Sorry I didn't make it to the wedding...

**DATED SPOILERS HEREIN**

I was late to the Game of Thrones party, and now it turns out I’ll be leaving early. And not only shall I never catch up to where the show is currently, but I didn’t even get to the series’ infamous defining moment: the Red Wedding of two years ago (I’m stopping at season three’s sixth episode “The Climb,” three shy of the bloodbath).

My reasons have nothing to do with recent developments on the show. And lest anyone think my decision is in any way out of squeamishness toward its content, I’ll say that my all-time favorite TV drama is HBO’s sadly departed Deadwood, whose guttermouthed dialogue was nearly the spoken equivalent of hardcore pornography (seriously, check out the show, but make sure your kids, your parents, your wife, your husband, or anyone else isn’t in the same room). I’ve also been a fan of some of the network’s other very R-rated shows like The Sopranos, The Wire, Oz, and Eastbound and Down.

I'm tuning out because my brain actually tuned out sometime after the Battle of the Blackwater in season two. Since then, I’ve been watching like it’s a chore, trying to convince myself it’s compelling. Finally, I quit lying to myself and admitted I was bored. No matter how impressively detailed and complex the plot may be or how great its production values (and they were as good as any big budget epic film), it’s for nothing if you don’t care about the characters. And I don't.

The joke about not getting too attached to the characters has been made a million times, but it was in all seriousness never a problem for me. The only things they do are plot and backstab, plot revenge, or get victimized (oh, and have sex, of course). Most of them only have one of these notes to their personality and no more, making who’s good and bad irrelevant because they’re all equally boring. The lone exception is Tyrion Lannister, who Peter Dinklage imbues with a rooting drive for purpose, a rare heart amongst such brutality, and great wit. Or at least he did, for even Tyrion goes flat and appears comparatively less in the third season than before.

Even if I did stick with it until the nasty nuptials, it wouldn’t have been the first time I saw the Red Wedding. Out of curiosity as to why the Internet was so upset, I watched it on YouTube shortly after it first aired, without knowing any of the characters or the context of the event. And to be fair, yes, knowing ahead of time did influence my decision to opt out. I may not have cared about the Starks any more than the rest of the characters, but they were, it appears, the “good guys” in the show. So why continue watching something when all that’s left are the least pleasant players? Although, if a villain is charismatic and compelling to the point that you kind of start to like them, I might still watch a show. But the Lannisters, like all the characters, were not (well, maybe Charles Dance, at times).

I will say this much about the show’s sex and violence: The Sopranos was at one point rebroadcast on basic cable network A&E, albeit with the bloodier scenes and nudity cut out and the swearing dubbed over. Despite some stilted mouth movements, the show still worked, as there was enough substance behind the series' HBO-ness. It’s hard to imagine being able to do the same with Game of Thrones, but if they did, you know what’d be left? The Star Wars prequels! Seriously, all it would be is just endless talking and plotting and politics. It’s more complex and better written than George Lucas’ efforts, maybe, but it'd be just as tedious if not for all the gore and titillation. With it, it’s no deeper than any big, dumb, violent special effects blockbuster movie, just stretched out longer and more explicit.

So, enjoy the rest of show’s run, fans, and the books whenever George R.R. Martin manages to finish them. I hope in the end, Daenerys (Emilia Clarke) and Arya (Maisie Williams) team up to lay waste to Westeros and set up a utopian matriarchal kingdom in its wake, if only to somewhat level off the plight of the show's female characters. But I won't be watching, so I care not what happens.

Mad Max: Fury Road

With its spectacular car chases and bleak, grungy vision of the future that still influences sci-fi to this day, the Mad Max series still holds up very well after three decades. Or at least it did; after the long-gestating fourth installment Fury Road, I’m not so sure it will anymore. The film is the maddest Mad Max of them all, taking the series and its vehicular theatrics to a level so high the old movies seem like a Sunday drive by comparison. In fact, it’s not too much of a stretch to wonder if it renders the entire action genre prior to this point obsolete.

