that the cabinet would have a staffing shortage if they all faced the justice they deserve, from the Oval Office on down.
Yasmin has chosen to embrace this evil. It served her father well; he faced no real justice while he was alive until she herself left him to drown. Whit Halberstram escaped punishment completely. Her ex-husband’s “disgrace” amounts to a life of luxury unimaginable to the vast majority of human beings alive in history. You can dress it up fancy and teach it to speak politely, but all that matters here is vulgar power. Yasmin sees this power in fascism — the libidinal thrill of smashing things just to show that you can. Yasmin has been destroyed in such a fashion over and over. Now it’s her turn to play destroyer.
By the end of last season, Harper Stern was in full Heisenberg mode, a criminal mastermind overseeing an empire, brooking no dissent. Compared to Whit’s utter lack of humanity and Yasmin’s embrace of authoritarianism, though, Harper is a veritable folk hero. As the interviewer says, the goal of her company is to uncover the ugly truth, when so many are so willing to listen to pretty lies. The financial world today is structured to reward fraud; Harper is rewarded when she exposes fraud.
As the last decent person in an increasingly reactionary Labour party, Jennifer Bevan gets on stage and says that neoliberalism has gutted the moral infrastructure of society for decades, a scheme with which she herself was complicit. In the wasteland left behind, monsters roam. Harper Stern is, or was, such a monster, until she encountered creatures even more loathsome and insatiable than herself.
I reviewed the season finale of Industry for Decider. This show is one of the all-time greats.
‘DTF St. Louis’ thoughts, Episode 1: ‘Cornhole’
I suspect that whether you’re interested in the answer depends on how much the dry vibe Conrad conjures here resonates with you. From Floyd’s restrictive clothing to Clark’s pinched smile, from Plumb’s crisp professionalism even when talking about her and her husband’s porn use to Homer’s mausoleum of a police station, there’s an austere air to the proceedings here, as darkly comic and motivated by sexual desire as they are.
This isn’t to say the show never goes for broad jokes; Carol’s umpire outfit and Floyd’s lack of Batman reading comprehension are pretty damn broad. It’s simply to say that there’s a welcome chilliness to the proceedings, one that cuts against the comedy of the title. Fittingly, Conrad frequently keeps each of the key figures isolated in the frame — except Floyd and Clark, whom he puts together over and over again, from that convenience store to a restroom in an Outback Steakhouse. It makes moments like the footage of Floyd performing ASL translations for some kind of pop act stand out all the more for their exuberance.
So what will it take to sever the two men’s connection? And to what degree is Carol a proxy for a relationship between Clark and the man who saved his life — who several flash-forwards or flashbacks or whatever they are show embracing, shirtless? Whodunit is one thing. Whydunit is where the good stuff can be found.
‘Monarch: Legacy of Monsters’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 1: ‘Cause and Effect’
Fortunately, the lead actors — particularly Sawai, Yamamoto, and the Russells — are uniformly skilled at wielding the show’s secret weapon, a sense of profound yearning thank links one person to another, whether their connection is familiar or romantic in nature. The dynamic in the past between Mari, Bill, and Lee, three people who love each other but who can never properly resolve that love since a romantic pairing is only possible between two of them at a time, is sophisticated, heartbreaking, and acted with both tenderness and humor.At times, this group is asked to take on material that isn’t at their level: big gobs of “I’m going back, it’s what he would have done for us” genre-movie motivation, say, or an underwritten scene in which Cate and Hiroshi finally address his bigamy that should have been emotionally riveting. When that happens, you feel the disconnect between their abilities and the script.
I suppose having a cast strong enough to expose the occasional weakness is one of them good problems, however. Certainly you see the advantages of a cast this stacked come through in the character work: Young Lee’s petulant sneer when Kei cracks a dirty joke about Bill, Kei’s mesmeric connections with both men, Cate wrestling with how her Monarch experiences have completely uprooted her from the world. Sawaii makes it feel like Cate’s quest to rescue Lee is less a matter of hero-of-the-story bravado and more a desperate woman clinging to a man who’s been her literal lifeline.
And the monsters! Man, this show has not disappointed there. In addition to Kong and the trilobites and (presumably) Biollante, there’s a giant bat thing that barfs electricity, a huge rat monster Kentaro kills with a forklift, and one of those cool giant ram/boar/rhino things whose hides are protected by a layer of trees and plants and giant thorns. Monarch’s thought process for creating and deploying new monsters and Titans appears to be “Hey, you know what would be cool?”, and so far their answers have been correct. The result isn’t a perfect show, but it’s certainly a fun one.
