Fifth season NX
Dec. 28th, 2006 01:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icepixieI just shot a 42 at Virtual Mini Golf. Mwahahaha.
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Couple more cards in the mail lately thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
castalianspring and and truthlostmsr. Thanks, y'all!
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Continuing my stunning lack of patience and impulse-control, last night (*checks timestamp* er...the twenty-sixth) I finished watching all the fifth season episodes for Northern Exposure.
This season never quite reaches the dizzy heights of the Really, Really Good S3 Episodes, but after a shaky start, it comes startlingly close. Plus, it has ship, and that makes it SO. WORTH. IT.
While the screencapper and icon-maker in me wishes there had been more kissage and huggage and general touching shown onscreen between newly-attached Joel and Maggie, I can find little fault with how they handled the relationship this season. Instead, they talk a lot, as they always have, working through the problems they have relating to each other and, to quote Maggie, "trying...to try." And yeah, it's not as funny as the UST of earlier seasons, but it's still an interesting path, and a believable one, as they've both done some maturing since they met each other. Better yet, it's not often you really get to see two characters on TV actually falling in love, and you do here. There are several moments where significant looks or smiles or the occasional hand-hold tell another part of the story.
There are two moments that really stand out for that. One is in "Hello, I Love You" (which is one of the most excellent episodes in its own right; Shelly is sometimes grating, but here, I find whole new respect for her, and her seeing her unborn daughter at various stages of life in the Magic Laundromat is wonderful). After the successful home delivery of Holling and Shelly's baby (after one hour of labor. For a first baby. My disbelief is hanging by a thread...), when Joel is washing up, Maggie approaches him to congratulate him, and tells him that he has a way of making people feel "safe." Then she gives him a smile that says as much as any purpley prose declaration of love.
The other is in "A Wing and a Prayer." At the end, at Randi's baptism up on the mountaintop, the priest wets her head, says the blessing, and everyone says "amen." Then Maggie flies over in her new ultralight and does the wing-dip salute thingy. The priest says something like, "God is love. Those who live in love, live in God." There's maybe another line or two about love in there as well. Right after that, as Maggie is flying off into the sky, Joel looks up at her and the plane, and quietly says another "amen."
The combination of Rob Morrow's delivery/expression, and the way their whole storyline for that episode culminated in that moment, just knocked me back in my seat. In that moment, I am absolutely convinced that Joel is deeply in love with Maggie. More importantly, I think he realizes it as well, perhaps for the first time.
(And, because I can't pick just two, I must mention the glory that is "Fish Story." I loved all the storylines in that one. Ruth-Anne taking off on Chris's motorcycle and riding with a gang of middle-aged bikers who can't stay out too late because of kids' orthodontist appointments and who use a cell phone to manage their stocks is golden. Especially when she starts analyzing the waning of the 50s rebel/beatnik movement. And of course the main one, Maggie getting Joel to share Passover with the community. Those are two wonderful looks they give each other at the end, over the seder table. Also "I Feel the Earth Move," where Maggie is so unhappy at the thought that being around Joel is making her sick, and so relieved to learn that it's really a virus. Those two are SO CUTE!)
There were other good character arcs throughout the season. (This one seemed like the most arcy season. More even than S4. Or possibly it seems that way because I watched it all in one go...) I loved Ed as a maybe-shaman-in-training. His storyline was why I liked "Rosebud" so much; he isn't sure whether he wants to be a shaman or a filmmaker, and he's using each to excuse himself from doing the other. I'm kind of in that same place right now, so I really felt for him in that episode. Over the rest of the season, he starts working towards making his own combination of the two professions, with his script about the shaman, and healing people by telling stories--which happen to be from movies.
Shelly as a mother gave her some much-needed depth. She's probably my least favorite character; her Canadian Valley Girl act is amusing in small doses, but it does grate, and while she does have a certain unique insight in many situations, something still doesn't click for me about her. But she really steps up to the plate with Miranda. Holling as well, I suppose, but he kind of gets lost this season, except for that standout moment in "Mr. Sandman" I mentioned last time.
I do wish we'd seen more of Adam, Eve, and Bernard, but I liked the new recurring characters we got this season. Walt is a great character--a grizzled old man, Wall Street investor turned trapper--and really picks up the slack during the episodes where Barry Corbin is out of commission because of a broken leg. I also like Cal, the mad violinist.
Chris freaking out over getting a new lease on life via high blood pressure meds--he won't die at 40 anymore!--is a good arc as well.
