This week’s rewatch covers “After Life,” from Season 6. It’s a Jane Espenson episode and so, despite the bleakness, it has its moments of funny.
Author Archives: Alyx Dellamonica
Telewitterings: The Killing, S3
Somehow I didn’t mind all that much that the first two seasons of The Killing were slow-moving and, in their way, low on plot. I find Mirielle Enos fascinating and once he finally won me over, I became inexplicably charmed by Joel Kinnamon too. Plus, Michelle Forbes! She was incredible. As a bonus, Michelle was screen-married to Brent Sexton, who was awesome on Life and who deserved a meaty role, despite his total lack of what are sometimes called leading man looks.
Kelly was not so engaged, and so S3 has been quietly piling, like snow drifting up, in our DVR queue. Then, Thursday, she had to go to a work retreat. So I watched it. I watched four episodes. And Holy Carp.
Okay. First, the casting mancakes. Hugh Dillon will always be Joe Dick to me, and well-beloved at that. I heart him. So–Joe Dick as, well, a dickly prison warden. He is still a thoroughly charismatic gargoyle.
And as his minion? The Chief from Battlestar Galactica, otherwise known as Aaron Douglas.
But wait! Buy now and instead of a set of steak knives you get Elias Koteas! (Of TMNT, and The Prophecy, that Elias Koteas. Many of the actors I love are undeserving, or at least hard done by in terms of the roles they get offered.) As this season’s love interest for Linden, if the foreshadowing hasn’t misled me.
And as a special extra bonus, they’ve thrown in the current reigning Olympic Gold Medalist in Scenery Chewing (Team USA), Gregg Henry. So far he’s kept his teeth off the desks at Seattle Homicide, but he’s eyeing those desk chairs hungrily.
What about women? Yes, it has some. They are far less recognizable to me, since most of them are teens. But I have been amazed by Bex Taylor Klaus, who plays the butch street kid Bullet.
And that’s the other thing: street kid. The Killing has a big ‘examining the family torn apart by homicide’ schtick going, and this year, having wrung Forbes and Sexton dry, they are doing a microscopic examination of a chosen family of street kids, some of whom are in the sex trade. This pairs well with the kind of angsty human drama the series tends to inflict on its crime victims. They’re young, vulnerable, constantly at risk and often their only–very frail–safety net is each other.
Finally, in The Killing, Seattle is played by my former stomping ground, Vancouver. The kid gang spends major time in a walkway I call The Cage, in old Strathcona. The Cage turns up on TV almost as often as Aaron Douglas–it’s that striking, visually. I used to walk through it every Tuesday on my way downtown. I know I have a photo of it, but I’m having trouble finding it, sorry.
So. Anyway. I inhaled those four episodes on Thursday and I’m hungry for more.
Watery Wanderings
The tall ship festival made for a fun morning. It would have been worth it just to finally make it to the shores of Lake Ontario, after five weeks in the city without a glimpse of water. The harbour is very pretty, and I could see Billy Bishop Airport and Toronto or maybe Ward island.
I shot my first Toronto cormorant, paddling in the fresh water:
The ships were fun to tour. I didn’t pick up anything I hadn’t learned on my day sail with S.A.L.T.S., but I did learn about an organization called Sisters Under Sail, and am contemplating whether my next research sail might be with them. In the meantime, I’ve bought their T-shirt.
These newfangled microwave ovens…
What, besides baking potatoes, are they good for? Does anyone have any good recipes involving real food?
Today I am headed to the Redpath Waterfront Festival to tour the decks of a number of tall ships. I am exceedingly fortunate that I am able to legitimately call this part of my workday, as most of the ships in the Fleet of Nations on the world of Stormwrack are, in fact, tall ships. So ahoy, Mateys!
Latest BuffyRewatch and Move Ephemera
Buffy’s back from the dead this week on my weekly rewatch, which means I have two to go. Two seasons, that is. I’m headed into the grimmer stuff now, but remember these latter seasons as still having had some hysterically funny lines and character moments; I’m looking forward to rediscovering those.
The process of moving has turned out to be rather endless in terms of fiddly paperwork details. Connecting up people we pay–like our insurer, for example, and our RRSP guys–to the new bank accounts has been a mind-numbingly dull and rather tedious process. Yesterday I realized our old condo manager had taken our strata fees out of the Vancouver bank account, as usual, so I’m also chasing a refund, with the very kind assistance of our realtor.
I also have a pile of receipts waiting to be data entered so I can figure out how much we actually spent moving. This is important and exciting because when you relocate more than 40 km for work reasons, you get to write a whole whacking chunk of things off your taxes.
So, if you ever heave yourself halfway across the country, give yourself a generous dicking-around allowance, timewise. And consider the tax return, if it comes together, your pay for this fun temporary job.
Enough with the boring details! Here is a dog photo, sort of, that I found very cute.
Going to Montreal to see Camille Alexa and Claude Lalumiere made for a nice break from the paperstorm. (The Megabus we took there was twelve hours of horrible, though: next time, we train.) And this weekend we have an embarassment of riches to choose from: there’s a tall ship festival, a literary event, Luminato, in the park ’round the corner, and with luck we’ll find time to see Joss Ado About Nothing. (Much Ado about Joss Things?”
What are you up to?