‘The Beauty’ thoughts, Season 1, Episode 9: ‘Beautiful Evolution’
We have this episode’s pleasures to enjoy, and they are many. Foremost among them is Graynor as the Mother, a supervillain just as sexy and insane as Byron, but with the demeanor of a woman who has business to attend to, not a guy who’s got parties to plan.
Mac Quayle’s score, meanwhile, really sizzles in this one; the closing music was so good I let the credits play just to listen to it all the way through. It’s a visually splendid show, too, with director Crystle Roberson Dorsey serving up a series of little treats and terrors for the eye. Even shots that don’t need to be anything fancy, like Cooper and Bennett traveling up the stairs back to their room together, can become an Escher-esque trompe l’oeil. If sometimes that means watching a man’s ribs pop open like that turkey in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, well, beauty always comes at a cost.
‘The Pitt’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 8: ‘2:00 P.M.’
There’s an ugly undercurrent to all this provided by everyone’s (OK, my) least favorite student doctor, Ogilvie. His feelings about Howard are made clear with his first sotto voce wisecrack. His questions regarding the man’s condition are really just a series of veiled critiques. Is he on Ozempic or Wegovy? Has he tried water aerobics? Will they have to get him weighed at the zoo? Ogilvie says all of this either directly to Howard or within earshot.
Small wonder the poor guy keeps apologizing to the staff, as if being obese were a moral failing and his mystery illness were divine punishment. He presents the story of how his weight gain began — he was in a bad car accident, which caused severe burns and led to multiple leg operations — as though it were somehow exculpatory of a crime.
Howard’s troubles remind me of those experienced by Harlow (Jessica “Limer” Flores), the deaf patient whose treatment keeps slipping through the cracks. Finally hooked up with a real A.S.L. translator, Harlow gets the care she needs for her neck pain from Dr. Santos lickety split. But think of how much more quickly this would have gone had the hospital been adequately staffed for such contingencies, or had Santos been less eager to ditch Harlow every time communication broke down.
Based on these two cases, it is clear that medical treatment and outcomes can differ depending on the personal circumstances of the patients involved. Try telling that to the United States government, though. Mohan tells Al-Hashimi that “the White House cut the funding” of a study she was working on regarding racial disparities in health care. It’s the show’s most explicit critique yet of the Make America Healthy Again administration.
I reviewed this week’s episode of The Pitt for the New York Times. (Gift link!)
‘The Beauty’ thoughts, Season 1, Episode 8: ‘Beautiful Brothers’
The eighth dose of The Beauty we’ve received is the most refined formula yet. In just over half an hour of screentime, this episode encapsulates everything that makes this show what the Tom Tom Club once referred to as “fun, nasty fun!”
‘Paradise’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 3: ‘Another Day in Paradise’
The whole episode feels like a necessary course correction for some of the weaker elements of the story so far. Dr. Torabi spent Season 1 as a cypher; now we get to see how she really feels about being deceived by someone who was more than a client or a meal ticket to her, someone she considered a friend. It’s Shahi’s best work on the show to date.
Baines may be dead now, meanwhile, but his brief reign of terror is exactly what Paradise needed to stay current. The first season’s confidence that the American government would maintain some kind of continuity in the face of disaster, with a handsome young president in charge and a hypercompetent sphere of scientists, capitalists, politicians, and security forces keeping the wheels rolling indefinitely, simply couldn’t survive exposure to the actual Trump regime, which (among other things) has partially destroyed the actual White House building and taken a wrecking ball to scientific research. The norms aren’t intact now, let alone after a global tsunami. Having a loser like Baines run amok until someone gets fed up and kills him feels more like how things would actually work.
I’m sure that in the wake of the federal government’s assault on Minnesota, the show’s portrayal of a resistance movement will also seem outdated. But it’s admittedly inspiring watching the kids pass samizdata notes to each other through a copy of The Catcher in the Rye in a Free Little Library, and to see the son of an assassinated president ask a scientific genius to help him take the place down from within.
I reviewed the third part of Paradise‘s three-episode premiere for Decider.
‘Paradise’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 2: ‘Mayday’
Watching Paradise feels like losing a match to a spectacularly talented professional wrestler. Sure, you may be skeptical of their abilities when you first step in the ring. But before you know it the chops are caving your chest in, the running knees are taking your head off, and the 450 splash off the top rope is putting you away for good. It’s hard to overstate how laser-targeted and powerful this show’s strikes against your heart can get.
