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Welcome to Smash Cut’s reviews of Shameless season five! This is one of my favorite shows on the air right now, and I am beyond excited to spend some time with the Gallaghers alongside you all.

This is a big premiere, touching on all of the main characters at least briefly, both recapping where we left of, and at least beginning to outline where we’ll be going next. As such, it’s a busy episode, and there isn’t as much substance as there could be here owing to the sheer shoe-leathery-ness of it all. In a way it’s fitting that any Shameless premiere would be a little messy, rough around the edges—and given the way that the excellent fourth season built to such a laser focus, it’s only fair to allow this season some time to build up speed.

It’s also worth noting early on the show’s skewed sense of morality. Traditional notions of right and wrong are right out the window here. Feel that swell of pride as Mickey dons a tie and heads out to work? Well he’s running a fake moving company and selling rich people’s shit. And so on and so forth.

The downside of a messy, rough around the edges premiere is that not everything lands the way it should. There’s plenty to admire here, to be sure, not least the episode’s somewhat surprising MVPs, Veronica and Kevin, whose struggles with new parenthood are a perfect blend of gooey sentimentality and classic Shameless raunch. It’s not always easy to relate to the characters on this show, but the script and actors work together here to find a real, beating heart in both v and Kev. Steve Howie especially is a powerhouse here, delivering on the comedy as always, but also delivering on an emotional level. Their conflict is real and raw, and a breath of fresh air given the cartoonish heights the episode occasionally reaches.

I’m partial to Mickey and Ian, so their story this week worked for me as well (even if it is breaking my heart to watch it unfold!). Noel Fisher is a great addition to the regular cast, and he and Ian have perhaps the most compelling relationship on the show at the moment. Cameron Monaghan is running with the bipolar material, and does a great job selling both the manic and the depressive moments. There’s likely going to be a few episodes of this waiting for the other shoe to drop, but “Milk of the Gods” does a fine job of establishing the stakes. What’s clear throughout the episode is the extent to which Mickey truly loves Ian—and so we already know just how much damage Ian is going to end up doing here.

Jeremy Allen White is also reliable as always, with Lip’s homecoming taking an unexpectedly melancholic turn. His return to the neighborhood is muted and disappointing for him, a fish out of water story in reverse. How far he has come in just a year away at school. The shots of Lip on the subway are really well done, creating a sense of claustrophobia and discomfort. Lip thought he had trouble adjusting to university, but he’s practically gone native now; it’s the South Side where he has trouble belonging.

That leaves us with Fiona and Frank, who unfortunately have the more underwhelming moments of the premiere. Fiona’s story isn’t bad so much as it’s stagnant. The arc of her brief rise and crushing fall gave definition to both the character and the series last season. Now she’s in the same place we’ve seen her so often, working a job that should be beneath her, flirting with an inappropriate man. She seems happier and more well-adjusted than during her spiral, and Emmy Rossum is lovely as always, but there’s no bite to this story right now.

At least Fiona’s story is steady and consistent, though. Everything involving Frank, as is too often the case, is stupid. After a transcendent arc toward the end of season four, it’s more than a little disappointing to see the writing for the character return to such juvenile, puerile nonsense. I get that Frank is meant to be reprehensible, but with his life on the line there was at least drama in it. Now it’s just more of the same, and it’s a complete waste of William H. Macy and Joan Cusack’s considerable talents. Sheila’s feud with Samantha is absolutely terrible, and has no dimension to it at all. Samantha’s complete heel-turn in characterization falls totally flat—in fact it’s almost embarrassing to watch unfold. There’s just no room for sympathy left with Frank as a character, regardless of the situations the writers concoct, after his magnificent “fuck you” to God. It’s a point that is only exacerbated by the entire Gallagher clan’s rejection of him. We have far too quickly arrived at the point where time spent with Frank only detracts from the other, more interesting characters; and this episode spends entirely too much time on Frank.

It’s not perfect, but season four was so good that it’s not quite fair to expect “Milk of the Gods” to reach those heights immediately. What’s good here is great, while what doesn’t work still has plenty of room to improve. One hopes the writing staff will figure out a better way to write Frank, and something more engaging for Fiona, but there’s plenty here to like aside from them. It’s good to have the Gallaghers back.

