Star Trek’s Transporter Is a Wholesale Killing Machine

I’ve spent the last week and a half getting used to Bluesky, the Twitter replacement app that is still invite-only and still has fewer than a million users, but which, I’m pleased to say, feels a lot like Twitter felt circa 2007 — certainly more so than Mastadon, which I find difficult to parse and frustrating to engage with.

My experience of this nascent social media app so far has been a delightful mix of cats, Neil Gaiman being smart and charming (and surprisingly approachable), and quite a lot of Star Trek talk. Let me tell you, I am here for all of that!

Today, for instance, cartoonist Tom Tomorrow was involved in a deep-in-the-geek discussion about transporter technology, which reminded me of the time I got into that very topic in a deep way on my old Podcast, Poli-Sci-Fi Radio (which I did with Rachel Maddow Show producer, Steve Benen from 2007 to 2012). The podcast ended a decade ago (I actually found an mp3 of the episode if anyone is interested — god bless the Internet Archive — the relevant discussion starts at about the 1 hour 33 minute mark), but I recalled writing about it at the time too, so I dug through my old blog archives and found the piece, which I originally published in 2009.

I am dusting this off and republishing it mostly so I can post it in Bluesky, but it’s also more or less on topic for this blog, so here ya go!

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This week’s episode of Poli-Sci-Fi Radio featured a discussion inspired by last Friday’s episode of Dollhouse, in which a woman who was murdered is brought “back to life” in the body of Eliza Dushku because she’d had the foresight to scan all of her thoughts and memories before she was killed and then after her death those thoughts and memories were implanted in one of the Dollhouse’s “actives” so the woman could go back and solve her own murder.

If you don’t watch Dollhouse, the above explanation probably makes little or no sense to you, but the discussion we had on the radio quickly went beyond the episode’s plot and became a discussion about the nature of identity w/r/t the SF concept of teleportation. (If you’re curious, this discussion takes place in the last 1/2 hour of the two-hour episode.) Here’s the 50 cent tour…

Suppose someone invents a teleportation device (like the transporter from Star Trek). Alice steps into little teleportation booth in New York, there’s a flash of light as the precise position and orientation of every cell, molecule, atom and quark in Alice’s body is scanned and that information is “beamed” at the speed of light to a similar booth in Paris, where a machine, using some local material, reassembles an exact replica — down to the subatomic structure — of Alice. This perfect replica of Alice (who literally is Alice is every measurable respect) then steps out of the booth and from Alice’s subjective experience, she stepped into a booth in New York and stepped out an instant later in Paris.

Great! The problem is: what happens to the “Alice” that stepped into the machine in New York? Her atomic structure was scanned so her body could be replicated in Paris, but all of the material that made up the Alice that stepped into the machine in New York is still there, standing in the booth, wondering what she’s going to eat for dinner in Paris. She is still there, that is, unless the teleportation process kills her.

In science fiction movies and TV shows, at the moment of teleportation, the starship captain dematerializes in one place and rematerializes in a new place, as though her atoms were being physically moved from one spot to another. But from chemistry we know that a carbon atom is a carbon atom is a carbon atom — the physical constituent matter that makes us up isn’t anything special — it’s the arrangement of that matter that makes us live, breathe and think as conscious beings. So to build a working teleportation machine, all you really need to do is scan the precise positions of each particle of material and reassemble those bits in the right order in the destination spot using whatever materials are present at the new location (assuming all the right constituent elements are present in sufficient quantities).

So that means that at the moment of “dematerialization,” what’s really happening is that the starship captain’s atoms are being destroyed — she’s being killed by the teleporter — and a new identical version of her is appearing on the planet’s surface. From the perspective of the now planetside captain, everything is hunky dory — one second she was on the transporter pad and the next second she was standing on the planet’s surface. But what about the perspective of the woman who stepped onto the transporter pad and was annihilated? Did she show up on the planet’s surface? Are there two separate consciousnesses or just one? Can she choose to not have her original body destroyed, thereby yielding two distinct people (some version of this happened in Star Trek with alarming regularity)? Should she?

This is only scratching the surface of the implications of such a technology. There’s a bit of a comments thread going on at the PSFR post. For the record, despite not believing in anything like a “soul” and being aware of the fact that my consciousness is merely the result of the collection of physical stuff that is me, I am deeply troubled by this thought experiment and I, for one, would never choose to step into such a teleportation device, not knowing whether “I” would be the copy that stepped out of the booth in Paris or the original that gets destroyed in New York. The commenters at the PSFR blog so far agree with me, but on the show on Sunday Steve and Emily did not. They were just fine with the simultaneous annihilation and creation of themselves in the teleporters.

What do you think? Would you let yourself be “transported” in such a fashion?

For other takes on this problem see…

• The Ship of Theseus paradox
• Four Reasons Why “You” Don’t Exist
• The Emperor’s New Mind by Roger Penrose
• The Prestige

A quick additional note: Star Trek is all over the map in terms of how transporter technology works and it changes based on the short term needs of the writers of the given episode or film. This isn’t a discussion about Star Trek canon, it’s a philosophical discussion about the obvious and terrifying implications of such a technology.

On the Metaphysics of Teleportation was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Your go-to list for when the inevitable show drought begins

The WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes are ongoing and may continue for a while. If you work in the screened-entertainment industry, then you’re directly affected by the situation and you have bigger concerns than “oh no, what will I watch on the tee-vee when the production halt catches up with the distribution schedule!?” For the rest of us, the pain will first present itself in shortened and delayed seasons of TV, fewer movies at the theater, and lots of projects either put on hiatus or canceled outright. It’s actually a small price to pay if it means those writers and actors get paid a fair wage for their work, but I’m still not happy about it.

Recommending shows to friends who value my taste in TV is sort of why I started this media blog in the first place, so this list is a bit overdue. If you’re a fan of good TV, then it’s likely you have seen at least some of the shows on this list, but I’m willing to bet you haven’t seen all of them, and if you value my opinion at all, these will each be worth your time.

I’m listing these shows alphabetically. I limited the list to narrative, scripted content, so there are no documentary/reality shows here.

Braindead (2016, CBS/Paramount — 1 season, stream on Prime Video)
Every once in a great while, a major broadcast network, despite the odds, manages to create a season of brilliant TV that critics adore but that goes under appreciated by the unwashed masses. The other examples I can think of were all on NBC — Journeyman (2007), Kings (2009), and Brian Fuller’s outstanding Hannibal (2013). Braindead was a sci-fi political satire show on CBS. It was created by Robert and Michelle King (who are better known for creating and producing The Good Wife). The premise is pretty inspired: what if all the political animus and entrenched ideological gridlock in Washington was the result of alien insects that have come to Earth and infected our political leaders. Mary Elizabeth Winstead plays a documentary filmmaker who’s brother is a U.S. senator and who stumbles upon evidence of the quiet invasion. The show is full of delightful surprises, including amazing “previously-on” segments that are original songs by none other than Jonathan Coulton. I think you have to pay a rental fee to watch this now, but it’s worth it! You will thank me for this rec.

Dark (2017, Netflix — 3 seasons)
This German language sci-fi mystery box will blow your mind. It’s like what if the creators of Lost had a more explicitly sci-fi premise in mind and also actually had a plan they were following and it delivered a satisfying ending. Add this to the short list of shows you’ll be so wrapped up in that you will want to take notes as you watch. The show depicts different periods in time in a small German town and the casting of younger and older actors to play the same characters at different parts of their lives is astoundingly good. This is jaw-dropping good fun, despite it living up to its name, tonally.

Fleabag (2016, Prime Video — 2 seasons)
Okay, lots of people know about this award-winning gem from Phoebe Waller-Bridge, but how many people actually watched it? Based on Waller-Bridge’s one woman show, which she premiered at the 2013 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Fleabag tells the story of a single woman living in London and all the various complications and tragedies that she endures, particularly as they pertain to her love life. Season one was largely a fleshed out version of the one-woman show, and season two was originally written for TV. The whole thing is great, but I actually think the six episodes of season two of Fleabag may be the greatest single season of television ever produced in the English language. So yes, it’s worth a watch.

The Great (2020, Hulu — 3 seasons)
Full disclosure: I haven’t yet finished season three of this one, but I will soon. It’s the bawdy and violent story of Catherine the Great, created by the screenwriter of Yorgos Lanthimos’ wonderful The Favourite. It’s hilarious and disgusting and horny and a rollicking good time and what it has to say about sexism and war and politics and loyalty and friendship and love is actually fairly compelling to boot. Huzzah!

The Last Kingdom (2015, Netflix — 5 seasons + a concluding movie)
I joke with Emily that The Last Kingdom is so re-watchable because I always forget about what the hell was happening in the show as soon as I stop watching it, but while it’s on, it’s completely engrossing. The Last Kingdom is based on a series of novels called The Saxon Stories by Bernard Cornwell. The five seasons and movie that the TV show covers depict events that take place in the years 866–918 (roughly) in the land that will become England, and focus on the exploits of an Anglo-born and Dane-raised protagonist named Uhtred (a fictionalized amalgam of real historical characters) who weaves his way through the major conflicts and events of the late 9th and early 10th centuries in the British Isles. Early seasons focus on the reign of King Alfred the Great’s dream of uniting England (speaking of historical figures who get the moniker “The Great” added after their names). The show is full of blood and politics and alliances forged and broken. I hear from my friends who know about such things that the show is pretty historically accurate in its broad strokes. If medieval historical fiction is your jam, this is about as good as it gets.

The Man Who Fell to Earth (2022, Showtime — 1 season, stream on Prime Video or AppleTV+)
I reviewed this show more fully here. It is simultaneously based on the Walter Tevis novel and the 1976 Nicholas Roeg film of the same name and acts as a sequel to both. I wasn’t a huge fan of the David Bowie cult film but I loved this take on the material. You might too.

Misfits (2009, E4 — 5 seasons, stream on The Roku Channel or FreeVee)
This show is the oldest on the list and it’s about a group of English delinquents who get sentenced to some public service, cleaning up a youth center that has fallen into disrepair. A strange electrical storm gifts them all super powers. Okay, so maybe that premise sounds a bit played out? Teenagers suddenly have superpowers? Except Misfits turns that on its head and this is really a show about anti-heroes. It’s subversive and smart as a whip and darkly hilarious. It’s five seasons, but they’re those short British seasons so it’s not too much to take on.

The OA (2016, Netflix — 2 seasons)
This is another sci-fi mystery box show. The fun is in the surprises and I almost don’t want to say anything about it except “trust me.” The bummer is that it was canceled after two seasons and there were some pretty big looming questions that are never satisfactorily answered. There was a big fan-initiated push to save the show (including one fan going on a hunger strike outside Netflix’s offices) and a popular fan theory that the cancellation announcement was just a meta publicity stunt. It’s a show that engenders that sort of thinking. Trust me.

