The Punisher Season 2: Brutal But Good

Considering that three of the five Netflix Marvel shows have been canceled in the last six months, I suppose it’s not really much of a competition anymore, but since the fate of The Punisher is still up in the air, it’s worth saying: If the first season made it a contender, then the second season settles it. The Punisher is the best show in the Marvel Netflix Universe.

Season 2 picks up a year after the events of season 1 and finds Frank—having untangled the conspiracy that led to the murder of his wife and kids—on the road in the Midwest, new, squeaky-clean identity in tow, trying his hand at an everyman existence. It almost seems like he might be able to make it work, too, until Frank crosses paths with Amy, a teenager caught in the middle of something bad, something much bigger than her, and Frank can’t help but get involved. Despite the distance and his best intentions, he can’t seem to leave his alter ego behind; it’s an itch that needs to be scratched. He’s still haunted by the death of his family and what it revealed: He’s good at putting people down, and he likes doing it.

Frank isn’t the only one being haunted this season. Curtis’s old life keeps getting in the way as he tries to build a new one; Billy is tormented by his shattered memories; and Dinah by Billy himself, by their past relationship and the lies and trauma she suffered at his hands.

The sophomore outing feels less like a second season and more like a second chapter, the harsh reality of what comes next after a seemingly tidy ending. Because of course—there are no endings. The hardest part is to keep going. Too often shows skip past this—the messy aftermath—willing to subject their characters to trauma, but preferring to gloss over the fallout, the healing process, the ways trauma changes you. The show has plenty of shots to take—at the religious right, Russian colluders, homophobia, pedophilia, Nazis, people who use their money to buy Congress—but amidst the violence you’d expect from a show called The Punisher, it gives its characters room to breathe. To grieve, mourn, struggle. To feel fear, to act out, to ask themselves who they want to be. It’s the kind of thoughtful, nuanced writing that made the show shine in its first season, and it’s still on display here.

Notably absent from season 2 is Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s charismatic David Lieberman, but the show makes up for it by showcasing the dynamic between Frank and Curtis and giving more screen time to the excellent Jason R. Moore, who plays Curtis with the perfect combination of compassion, frustration, pragmatism, humor, pain, and sadness that makes him the show’s true moral compass. The lack of Karen Page this season is a loss, but the scenes between Deborah Ann Woll and Jon Bernthal remain some of the most captivating, compelling, and emotionally rich scenes on the show, and the connection that we do get to see develop, between Frank and Amy—funny, smart, and sarcastic in her own right, all while remaining believably young and naïve—is a worthy, heartbreaking addition, a stark reminder of the father Frank was and never got the chance to be.

Without the singular purpose of taking out the people responsible for murdering his family, the second season feels slightly unmoored. But then again, so is Frank. The more he feels like he’s the only one capable of stopping the people hunting Amy, of bringing a final end to Billy, the more he pushes people away. Cuts himself off from his humanity, resigned to live as a weapon. The question this season seems to be: What kind of future does Frank want? If an undeniable part of him is the Punisher, is there a way for him to live with both sides of himself?

By the end of the season, Frank’s answer is definitively “no,” but there’s something unfinished about it. His answer may be “never,” but the showrunners seems to be saying not right now, or even perhaps—hopefully, tentatively—not yet. It’s as painful a conclusion for Frank to come to as it is to watch, but not in a way that makes you want to look away. If anything, it draws you in, makes you root for him and keeps you wanting more, longing for the next chapter where maybe, finally, Frank can get it right.

Seasons 1 and 2 of The Punisher are now streaming on Netflix.

American Vandal: Criminally Good

Here at Grammatical Art, we love true crime stories in their many forms: TV miniseries, books, podcasts, and Emmy-nominated, Peabody-award-winning documentary parodies.

The first season of American Vandal followed aspiring filmmaker and amateur documentarian Peter Maldonado and his best friend Sam Ecklund as they attempted to exonerate fellow classmate Dylan Maxwell—falsely accused of spray painting 27 dicks on cars in the faculty parking lot—and uncover the identity of the real dick drawer. Season 2 premiered earlier this month, and in a move exemplary of the kind of simple yet genius comedy that makes American Vandal so hilarious, its central mystery revolves around nothing more and nothing less than no. 2.

Fresh off the viral-video fame of their first investigation and now backed by a Netflix production team (yes, they incorporated the show’s Netflix sensation into the premise), Sam and Peter are called in to unmask the anonymous vandal known as the Turd Burglar, responsible for terrorizing a Catholic high school in Bellevue, Washington with not one, but three poop-related crimes, including spiking the cafeteria lemonade with laxatives, leading to a massive, school-wide pooping incident dubbed “the brownout.”

To reveal much more of this season’s plot would be to ruin the delight of watching the mystery unfold because what makes American Vandal so excellent is that—despite (or maybe even because of) its bathroom humor and parody premise—it actually holds up as a compelling entry in the very genre it’s making fun of. Each of the seven episodes leading up to the final eighth episode ends on a cliffhanger that gives you no choice but to press play on the next one. And if season 1 was a scathing indictment of the way the public education system cuts corners and prejudges students, labeling them as worthy or unworthy just so they can promptly give up on them, then season 2 is a hard look at cover-ups, conspiracies, the preferential treatment of athletes as money makers, and the cost of coming of age in the age of social media.