Stray Observations:

• We’ll have the Gallaghers around for a while yet, as the show has been renewed for a sixth season, as is Showtime’s wont.
• Watching the “previously on” had me immediately nostalgic for season four, which really was just great television through and through.
• “That Chuckie thing” is my new favorite way to refer to Chuckles, who is still inherently funny without having to do or say a damn thing.
• Dermot Mulroney has replaced Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Sam, which had me extremely confused for much of the episode, mainly because I was conflating Sam with Mulroney’s New Girl character for no reason that I can think of now.
• Sam’s relationship with Fiona, meanwhile, is kind of bland, not least because Jimmy/Steve is out there somewhere, gathering strength to ruin my enjoyment of this show once more.
• Stumpy, Lip’s friend with the new piercings, is disgusting looking.
• A real estate company is running around looking to buy up South Side homes on the cheap. I love when Shameless takes the unique opportunity to do stories about class, and I’m looking forward to its take on gentrification.

Parenthood’s hundredth episode is something of a miracle. The series, much like Jason Katims’s previous show Friday Night Lights, has never been a ratings success. It has held steady in its Thursday at 10 time slot, ostensibly a slot for prestige dramas, but renewal has never been a sure thing for the show. After an (ill-advised) full season order for season five, that the series is back for this victory lap is nothing short of amazing. (It helps that NBC has nothing better to put here, cc: Hannibal.)

The thing about Parenthood is that it is not a prestige drama. It’s not even quite on the level of Friday Night Lights; it lacks for example that show’s formal specificity, its realist edge. Parenthood is utilitarian, the last of the family dramas, not quite a soap, not quite prestige. It knows what it is, knows what it can do, and more often than not does it well.

The same is true of “How Did We Get Here?”, which encapsulates all of the things the show does well, along with some of the things it does annoyingly, if not quite poorly. It is in other words exactly what a hundredth episode should be, and it functions perfectly as a summation of the show. In fact, if not for a few outstanding threads of plot, “How Did We Get Here?” would serve as an excellent finale. As it stands, it sets the stage for the final three (!) episodes of Parenthood rather nicely.

What I love most about this one is the way it functions as a sort of bottle episode, containing all of the Bravermans in the hospital for the bulk of its running time. I cannot emphasize enough my joy at getting the whole cast in the same place again. Budgetary issues have meant leaving several characters out of episodes, and some of the show’s unique chemistry was lost as a result. That spark is back in full force here, and it shows. Right from the beginning, with an otherwise silent musical montage that is super effective, the script sets some of the highest emotional stakes the series has ever seen, and pulls the audience right back into the lives of the Braverman clan.

Zeek’s health issues have been by far the strongest thread this season, not least because they provide a means to bring the entire cast together. It makes sense that this milestone episode would put him in crisis once more. When we left the show before the holidays, it was on a note of cheap, telegraphed shock—but here, dealing with the aftermath, is where Parenthood truly excels. Emotional realism is what the episode has going for it in spades. The Bravermans are all sitting around helpless with the world rushing around them, and all they can do is react and lean on each other. Looking back, very little actually happens in “How Did We Get Here?”, but that doesn’t matter. It’s scenes of characters reacting, talking to each other and processing the fact of Zeek’s mortality, that are what we’re here for, and on that count, the episode delivers.

Take this week’s MVP, Bonnie Bedelia, whose Camille has her most substantial episode in ages here. Her wonderful chemistry with Craig T. Nelson contains within it decades of history; it’s impossible not to be moved when Camille breaks down in the chapel with Adam, or when her voice cracks with palpable relief when she learns that, for now at least, her husband is okay.

Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, Miles Heizer also gets a couple great showcases here. Parenthood doesn’t always know what to do with Drew, and I felt that last episode’s conflict between him and Zeek was forced, to put it mildly—it didn’t really land for me that even Zeek would be quite so harsh to his grandson. But once again, the fallout from those harsh words provides fertile ground for drama here, as Drew worries that his last conversation his grandfather might be one where Zeek told him how he’d let him down. Is they symbolism of the Pontiac breaking down maybe a little too on the nose? Sure. But Heizer is great in the scene, and throughout the episode. He’s paired off with Hank at the hospital, which is a no-duh character pairing that the show hasn’t really mined yet. Like so many of the pairings in Parenthood, it’s an emotional goldmine. Ray Romano is practically a national treasure, and watching him navigate the latest Braverman family crisis is not without its humor—I love how he decides to stay because Joel is doing it, too.