The Offer (2022, Paramount+ — 1 season)
This retelling of the making of The Godfather from the perspective of its producer, Al Ruddy, is delightful. It was criticized for playing fast and loose with reality, but don’t let that get to you — it’s a great look at early 70s Hollywood, whether fictionalized or not. I have one complaint, which is that the main character (Ruddy himself, played by human charisma-hole, Miles Teller) is reeeeally dull. He’s portrayed as the guy who risks it all and wins everything because he’s so brave and right, but there’s no real character there to care about. Fortunately, literally everyone else is gold in this show, with a particular nod to the amazing Matthew Goode, who’s spot-on impression of famous Hollywood producer, Bob Evans, is reason all by itself to watch the show. Whether you’re a fan of The Godfather or not, this is good stuff.

Patriot (2015, Prime Video — 2 seasons)
Okay, look, this show was the reason I wrote this whole listicle in the first place. Seriously, if you ignore every other show on the list, you gotta give this one a try. And it’s not for everyone. It has a particular wry sensibility that may not land perfectly with all audiences, but my god it’s unlike anything else you’ve ever seen on TV. The good news is you only need to give it one episode. If you’re not sold in the first hour, you probably won’t be by the subsequent hours either. It’s in its groove from the jump. The premise involves a U.S. spy in Europe who’s recovering from an op-gone-bad and a bad case of PTSD when he’s called back into service by his high-ranking father and shit all starts to unravel in absurd, awful, and often hilarious ways. This is one of my favorite shows of all time and basically nobody saw it.

Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (2020, Showtime — 1 season, stream on Prime Video)
So remember that Showtime horror/monster show set in late 19th century London about all the classic monsters — Dracula-style vampires, Frankenstein and his monster, The Wolfman, Dorian Grey… No? Well don’t worry, its three seasons are not on this list. What is on this list is the single season follow-up by the same showrunner, which is set in Los Angeles in 1938 and is largely concerned with the racism and politics surrounding the construction of the California freeway system. Yes, there’s a supernatural element at the heart of the story, but there’s also Nazis, corrupt politicians, LA cops on the murder beat, street gangs, and everything else you would want from a noir-era show set in LA. This was what I wish the rest of Penny Dreadful had been. It doesn’t look like we’re going to get any more seasons of this, which is a shame, but I’m grateful this one got made.

Reservation Dogs (2021, Hulu — 3 seasons)
Ohmygosh, this show is set to deliver season 3 as I write this and I’m pretty stoked about it. Take the sweet playfulness of Taika Waititi stuff like Hunt For the Wilder People (Waititi is an executive producer of the show) but set it on a modern day Oklahoma Indian reservation and populate the cast with a bunch of bored, alienated teens doing low-rent crimes and looking to get off the res and do big things with their lives. Now add a quirky indy filmmaking sensibility and a really big heart (ala Schitt’s Creek, The Good Place, Ted Lasso, et al). What are you waiting for? Skoden!

The Resort (2022, Peacock — 1 season)
Oh, that show set in a fancy resort that features quirky resort staff and difficult, demanding guests, and a possible murder… yeah, not that one, the other one you never saw. The better one. Oh yes I did say that! The Resort was made by the team that made the outstanding Palm Springs movie for Hulu in 2020. It’s a mystery box show involving time periods set 15 years apart from each other and a pair of missing resort guests who disappeared mysteriously during a hurricane. The effect of the narrative surprises is cumulative and your jaw is sure to drop a few times. The show features a great supporting cast (Nick Offerman, Luis Guzman, Dylan Baker). If you don’t have a Peacock subscription that doesn’t show you ads, I advise renting this on Amazon or Apple.

Utopia [UK version] (2013, Channel 4 — 2 seasons, stream on Roku TV)
So first of all, do not, I repeat: do not bother with the 2020 American remake of this show starring John Cusack and Rainn Wilson. It’s a dim shadow of the greatness of the original UK show, which ran for two seasons in 2013 and 2014 (though the American remake does prominently feature a knitted, dissected fetal pig made by Emily in one scene!). It’s comic book nerds and transnational corporate conspiracies, and an all around apocalyptic good time. The casting, the score, the surprises… this is a great show that almost none saw in the U.S. and now even fewer will because they’ll wind up watching the vastly inferior American remake. Be one of the cool kids and seek out the original.

Warrior (2019, Cinemax — 3 seasons, stream on Max)
If you’re not on board with this one yet, what are you waiting for? I think some more folks have seen this show now, finally, but when Cinemax made the first two seasons it was almost totally overlooked, despite being a pretty easy sell: in the early 70s, Bruce Lee shopped around a TV show idea about a Chinese immigrant in late 19th century San Francisco who gets mixed up in adventures (featuring lots of kung fu) with the local China Town gangs. That show idea got coopted and white-washed into the TV show Kung Fu, starring David Carradine. Well Lee’s daughter, Shannon Lee, hooked up with filmmaker Justin Lin and producer Jonathan Topper and pitched the original idea to Cinemax, who bit. The result is Warrior, and hoo boy does it kick ass. The fight choreography, the sex, the politics, the racial catharsis — it’s more comic-book good fun and a lot less pretentious than Deadwood, but delivers a lot of what made Deadwood so great.

Bonus 16th show! (because I just thought of it): Brassic (2019, Sky One/Sky Max — 3 seasons, stream on Hulu)
Alright, so imagine Guy Ritchie circa Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels made a TV show about some petty thieves living in a fictional northern English town, and it’s a comedy/drama full of pathos and heart and it’s co-created and stars the incomparable Joe Gilgun (who also appears in Misfits, another under appreciated show on this list). It’s goofy and gross and sometimes a tear-jerker but mostly hilarious hijinx. You will adore Vinnie and his friends. Just don’t leave your valuables out when they’re around.

Okay, so be honest — how many of these have you seen? The next time you’re looking for something to watch, you could do worse than using this list. If you do, please reach out and let me know what you thought.

15 Great Shows You (Probably) Haven’t Seen was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Revisiting some of my thoughts on Alien³

Back in the days of my old blog, I got into a heated online discussion with a friend about David Fincher’s Alien³. My friend thought it was better than James Cameron’s iconic second installment in the franchise, Aliens. I thought he was bonkers for thinking that, and so I decided to revisit the film (which I had only seen in the theater the week it premiered). What follows was my considered response (originally published in 2014). FWIW, the film celebrated its 30th anniversary last year and general public opinions about it seem to have improved somewhat in the intervening decades.

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Okay, so because Casey Rae just won’t let sleeping dogs lie, I went ahead and re-watched Alien³. You see, waaaaaay back in 2009 Casey left a comment on my blog that said he thought that Aliens was “way weaker than Alien³.” I could not see how an otherwise intelligent and articulate hominid like Casey could possibly hold such an obviously outlandish opinion and made a mental note to revisit the film as soon as I had nothing better to do.

Five years passed in which I apparently always had something better to do.

Then yesterday on Facebook, presumably stirred to action by the untimely death of H.R. Giger, Casey poked the old wound.

I had not seen Alien³ since I watched it in the theater in 1992 with my friend Alex Woolfson. That night he and I agreed that the third installment of our beloved corporate-military SF franchise should just be chalked up to a hypersleep nightmare — a non-canonical sepia-drenched misstep to be immediately dismissed. The only question that remained for Alex and me was: which was a superior film, Ridley Scott’s horror-SF masterpiece, Alien, or James Cameron’s one-up-the-bad-assery sequel, Aliens? (Both sides of this unanswerable question have merit and it’s a worthy debate for another time.) But A³? Please. Do not bore us with your moody little brown stain of a film.

In the intervening years a new cut of A³ was released that reportedly restored at least part of director David Fincher’s original intent for the film (though Fincher himself was not involved with the new cut in any way). That’s what I watched tonight. The “Assembly Cut,” as its called.

Aaaaaaand okay. It’s not as bad as I remembered. In fact, it’s not really even a bad film. It has merit. It’s moody, not terrible to look at from a production design perspective (the oppressively brown palette and dated alien effects notwithstanding), it takes itself seriously and the acting is mostly pretty good. I’ll add that it has a clear main character with fairly clear stakes, a ticking clock that ups the stakes nicely and a few surprises/twists/reveals along the way that make it more interesting. There’s even a (darkly sardonic) laugh or two.

The new cut improves on the theatrical version in at least one very important way: the eye-rolling laugh-at-it-not-with-it moment in the theatrical version where the queen chestburster erupts from Ripley’s chest as she descends into the molten furnace and Ripley cradles it lovingly as they fall into the fire together — yeah, that shit’s gone. Ripley just falls into the fire and dies. Much better.

But just because A³ isn’t a complete train wreck of a film is no reason to go around making crazy claims like it’s somehow superior to a classic like Aliens. I know that opinions about art are subjective and Casey is entitled to his, however misguided they are. Nevertheless I shall attempt to explain the reasons why I think A³ fails to live up to the standards set by the previous two films in the franchise.

First though, why is Aliens considered such a classic? What makes it so great that it’s arguably better than Ridley Scott’s original (note: I happen to prefer the original film for reasons I won’t go into here, but many people consider Aliens an example of a sequel that outshines the film it follows, like The Empire Strikes Back and Godfather Part II)?

Aliens succeeds on a number of important levels that very few sci-fi action films manage to pull off. It gets all the basics down perfectly: a main character we care about (Ripley), clear goals and a sense of what’s at stake if she fails to achieve her goals (lots of people die, The Company wins), A very clear antagonist (aliens), great obstacles to her goals (dumb military jarheads, Burke, no ride home, etc.) a really clear and empathetic character arc involving confronting her fears (PTSD from the first film) and finding something to care about and keep her connected to the world (Newt and to a lesser extent, Hicks). It’s got fantastic reveals (the alien nest, Burke’s duplicity, the aliens using the duct-work, the queen, Bishop isn’t evil, the queen’s appearance on the Sulaco, etc.).

It also totally delivers on the pacing and action level. Cameron is a master of this kind of filmmaking and Aliens is arguably his best film. The characters in the ensemble all seem three-dimensional and real — even the throwaway characters that die early. There’s a reason the dialogue in Aliens is so quotable — because it’s so great. The screenplay and actors and director were the right mix and they struck gold.