I think if I were to level one criticism at the season as a whole...well, okay, I'd level two. The first one is that unfortunately, more often than not, one of the three storylines in an episode is just not up to snuff. The other two will be excellent, but the third one just feels tacked on and sort of bleh. This is particularly apparent in "A Wing and a Prayer," with the Ed and Ruth-Anne storyline. Ed, of all people, would gossip about Ruth-Anne's personal business? Nah.
The other one is that everybody does kind of seem to be on valium for much of the season. It's especially noticeable in Joel and Maggie, although part of that is because their interaction has matured beyond a third-grade level, and Maurice. For J & M, part of being less combative is because they both really are changing and mellowing, particularly Maggie after her turnaround from negative to positive last season. But there are definitely moments and lines and situations that called for more fire, and we don't see that, which is unfortunate. The other characters were always pretty low key, so by taking these three high-intensity characters down a notch, the show loses some of its dynamic.
I kind of like to pretend that the finale for this season, "Lovers and Madmen," is the finale for the whole series. There are really only three episodes from season six that I'd like to keep as my personal canon: "Dinner at 7:30," "Shofar So Good," and "Zarya," which was supposed to be part of the fifth season anyway. As far as I'm concerned, the rest of the sixth season might as well not exist. I admire the writing in "Upriver" and "The Quest," but my personal interpretation of what I believe are thematic "clues" about Joel and Maggie in the earlier seasons--the fact that all their alter-egos in the historical/dream sequence eps end up together, Soapy Sanderson setting them up, the plane-as-heart thing in "Oy, Wilderness," Maggie's grandmother obliquely reassuring Joel that Mike was just a passing thing, and that Maggie would "return" to him, Maggie changing her fate from the fortune teller in "Get Real," the slow dance to "At Last" in the episode of the same name, and numerous others--is that they were being nudged together, and once they had realized what was going on, and what they really felt for each other, they would have stayed together. And Joel's character arc seemed to so surely be pointing to the idea that he would change, would discover his true self, and then wouldn't be fit for New York, but rather for Cicely. I suppose I can always imagine that after the sixth season ended, he came back from NYC, knowing that his place was now a small town in Alaska--and to be honest, probably empirical Joel would've needed to go back and see for himself that you can't go home again--but it's not quite the same.
Joel admitting that he can see the world on terms of "one man's scientific discovery is another man's tenderloin," then that he's now a Cicelian, is where I figured the show would end his journey, and that's what happens in L&M. It's a good spot to leave off, and leave the rest to the imagination.
*
Couple more cards in the mail lately thanks to
castalianspring and and truthlostmsr. Thanks, y'all!*
Continuing my stunning lack of patience and impulse-control, last night (*checks timestamp* er...the twenty-sixth) I finished watching all the fifth season episodes for Northern Exposure.
This season never quite reaches the dizzy heights of the Really, Really Good S3 Episodes, but after a shaky start, it comes startlingly close. Plus, it has ship, and that makes it SO. WORTH. IT.
While the screencapper and icon-maker in me wishes there had been more kissage and huggage and general touching shown onscreen between newly-attached Joel and Maggie, I can find little fault with how they handled the relationship this season. Instead, they talk a lot, as they always have, working through the problems they have relating to each other and, to quote Maggie, "trying...to try." And yeah, it's not as funny as the UST of earlier seasons, but it's still an interesting path, and a believable one, as they've both done some maturing since they met each other. Better yet, it's not often you really get to see two characters on TV actually falling in love, and you do here. There are several moments where significant looks or smiles or the occasional hand-hold tell another part of the story.
There are two moments that really stand out for that. One is in "Hello, I Love You" (which is one of the most excellent episodes in its own right; Shelly is sometimes grating, but here, I find whole new respect for her, and her seeing her unborn daughter at various stages of life in the Magic Laundromat is wonderful). After the successful home delivery of Holling and Shelly's baby (after one hour of labor. For a first baby. My disbelief is hanging by a thread...), when Joel is washing up, Maggie approaches him to congratulate him, and tells him that he has a way of making people feel "safe." Then she gives him a smile that says as much as any purpley prose declaration of love.
The other is in "A Wing and a Prayer." At the end, at Randi's baptism up on the mountaintop, the priest wets her head, says the blessing, and everyone says "amen." Then Maggie flies over in her new ultralight and does the wing-dip salute thingy. The priest says something like, "God is love. Those who live in love, live in God." There's maybe another line or two about love in there as well. Right after that, as Maggie is flying off into the sky, Joel looks up at her and the plane, and quietly says another "amen."
The combination of Rob Morrow's delivery/expression, and the way their whole storyline for that episode culminated in that moment, just knocked me back in my seat. In that moment, I am absolutely convinced that Joel is deeply in love with Maggie. More importantly, I think he realizes it as well, perhaps for the first time.