There are shootouts on top of brutal hand-to-hand combat on top of car chases (literally, on top of car chases). Souped-up death machines and motorcycles brave daredevil jumps while chucking explosives and exchanging gunfire, or just regular fire. One vehicle has several amplifiers attached while a passenger shreds on a guitar in place of drums of war, which makes absolutely no practical sense but is totally appropriate nonetheless amidst the chaos (and of course, said instrument later becomes a weapon). Explosions and crashes abound like a freeway pileup at a Fourth of July fireworks show. And yet, every sequence is imaginatively designed and choreographed within an inch of its life, with incredible stunts that leave the viewer with an awed appreciation, as opposed to a mocking disbelief.

Even when the mayhem subsides for a few brief instances, the film has the relentless tone and energy of an action sequence in every department. Comic relief? It’s as blunt as a punch in the gut and all the more effective for it. What about the tortured backstory of the title hero? Instead of slow and thoughtful moments, the picture cuts deep with intense, haunting visions that would be as at home in a horror movie. Even the very plot itself—in which loner Max (Tom Hardy, taking over the role from Mel Gibson) helps convoy driver Furiosa (Charlize Theron) and the enslaved “wives” of warlord Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne) escape him and his minions across the post-apocalyptic Australian desert—is obviously built around the long, elaborate car chase battles, as were the plots of the preceding films.

It would be easy to simply write off the entire thing (and the whole series, for that matter) as empty, flashy popcorn violence, but doing so would be wrong, and vastly unfair to series writer-director George Miller and company. From the very first Mad Max, the main selling point was the automotive havoc, but Miller also infused the narratives with creative ideas about the breakdown of society and the dark future the movies presented. Some of them were funny, some just interestingly out-there, some even tragically sad. Most of these little tidbits were only established understatedly, through dialogue or quick views in the background, but that made them no less clever or interesting.

Despite packing Fury Road to the gills with vehicular destruction, Miller still establishes his pulpiest, most detailed future vision yet in the series, a disturbing cultish world with inventive traits too good to spoil. And though the movie never really slows enough for some introspective moments, it manages to feature character arcs with pathos within its action sequences. All the main characters have some depth: Nicholas Hoult as a doomed cult member, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Riley Keough, Zoë Kravitz, Courtney Eaton, and Abbey Lee as the five “wives,” and especially Theron, who’s Max’s action hero equal in every way. And in the title role, Tom Hardy doesn’t even need to speak to sell us, so convincing is his mere presence and body language. He might even best Mel Gibson, as while Gibson exuded a smarmy cynicism in the role, Hardy’s surly stoicism is arguably more affecting.

The picture establishes the storyline so that it works as both a sequel for old fans and a starting point for new ones, and both parties will enjoy it equally. It’s a thrilling, wall-to-wall raging piece of entertainment that’s going to be hard for any action blockbuster this summer (or any summer) to top.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

I think it's safe to say the superhero genre is reaching critical mass. Not only is the cinema docket saturated with superheroes (and looks to be that way for years to come), but now individual movies appear to be packing in as many heroes as they can. As if the initial Avenger lineup wasn’t enough already, Age of Ultron adds several new faces to the mix while expanding on the stories of the returning players. And remarkably, the film pulls it off at least as well as the first Avengers, maybe even better. It’s an entry that succeeds in both the macro and the micro, continuing Captain America: The Winter Soldier’s work of clearing the way for a new phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, while also working solidly as a standalone picture.

With the world still reeling from the events of Winter Soldier, the film opens with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes raiding a leftover Hydra/S.H.I.E.L.D. compound to retrieve a powerful amulet left over from the Battle of New York three years prior. Iron Man Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) and Hulk alter-ego Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) attempt to harness that power to initiate their secret project: Ultron (James Spader), a peacekeeping artificial intelligence program. Unfortunately, the new program breaks free, and its definition of a peaceful world is one without humans. So it’s up to the Avengers to stop him, as well as face two new Hydra-engineered enemies: super-speedster Quicksilver (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and psychic Scarlett Witch (Elizabeth Olsen).