And importantly, it’s a smart film. I don’t mean on a subtext level, though there is subtext to be had here (not as chewy as the first film, to be sure, but it’s there). I mean the characters are smart and they react in realistic ways to their situations. The plot is very rarely moved forward due to stupid or incompetent behavior. The drama all feels real and earned. And the set-up/pay-off of the loader exoskeleton suit is iconic for a reason — it’s fucking awesome.

And in context with the previous film, Aliens feels fresh and exhilarating and a worthy sequel. You thought one scary monster on a ship was bad? Well now there are HUNDREDS of them and even these bad ass marines can’t stop them. And remember how hard and tough Ripley was in the first one? Well that experience BROKE her. She’s a frightened, badly damaged woman who has lost everything and everyone she ever knew (including, importantly, her daughter) and is suffering from PTSD.

Aliens is very nearly a perfect action movie. It does everything right in a tight, concise way, and totally, satisfyingly, delivers the goods.

Now let’s talk about A³. I already mentioned the things I like about it. Let’s look at what’s not so great.

First, we can’t begin a discussion about A³ without addressing its original sin — the title sequence murder of Newt and Hicks. Fincher famously never talks about his involvement with A³ but my friend Ian Albinson interviewed him for Art of the Title and before the interview, Ian asked me if I had any questions for the director. I had one. Fincher replied:

The writers weren’t bringing [Newt and Hicks] back. They had a script that didn’t include them, so we had to tell the story of their disappearance. … The script had the Sulaco pod being ejected, but we decided afterwards that we needed to see what happened on the ship that led to that event.

So we can’t blame Fincher for this sin. In fact, we should thank him for at least showing us how they died. But let’s just acknowledge that A³ exists in a context with the other films. Part of what made Aliens so great was taking what Ripley had been through in the previous film and building realistically on it. A³ strips away all of the progress we’d made with Ripley’s character in the previous film before the opening credits are done. At best, that’s lazy storytelling. It’s a reset button that’s merely convenient for the writers’ short term goals and doesn’t respect the work that’s been done before. In that opening title sequence, A³ utterly lost the franchise’s core fan base — before a single line of dialogue was uttered.

But let’s not stop there! As long as we’re talking about continuity with the previous film, here’s a question: how did the alien queen get not one, but two eggs on board the Sulaco? The title sequence of A³ shows an open egg and a facehugger. That facehugger somehow impregnates Ripley with a queen and another one impregnates an ox on Fury 161 (it was a dog in the theatrical version). I’ve seen Aliens about a hundred times. How did that supposedly happen? The queen would have had to have brought the eggs with her up the elevator, onto the drop ship and then deposited them somewhere in the Sulaco’s hanger before being sucked out into space. We saw her egg-laying capacity get blown up by Ripley, so she couldn’t have laid the eggs. And once the eggs were deposited, unnoticed, in the hangar bay of the Sulaco, how did the facehuggers manage to get into the place where the hypersleep pods were? Can they open doors like velociraptors? I’m just saying, there are troubling questions before the movie even starts.

Okay, so maybe we should just discount the previous movies when judging this one. Maybe it’s unfair to judge A³ based on what did or didn’t happen in other films. This is its own beast, after all. So we just accept the deaths of Newt and Hicks and the fact that there are two facehuggers in with the sleep pods. Fine. We’re still in trouble from a basic plausibility standpoint. I’m going to bullet-list this in chronological order:

• Doofus ex machina: a prisoner discovers a dead facehugger when they haul in the dead ox and says nothing about it. The film doesn’t even bother to address it again.
• False drama: Ripley sleeps with Clemens… why? Dunno. She just does. I remembered this happening but had forgotten how totally out of the blue and un-set-up it was.
• Doofus ex machina: Dude in the tunnel discovers some molted alien skin and hears a suspicious noise, so naturally sticks his head in a hole to investigate and gets chomped. This is a standard horror trope and Scott’s Alien is guilty of it too, but still.
• False drama: After Clemens examines the site of the dead prisoner he tells Ripley that he saw an acid burn mark like the one she’d noticed in the escape pod, and Ripley simply refuses to tell him what her fear is. Why? There is no logical explanation for her to keep her suspicions a secret at that point, but she does it anyway because drama.
• Doofus ex machina: This was new in the Assembly Cut and it’s really bad. They successfully trap the xenomorph in a vault. Then they let Golick — the lunatic they had suspected of killing some prisoners — out of his straight jacket because they now know it was the xenomorph that did it. Golick then, for no apparent or explained reason, clocks another prisoner over the head, goes to the vault where the alien is trapped, slits the throat of another prisoner and opens the door to let the alien out (and be killed by it in the process), because… crazy. That is the worst kind of lazy writing. Here’s a screenwriting tip. If you’re ever writing a scene in a film and a major plot development happens because: crazy, stop and do it over. You’re doing it wrong.
• Doofus ex machina: So the xenomorph has escaped and now everyone is terrified. The extraction team is still 10 hours away and they will be picked off one by one. They argue about what to do and where to go. Dillon suggests they huddle in the assembly hall where there is no air conditioning for the alien to hide in. “If it’s coming in here it will have to come through one of those doors,” he says. Part of this discussion happens literally in front of the vault that the alien has just been set free of. You know, the one with the three-inch steel reinforced doors that they told us about when they were hatching their let’s-trap-the-alien plan. It’s the one place they can be sure the alien isn’t, yet no one bothers to suggest just hiding in that vault for 10 hours until rescue comes.
• She said it so it’s true: Ripley does a CAT scan of herself in the escape pod and discovers she’s got a little alien insider her. And she says its a queen. So, how, exactly, does Ripley know it’s a queen? Nobody asks and she never says. Ripley has seen one adult queen and a bunch of adult xenomorphs and one freshly born chestburster, but she’s never seen an alien “fetus” before that moment. Did it have “queen” tattooed on it somewhere? I saw the same scan image she did and I have no idea how she knew it was a queen.

And just to be fair, here are a couple of moments I liked:

• After Clemens is killed and Ripley interrupts Administrator Andrews in the cafeteria yelling about the alien, and Andrews shouts her down and orders her taken back to the infirmary, Andrews is suddenly ripped from his place by the alien in the duct works. After he’s taken, everyone in the room is frozen in place, looking at the spot the administrator had just been as Andrews’ blood drips from the ducts. One of the prisoners yells “Fuck!” It was a funny moment.
• The set-up and pay-off of the way the xenomorph is killed is good. After the fire, the sprinklers come on and we see a fire-ravaged metal bucket pop from the extreme temperature change of hot to cold. It’s a nice foreshadow of the molten-lead-followed-by-cold-water death of the alien.
• The lone survivor of Fury 161, shot in the leg and in chains, is marched out of the colony by the extraction team. His crazy defiance is a nice touch.

So yeah. Is A³ a horrible film? No. It’s fine. It’s moody and well acted. It’s a bit long in its third act and you can’t really think about the story for too long before running into the problems I listed above, and the alien effects were kind of bad. It’s a fine film, but there are reasons Aliens is considered a sci-fi classic and Alien³ is not.

Alien: Cubed was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s Been a Long Pandemic and We Need Our Stories

When I first visited San Francisco in the early 90s, some friends and I went out to eat at a family-style Italian restaurant in North Beach called Michelangelo Cafe. We had a great time, but the thing I remember most about it was the food — it was a mind-expanding dining experience. I was from little Burlington, Vermont, which had not yet experienced the farm-to-table culinary renaissance that was still a decade away, and Michelangelo’s was a perfect combination of big-city-quality and down-home, family-style comfort eating. I ate at other great places in that city on that trip and on the many trips there I have taken since, but I always made it a point to go back to Michelangelo’s on each visit — partly because I wanted to recapture the feeling of that first eye-opening experience, and partly as a pilgrimage of sorts — paying respect to the spot that began my love of taking food holidays in unfamiliar cities.

Going back to beloved restaurants and ordering favorite dishes instead of choosing to try something new has a name, I just learned: “volitional reconsumption.” It’s the active choice to re-experience something we have already consumed — food, books, movies, TV shows, travel destinations, etc.

I know what this behavior is called because Vox just published an interview with Pepperdine University Professor of Marketing, Cristel Russell, who co-authored a study back in 2011 about why it is that so many of us like to re-consume things we have already tried.

If you google “comfort TV” you’ll find a bunch of lists of shows that people think make for good comfort viewing and re-viewing, and these lists tend to be populated with shows that have literally comforting content — like The Good Place, or The Great British Bakeoff. I like those shows, but that’s not what I’m after in a good re-watchable show. I don’t need my TV to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I am drawn to shows that I thought were great the first time through, that give me some sort of dopamine hit in terms of the characters, situations, and writing, and that reveal more of themselves on re-watches. So generally, I am drawn to shows that are fun (“fun” can mean adventurous, funny, sweet, exciting, ridiculous, scary, etc.) and with some depth and subtlety. Shows where the fun is in the surprises or reveals (The Good Place, Westworld, most mystery-box shows) are generally lower on my rewatch list.

Seeing the Vox interview was timely, because I was under the weather a bit last week and Emily and I wound up binging through some of our most comforting comfort-watches, and I thought I’d mention them here in case I ever need a reminder of what evergreen content I can go back to in times of need.

The list below starts with the shows we have recently or are currently rewatching, but I am adding a few series that are just as satisfying (for me, at least, YMMV).

Band of Brothers (2001, 1 season, 10 episodes, HBOMax)

My friend Andrew Liptak recently joked on Facebook that his wife had put on the first episode of Band of Brothers and that as a result, “now I can’t do anything for the next 10 hours.” I commented that I understood and that just reading his post would likely also be enough to get me to binge the whole thing, and I did just that.

I get something new from this WWII series from co-producers Stephen Spielberg and Tom Hanks on each watch. It’s a nearly perfect piece of filmed entertainment. Each episode is a standalone story but the ten episodes also work as a cohesive whole. The story is based on real events but as with the best fiction, it manages to have themes and subtext and it has meaningful things to say about the events it depicts, and also about ourselves as Americans, and about war and the larger world. It’s also a page-turner. I’m eager to click “next episode” as each one ends. Chef’s kiss. Perfect television.

I remember when HBO first aired the series. Partly because it followed hot on the hells of Spielberg and Hanks’ epic WWII film, Saving Private Ryan, and partly because HBO did not quite yet have the reputation it has since earned for top-tier entertainment, I assumed at the time that it was going to be a pale imitation of SPR and a cheap attempt to keep earning money off the success of that project. Boy, was I wrong.

I’ll note that I have never re-watched the follow-up series by the same creators, The Pacific. It was good, but really grim, and the thought of sitting through it again feels like work to me. I am, however, eager for their third outing, Masters of the Air, about the role the Eighth Air Force played in WWII. It’s coming to AppleTV+ later this year.