Unfortunately the episode isn’t entirely successful. The Luncheonette has never been the greatest idea Parenthood had, but this ransacking-slash-burglary is even more unbelievable than the idea of the Luncheonette in the first place. What, the thieves loaded up the entire damn recording booth on their shoulders and just waltzed on out of there? It would take literally hours to do the damage we see. It’s absurd and immediately lets the air out of the story. What’s worse, a story that seemed like it was jettisoning the Luncheonette in time for the home stretch actually ends up reaffirming it as the driving force behind what will be Adam and Crosby’s final major storyline. Booooo.

Somewhere in between these two extremes is the ad hoc baby shower the ladies hold in the hospital waiting area for Amber. On the one hand, it’s a sweet scene, though it’s a little too saccharine even by Parenthood’s standards. On the other hand, it’s oddly placed at the end of the episode, as though it was tacked on simply to have the women share their reflections on motherhood as part of the hundredth episode festivities. A nice enough scene to be sure, but one that feels like it might belong to a different episode entirely.

Overall “How Did We Get Here?” is a strong return for Parenthood, and the missteps that it does make are minor. As a celebration of the show’s legacy, it definitely works, and as a set-up for the final episodes, it does a good job of setting the stakes and putting all of the pieces in place for a satisfying finale.

Stray Observations:

– Hank’s proposal to Sarah is so very typical of him, and it’s beautiful to boot. What a journey this character has gone on.

– “That was my first instinct, not to talk to you.” Hank is also very comforting.

– “You’re right that it’s practical, it’s practically not a Porsche.”

– Joel and Julia are now maybe getting back together, or something? Chris is, I don’t know, I guess he’s dead or something? I assume there will be more conflict yet to come on this front, but it’s all very swept under the rug this week in a way that’s off-putting to me.

And we’re back! I barely remember where we left off, so thankfully the episode begins on a narrative curlicue to “two days ago”, when Stanley convinced Jimmy to give him his left hand by way of an ipecac-fueled fake emergency. (He takes both hands because duh.) I’ve already expressed my annoyance at Freak Show’s continued insistence on double- and triple-tracing its narrative steps, and that holds true here, not just on the level of the opening scene here, but also on a macro-level, with “Magical Thinking” bringing the freaks back into conflict with the Jupiter police again-slash-still.

Fortunately there is new material in the episode as well, with Neil Patrick Harris showing up as traveling salesman/magician/general crazy person Chester. He’s carting along a ventriloquist’s dummy named Marjorie—it should come as no surprise that he talks to her like a real person, and that, by episode’s end, she appears to him as an outright human, played pretty awesomely by Jamie Brewer. “Magical Thinking” is straight up weird, and given the title, “weird” is a place Freak Show hasn’t gone to as often as you might expect. Harris jumps into the role with verve, and fits comfortably among the ensemble.

But the episode can be as weird as it wants—it doesn’t change the fact that it meanders like crazy. The pacing of “Magical Thinking” is mind-boggling. Characters flit in and out in large chunks of story; large swaths of the episode are dedicated to Chester’s backstory, which is doled out so slowly, in fits and starts, as to lose what little interest it held in the first place. So often, Freak Show is convinced of its own coolness, that it can just tell whatever story and its audience will eat it up (this also proves to be frustratingly true. We’re trapped in a feedback loop of shit.). But it just keeps telling and telling, piling non-sequiturs miles high, loading on new characters and complications, but entirely forgetting to use these complications to add depth, dimension, or even simple narrative value to the season arc or any of its characters.

To be fair, “Magical Thinking” does resolve (or at least it hints at resolving) the relative lack of direction that has so far plagued Freak Show. The confrontation between the Jupiter police and the freaks toward the episodes end, while a retread of a retread of a plot point, does at least escalate said plot point. Now, will any of this have consequence come next Wednesday? It’s basically a fifty-fifty proposition. But in the moment, it works.