(And, because I can't pick just two, I must mention the glory that is "Fish Story." I loved all the storylines in that one. Ruth-Anne taking off on Chris's motorcycle and riding with a gang of middle-aged bikers who can't stay out too late because of kids' orthodontist appointments and who use a cell phone to manage their stocks is golden. Especially when she starts analyzing the waning of the 50s rebel/beatnik movement. And of course the main one, Maggie getting Joel to share Passover with the community. Those are two wonderful looks they give each other at the end, over the seder table. Also "I Feel the Earth Move," where Maggie is so unhappy at the thought that being around Joel is making her sick, and so relieved to learn that it's really a virus. Those two are SO CUTE!)
There were other good character arcs throughout the season. (This one seemed like the most arcy season. More even than S4. Or possibly it seems that way because I watched it all in one go...) I loved Ed as a maybe-shaman-in-training. His storyline was why I liked "Rosebud" so much; he isn't sure whether he wants to be a shaman or a filmmaker, and he's using each to excuse himself from doing the other. I'm kind of in that same place right now, so I really felt for him in that episode. Over the rest of the season, he starts working towards making his own combination of the two professions, with his script about the shaman, and healing people by telling stories--which happen to be from movies.
Shelly as a mother gave her some much-needed depth. She's probably my least favorite character; her Canadian Valley Girl act is amusing in small doses, but it does grate, and while she does have a certain unique insight in many situations, something still doesn't click for me about her. But she really steps up to the plate with Miranda. Holling as well, I suppose, but he kind of gets lost this season, except for that standout moment in "Mr. Sandman" I mentioned last time.
I do wish we'd seen more of Adam, Eve, and Bernard, but I liked the new recurring characters we got this season. Walt is a great character--a grizzled old man, Wall Street investor turned trapper--and really picks up the slack during the episodes where Barry Corbin is out of commission because of a broken leg. I also like Cal, the mad violinist.
Chris freaking out over getting a new lease on life via high blood pressure meds--he won't die at 40 anymore!--is a good arc as well.
I think if I were to level one criticism at the season as a whole...well, okay, I'd level two. The first one is that unfortunately, more often than not, one of the three storylines in an episode is just not up to snuff. The other two will be excellent, but the third one just feels tacked on and sort of bleh. This is particularly apparent in "A Wing and a Prayer," with the Ed and Ruth-Anne storyline. Ed, of all people, would gossip about Ruth-Anne's personal business? Nah.
The other one is that everybody does kind of seem to be on valium for much of the season. It's especially noticeable in Joel and Maggie, although part of that is because their interaction has matured beyond a third-grade level, and Maurice. For J & M, part of being less combative is because they both really are changing and mellowing, particularly Maggie after her turnaround from negative to positive last season. But there are definitely moments and lines and situations that called for more fire, and we don't see that, which is unfortunate. The other characters were always pretty low key, so by taking these three high-intensity characters down a notch, the show loses some of its dynamic.
I kind of like to pretend that the finale for this season, "Lovers and Madmen," is the finale for the whole series. There are really only three episodes from season six that I'd like to keep as my personal canon: "Dinner at 7:30," "Shofar So Good," and "Zarya," which was supposed to be part of the fifth season anyway. As far as I'm concerned, the rest of the sixth season might as well not exist. I admire the writing in "Upriver" and "The Quest," but my personal interpretation of what I believe are thematic "clues" about Joel and Maggie in the earlier seasons--the fact that all their alter-egos in the historical/dream sequence eps end up together, Soapy Sanderson setting them up, the plane-as-heart thing in "Oy, Wilderness," Maggie's grandmother obliquely reassuring Joel that Mike was just a passing thing, and that Maggie would "return" to him, Maggie changing her fate from the fortune teller in "Get Real," the slow dance to "At Last" in the episode of the same name, and numerous others--is that they were being nudged together, and once they had realized what was going on, and what they really felt for each other, they would have stayed together. And Joel's character arc seemed to so surely be pointing to the idea that he would change, would discover his true self, and then wouldn't be fit for New York, but rather for Cicely. I suppose I can always imagine that after the sixth season ended, he came back from NYC, knowing that his place was now a small town in Alaska--and to be honest, probably empirical Joel would've needed to go back and see for himself that you can't go home again--but it's not quite the same.
Joel admitting that he can see the world on terms of "one man's scientific discovery is another man's tenderloin," then that he's now a Cicelian, is where I figured the show would end his journey, and that's what happens in L&M. It's a good spot to leave off, and leave the rest to the imagination.