Pride and Prejudice (1995, 1 season, 6 episodes, BBC, Prime Video)

Oh, Mr. Bennet, you take delight in vexing me! In the past 30 years the world has been treated to a number of excellent filmed Jane Austen adaptations, whether in the form of transmogrifications like the Bridget Jones films and Clueless, or straight ahead period pieces like Autumn De Wilde’s recent adaptation of Emma or Ang Lee’s outstanding 1995 version of Sense and Sensibility (1995–96 was a particularly stellar year for Ms. Austen). 2005’s Pride & Prejudice (note the ampersand replacing the word “and”) with Kiera Knightly as Elizabeth Bennet and Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Darcy was a hit, and is indeed a fine adaptation, although these days it’s difficult to see Matthew Macfadyen in anything and not have his performance polluted by the spirit of Tom Wambsgans (“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you … I’m just fucking with you, Greg! But really, though, I love you … Greg! I got you!,” etc.)

But the greatest Jane Austen adaptation of all remains 1995’s amazing six-hour-long BBC production of Pride and Prejudice, from Andrew Davies. I can practically quote the whole thing, I’ve seen it so many times. The casting is perfection, and the mood of the story is at turns serious, romantic, and comical.

The casting of the 2005 version is also terrific, and a few of the stars are arguably better actors (or at least more celebrated) than their 1995 BBC counterparts (compare Dame Judi Dench as Lady Catherine De Bourgh to Barbara Liegh Hunt, for example). Simon Woods and Rosamund Pike are both quite good as Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet, respectively, and Brenda Blethyn is always amazing and her turn as Mrs. Bennet is no outlier in her career. The 2005 film also looks wonderful, with believably candlelit nighttime scenes and sumptuous cinematography.

But the 2005 version suffers in comparison to its 1995 counterpart in two important ways, I think.

Firstly, Pride and Prejudice is a 400 page book in its paperback form, and the 2005 film’s runtime of just over two hours simply doesn’t allow for much nuance or character growth. Lizzie Bennet’s relationship with Mr. Wickham, for example, is barely given one scene in the film, while the six hours of the 1995 adaptation allows time for that relationship to mature, such that when her trust in the man is shaken, it resonates with the viewers. Wickham’s fall from grace is central to the plot of P&P and the 2005 film just doesn’t have the minutes to spare to show it to us. The 127-minute film feels rushed.

Secondly, its tone is decidedly more dour than the 1995 series. Broad comic characters, like the insufferably ridiculous Mr. Collins, and the ever-vexed Mrs. Bennet, are played for laughs, but there’s a realism and pathos in their performances that, while laudable, misses some of the overt silliness that imbues the 1995 series. This strikes me as a missed opportunity and a fundamental misread of the novel:

Mr. Collins … was a tall, heavy-looking young man of five-and-twenty. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal. He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters, said he had heard much of their beauty, but that, in this instance, fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time well disposed of in marriage. This gallantry was not much to the taste of some of his hearers; but Mrs. Bennet, who quarrelled with no compliments, answered most readily, —

“You are very kind, sir, I am sure; and I wish with all my heart it may prove so; for else they will be destitute enough. Things are settled so oddly.”

“You allude, perhaps, to the entail of this estate.”

“Ah, sir, I do indeed. It is a grievous affair to my poor girls, you must confess. Not that I mean to find fault with you, for such things, I know, are all chance in this world. There is no knowing how estates will go when once they come to be entailed.”

“I am very sensible, madam, of the hardship to my fair cousins, and could say much on the subject, but that I am cautious of appearing forward and precipitate. But I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them. At present I will not say more, but, perhaps, when we are better acquainted — — ”

He was interrupted by a summons to dinner; and the girls smiled on each other. They were not the only objects of Mr. Collins’s admiration. The hall, the dining-room, and all its furniture, were examined and praised; and his commendation of everything would have touched Mrs. Bennet’s heart, but for the mortifying supposition of his viewing it all as his own future property. The dinner, too, in its turn, was highly admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellence of its cookery was owing. But here he was set right by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him, with some asperity, that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen. He begged pardon for having displeased her. In a softened tone she declared herself not at all offended; but he continued to apologize for about a quarter of an hour.

The 2005 film doesn’t get the tone completely wrong, but it fails live up to the inherent absurdity of scenes like this, it seems to me. By contrast, the 1995 series is all-in on the inane pompousness and absurd entitlement that Austen was so cleverly mocking.

Perhaps most damning is the simple fact that I don’t really have a desire to rewatch the 2005 film. That’s the funny thing about comfort-watches — sometimes the thing that makes them so re-watchable is greater than the sum of all their parts.

The Expanse (2015–2021, 6 seasons, Prime Video)

We are beginning season three as I write this post. I’m actually amazed at how binge-worthy this show still is. This is our third time through and the series only ended two years ago, yet we are constantly picking up on little things throughout. I have written about The Expanse before — about how the books and TV show compliment each other and improve the experience of consuming each mode of storytelling in equal measure, and about how faithful it is to basic scientific accuracy (a few minor quibbles notwithstanding). But the characters and relationships are what keep it such a lovely thing to revisit. I won’t drag on about this. If you know, you know.

I will, however, take a moment to level a minor complaint about The Expanse. It’s a problem that stems from the books and was compounded by the TV production, and its name is James Holden. The books center Holden as the moral hero/leader of our ragtag group of misfits who save the system time and again, which wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that he’s just so bland. His character comes straight out of central casting in terms of white guy hero/savior, and whatever, the authors are white guys too so I get it, and I wouldn’t have even mentioned it if he wasn’t actively less interesting than literally everyone else in the series. I mean, he’s fine. He’s not a bad character, he’s just not as great as all the others, so his blandness is accentuated by proximity.

The show made matters worse by casting Steven Strait as Holden. No shade against Steven Strait — I’m sure he’s a lovely person and he’s very good looking and he does the dark, tortured brooding thing rather well, but in scenes where Holden is expected to be emotional, Strait is just not in the same class as his fellow cast and it really shows. Anger, in particular, is an emotion the actor doesn’t wear well, and Holden is full of rage at many key moments, so it’s a problem.

But whatever. The Expanse is still one of my all time favorite science fiction shows and I suspect I will be happily rewatching it for many years.

Justified (2010–2015, 6 seasons, FX)

I haven’t binged any Justified in a couple of years, but I would watch the whole thing right now (now is actually a good time to re-watch because a new limited series, Justified: City Primeval is set to premiere in mid 2023).

I’ve always appreciated films based on the books of Elmore Leonard. Stephen Soderbergh’s Out of Sight (1998) is a comfortable rewatch for me as well. Jackie Brown (based on Leonard’s novel, Rum Punch) is one of my favorite Quentin Tarantino films (Out of Sight and Jackie Brown actually share a character in common from Leonard’s cops and criminals universe: Ray Nicolette, played in both films by Michael Keaton).

There are lots of very good Leonard adaptations out there (52 Pickup, Get Shorty, 3:10 to Yuma, etc.), but just as the BBC Pride and Prejudice is the definitive screened adaptation of Jane Austen, Justified is that for Elmore Leonard. There’s just something about the way Timothy Olyphant delivers Leonard’s dialogue. There’s a poetry to it that he and the show runners are able to hear and translate to the screen. Leonard agreed, and before his death in 2013 he penned the novel, Raylan, which was inspired by the show, which was originally inspired by Leonard’s short story, Fire in the Hole. Then several scenes from Raylan wound up being used in Justified. Such was the symbiotic relationship between Leonard’s work and the show.

Justified has this way of introducing small, bit-part characters who seem fully fleshed out and real from the jump. They rarely survive an episode (if they’re bad guys), but they are never disposable. The central baddies on the show (Boyd Crowder, Mags Bennet, Robert Quarles, Wynn Duffy, et al) are each worthy of their own shows. And while there is an over-arching narrative over the course of the six seasons, you can really just drop in anywhere and pick it up mid stream. Sometimes if I can’t decide on anything to watch, I’ll just pick a Justified episode at random and hit play. The danger is that I won’t want to stop at just one.

Below are some honorable mentions in no particular order…

Fringe (2008–2013, 5 seasons, Fox)

I would argue that really just the first three seasons are particularly re-watchable. This is a rare example of a bingeable show from the era of 22-episode network seasons. And despite my belief that mystery box shows are usually less re-watchable, Fringe’s characters are so great that it’s an exception.

Warrior (2019 — present, 2 seasons with a 3rd on the way, HBOMax)

Based on an idea for a show that Bruce Lee shopped around in the early 70s (and which eventually got whitewashed into the David Carradine show, Kung Fu), Warrior kicks all kinds of ass. It follows the exploits of a Chinese immigrant to the U.S. in 1870s San Francisco who has come to America searching for his sister. He gets caught up in the gangs of Chinatown and the racial politics of the city, and is generally the coolest badass on the streets. Politicians, cops, the Irish labor unions and the Chinatown “tongs” are all rival factions for our hero to navigate. So good!

Fleabag (2016–2019, 2 seasons, Prime Video)

Based on Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s one woman show, which she premiered at the 2013 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Fleabag tells the story of a single woman living in London and all the various complications and tragedies that she endures, particularly as they pertain to her love life. Season one was largely a fleshed out version of the one-woman show, and season two was originally written for TV. The whole thing is great, but I actually think the six episodes of season two of Fleabag may be the greatest single season of television ever produced in the English language. So yes, it’s worth a re-watch.

Rome (2005–2007, 2 seasons, HBOMax)

Rome is the first of three European historical dramas on the list. It only lasted two seasons because it was so expensive to make. It’s a dramatization of historical events from Julius Caesar’s victories in the Gallic wars in 52 BC, his rise to dictatorship over Rome following his battle with the Roman Senate in 49 BC, and his fall and ultimate assassination on the Ides of March in 44 BC. The series also depicts the early years of the young Octavian, who is destined to become Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome. The second season focuses on Octavian’s rise to power and his clash with Mark Antony following Caesar’s assassination, and ends with the suicide of Antony and Cleopatra in 30 B.C. after their defeat at the Battle of Actium. Like the other European historical dramas on this list, the thing that makes Rome so compelling is its mix of real historical figures and events and plausible fictional characters who are witness to and directly involved with those events. These characters act as proxies for the viewers and moral centers for the action. They also provide real stakes since viewers who know the history will already know which historical characters will succeed and which will fail.