In keeping with the abundant weirdness, Chester finds himself a pawn in Bette and Dot’s suddenly very urgent quest to lose their virginity to, well, anyone who is willing. It’s a super bizarre story, with plenty of (unintentionally) hilarious exchanges, such as this brilliant gem: “I said kiss me, not lick me!” “But I am French!” Raucously funny as shit like this is, you’ll be forgiven for finding the whole enterprise pretty gross. The idea of the twins as moon-eyed romantics is one that’s been with us since the premiere, but “Magical Thinking” puts a pretty icky spin on it that feels pretty unnecessary to me.

And yet, this week’s episode does the one thing that American Horror Story consistently excels at: having a batshit crazy awesome final five minutes that means, damn it, I can’t wait to tune in next week. First of all: the final scenes of “Magical Thinking” confirm my theory that Dandy’s presence correlates with awesomeness, as when the episode drops the twins’ nonsense and has Dandy take an interest in Chester, it’s a much needed jolt of excitement. Desiree’s confrontation of Dell is one of the more emotionally charged episode’s of the season, and hot damn, that final shot (pun intended) is great. Kudos to Jessica Lange—she brings Elsa to life this week in a way that I don’t know she or the writers have managed so far. In terms of emotional consequences, Ma Petite’s death has paid dividends, and that’s a pattern that seems likely to continue.

There isn’t really much more to say at this point. You know exactly what you’re getting with Freak Show, and “Magical Thinking” has the same strengths and the same weaknesses the season has displayed all along. So, you know, in other words it’s business as usual: glimmers of excitement, the occasional genuine moment of pathos, and a lot of unnecessary shit to slog through in between. Welcome back!

Stray Observations:

• Tight close ups of Evan Peters’s face all day long, please and thank you.
• “My friend Myrna was at that Tupperware party.” Only on American Horror Story, folks.
• Denis O’Hare is fantastic in the opening scene, chewing scenery and shouting with crazy, elongated-vowel-fueled manic glee. I wish Stanley was more firmly planted in the villain role, but that would require more narrative discipline than Freak Show is capable of deploying at this point.
• This episode was so close to 6.5ish territory, but I let myself be swayed by the last ten or so minutes, even if I know I’m just gonna be burned down the line.

Standing ovation for David Buckley. During the past two seasons so many episodes of The Good Wife have relied on the moods set by his score, but with a more aggressive and passionate score this time around, it’s hard to give anyone else the MVP award for this episode other than composer David Buckley.

The last time we had an episode this intense on The Good Wife (other than the one that shall not be named) was “Hitting the Fan.” The season five renaissance starter was a non stop thrilling ride from start to finish that was pitch perfect in its delivery and impact. The episodes are similar in that they both involve the entire cast and are fast paced Although this episode failed to reach the heights that “Hitting the Fan” reached, this episode proved once again that The Good Wife does deadlines like no other series.

First, I’m going to start off with the two side storylines. Although the show has quickly evolved past its title, it’s rare to see Alicia not be part of the main storyline. However, this episode we see characters actively trying to keep her out of it as she prepares for her debate. With a crazy english professor, Finn, and eventually Peter stepping in to stand in as Frank Prady, we see Alicia in all aspects of her preparation. From the good, the bad, the ugly, and the badass. Although the storyline somewhat detracted from the intensity of the episode, it was lovely to see Alicia dig into Peter yet again.

The c-storyline involved Cary prepping for prison with a consultant, Bill (Domenick Lombardozzi). It was a “cute” interlude to the story. It felt more like the comic relief of the episode, save for some emotional Kalinda scenes. However, what it did show us was Cary’s emotional state prior to his impending incarceration. He gets to have those quintessential “why is this happening to me?” moments that he so desperately needed from the first of the season. There of course was emotional impact before, but Cary didn’t seem to be taking his case as seriously as his coworkers and we were taking it. Yet another punch came when Bill asked him if he had any family to take his power of attorney. He didn’t. Instead he named two potential people: his friend Alicia, and his girlfriend Kalinda.

With a six hour time crunch, Diane, Kalinda, and pretty much the entire firm must race to find evidence that proves that the prosecution buried evidence that would have proved Cary’s innocence. Who is most determined of the group is of course Kalinda. She has been known to get herself in trouble throughout the series, but she made a decision that may or may not affect her character’s exit from the series. In an effort to protect Cary in prison, she goes to our favorite drug king pin Lemond Bishop to find someone on the inside for Cary to stick to. However, like everything else Bishop has done in the series it comes with catch. This time it’s a mysterious phone call that Kalinda simply has to answer. I’m sure we’ll come back to this later.