The picture brings back everything we loved about the first Avengers, turned up a notch or two. The action and special effects are bigger, more intense, and frankly crazier (the street fight between the Hulk and Iron Man’s Hulkbuster armor may be the best Hulk fight on the big screen so far). Also back is its sense of humor. For a film based on such a dark comic arc and advertised as being so dark, it might be the funniest Marvel movie. More than just keeping the expository scenes going, the comedy also meshes well with some dramatic parts and complements the action scenes, especially the near-slow-mo ones involving Quicksilver. And when it appears Ultron is going to be one of those cold, stoic philosophizing villains, Spader turns on the smarm and attitude to great effect. It almost hurts his standing as the bad guy because it’s so much fun when he’s onscreen.

But for all the elements that make it a fun summer blockbuster, it’s the slower, smaller scenes, the ones that instill these characters with humanity, where the film shines. Namely, all the characters without their own individual franchise get a moment to evolve. We finally learn a little more about Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), and that they’re not just emotionless killers. Even better is Banner’s subplot, as his surprisingly sad and moving struggle to control the monster inside him is easily the strongest Hulk story yet (between this and the aforementioned fight with Iron Man, I think it’s safe to say another Hulk film might finally be warranted). And the visions put into the team’s heads by Scarlett Witch, exposing each one’s fears and desires, are a nice, dark touch.

I really enjoyed Age of Ultron, but I’m not sure how well it bodes for Marvel going forward. It succeeds only a hair away from failure; it’s one character cameo away from overload, one convenient save-the-day moment away from losing all tension, one impossible stunt away from crossing the line into sheer ridiculousness. The movie manages to shoulder the whole load but leaves so little room for error, or much else.

I can see why they cut the next Avengers in two.

The Comedians, "Pilot"

At this point, comedians playing a slightly fictional version of themselves are as much a sitcom cliché as single-camera and the laugh track (a point highlighted by the fact that this show is playing lead-in for Louie). Same goes for the mockumentary style which has become so common. The Comedians does both, so it’s not breaking any new ground in style or structure. But so what? All that matters is that it gets laughs, right?

A similar notion is addressed in the opening of last night’s premiere. Having just finished the pilot of their sketch show-within-a-show, the fake Billy Crystal and Josh Gad are in a heated argument backstage over a joke the latter made that was not in the script. It’s not that the joke didn’t go over well, which it did, but Crystal felt it compromised the integrity of the sketch, while Gad was simply going for laughs. At the end of it, the show’s director—Seinfeld scribe and Borat director Larry Charles playing himself (also in reality directing several episodes of the series)—gets fired.

If that sounds like the prelude to some exploration on the nature of comedy, it’s not, at least not yet. From there we flash back to the initial meeting of Gad and Crystal, and forward to after their pilot taping as they and their staff work to find a new director. Several other moments seem like jumping-off points to explore the craft of being funny, through the disconnect between Crystal and Gad. But the episode never does. Maybe future episodes will, but for now, the clash between the two leads (Crystal is so old and uptight, Gad is so awkward and inexperienced) in itself is all we get.

So, is it funny? Well, partly yes, partly no. There are a lot of pop culture references, but they seem less about humor than winking at the audience by mentioning Gad and Crystal’s previous work they might have seen. The final twist of the episode’s main plot might have been pushing the envelope in years past, but here it’s hackneyed and a little obvious. And the only fake sketch we see (a riff on Crystal’s When Harry Met Sally…) looks like it’s intentionally trying to be so bad it’s funny, but fails and is just bad.

On the other hand, Crystal and Gad have something like the opposite of chemistry. Scenes between them are realistically awkward and volatile, the type of comedy that’s undeniably funny but makes even the viewer feel almost embarrassed watching it. Their rapport, or lack thereof, makes the episode lightweight, enjoyably painful cringe comedy. For the long-term life of the show, however, it wouldn’t hurt to add something more than that, as too much of this type of humor with nothing else might make it seem closer to tragedy than comedy.

My (admittedly spotty) thoughts on the Oscars

Best Picture: Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

This movie, above all, is a lot of fun. So much has been discussed about its originality, its creative technical aspects, Michael Keaton’s big comeback, and what it all means that seemingly few left any room to mention how funny, well-acted, and joyous it is to watch. Aside from Foxcatcher, all the other Best Picture nominees I’ve seen are solid, but none are as entertaining this one. Plus, there is the matter of everything else I just mentioned.