The Borgias (2011–2013, 3 seasons, Showtime)

The Borgias is Neil Jordan’s retelling of the sex and politics surrounding the rise of Pope Alexander VI (Jeremy Irons), who was basically the head of an Italian crime family who was elevated to Pope in the 15th century (yes, really). The new pope believes his ascendancy will make his family rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams but it turns out the papacy and politics of the Vatican are every bit as corrupt and venal as the streets of Rome. Whomever was responsible for casting the show had an incredible eye for actors who fit the period (Sean Harris, OMG). The Borgia family members serve as the show’s main characters but the supporting cast is filled with wonderful (and terrible) fictional characters too. This is gorgeous and horny stuff, filled with poisonings and incest, but all in service of something great (unlike the cheap and tawdry shenanigans of lesser historical dramas like The Tudors).

The Last Kingdom (2015–2023, 5 seasons and an upcoming movie, Netflix)

Now is the perfect time to watch all five seasons of The Last Kingdom because a concluding movie is set to premiere this summer. I joke with Emily that The Last Kingdom is so re-watchable because I always forget about what the hell was happening in the show as soon as I stop watching it, but while it’s on, it’s completely engrossing. The Last Kingdom is based on a series of novels called The Saxon Stories by Bernard Cornwell. The five seasons of the TV show cover events that take place in the years 866–918 (roughly) in the land that will become England, and focus on the exploits of an Anglo-born and Dane-raised protagonist named Uhtred (a fictionalized amalgam of real historical characters) who weaves his way through the major conflicts and events of the late 9th and early 10th centuries in the British Isles. Early seasons focus on the reign of King Alfred the Great’s dream of uniting England. The show is full of blood and politics and alliances forged and broken. I hear from my friends who know about such things that the show is pretty historically accurate in its broad strokes. If medieval historical fiction is your jam, this is about as good as it gets.

What shows do you like to volitionally re-consume?

Thanks to Emily for helping me brianstorm the shows I love to re-watch.

Volitional Reconsumption was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Dissecting Taylor Sheridan and David Mackenzie’s near-perfect cowboy elegy

There’s a scene that takes place about a third of the way into 2016’s outstanding Hell or High Water where Texas Rangers Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) and Alberto Parker (Gil Birmingham) come upon a group of cowboys guiding a herd of cattle across the highway, away from a sudden brush fire. Marcus politely checks in with the lead cow poke and says he wishes there was something they could do to help. The cowboy (in a cameo appearance by screenwriter, Taylor Sheridan), replies darkly, “Oughtta just let it turn me to ashes, put me outta my misery … 21st century I’m racing a fire to the river with a herd of cattle. And I wonder why my kids won’t do this shit for a living.”

As the cowboys cut through a fence and guide the endangered herd toward the Brazos River, Marcus tells his partner that even if they wanted to, there’s no one to call to help them. “These boys is on their own.”

The scene has no bearing on the plot of the film and its never mentioned again, yet this brief interlude is perhaps the most direct articulation of the film’s central theme: there was a time when men (men, specifically — the film is largely concerned with “exploring how men relate to men,” according to Sheridan) could earn a living and provide for their families in west Texas by doing regular, blue collar work — working the land, raising and managing cattle, etc. But that time has passed and been replaced by a world where the bank owns your land, wildfires chase your cattle, and no amount of fair work can get you out of debt.

I don’t know if Taylor Sheridan and director David Mackenzie would agree or if it was what they intended, but Hell or High Water is unambiguously anti-capitalist in its message.

The landscape of west Texas that’s depicted in the film is littered with get-out-of-debt billboards and foreclosure auction signs. The implicit threat of climate change is hinted at by the presence of fires like the one the ranchers are racing from. The world isn’t what it used to be and the working man has become a victim of craven and corrupt capitalist progress.

You don’t usually see sharp critiques of capitalism in western bank-robber stories featuring tough-guy protagonists. This dynamic is one of several ways Hell or High Water subverts narrative expectations and in the process manages to say something worthwhile and relevant about the human condition while also delivering an engrossing modern day cops-and-bank-robbers western.

The film’s main protagonist is Toby Howard (Chris Pine), a man who only sees one path to making a better life for his sons, so he has enlisted his volatile ex-con brother, Tanner (Ben Foster), to help him rob a series of small banks. The brothers are smart about their plans — they only take money from the teller drawers, no bills large than $20, just a few thousand dollars per robbery until they can raise the $40,000 they need to put their plan into motion.

Texas Ranger Marcus Hamilton (Bridges) is the man assigned to investigate the robberies. He’s one last case away from a looming, lonely retirement. Joining Marcus on the hunt is his partner, Alberto, a Ranger of Mexican and American Indian heritage. Marcus uses Alberto’s non-white lineage for some merciless racial ribbing and the film successfully threads the delicate needle of making their relationship both strained and strengthened by the banter.

Despite being, at its core, a cops and robbers yarn, the film’s tone is restrained, even somber. It’s a slow burn, punctuated by some tense moments of peril as well as moments of true beauty and character. Without being able to look each other in the eye when they say it, the Howard brothers really love each other, despite — or perhaps because of — their shared trauma growing up with a difficult and judgmental mother and an abusive father.

Texas Rangers Marcus and Alberto may not like each other much, but their mutual respect for each other is obvious, despite the sibling-like ribbing and irritation.

— Spoilers for Hell or High Water follow from here —

Hell or High Water is really a film with two protagonists, which is usually a problem in screenwriting, I think, but here it works. Marcus and Toby are both men who belong to a world that no longer exists. The world that’s coming has no place for either of them. They both have brothers at their sides, literal and figurative, respectively, and by the end of the film, both of those brothers have been killed by the sequence of events that unfolds.

And here is where I must lay my one critique of this otherwise perfect film. In the final act, Toby’s brother Tanner leads the police on a chase to give Toby the freedom and space to make his escape and fulfill their plan. In the process, Tanner shoots and kills Alberto (the bank robber brother kills the cop brother). The death is sudden, shocking, and gruesome, and Marcus is devastated by the murder of his partner. Then, with the assistance of a local rifle-toting good-guy-with-a-gun, Marcus circles around the ridge where Tanner is perched, takes up a sniper’s position, and kills him, thus ending the bank heist spree.

In the film’s final scene, some months later, Marcus confronts Toby about the events he had set in motion that led to these deaths, and the tension between the two men is fraught with a tragic respect and mutual enmity. It’s a hell of a scene — a dénouement that pays off both emotionally and narratively. And it would have been even better with just one tweak.

If, in the gun battle between Tanner and the police, Tanner had killed Marcus instead of Alberto, and if it was then Alberto who confronts Toby in that final scene, the whole thing would have been stronger.

First, it would have been another subversion of audience expectations. Marcus is, for all intents and purposes, a co-protagonist of the film. He’s a walking trope — the old Texas Ranger on the verge of retirement doing one last case, using all his world-weary wits to bring the bad guys down. He’s witness to a changing world, with wild fires and smart phones and bank foreclosures and partners who are Mexican-Indian. It’s well-worn territory in everything from The Over the Hill Gang to No Country For Old Men.

Toby and Marcus spend most of the film on a collision course and both characters are so smart and sympathetic, yet so completely opposed to each other’s plans, we viewers are eager to see them actually confront each other. Denying us that confrontation by killing Marcus in the gun fight flies in the face of narrative convention, and that’s partly why it would have been such a strong choice.

Killing Marcus instead of Alberto would have fit better thematically too. When Alberto expresses disdain at Marcus’ endless racial jabs, Marcus tells him its the insults he’ll miss when he’s gone. Marcus means after he’s retired, but the line gains weight if its his sudden death in the third act rather than Alberto’s. Also, Marcus is the sort of man the modern world no longer has use of. He’s dreading retirement. He even says to Alberto “who knows, maybe one of these bank robbers is gonna want a gunfight and I can dodge my retirement in a blaze of glory.”

In that final scene, if Marcus is the one who is killed, then the balance between the two protagonists is maintained. One overcomes the challenge of corrupt capitalism run amok, and the other is killed by it. Then it is Alberto’s anger and grief we are left contemplating as he faces this terrible reality. Alberto doesn’t get killed because he is the new world. He’s younger, not white, still full of naive idealism (expressed by his non-cynical interest in evangelical Christian TV and music). Imagine how that final scene would resonate with Alberto sitting on Toby’s porch instead of Marcus, drinking a beer and trying to understand why his friend was killed.

ALBERTO: How did you do it? Oh never mind. I’ll figure that out in time. Why? Why did you do it? I know why your brother Tanner did it. He robbed them banks because he liked it. He shot my partner 300 yards away because he liked it, it made him feel good. And if I hadn’t blown his shit for brains out, there’d be a new truck out front with jet skis or whatever else he could think to buy. He’d spend it all just to give him an excuse to steal some more. But not you. Nah, there’s nothin’ new around here, ‘cept them pump jacks, each one of them making you in a month what you and your brother stole from all four banks combined. Help me understand that. Help me understand why four people died so you could steal money that it don’t seem you’ve spent, that it don’t seem you need.

TOBY: You got a family?

ALBERTO: My partner had a family. A big one. They don’t got no pump jacks in their back yard.

TOBY: I didn’t kill your friend.

ALBERTO: Yes you did. By setting this thing in motion. You expect me to believe your dim witted brother planned this? Oh no, this was smart. This was you.

TOBY: I been poor my whole life. So were my parents, and their parents before them. It’s like a disease passing from generation to generation. It becomes a sickness, that’s what it is. Affects every person you know. But not my boys. Not anymore. This is theirs now. Now I ain’t never killed no one in my life, but if you want me to start with you, let’s get on with it. See if you can grab that pistol before I blast you off this porch.

I actually wonder if this was the plan all along and it got changed at some point. I doubt Taylor Sheridan or David Mackenzie will ever see this essay, but if I ever got a chance to ask them a question it would be this: Was there ever a thought to have Marcus instead of Alberto be the one who’s killed by Tanner in Hell or High Water’s third act? Was it considered and rejected? If so, why? It seems so obvious to me that it would make the film’s meaning that much more potent while also subverting some cliched tropes.

Regardless of this criticism, however, Hell or High Water remains one of my favorite films of the last decade.

The Only Flaw in Hell or High Water was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Keeping Your Feet on the Ground in The Expanse

I’m a pretty big fan of The Expanse — both the series of novels and novellas by James S.A. Corey and the TV adaptation of the first six of the nine novels. It remains the only screened adaptation of a beloved work of fiction that I can think of, where the original books and filmed adaptations actually improve the experiences of consuming both versions in equal measure. Reading the books enhances the TV-watching experience and the show adds depth and character to the books. I wrote about this several years back and it remains true.