Kalinda spends most of the episode running around in high gear doing everything she can to save Cary from incarceration. However, she does spend one small moment to run back to the hotel where Cary is being prepped to sleep with him as per the instructions of the consultant. Kalinda is loyal to very few people. There’s Alicia, Diane, and of course Cary. However, her loyalty to Cary is something of a passion. Of all the lovers that she has had on the show, none of them have come close to having the Kalinda that Cary has.

In an act of desperation, Kalinda asks her computer programmer to teach her how to change meta data to reflect that detective assigned the case had read an email that proved the drugs were already in the country when Cary gave his “advice.” She of course didn’t have to use this when she found that the Detective’s partner had committed entrapment, but she neglected to tell Diane, who ended up using the meta data in court. Cary was free and everyone was happy. Except for Kalinda, who had mixed feelings. This is sure to play into her exit this season.

However, the most compelling and juicy part of the episode was that kiss. Alicia is naturally very controlled and calculating, however she has those moments of passion where she forgets about the repercussions of whatever she’s doing and just jumps. I like to cherish these moments like her quickie in “Hitting the Fan,” the elevator scene in “Closing Arguments,” and now her kiss with Danny in “Hail Mary.” Of course, it may not mean anything. I mean, her partner had just gone through months of trials, incarceration, and arrests, she would be happy. However, the only thing I could think was what that kiss would mean for the series. The Good Wife rarely does anything without further action prepared. Whether someone say them or Danny starts falling for her, I don’t know, but something is bound to happen.

Overall, “Hail Mary” was a fun episode that missed its full potential by thismuch. We weren’t treated to another “Hitting the Fan,” but I didn’t need another one. What I needed was another proper episode of The Good Wife and that’s what I got. However, I’m just looking ahead at what trouble lies in the rest of the season.

Stray Observations:

• There was a lot less Falicia in this episode (can we make that a thing?). However, the energy was still there. To the point where I just wanted them to do the deed right there by the podiums.
• Speaking of Danny, that argument with Eli was perfect. Literally perfect.
• I don’t understand at what point Kalinda become more than a f*ck buddy. Cary constantly refers to her as his girlfriend. Whether or not she feels the same way is yet to be seen.
• “My whole life I wanted to be one thing – a lawyer and I had it. I had it. I had it figured it out. Get to the top take the cases you want, help the people you want. Now, I can’t, I can’t figure anything out.” I said in my review of season premiere that Cary was odd choice as the emotional center of the episode. However, eleven episodes into this season Matt Czuchry proved he deserved it as an actor and Cary deserved it as a character.
• Stay Tuned for Scenes from Our Next Episode: Debate episodes are always fun, but I hope it doesn’t dominate the entire episode. I have more faith in the Kings than that, but what I’m more interested is the inevitable blow back from what ever happens during the debate. Perhaps revealing that someone did in fact see the Danny and Alicia (Dalicia?).

It’s the episode we’ve been waiting for since the Pilot and is a sign of the end for The Good Wife. Towards the end of “Shiny Objects,” Alicia takes the stage to announce her candidacy for State’s Attorney. However, the question posed throughout the episode was whether or not she would do it with Peter by her side. With Eli and her newly appointed campaign manager Danny breathing down her neck about the announcement, Alicia had little time to think about her case and the cyber attack on the firm. Yes, you read that right. A cyber attack.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, The Good Wife is unmatched by any network drama in its ability to grind on every detail of a storyline. This is best shown when Diane inadvertently causes a cyberterrorist to hack into the Florrick/Agos system and hold their files for ransom. With a 72 hour deadline, Diane enlists the help of Kalinda to try and prevent the deletion of their files. However, the storyline ended up being less about the ransom and more about Kalinda. Sadly, over the past couple of seasons Kalinda has been pushed to the sidelines in favor of more pressing storylines (*cough* Will Gardner *cough*), however with Archie Panjabi’s impending departure it seems that the writers are giving the character her due screen time.

With Kalinda’s relationship with Cary still in full view, she goes to FBI agent Lana Delaney to assist her in the case. Despite calling her out on only going to her when she needs something, Lana still helps Kalinda. Of course, it leads to where all of Kalinda’s storylines lead: in bed. As Kalinda listens to Lana tell her the story of her coming out, even being asked if she was out to her parents, she again closed up. Will we ever learn more about the mystery that is Kalinda? I have no clue, but I’m sure the Kings know we’re waiting.