Best Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu, Birdman

Iñárritu’s filmmaking apparently divides critics as well as audiences. Well, Birdman is the first and only movie of his I’ve seen, and in this case, it’s a hit. The film’s much-discussed “one long take” style (for which cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki’s Oscar is also well-deserved) is exhilarating to watch, as the constant, uncut action gives every moment a palpable energy. The picture moves from scene to scene smoothly and seamlessly, and the real and surreal blend more naturally than you’d expect. What could have been a gimmick (yet another single-camera, documentary-style work) ended up being an awesome technique that only a truly talented filmmaker could have pulled off.

Best Actor: Eddie Redmayne, The Theory of Everything

This was one category where you hate to single out just one of several great performances. Redmayne physically embodied the brilliant Stephen Hawking so perfectly it’s uncanny, and yet despite the limitations of such a role, managed to convey strong emotions in a heartfelt film. Definitely one of the best performances of the year. But still, Michael Keaton threw himself into Birdman, managing to emit some real pathos while keeping up with the pace of the picture and keeping us laughing and cringing. Also, Bradley Cooper underplayed the all-American hero archetype with very real demons in American Sniper. Which of the three was best? I can’t choose, but you couldn’t go wrong with any of them.

Best Actress: Julianne Moore, Still Alice

I haven’t seen Still Alice.

Best Supporting Actor: J.K. Simmons, Whiplash

Or Whiplash.

Best supporting Actress: Patricia Arquette, Boyhood

Or Boyhood.

Snubs:

Much has already been said about the snubs for The Lego Movie in Best Animated Feature and Selma in all the major categories except a token nomination for Best Picture. These grievances are valid, however.

The Lego Movie is arguably one of the best films, animated or live action, of 2014. It’s beautiful to look at and much smarter than almost all kids and family fare (even Big Hero 6, which did win for Best Animated Feature). Some are speculating that the snub was because part of the last act switches to live action. If that is the case, it’s a really stupid technicality to disqualify a deserving film.

As for Selma, we’ll never really know how much political factors or tone deafness to diversity or just simple matters of taste eliminated the film in the Academy’s eyes. All that aside, it deserved to be nominated—Ava DuVernay for directing, and especially David Oyelowo for his fantastic portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr.—on its merits alone. Certainly more than the dry, dour, blatant awards bait that was Foxcatcher, and Steve Carell’s lazy, latex-y attempt to go serious in it.

Lastly, Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar turned out to be quite a divisive picture. I’m of the opinion that it’s a great film, one of the best science fiction movies I’ve ever seen. Everything’s subjective, but I would have put it up for more than just technical awards (which were deserved), at the very least for its screenplay and direction. Then again, since science fiction in general has a hard time escaping its genre label and being taken seriously as art, I’m not at all surprised.

Kingsman: The Secret Service

Gone, it seems, are the days when film spoofs simply poked fun at a movie or genre. These days, many parodies (the good ones, anyway) are nearly as good as any picture in the genre they’re ribbing. 

Kingsman: The Secret Service edges the dial a little further still from parody to the real thing. There’s plenty of content sending up spy pictures, savaging of current events and famous figures, and just regular bits of humor. But taken as a legitimate action film, it’s quite good. Good enough, in fact, that I’m somewhat reluctant to even call it a spoof at all. Its comedic elements aside, it’s as exciting as any comic book adaptation or summer action flick, and the plot, while (refreshingly) not as insistent on brutal realism as the genre’s been of late, isn’t bad at all.

Loosely based on a comic by Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons, the movie follows the exploits of Kingsman, a well-dressed top secret English espionage agency as deadly as they are gentlemanly. After the death of an agent (Jack Davenport) in the field, talented but troubled British youth Eggsy (Taron Egerton), the son of a former member of Kingsman, is approached by agent Harry Hart (Colin Firth) with an opportunity to join the organization. As Eggsy goes through rigorous physical, mental, and social training, the agency investigates a plot by tech billionaire Richmond Valentine (Samuel L. Jackson) to wipe out the human race.