The show, in particular, has earned a reputation for scientific accuracy. The physics of spaceflight are taken quite seriously in The Expanse and the show-runners go to great lengths to be faithful depicters of realistic science concepts like orbital mechanics, the effects of working in a vacuum, and especially the effects of acceleration in realistic space battles. I say the show, in particular, because while the books obviously also take the science seriously, that’s not all that unusual in the realm of science fiction novels. But TV sci-fi still mostly reduces the “science” part of science fiction to hand-wavy technobabble and oft-used tropes like faster-than-light travel, universal English-use, and artificial gravity.

And gravity is what I want to talk about today. I don’t think many non-book readers really get how gravity works in The Expanse, which is fine — I don’t think it’s all that critical a thing to understand in order to follow and enjoy the show, but I also think it’s wonderful how the series addresses the issue without resorting to a conceit that in the future they’ll somehow figure out a way to generate “artificial” gravity fields on spaceships.

How do those artificial gravity fields work, by the way? Like in Star Trek, is it deck-by-deck on the Enterprise, or does the whole ship have a gravity field? How much energy does it impart to the ship itself? Like, are they constantly using thrusters to keep the Enterprise from drifting in the direction of the artificial gravity field? Alas, Star Trek isn’t about answering pedantic questions of scientific accuracy — almost no science fiction on TV is. Then there is The Expanse.

There is no “artificial gravity” in The Expanse. The perception of gravity experienced by the characters in the series is all derived from natural, real-world phenomena. There are three distinct methods by which gravitational effects are explained in the world of The Expanse:

Mass-derived gravity

This is what you are experiencing right now (unless, I suppose, you’re reading this from the ISS, but even then you are technically “falling” toward the Earth due to its gravitational influence on you — you just keep missing). The Earth is a whole bunch of atoms held together by their own gravity and all that mass creates a “gravity well,” which you and I experience as “1G” of force (or 9.8 meters-per-second-squared of acceleration toward the ground). In The Expanse, the only people in Sol System who experience mass-derived gravity are those people who live on relatively large, rocky planets or moons. The Earth and Mars are gravity wells that produce enough mass-derived gravity for humans to walk around in (though the pull of gravity on Mars is only about 38% that of Earth). Also, some of the larger moons have been colonized and colonists there experience a reduced gravitational force, but enough to live there long-term. These moons include Ganymede, Titan, Callisto, Io, and Luna (the five largest moons in the system).

Acceleration-derived gravity

Not to be confused with “gravitational acceleration,” which is the acceleration of an object in free fall within a vacuum, in The Expanse, acceleration-derived gravity happens inside spaceships undergoing a constant rate of acceleration (made possible in-world by the Epstein nuclear fusion drive). People traveling inside such a ship undergoing acceleration feel the exertion of force pulling them in the opposite direction of travel. We feel a minute version of this in an accelerating car when we are pushed gently back in our seats as the car speeds up. A plane taking off from a runway offers a slightly more dramatic flavor of the effect of acceleration, but the sensation is short-lived as the plane quickly reaches its cruising speed and the acceleration mostly stops for the duration of the flight. In The Expanse, ships undergo constant acceleration, traveling faster and faster at each passing moment. This has two important physics benefits in the show/books: first, it means these ships get going really-really fast, which is how they are able to traverse the vast distances between planets and moons in mere days and weeks instead of the years that such journeys would take using conventional rocketry and by taking advantage of orbital shortcuts (which is how we get our space probes around the system IRL). Second, the constant acceleration means you can dial in how much gravity you want to experience on board during the journey — the more you accelerate, the heavier you’re going to feel and the faster you will arrive at your destination. In The Expanse, ships moving at 1G of acceleration are pretty zippy. Most standard cruising speeds typically produce .5G or .3G to accommodate Martians and Belters who are unused to the relative crush of 1G.

There is a problem with constantly accelerating during your trip though: you need to slow down or you’ll blow past your destination at Ludicrous Speed. Fortunately, deceleration offers the exact same experience for the traveller inside the ship, so the pilot shuts off the main drive and everyone experiences momentary microgravity free-fall as the ship is flipped around using tiny thrusters and the drive cone (along with the “floor” inside the spaceship) is aimed toward the destination and then reignited, slowing the ship at the same rate it had been accelerating. So if the ship took four days of constant acceleration to reach the half-way point of the journey, it will need to “flip-and-burn” and then constantly decelerate for an additional four days in order to safely arrive at its destination.

This sort of acceleration-derived gravity is not “artificial.” In fact, from a physics standpoint, it is no different from mass-derived gravity. Einstein called this the “Equivalence Principle” in his General Theory of Relativity, which states that no physical measurement or experiment can distinguish a reference frame that is accelerating (relative to an inertial frame) from one that is placed in a uniform gravitational field (like the surface of a planet). Taking this a step further, it’s not inaccurate to say that the gravity we feel on the surface of Earth is actually acceleration-derived gravity — the surface of the Earth is constantly accelerating upwards at 9.8 M/S² (yes, really).

Spin-derived gravity

The last way that characters in The Expanse experience gravity is the most exotic and hard to intuitively imagine, though there are some real-world examples to rely on. Characters living on the asteroids Ceres and Eros, or on Tycho Station or onboard The Behemoth/Medina Station are all experiencing spin-gravity. On Tycho and Medina, this is pretty straight-forward: there’s a ring (or a drum, in the case of Medina) that spins at such a rate that anyone standing on the inside wall (their feet pointing outwards, their heads pointing toward the center of the ring/drum) will feel the centrifugal force of the spin pulling them outward, away from the center of spin (technically, what we think of as centrifugal force is really just the inertial force being countered by the centripetal force of the outer wall of the station pushing the passengers/crew toward the center of spin, but it’s more intuitive to think of it as an outward-pushing force). This is the same effect that you might experience at a fair or amusement park on a ride usually called the “Round-Up.” Patrons stand on a circular platform against a wall and as the ride spins faster the force pushing them against the outside wall becomes greater than the force of Earth’s gravity and the floor can drop away leaving the riders suspended by the spin-forces. The same thing is happening on Tycho and Medina, but on a much larger scale. The result is that characters can walk around and experience something very similar to a gravitational field.

On the asteroids like Ceres and Eros, the mass of the asteroids is so small that the gravity provided by their mass is negligible at best, and too low for humans to spend long periods of time there without experiencing the significant health consequences associated with prolonged exposure to microgravity. But in The Expanse, clever engineers figured out a way to “spin-up” these asteroids (using many hundreds of Epstein fusion drives firing constantly for decades). A number of underground habitats were established near the surface of the rocky bodies along their equators, and once the asteroids were spinning fast enough, Belter colonists could inhabit them like they were inside a giant space station with a spinning ring. So in any scenes on Ceres or Eros, “down” is toward the surface of the asteroids and “up” is toward the core, or center-of-spin.

Watch this establishing scene of Ceres from S1 E1 and pay attention. The camera shows us how gravity behaves inside the asteroid, but don’t blink, or you might miss it (the critical shot begins at about :20):

And here is a little illustration I just made that is in no way a rip off and is completely original in every way, shut up:

While this is a nifty sci-fi idea, it turns out there are some significant physics problems associated with the idea of spinning-up something as massive as Ceres. In particular, the amount of thrust required to get it up the the required rotational speed in something like a decade is fantastically huge, even for engineers with access to powerful Epstein Drives. Perhaps more worryingly, even if you had enough energy to do the task, the asteroid would fling itself apart if it began spinning fast enough to create the spin-gravity suggested in The Expanse. But hey, James S. A. Corey is the pen name of a pair of writers, not a pair of engineers. It’s still a pretty cool idea.

Unlike acceleration-derived gravity, one can distinguish spin gravity from mass-derived gravity. In particular, the farther inward toward the center of spin you go, the smaller the gravitational effect — this includes moving away from the equator and toward the poles of the sphere. Gravity will be strongest at the equator. At the exact center of these bodies and at the poles, the gravitational effect (from spin) is zero. So if you were trapped in a room and didn’t know if the gravity you were experiencing was due to acceleration or spin, you could theoretically measure the force of gravity at your feet and at your head, calculate the difference, and then infer what the cause of gravity was. And if it was caused by spin, you could further calculate the radius of the spinning object and the speed of its spin (this is actually used as a plot device in early chapters of Andy Weir’s excellent book, Project Hail Mary).

In the TV show, there are occasional nods to the effects of spin gravity where you might see liquid pouring from a bottle at an angle due to the coriolis effect, for example. In the season two scenes where Miller goes to Eros to plant a series of nukes to blow it up, he and Diogo need to remain tethered while on the surface lest they be flung out into space by the rapidly spinning asteroid. The Behemoth’s spinning drum and subsequent gravity was a plot point in season three as it was the only way to generate enough gravity to effectively treat the many wounded people caught in the “slow zone.”

Mag Boots

I suppose there is one other way that The Expanse handles gravity, but it’s the least interesting. Space suits are fitted with magnetized boots that one can easily click on or off. If the boots are near magnetic deck plating, they adhere the wearer by their feet to the deck and allow for some awkward “walking” around in microgravity environments. It makes sense that suits would be equipped in this way, but the show makes too much use of them, in my humble opinion. It depicts mag-boot use as standard operating procedure for most anyone in any microgravity situation inside a spaceship. I understand why — simulating the look of zero-G is hard to do on TV and expensive to pull off well. So it’s convenient if everyone has short or severely pulled-back haircuts and if they all wear mag boots all the time so the actors can stand on the deck and talk even when they are ostensibly in a zero-G context. But the truth is anyone who is used to living and working in space would quickly become comfortable navigating in microgravity without having their feet locked to the floor all the time. This is one small way in which the show doesn’t live up to the vision of life in space offered by the books, but it’s a pretty forgivable one.

If you made it all the way to the end of this post, congratulations, you are a nerd. Please note I am not a physicist, so if I got anything wrong, I do apologize. Also, go buy Randall Munroe’s new book!

The Gravity of the Situation was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

What I thought of Avatar the day after I saw it in 2009

I recently came across a review of James Cameron’s Avatar that I wrote the day after I’d seen it. It’s fascinating for me to look back at this because I barely remember the film. I recall that it was a Big Deal at the time and everyone was talking about it and what it meant for the future of cinema (3D was still very much in vogue and Cameron’s use of face-tracking CGI techniques was groundbreaking, etc.). But as the years passed, so did all the details — the characters, the specific plot points, the dialogue — it all just sort of blew away on the toxic winds of Pandora. Despite all the money and all the hype (and my surprisingly positive review the next day), in hindsight Avatar is one of Cameron’s most forgettable films. Which I suppose is why I still haven’t bothered to see its sequel, Avatar: The Way of Water.