The storyline also takes Diane to a different place than we would expect too. When the code that will save their files goes to her Lockhart/Gardner email address, she must go to David Lee to retrieve it. However, in usual fashion, he asks for the lease on the offices to be transfer to him and Canning. Of course, Diane calls his bluff and doesn’t take it in her usual fashion, but that coupled with the slowly deteriorating office conditions (as brought on by the brilliant plot device of a water leak) gives Diane the idea to take her offices back.

In this particular episode, the case of the week is delegated to the C-storyline. Emmy winner Carrie Preston returns to reprise her role as the wonderfully quirky Elsbeth Tascioni. However, like everyone in this episode, we dig deeper into her. Particularly her ADD. Or at least what I assume is ADD. She works against Alicia on a unlawful termination lawsuit that eventually leads to the government charging the company with theft of trade secrets, which forces both sides to team up to quash the suit. What this means for the series, I don’t know, but the last time a case went on more than one episode we lost a character. Hopefully, things turn out differently.

To see where Alicia has come is an absolute thrill for a fan of the series from the beginning, however this episode in particular. As Eli and Danny urge her to disinvite Finn from endorsing her at her announcement, she’s again faced with the familiar dilemma of doing what everyone is telling her to do versus what she wants to do. With a wonderful callback to the Pilot, she screams at Peter for giving her the ultimatum of dropping Finn or losing him as an endorsement during the announcement. It’s a stronger Alicia. Opposed to the woman in the Pilot who cried and slapped her husband after he announced his resignation, she now stands up for herself.

On the day of the announcement, we see an eerie similarity to Peter’s announcement in the Pilot. However, instead of Alicia standing beside her husband, he’s standing beside her cheering her on. My one gripe with the episode was the decision to end it with newspaper clippings with side by side images of the Pilot and this episode. While I understand that they wanted to point out the similarities, part of the charm of the series is their trust in the audience. The trust that we’re just going to get it. Either way, with a few more episodes to go in this half I’m interested in seeing how this storyline pans out for the season and the series.

Depending on how you look at it, Sons of Anarchy leaves on one of two notes. The primary note, the one that I ultimately think the series intends, is one of tragic regret, the weight of the characters’ history coming down to bear upon those left alive. But there is a secondary note here, one borne of the tonal miscalculations that have plagued the show’s final arc for some time now. For the bulk of its running time (which, yes, is still too long), “Papa’s Goods” treads carefully enough, but when it does make missteps, they’re enough to make you apoplectic.

After seven seasons, amounting to about five years of the characters’ lives, Jax Teller is finally made to answer for his many sins. But he does it on his own terms, and he dies regarded a hero by basically everyone else on the show (again, those who are actually left alive). This is a tricky spot, to say the least, though I don’t doubt that the show’s nigh-religious final moments ended up connecting with the bulk of the audience. I’m not nearly so convinced that that final shot works, with Jax meeting Michael Chiklis’s semi truck head-on, arms outstretched, a literal Christ figure, dying for the sins of SAMCRO.

The finale itself is concerned mainly with tying up loose ends. After all, the major emotional beats have by now been resolved, an all that’s left is Jax’s final fate. There is absolutely no question that we did not require two hours to get to it. “Papa’s Goods” suffers from the same overwritten, undercooked plottiness that has been such an issue throughout the past several seasons. One would think, for instance, that the writers would have remembered the show’s ill-advised sojourn to Ireland and decided the finale should not spend so much time with the IRA once more. On a significant stretch of the episode, Jax is off on a murder spree, clearing the way for the gangster’s paradise he plans to leave behind.

Now on the one hand, there’s something to the idea of Jax running around, his mind focused solely on club business, while Nero loses his mind and is left alone to deal with the fallout of every terrible decision the Teller family has made. But the finale is too concerned with sending the club, and Jax, on what amounts more or less to a victory lap. If I have one complaint about this finale, it’s the way it underserves the remaining members of the ensemble; and not just Drea de Matteo, whose Wendy is left to stand around, mostly silent, but also Kim Coates, whose Tig I think has gotten less attention this season than even Rat.