Few clichés are left untouched, from the outlandish world domination plotting, to the ridiculous gadgetry, to the equally ridiculous near-invincibility of Jason Bourne and his ilk. The characters even know the clichés in which they’re steeped and point them out. It’s a lot of fun seeing talented actors like Firth, Mark Strong, and Michael Caine send up their serious demeanor, and Jackson is clearly having a ball eviscerating not only larger-than-life Bond villains but also the archetype of the “cool billionaire.” And as the main protagonist, Egerton has affably snarky comic chops, as well as an everyman heroic appeal.

That appeal, and the veteran cast’s skill and presence, serve the picture well when it blurs the line between spoof and actual spy movie. Scenes where the satirical bent is relaxed work rather well, particularly the training sequences in the first half. A lot of times, the wit and humor is supplemental to the action, not the focus. Much of the action scenes are aiming for parody, of the blurry slow-motion, kinetic violence of superhero fare, or the ability of superspies to take down a whole room of people with no effort or injury. But while they do succeed as comedy, they’re as good as or better than any movie playing it straight. And when they go to ridiculous and sometimes macabre extremes, the film has its sense of humor to fall back on. There’s also one sequence that reminds the audience that there’s nothing like good old-fashioned stunt work. 

Kingsman is very funny in a lot of places. However, it feels less like a comedy than the kind of film that’s gone extinct in the wake of grim and gritty spy movies like the Bourne series. It’s so much fun that it almost feels fresh and new.

Better Call Saul, "Uno"

Of all the little oddball touches that distinguished Breaking Bad from the rest of the cable drama pack, Bob Odenkirk’s turn as criminal lawyer Saul Goodman was one of the best. The character could have easily been a bland attorney archetype, a suit-filler with little characterization beyond his functions to the plot. Casting a comedic actor instead and letting him devour the scenery turned out to be unexpectedly ingenious. His comic relief never seemed intrusive, and he was quite up to the task when things got serious. So it’s little surprise that Saul got his own show (for those reasons as well as the fact that he’s one of the few supporting characters left standing).

Last night’s premiere of Better Call Saul began with a look at what happened to the lovable shyster since we last saw him. It was a wonderfully amusing riff on the flash-forwards that Breaking Bad used to great effect, and its stark black-and-white and somber score of mall music struck a great balance between funny and tragic.

From there, the story goes back to nearly a decade before Breaking Bad, when Saul was Jimmy McGill, an Albuquerque public defender struggling to launch his own practice. In addition to few clients and little money, he also has to worry about his brother (Michael McKean), an attorney from a major law firm who’s on extended leave for an unnamed ailment. Desperate for a break, Jimmy tries to pull a small, one-time scam, but it backfires and leads him into more trouble.

The episode plays very similarly to the first episode of Breaking Bad, with a lot of quiet scenes of Jimmy sulking amongst everything—the bills, the crappy job, the crappy car and office—that drives him to take actions so drastic and immoral, just as Walter White did. Breaking Bad’s DNA is apparent in other places, too, from its black comedy (the video in the first courtroom scene is sickly hilarious), to taking its sweet time to build tension ever so slowly and ending at exactly the moment where the viewer won’t even think about missing the next episode. And, of course, a few other characters fans will recognize appear, one of which comes as a big surprise in the final moments. All made for an enjoyable first hour, but Breaking Bad’s shadow could be a hindrance to the show going forward.

Maybe it’s just the similarity between both series’ first episodes, but I got the sense that Jimmy is setting out on a path just like Walter White’s. Now that he’s already entered an evil, morally ambiguous world, every attempt to get out alive will just make him sink deeper and deeper until the good man he began as no longer exists. Or maybe it’s the surprise character appearance at the end that makes it feel like they’re retreading the same territory. Either way, Walt and Jimmy’s trajectories look much the same, at least after one episode. I really hope that's not the case, because the character metamorphosis of Walter White was already so perfect (I’d argue it was the best character arc ever in the history of film or television) that even a similar one from the same people would probably suffer by comparison.

I hope that the old character cameos turn out to be just some fan service for the premiere, and that the show does away with them now and goes its own way. It’s certainly possible, because while the Saul Goodman snark and humor we know and love pervades the episode, there are also moments where Odenkirk shows some desperate pathos. We'll see if he can carry a series, but it's clear he's at least capable of more than comic relief.