So come with me back to 2009. Barack Obama was president. J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek had been released a few months earlier. Other films released that year included Up, The Hangover, and Sherlock Holmes.

Avatar in Black and White

Somewhere near the middle of James Cameron’s three-hour long sci-fi spectacle, Avatar, I had to pee. The “medium” Diet Pepsi I’d been nursing was making its presence known in my bladder and the matter was just becoming too urgent to ignore. So I waited until I perceived a relative lull in the narrative, took off my 3-D glasses and exited the theater for the men’s room. In the fluorescent glare of the bathroom it occurred to me that I was experiencing a little meta-moment at the movies. The film is in large part about a guy (our hero) who uses fancy technology to enter a different world and experience things unlike the things he’s used to experiencing. In the course of the film he goes into and out of that new world by connecting to or being disconnected from that technology. And here I was, under the bright men’s room light, having been disconnected from my own fantastic world by disconnecting from technology — my 3-D glasses. The real world (while also technically in 3-D) was vastly less exciting and exotic than the one playing out in the room down the hall from me at that moment. After relieving myself, I went back and reconnected myself to the technology and hence to the virtual experience of the film, making a mental note about this insight so I could blog about it later in yet another virtual world.

This insight about the various layers of reality at play in the modern cinema-going experience may be about as deep an analysis as it’s possible to get out of Avatar. For while the film is at heart a morality play with political and moral messages central to its plot, the politics are overly simplistic and the morals are black and white.

Indeed, this is the primary criticism I’ve seen of the film so far — that its messages are trite and its characters and politics are simplistic. This is true, but so what? Compare the morality play in Avatar to the one at work in, say, Star Wars. Compare Avatar’s political messages to the ones at work in District 9. Does Avatar fare better or worse in those comparisons? Then look at the rest of Cameron’s oeuvre. The Terminator films, Aliens, The Abyss, True Lies, Titanic. We should know what to expect from this guy by now and it’s not deep, meaningful message-films.

Let’s be honest. Cameron isn’t Lars Von Trier. He’s a director of big budget, Hollywood action-adventure sci-fi films, but of course he’s much more than that too.

I’m reminded of that scene at the end of Die Hard when Holly Gennaro McClane realizes that the “terrorists” were really just in it for the money and she says to Hans Gruber, “you’re nothing but a common thief,” and Gruber crawls over to her and spitefully hisses, “I am an exceptional thief, Mrs. McClane!”

Well James Cameron isn’t just your common director of big budget, Hollywood action-adventure sci-fi films, he’s an exceptional director of big budget, Hollywood action-adventure sci-fi films.

On the level of storytelling, narrative exposition, yarn spinning, whatever you want to all it, Avatar is quite simply a masterpiece. Cameron has built a complete world — the moon of Pandora — and populated it with a dense and deeply interconnected system of flora and fauna and an indigenous culture that seems real (if a pastiche of various tribal Earth-born cultures). He’s also introduced human characters in a sci-fi setting with backstories and a world of their own (a world, it’s worth noting, that seems almost indistinguishable from the one that the Aliens characters inhabited in terms of technology and corporate/military relationships). A lesser filmmaker could not have gotten the audience hooked into the story of the film without a metric ton of clunky exposition and information-dumps. That Cameron was able to get us to care about the characters and stakes and still spend the last act on a giant action set-piece is simply amazing in this light. Leaving Avatar, I had learned a tremendous amount of information about a completely alien world and I never once became awkwardly aware of story exposition.

In hindsight I can see that Cameron took all of the standard expository shortcuts — he told the story of Avatar through the eyes of an untrained n00b so the audience learned about the world along with the main character (both the world of the human science/military project and the world of Pandora). He used voiceover narration in the form of a video log that said n00b was required to keep, thereby allowing Cameron to tell us things about the world rather than having to show us, which takes more time. He used a time-compressing montage during which we understand our hero to be developing his skills as a Na’vi hunter as well as developing his relationship with Neytiri. Again, in the hands of a lesser filmmaker, these tropes would have seemed obvious and clichéd. But Cameron is a master storyteller, and as a result, we audience members don’t even notice the enormous amount of exposition going on constantly throughout the film.

Cameron also lets his actors really inhabit their roles. As stated earlier, the material in Avatar is pretty two-dimensional. The only moral ambiguity present in any of the characters exists in space of their waffling over whether to choose the just and moral path or the craven and evil one. There is no middle road for any of these characters to tread. Some are unambiguously good (Jake, the scientists, and pretty much all of the Na’vi), some are unambiguously evil (Col. Quaritch) and some just need to make up their minds about it (company man Selfridge, marine pilot Chacon). Given such limited constraints on the characters, it’s impressive how real they seem for the most part. Giovanni Ribisi, for example, does a great job of playing the role of the Half Ted company man. Without many lines, he’s able to convey his moral quandary admirably well.

There are a couple of sour notes that are worth noting because they’re just so bad. The mineral that the humans are looking to obtain from Pandora (the mining of which is the cause of the central conflict in Avatar) is called… wait for it… “unobtainium.” Unobtainium is a word historically used “for any extremely rare, costly, or physically impossible material needed to fulfill a given design for a given application.” Okay, so why not just call it “Macguffinite?” Seriously, why not just make Pandora rich in gold? Why make up a mineral?

And while Avatar is much closer to Aliens than it is to Titanic in form, Cameron decided to use a James Horner-composed theme song (ala My Heart Will Go On from Titanic), crooned by Celine Dion imposter Leona Lewis, for the end credits. The Celine Dion song was easily the worst thing about Titanic but at least it sort of fit the material a bit. Here such a song is totally out of place.

It’s too bad that Cameron needs to reinvent filmmaking and outspend the GDPs of most of the world’s nations in order to come out with a film. He’s quite skilled at making these sci-fi adventures. It would be nice to see him do it more often.

Revisiting Pandora was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Entertainment Palate-Cleanser You Didn’t Know You Needed

Back when the internet was going through its awkward adolescent years, some guys from Maryland started a comedy website called College Humor. It featured content of varying degrees of humor and relative viral-ness, some of which was original and some of which was user-generated. Eventually the site was purchased by multi-billion-dollar holding company, AIC, and it prospered in the 2010s and grew its audience and bullpen of writers and performers until just before the pandemic, when AIC sold majority shares in the company to College Humor’s Chief Creative Officer, Sam Reich. Somewhere in all of this the web-based content had shifted to focus on YouTube and a dedicated streaming service called Dropout (get it? They were in college and now they’ve dropped out?).

The phoenix that has arisen from the ashes of College Humor’s sale and the subsequent pandemic is a lean little streaming service offering incredibly charming, hilarious, geek-culture-forward content, largely in the form of game shows featuring CH’s cast of writers and comedic performers. It’s a bunch of 30-something creatives who live in Los Angeles cracking each other up in clever and surprising (and often touching) ways.

Emily and I first caught wind of Dropout from short clips they were posting to TikTok from the game show, Game Changer, which is hosted by Reich and is the game-show version of every party game you’ve ever played where the point of the game is to guess what the rules are. It’s nothing short of delightful. The contestants are all people we would be thrilled to know socially (it doesn’t hurt that they are professionally funny) and the audience gets to figure the games out right along with them.

Several full episodes of Game Changer are available on YouTube. I recommend starting with this one:

Much of the streaming content we watch is pretty, shall we say, dark. Like, we’re in season two of the Das Boot series right now (it’s excellent, but holy god is it grim), and an episode of Game Changer is a wonderful little pre-bedtime chaser after an hour or two of fictional Nazi brutality.

Other delightful offerings available on the Dropout channel include:

• Dimension 20 — Brennan Lee Mulligan hosts his friends in a game of D&D.
• Um, Actually — a game show where the host tells you something about geek culture and intentionally gets some nerdy detail wrong and the contestants have to buzz in and correct the host, always beginning by saying “um, actually…”
• Breaking News — a fake newscast where the anchors are given funny things to say on the teleprompter and they have to try not to laugh. The one who laughs most, loses.

…and many others.

Game Changer is in its 5th season and they’re still making new episodes.

There are only a few full episodes and a handful of clips on YouTube but a year-long subscription to Dropout is just $60 ($5/mo) and the time-spent:joy ratio is a lot better than most offerings. Highly recommended.

Dropout: The Ultimate Media Chaser was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m gonna fix your TV

It’s the holiday season and many of us are visiting relatives. I thought this tweet was a pretty great public service announcement…

The text reads:

For everyone visiting their parents this week: LG tvs call it TrueMotion; Roku/TCL calls it Action Smoothing; Samsung calls it Auto Motion Plus; Sony calls it MotionFlow; Panasonic calls it Intelligent Frame Creation; Amazon Fire TVs call it Motion Processing

This season, give the gift of image quality. Friends don’t let friends live with motion-smoothing.

This has been a What I’m Watching public service announcement.

Hand Me the Remote was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Because exactly zero people asked

It’s December and all the media bloggers and TikTokers and YouTubers are making their year-end lists and I have some strongly held opinions I need to get off my chest! Also, for reasons that don’t need to be revealed here (but that will probably result in a post that’s brewing) I spent the last two nights watching Con Air and The Rock (in that order) and I just need a break from the explosions, non sequitur edits, and over-the-top Nick Cage moments, so why not organize all my thoughts about streaming media from the last year?

Year-end lists are interesting things. They reveal a lot about the list writer’s tastes, obviously, but also about the sorts of things we are exposed to in this oversaturated media ecosystem. I watched or read several best-of-2022 TV lists while preparing my own and I’m utterly fascinated by the ones that contain several shows that the authors thought were the best of the year, but that I have never even heard of! Sure, there are a few break-out shows that are on most people’s lists because they’re so amazing (ahem, Severance, ahem), but then there are shows like these, all of which were name checked on various top-ten lists I have seen and I had not heard of any of them before:

• Better Things S5 (FX)
  5 seasons of this thing! Apparently it was co-created by Louis CK and he directed the first episode, but since then it appears to be all Pamela Adlon (who is great, so I should check this out).
• Industry S2 (HBO)
  London-based high finance drama, favorably compared to Succession.
• Made For Love S2 (HBOMax)
  Now that I think of it I did see one episode of S1 but didn’t know it was still a thing. So I have actually heard of this one.
• Rap Shit (HBOMax)
  Created by Issa Rae.
• This Is Going To Hurt (BBC)
  Medical comedy/drama based on a memoir by the showrunner.
• We Own This City (HBO)
  Crime drama set in Baltimore that’s being called a “spiritual successor” to The Wire (it was co-created by David Simon).