At times it seems the show is trying to have things both ways. After all, the episode opens with Jax burning all of John’s papers and photos. He visits the graves of our dearly departed Opie (where he leaves his SONS rings) and Tara (where he leaves his wedding ring). This is a man who has embraced the fact that he is a criminal. As he says to Nero, “The lies caught up to all of us. This is who I am. I can’t change.” In watching this episode and considering Jax’s arc to this point, something occurred to me that I hadn’t considered until now: in my frustration with the show, with the idea that Jax should have just left with Tara, should have gotten out of the club, is inherent the notion that Jax could be redeemed at all. In other words, in wanting Jax to wise up and leave Charming, the audience is giving him more credit as a moral human than the show or the character himself is willing to give. “Papa’s Goods” may make Jax a martyr, but it’s not to justify his actions. The finale is a condemnation of Jax Teller, of John Teller’s legacy, of the whole shebang, really.

Or rather it would be, were it not for that troublesome final sequence. Jax is finally brought to account for his sins, yes, but what has changed? SAMCRO goes on, still slinging guns, still trafficking drugs; Chibs’s veiled threat to Jarry before the Mayhem vote might be for show (so much of this episode, after all, is smoke and mirrors), but it also might be a final restatement of these men’s dangerous attitude toward women. Jax tells Patterson that at the end of the day, “the bad guys lose,” but Jax dies in communion with his father and with a smile on his face. I don’t see any bad guys losing here. Hamlet ends in blood, in the total ruin of an entire family; there’s blood to spare in Sons of Anarchy, but it pulls that final tragic punch, to the show’s detriment.

In the end Sons died as it lived, in a patchwork of cool action sequences, occasionally affecting drama, long-winded plots, and portentous symbolism, shot through with some of the best dramatic acting you’ll find on television. That is an insanely frustrating legacy for a series, and I imagine that I will shake my fists at the sky for years to come, imagining what a four or five season run of the show might have looked like. But ultimately when we look back on “Papa’s Goods” we will look back on the tremendous pas de deux between Charlie Hunnam and CCH Pounder. We’ll look back on two great car chases, and some really great camera work during the last bike chase. We’ll look back on a Mayhem vote that, though it turned out (like so many climactic moments on Sons of Anarchy) to be a ruse, did manage to put a lump in my throat after all.

And when we look back on Sons of Anarchy, we can remember a great second season, with a heart-stopping finale that is still one of the best in recent memory. We’ll remember episodes like “Hands”. (We’ll forget all about Romeo and the CIA, hopefully.) We can remember the miracle of an acting performance that Katey Sagal turned in, remember the moments that shocked but that didn’t make us roll our eyes. There was plenty to like about Sons of Anarchy, even here at the end—and with it all behind us, it’ll be that much easier to remember it fondly.

Episode Grade: 7.5/10

Stray Observations:

• In a moment that comes more or less out of nowhere, the club patches in T.O. I understand the impulse to address the club’s stance on race one last time, but considering that 1) I barely know who T.O. is, and 2) he vanishes from the episode after getting patched in, the impact is perhaps not as great as the show thinks. Plus considering that Juice’s long journey to a gruesome death began with his own race anxiety concerning the club, it’s also a pretty sad moment.
• How many tremendous guest actors has Kurt Sutter attracted to this show over the years? I can’t think of one off the top of my head that I disliked (I know that Ally Walker’s June Stahl was not so popular, but even she brought a demented psychosis to her role that was fantastic to behold). This season alone has highlighted CCH Pounder and Jimmy Smits, but even actors with smaller roles, like Annabeth Gish and, astonishingly, Marilyn Manson of all people, have done some good work with what they’ve been given.
• Much has been made of Abel’s fondling of Gemma’s ring in the car. I met the shot with a shrug; file it away under “portentous symbolism”. If the idea is to indicate that the kid is permanently fucked up from all this, well, that point’s been made sufficiently by now. Making it again with such a trite shot, in a scene where the kid is being (somewhat unbelievably) carted away to safety, is gilding the lily a bit.
• Seriously, what an up and down journey watching this show has been. I wouldn’t recommend anyone watch it straight through again, but it sure has one hell of a highlight reel.