Investigating the poop crimes at a different school where Peter and Sam are outsiders to the social structures of the faculty and student body lends the season more red herrings, more false assumptions, and more plot twists than the show’s first outing. Season 2 could use more of the filmmakers themselves—arguably the strongest and funniest parts of both seasons are the behind-the-scenes moments of Peter and Sam tracking down leads, discussing strategy, and piecing together clues and motives on their crime boards—but when we do see them, the duo shines and the show is as ridiculous and clever as ever.

Is season 2 as funny as season 1? Close, but not quite. At the end of the day, dick drawing just may be inherently funnier than poop pranks, which is not to say season 2 is some kind of sophomore slump. It’s still laugh-out-loud funny, and just like with season 1, when all was revealed and the Turd Burglar was finally unmasked, I was left wanting more. Not because the solve wasn’t satisfying, but because it was just that damn good.

Seasons 1 and 2 of American Vandal are now streaming on Netflix.

Your Guide to: Back-to-School TV

Whether you’re already in the middle of your second week of classes or counting down the last precious days of summer; whether you’re putting the finishing touches on your classroom or just finding it difficult to resist the allure of the school supplies section of Target, it’s undeniable—that back-to-school feeling is in the air.

And it’s got me thinking—what better way to ring in the new school year than with a mini-marathon of the best in back-to-school episodes TV has to offer?

So sharpen your pencils and take note because we’re counting down the top three in first-day-of-school TV:

#3. “Pilot” Veronica Mars, season 1, episode 1

Between her missing mom, her murdered best friend, the loss of her reputation, and a list of enemies that includes the wealthiest families in town, as well as their extremely popular children, you’d think Veronica Mars would be too beholden to its twentieth-century take on film noir to find any time for levity or laughs. But in an episode that addresses classism, date rape, and the abuse of power by authority, there’s still time for an Ocean’s11­-worthy heist that all hinges on a custom-made bong and mandatory locker checks. The heist is enough to seal the deal on Veronica’s series’ long friendship with Wallace, score her a whole motorcycle gang of allies, and make you wish you had the connections and savvy to start off your junior year by embarrassing both the jack ass who makes your high school days a living hell and the local sheriff’s department all in one go.

There’s a reason Veronica Mars—both the show and the character—is a fan favorite. Veronica is everything you want in a female lead—clever, gutsy, funny, witty, tough, determined, principled, vulnerable, emotional—and this first episode is the perfect introduction.

#2. “The Lorelais’ First Day at Yale” Gilmore Girls, season 4, episode 2

The transition from high school to college isn’t an easy one to make—in real life or on TV—and yet that’s exactly how the Gilmore girls make it look, transitioning seamlessly (minus an extra mattress or two) from Stars Hollow to Yale, all while maintaining their signature blend of grace, humor, and mother-daughter devotion.

Any one of a dozen different bits could have qualified this episode to make the cut—the absurd hilarity of Paris showing up as Rory’s roommate, Terrence the life coach and craft corner in tow; Lorelai and Luke’s endless (and rather domestic) bickering over the use of his truck; the coining of Copper boom! as the only acceptable way of ending a conversation in a hurry—but what really secures its place on the list is its honest portrayal of the genuine heartache of being separated. Because despite however excited Rory and Lorelai may be for Rory to start Yale, it also means saying goodbye. It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since you first left home or whether you ever have—watching Rory stand alone in her empty dorm room and Lorelai come home to an empty house is enough to make anyone homesick.

#1. “Pilot” Pretty Little Liars, season 1, episode 1

How could an episode where the guy from the steamy bar bathroom make-out on the last day of summer is revealed to be the hot new English teacher on the first day of school not top the list of best back-to-school episodes?

And that’s all before the opening credits.

There are enough juicy secrets in this first episode of Pretty Little Liars to fill a blog post all on their own, and that’s precisely what makes it so delicious. PLL is everything you wish high school was and everything you’re so grateful it isn’t: Everyone is way more attractive, way more fashionable, and has way less homework, but everyone is also way more deceitful, way more vindictive, and way more suspected of murder.

But it isn’t just the scandal and the now-iconic mystery stalker A that earns Pretty Little Liars the #1 spot on our list; it’s the ride-or-die friendship between the liars themselves: Aria, Hanna, Spencer, and Emily. It doesn’t matter that they start the episode more estranged than ever, driven apart by Allison’s disappearance. When the police find (at least what they think is) Allison’s body, the distance all but evaporates and they pick up right where they left off, bonded by the secrets they’ve sworn to keep, the ones they share, and even the ones they don’t. For friends like that, all the drama seems almost worth it. Almost.

So, what do you think? Too much murder, not enough comedy? Which shows make you think back-to-school?