It just goes to show you how much great content there is right now that there were at least six shows on major streaming platforms made by and/or starring famous people that made media blogger top ten lists in 2022 that someone like me (who, let’s face it, watches way too much TV) completely missed! My list is 30 shows long and features more than 20 additional shows that I watched but that didn’t make the cut for various reasons, and an another eight shows that I intended to watch but I just haven’t yet. And remember, we’re only talking about shows that were released in 2022 and that are good enough to be considered for a best-of list. I’m not even mentioning all the run-of-the-mill broadcast-TV crap and reality shows that are on (yes, I watched the last season of The Great British Baking Show, but Paul Hollywood doesn’t deserve to be on my list).

What’s not on my list

First off, I’m only including shows that finished a season in 2022. So Yellowjackets S1 is on my list because it started in late 2021 but the last few episodes were released in January of 2022, so it counts. However, Tulsa King S1 is still releasing new episodes and won’t complete until early 2023, so Sly will have to wait until next year to get on my list.

I should also say that even though I am being careful to explain here why some shows that people might think should be on my list aren’t, I am not name-checking every show that could possibly be on anyone’s list. If you really loved The Orville S3 (or whatever) and you want to see it get some critical love, then you should start your own media blog and tell the world all about it.

I am likewise not including any 2022 shows that I started but have not yet finished watching, even if all the episodes are available to me. For this reason you will not find the following shows on my list, regardless of how good I may think they are:

• Brassic S4
• The Dropout
• Interview With The Vampire
• Jack Ryan S3
• Let the Right One In
• The Midnight Club
• Mythic Quest S3
• The Outlaws S2
• Slow Horses S2
• Tulsa King
• Wednesday
• What We Do In the Shadows S4
• Willow

And then there are a few shows I know I should be watching, and which I fully intend to watch, but that I just haven’t yet for whatever reason. This includes several that I suspect would be in my top ten (just based on what other people are saying about them) but I simply haven’t seen them, so I can’t include them. Here they are (I know, shut up!):

• Atlanta S3 & S4
• Barry S3
• Better Call Saul S6
• Candy
• Minx
• Outer Range
• The Rehearsal
• White Lotus S2

And lastly there are the seasons of TV that I watched all the way through and that other people seem to think are worthwhile, but that I thought were either overrated, boring, or both. They are:

• Every Marvel Show on Disney+ (Moon Knight, Ms. Marvel [best of the three], She Hulk: Attorney At Law
• The Book of Boba Fett
• For All Mankind S3
• House of the Dragon
• Reacher
• Westworld S4

Okay, so what IS on the list???

2022 was kind of an amazing year for original streaming narrative content. I wonder if we are experiencing a post-pandemic spike in quality shows or if this is just what the state of episodic narrative shows would have been anyway. Regardless, it’s notable that there are so many great first seasons to mention. I know that there is growing speculation that the golden era of prestige TV is coming to an end, and if so, this must be the last hurrah because 2022 really featured some gems.

Below are the bottom 20 of my top 30 best shows of 2022, listed in chronological order of their release dates:

Yellowjackets (Showtime, finished in January)
2022 was marked by a lot of really good “mystery box” shows (or what TV Tropes calls “the Jigsaw Puzzle Plot”) and this one is terrific. Compares very favorably to Lost at its best. A career-defining role for Christina Ricci. Can’t wait for S2.

The Afterparty (AppleTV+, January)
The mystery box trend continues with this comedy from Christopher Miller (one half of the Miller & Lord writing team). Great ensemble cast. Lots of fun.

Peacemaker (HBOMax, January)
Can James Gunn save the DCEU? This show is why some people think so.

Our Flag Means Death (HBOMax, March)
You will laugh and cry and want to be a queer pirate. Five stars.

Upload S2 (Prime Video, March)
The main guy still looks just like Tom Cruise to me. This is goofy fun lite sci-fi.

The Man Who Fell to Earth (Showtime, April)
A sequel and a remake at the same time and much better than the film it’s based on (from a book by Walter Tevis).

The Offer (Paramount+, April)
Some of the most fun I had watching TV this year. Every character except the main one was outstanding. The putative protagonist is dull and charisma-less, but everyone else was amazing. Matthew Goode’s turn as Paramount head Robert Evans is everything.

Under the Banner of Heaven (FX/Hulu, April)
Andrew Garfield had to go on a hiatus from acting after turning in this dark performance. Grim, but amazing.

Obi Wan Kenobi (Disney+ May)
Some cool fan service and a few decent beats with Darth Vader kept this show on the list, even though on balance I think it was a disappointment.

Stranger Things S4 (Netflix, May)
I always expect this show to outstay its welcome, but the fourth season is another really fun time from the Duffers.

Dark Winds (AMC+, June)
Zahn McClarnon is having a moment and this is a great vehicle for his talents. Not enough people are watching this but a second season is apparently coming.

The Old Man (FX/Hulu, June)
This genre is a bit tired but Jeff Bridges and John Lithgow are national treasures and a joy to watch. Lithgow, in particular, seems to be at the very top of his acting game in his 70s.

Only Murders in the Building S2 (Hulu, June)
A self-referential sophomore slump, but I can watch “the Martins” do anything and enjoy it.

A League of Their Own (Prime Video, August)
Huge surprise. So good. Better than the movie.

The Sandman (Netflix, August)
I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this. It was a good adaptation and it wasn’t nearly as dated as I worried it would be.

Welcome to Wrexham (FX/Hulu, August)
This is the only documentary series that made my list. It’s real-life Ted Lasso.

The Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power (Prime Video, September)
This may be the #1 most divisive show on the list. If I have to listen to another millennial YouTuber blather about how they hate this show because it’s not enough like Peter Jackson’s movies I’m going to explode. It’s a good show. Get over your misplaced nostalgia.

SAS: Rogue Heroes (BBC, October)
Based on a book titled The History of the SAS, Britain’s Secret Special Forces Unit That Sabotaged the Nazis and Changed the Nature of War, and that’s pretty much all you need to know.

1899 (Netflix, November)
From the makers of Dark. Mystery box turned up to eleven.

The Crown S5 (Netflix, November)
This show really puts the “prestige” in prestige TV. It’s gorgeous, compelling, and tawdry in a very upper class sort of way.

The Top Ten

Finally, here are my top ten picks:

10. Reservation Dogs S2 (FX/Hulu, August)
This show! S2 is even better than the outstanding S1. It’s character-driven indy film vignettes featuring a gang of coming-of-age friends and the quirky inhabitants of the res. Aho! Skoden.

9. The Resort (Peacock, July)
Mystery box in paradise! This one came out of nowhere and surprised the hell out of me. The slowly unfolding sci-fi conceit is a lot of fun and the cast is wonderful.

8. The Peripheral (Prime Video, October)
Based on a 2014 William Gibson novel, this is the most authentically “science fiction” show of 2022. The cliffhanger season finale was a bit brisk and left too many questions, but otherwise this is deeply thoughtful, expertly executed and smart SF.

7. Slow Horses (AppleTV+, April)
Season 1 dropped in April and S2 is airing now. If Gary Oldman just does this for the rest of his career, I’ll be happy. Based on a series of books, this is a very Tinker-Tailor sort of spy series but with a sharp, often absurd wit.

6. Andor (Disney+, September)
Tony Gilroy has gathered a writers room full of the best political thriller writers working today and had them spit out a Star Wars show that’s thrilling, surprising, utterly lacking in space wizards or anyone named Skywalker, and also an incredibly authentic depiction of the real cost paid by those who choose to stand up to fascist tyranny.

5. Mayor of Kingstown (Paramount+, Finished in January)
Taylor Sheridan is one of the best and most prolific TV creators working, but all of the excitement around him has to do with his Yellowstone-verse cadre of shows, and as a result, no one is talking about this amazing Jeremy Renner vehicle. The writing is so sharp it will cut you. Season two drops next month.

4. Severance (AppleTV+, February)
Sci Fi absurdist dystopian workplace drama imbued with Ben Stiller’s dry wit? Yes, please! All you other shows take note: this is how you do a mystery box!

3. Station Eleven (HBOMax, Finished in January)
This was my wife’s favorite show this year by a country mile. It’s a post apocalyptic show about grief, hope, and art as cathartic therapy. Wikipedia describes it as dystopian, but there’s a strong argument to be made that it’s actually utopian fiction.

2. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (Paramount+, May)
I’m not seeing this on many best-of lists and I’m not too surprised by that. Its mostly here because it was such a joy for me, personally. Not perfect, by any stretch, but the best Star Trek I’ve seen in decades.

And the number one show of 2022 is (drumroll please)…

The Bear (FX/Hulu, June)
This unlikely little show seemingly came out of nowhere and absolutely floored me. It’s a kitchen workplace drama (I keep seeing it described as a “comedy,” which is just bizarre) that traffics in themes of grief, addiction, and food as an expression of art/love. Every performance is pitch perfect and it features the best single-take episode I’ve ever seen. 2022 had a hell of a lot of great shows, but nothing touches The Bear.

Takeaways

I watched six of these top 30 shows on Hulu, more than any other streaming service, and five of those six shows on Hulu were produced for FX (Only Murders in the Building was a Hulu exclusive). Amazon Prime and Netflix each featured four shows on the list (though none from Netflix made the top ten). Paramount+, HBOMax, and AppleTV+ had three shows each (FWIW, it looks like HBO would have fared much better in the runnings if I had watched more of the shows I intended to but didn’t get around to seeing). Showtime and Disney+ had two each. One show each was from Peacock, AMC+, and the BBC.

Notably absent was anything produced for and shown on an American broadcast network. I did watch a bit of Evil and The Good Fight, which are decent shows that aired on CBS, but they weren’t good enough for me to bother to watch a whole season.

Nine of the top ten shows were first seasons (or stand alone mini series). Only one (Reservation Dogs) was a follow-up season. Only four of the other 20 shows were follow-up seasons, so that’s only five out of 30 that weren’t brand new TV shows in 2022.

Seven of these 25 new shows were wholly original and not based on any prior-existing IP, which is frankly remarkable. That’s 28% completely original storytelling — not based on a book, comic, or a prior TV show or movie. If only the movies coming out of Hollywood could achieve such a goal.

Although I’ve been an avid consumer of media for years, I didn’t start this blog until this year, so it’s hard for me to know if the sense I get that 2022 was an especially amazing year for original streaming content is accurate in comparison to any other recent years, but it sure seems that way!

What’s on your list? What’s missing from mine? What are you looking forward to seeing in 2023? I am especially excited about some back-from-the-dead shows next year, particularly Party Down S3, Warrior S3, and Justified: City Primeval.

Happy new year!

My 30 Top TV Shows of 2022 was originally published in What I’m Watching on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.