I reviewed the second episode of Paradise Season 2 for Decider.
‘Paradise’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 1: ‘Graceland’
Paradise, the hit post-apocalyptic thriller from This Is Us creator Dan Fogelman, stars Sterling K. Brown as Xavier Collins, a Secret Service agent living in an underground bunker in Colorado, where the country’s richest and most powerful people work in secret to control the survivors. After the murder of his boss, the President (James Marsden), leads him to uncover the conspiracy’s leader, the billionaire known as Sinatra (Julianne Nicholson), Xavier must set out to the surface world to rescue his still-living wife —
Hang on, I’m receiving an update. [pause] Really? Interesting! Okay, I’ll start again.
Paradise, the hit post-apocalyptic thriller from This Is Us creator Dan Fogelman, stars Shailene Woodley as Annie, a Graceland tour guide living in Elvis’s old home, where a group of interloping do-gooders camp out before heading west for the Colorado bunker. They’re joining a larger group of people who hope to crack the bunker’s secret wide open — and kill someone named Alex, whoever that is. After Annie discovers she’s pregnant by one of the do-gooders, a man nickamed Link (Thomas Doherty), she heads out to a plane crash site expecting to find him returning for her. Instead, she finds Xavier Collins, who needs no further introduction.
‘The Beauty’ thoughts, Season 1, Episode 7: ‘Beautiful Living Rooms’
Health, wellness, beauty: unobjectionably positive things, right? The last time I watched broadcast television, every commercial that wasn’t for AI or online sports betting was for products pertaining to one of the three. There’s a section in your supermarket named after them and everything.
But whose health? Whose wellness? Whose beauty? That is to say, who’s defining what it means to be healthy, to be well, to be beautiful? What do they stand to gain from those definitions? Most importantly, who stands to lose from them?
‘Twin Peaks’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 7: ‘Lonely Souls’
I’ve given some thought to the sublime in cinema — moments when it feels what I’m watching has somehow transcended earthly limitations, visually expressing a feeling so huge that it’s impossible for words to articulate. I realize now that for me, this happens in horror more often than anywhere else. In fact, it may only happen in horror.
It happens when characters are made to confront some symbolic representation of…not death, though that’s part of it, and not evil, though that’s part of it too. They confront the darkness we fear exists at the world’s heart, the terrible void that acts as a megapredator for our tiny souls. They confront the true black.
I think of moments like Chief Brody on the beach, the camera dolly-zooming on him Vertigo style as he sees that the shark he hoped had been killed but knew in his heart had not claim another victim. Father Karras and Father Merrin, chanting “The power of Christ compels you!” at a hovering Regan MacNeil. Wendy Torrance turning a corner and watching an elevator unleash a river of blood. The cops gazing down the hall of Barton Fink’s hotel and seeing a demon in human form amidst a blazing inferno. The end of Mulholland Drive. The end of The Zone of Interest.
And this episode of Twin Peaks. Maddy and Leland and Bob and Sarah in the living room. Coop and Harry and the Log Lady and the Giant and the waiter and Bobby and Donna and James in the Roadhouse. Evil incarnate, drawing out grief from people who don’t even yet know why they’re grieving — only that there’s been some tear in the fabric in the world, one that they can sense but never repair.
When Mark Frost and David Lynch’s credit appeared against the red curtains, I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears I’d withheld came pouring out. This is one of the most deeply awful and awesome things ever aired on television. I have not forgotten it since I first watched it nearly three decades ago. I will never forget it for as long as I live.
‘Industry’ thoughts, Season 4, Episode 7: ‘Points of Emphasis’
It’s not easy on Yasmin to do this, to be fair. When she calls Jenny and tries to land a job in her comms office, the politician indignantly blows her off. (Assuming you’ll just waltz right into the office of a woman whose mentor you publicly destroyed over her express wishes is classic Yasmin.) “You abandoned him when he needed you the most,” Jenny spits at Yasmin regarding her addict husband, “so you take that for a dance around your conscience.” You can see this blow to Yasmin land almost physically.
So Yasmin does what she always does when she has nothing else: She returns to Harper. Their conversation is a meticulous unpacking of the unhealthy psychology that has long driven their relationship. Harper admits she’s happy to have all this power at Yasmin’s expense — after all, Harper is going to make a fortune when Tender tanks — and Yasmin thanks her for her honesty. Both say they envy each other: Yasmin wishes she had Harper’s intelligence and confidence, while Harper wishes she had Yasmin’s looks, pedigree, and ease of access to the world. Harper has always resented Yasmin for making her feel less than; Yasmin loves Harper for showing her how she can be more.