Review: Marvel’s Cloak & Dagger

To say that I’ve been eagerly anticipating the premiere of Marvel’s Cloak & Dagger since the series’ order was first announced in April 2016 would be a massive understatement. In fact, you could say that it’s impossible for my excitement for this show to be overstated.

Maybe this calls the objectivity of my review into question, but I would argue it actually makes me a tougher critic. I’m hopelessly terrible at keeping my expectations in check, so my hype for this show? It was high. Way high. Almost alarmingly so.

Boy was I ever not let down.

In case, unlike me, you haven’t watched the trailer a dozen times (lowball estimate) on YouTube, here’s what you need to know: Cloak & Dagger follows Tyrone Johnson (spoiler alert: cloak) and Tandy Bowen (hint: dagger), two teenagers living in New Orleans who first meet as children the night they each suffer a traumatic loss that alters the course of their lives. Eight years later, they bump into each other again—at a party, innocuously enough—a reunion that sparks the discovery of their powers: Tyrone can teleport, and Tandy can turn light into daggers.

Come for the bomb ass set of powers; stay for literally everything else.

Aubrey Joseph and Olivia Holt are perfectly cast as Tyrone and Tandy—young enough to be believable as teenagers; old enough to pull off dynamic, emotional performances. The look on each of their faces as they recognize the other from a night they weren’t entirely certain was real is enough to break anyone’s heart.

The smartest move the show makes, however, is in keeping its stars separated. Tandy and Tyrone spend most of the first two episodes apart, their lives paralleled as we watch them live the same hours of each day—giving the show a chance to establish their two main characters individually, and the audience a chance to become invested in each of them independent of the other.

Which is not to say the chemistry between the two of them isn’t enough to have you on the edge of your seat until they meet again.

Without the ABC Family logo in the corner, Freeform seems more than ready to address our 2018 reality: racism; rape culture; prescription drug abuse; police corruption and police violence, especially against the black community. The show’s coverage of these topics is neither gratuitous nor exploitative; it isn’t in-depth enough to derail its plot, and it’s never in danger of becoming an after-school special. But it grounds an unreal situation in a harsh reality, willing to face up to our issues rather than deny they exist.

The pacing is tight, the secondary characters interesting, and the special effects way better than you’d expect this side of cable TV. It has an amazing soundtrack, which we all know is the mark of a truly great show, and enough surrounding mysteries to keep you on your toes without distracting you from why we’re all really here: the connection between Tandy and Tyrone; their new powers and the link between them—and all the ways we don’t even know they need each other yet.

If you’re looking for a new summer obsession, congratulations. You’ve found it.*

 

*Cloak & Dagger airs Thursdays at 8 pm EST on Freeform.

This Dope Planet

My first official weekend as a college student, when most of my dormmates were on their way out to their first bonafide frat party, I was settling in—for a night of watching Planet Earth. (The BBC docuseries, you know the one.)

Yes, I owned the DVD, and yes, I’d brought it with me to school, but give me some credit: I wasn’t locking myself in a room to watch it by myself. I was watching with my new roommate and a couple of girls we’d become friends with down the hall. So, somewhat social.

To be fair, we’d also invited anyone who was interested to join us. Shockingly, we didn’t get any takers, but that was their loss.

Have you ever watched a stranded baby elephant reunite with its family? It is a party.

So imagine my delight when I discovered the BBC’s 6-part sequel, Planet Earth II, is now on Netflix. I’d somehow missed it when it originally aired back in 2016 (blasphemous), so I immediately pressed play.

Planet Earth II has a 9.6/10 rating on IMDB and a 100% Rotten Tomatoes score. It’s won British Academy Television Awards and Primetime Creative Arts Emmys. It basically recommends itself, but I’ll give you my review anyway: Go watch it.

Obviously I’m a biased viewer, having chosen the first Planet Earth as a happy alternative to a party of my peers, but believe me when I say: Every second of it is fascinating. If you think you aren’t a fan of documentaries, watch it anyway. Still narrated in David Attenborough’s charming British timbre, it’s never dull and never boring. It’s dramatic and colorful, mesmerizing and unbelievable. It’s tense at times, comical at others, and perhaps the best argument ever made for saving our planet.

If there’s one difference that stands out between the original and part II (other than length; the original was a massive 11 episodes), it’s the frank explanation of how much climate change is affecting our planet. How much wildlife has been lost; how rapidly natural habitats are shrinking. The first episode, “Islands,” should be enough to get you hooked, but if you only have time to watch one, skip ahead to the end, to “Cities.” It’s a close look at the remarkable ways some animals have adapted to urban living, and a heartbreaking portrait of how others have not.

The final episode ends on a hopeful note, as most of the episodes do, but at the end of the day, the producers don’t have to try very hard to make their case. In an age when special effects teams can so convincingly transport us to another galaxy in another world, the series’ greatest asset is that—from a sudden avalanche in the North American mountains to a plague of locusts in Madagascar; from lightning bolts cracking against the desert sky to the migration of a population of crabs large enough to cover an entire island—all 360 minutes of astonishing, captivating footage are entirely real.