I am, as always, of two minds regarding Freak Show. On the one hand “Orphans” is a simple, touching episode, one that uses a familiar but minor character to highlight the emotional journey the season, and the series, has taken on us on so far. On the other hand it plays as an overlong, lost episode of Asylum more than it does an episode of Freak Show. How you feel about the episode, ultimately, depends on your tolerance for Ryan Murphy’s attention deficit when it comes to blocking out a season of television. In the spirit of the holiday season (which is sadly not an excuse for a return visit by Murder Santa), I want to be as generous as possible to “Orphans,” which really is lovely for a bit. Pepper’s story is told in broad strokes, but the minimalist approach has maximum impact, in no small part owing to Naomi Grossman’s skilled, beautiful performance. There is no question that Pepper is a sketch of a character, here as fan service more than anything else, but that relative simplicity gives the episode’s final sequence an almost charming, storybook quality. That’s true of Mare Winningham as Pepper’s older sister, too; she fills in the barest of characters with an over the top personality that suits rather than overwhelms the story.

The episode looks great, too. As Elsa tells the story of how she first came to rescue Pepper from the orphanage, the scenes take on a blueish-white tinge, still bright, but a completely different palette than the series has used to date. The Briarcliff scenes, by contrast, slowly drain of color until everything is the washed out grey that Asylum so favored. The score, too, is wonderful, a fantastical, whimsical bit of music that is also rather unlike the season to date, and yet works more or less perfectly here. As a short story about this strange little character named Pepper, then, I would call “Orphans” mostly a success. As an episode of a serialized television drama, well, I can’t be so generous on that note. The voiceover early in the episode goes on FOREVER. The final third of the episode veers away from every ongoing plot, only to veer back in a last-second “shocking reveal”. What could happen over a decade that results in Elsa Mars getting onto the cover of Life magazine in 1962? I suppose we’ll spend the next three episodes finding out. It’s another frustrating instance of American Horror Story telling stories from moment to moment, with no regard for how these moments connect to each other. There’s a real sense of “what a twist!” storytelling here, with the magazine cover certainly, but also with the “reveal” that the various seasons are interconnected (which has by the way been so thoroughly reported by the entertainment news sites that enable this kind of lazy, shock-a-minute storytelling as to lose any element of surprise). Yes, the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink-and-even-then approach has been with the series, and with Ryan Murphy, since time immemorial. But it very quickly shifts gears from original and vibrant to hackneyed and cynical. Also in this episode Stanley chops off Jimmy’s hands and sells them to the freak museum, and Maggie and Desiree go to said museum. The show treats these developments as just such an afterthought, choosing to spend much, much more time on Pepper’s ordeal and the return of Sister Mary Eunice. In fact we do not even see Jimmy lose his hands, but just the aftermath. (The previews suggest we will double back next time, because of course we will.) These scenes are functional, pushing the season to the point it needs to be when we return in January. But they lack the artistic interest of the rest of the episode, and it makes you wish that the same amount of energy that goes into the strangest, most divergent ideas of this season (Twisty the Clown, anything regarding Dandy, and now Pepper’s trip to Briarcliff) would also go into the main characters and storylines.

Speaking of Dandy, he is absent again this week, and I’m beginning to suspect that the success of any given episode is directly proportional to Finn Wittrock’s screen time. Anyway, it’s the Christmas season and I don’t want to be the Scrooge to Ryan Murphy’s Tiny Tim. (Ryan Murphy would of course most identify with Tiny Tim.) This is a fun little Easter egg to those of us who are ardent fans of Asylum’s particular approach to the American Horror Story tropes, and indeed, the bulk of “Orphans” feels like a lost episode of Asylum. For that reason if none other I’ll count the episode a success—but it would really be nice for the producers to get a more even keel on the story they’re trying to tell.   Stray Observations:

• Elsa purchased Ma Petite for the low, low price of three cases of Dr. Pepper. There’s a great underlying current here of Elsa treating her “children” as commodities, same as Stanley, same as her audience. The bookend of the last scene begs the question: how many more of her freaks will Elsa cast aside in her (apparently successful) scrabble for fame?
• Maggie’s fortune for Desiree and Malcolm Jamal Warner takes a dark turn very quickly, and Emma Roberts does a nice job of playing the woman scorned; she’s wickedly comedic and dry in her line deliveries.
• I almost wonder if we will return to Briarcliff again before the season is up. I can’t necessarily think of any justification for it, but I also know that won’t stop Ryan Murphy.