Most importantly, they zero in on Yasmin’s damage. Why does she feel this constant need to be in control, “to dominate” as Harper puts it, to “not be at anyone’s mercy”? She grew up at somebody’s mercy, Yasmin laughs through her tears, and can’t bear to live that way again.
I reviewed this week’s breathless episode of Industry for Decider.
‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ thoughts, Season 1, Episode 6: ‘The Morrow’
But Dunk and Egg are such endearing figures — good-natured, adorable, deeply committed to the chivalric virtues to which other knights and lords pay only lip service — that when things get dangerous, the show feels as epic and high-stakes as anything from “Game of Thrones.” Such is our attachment to them, and such is the skill with which Peter Claffey and Dexter Sol Ansell portray them.
Add it all up, and you have a show that plumbs the same emotional and thematic depths as “Game of Thrones” or “House of the Dragon,” in a fraction of the running time, with a jaunty rhythm and a sense of humor all its own, signing off to the dulcet tones of Tennessee Ernie Ford — a decency fantasy, in which the man who proves truest to knightly ideals is not a knight at all.
“Ser Duncan” may think himself a fraud, but it is virtue, not vows, that make a hero. That’s great news! It means that in the battle to protect the innocent, any one of us can pick up a metaphorical sword and win the day.
‘The Pitt’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 7: ‘1:00 P.M.’
Robby and Langdon’s helicopter-soundtracked conversation is the centerpiece scene for this week’s episode of “The Pitt.” It’s a major step forward for one of this season’s most important story lines, featuring two of the show’s most prominent characters, set against a “swimmer vs. propeller” boating injury severe enough to require a helicopter for transportation. It’s an attention grabber no matter how you slice it.
The sequence also shows how the Pitt’s close quarters and insane work rate force people together, even when one or both would prefer to stay away. It’s doing astute character work in the process: The din of the chopper blades helps to mask the vulnerability of both men in that moment. Could Langdon have chosen the helipad to bare his soul, even unconsciously, for that very reason?
In terms of filmmaking, the emotional heat of the moment is matched by the heightened sensory intensity of the helicopter landing — the noise, the wind, the yelling, the dramatic rooftop setting. All together, this is “The Pitt” at its best.
‘Twin Peaks’ thoughts, Season 2, Episode 6: ‘Demons’
There’s room for silly business like this in Twin Peaks for sure. It’s part of the charm. But we’re now getting ever closer to the pulsating black heart of the story — the force of sheer malevolence that claimed Laura Palmer’s life. As such, even the simplest lines that touch on this mystery take on an awesome power. When Mike describes Bob as “the parasite,” attaching himself to human hosts and feeding on their fears and carnal pleasures, it’s like hearing Max Von Sydow talk about the thing inside Regan in The Exorcist.
“He is Bob, eager for fun,” Mike says. “He wears a smile. Everybody run.”
This dialogue moves me to the point of tears, not of sorrow or joy, but awe. A great and terrible thing is at hand.
I reviewed the sixth episode of Twin Peaks Season 2 for Pop Heist. Almost there now. (Gift link!)
‘Industry’ thoughts, Season 4, Episode 6: ‘Dear Henry’
At this point in its run, Industry is the kind of show that makes me sound like a drunk at a party, cornering you with booze-scented opinionation. So be it. You gotta understand: I watch a lot of television. Industry is as good. as. it. gets. As good as it gets! Set to a pulsating horror-movie synth score by Nathan Micay and even more massive needledrops (“Silence” by Delirium and Sarah MacLachlan, freaking “Both Sides, Now”), it continues to rival the greatest television shows ever made: for insight, for intensity, for that freefall sense of never knowing what will happen next, but still being sure it’ll hurt.
‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ thoughts, Season 1, Episode 5: ‘In the Name of the Mother’
The genius of “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” is that it in this bitter victory, it gives Ser Duncan everything he wanted from the start. Consider what has happened: Dunk took the field at the great tourney at Ashford. He did battle with some of the most famous knights and lords in the realm. He emerged victorious, proving both his mettle and his character in the process. Even the squire he reluctantly took under his wing served him well.
But triumph of Ser Duncan the Tall in his trial of seven is not the stuff of song. There’s no glamour to be found rolling around in the mud, getting stabbed full of holes while pounding another man’s face in. There’s no glory in a victory that comes at a cost steeper than Dunk wanted anyone to pay.
I reviewed tonight’s A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms for the New York Times. (Gift link!)