South Park, "The City Part of Town"

South Park doesn’t always need to ruthlessly hit us with its point to make it, nor spell it out with those famous “I learned something today.” monologues from earlier seasons. Sometimes by simply depicting the issue the show makes a strong statement. That’s what happened in tonight’s episode, in a nuanced but very poignant take on a very controversial subject.

After Mr. Garrison’s (who’s now a Presidential candidate, apparently) anti-immigrant rhetoric last week makes the town of South Park the laughingstock of the nation, the townspeople come up with a way to repair their image: gentrifying the run-down part of town. That location consists only of the home of Kenny and the McCormicks, which sees affluent stores, restaurants, and eventually homes the family can’t afford built on top of it. All in the name of attracting a Whole Foods franchise, which the town views as a kind of symbol affirming their high class.

This episode has fun sending up status-obsessed hipster culture and the appropriation of working class local culture as quaint and stylish. There's also some self-referential, self-deprecating humor mocking the show as well as common criticism against it (much is at the expense of City Wok owner Kim, whose position as an outdated stereotyped is acknowledged and mocked). But on the whole, this is one episode where the thematic content surpasses the comedy. And in a good way.

The strongest scenes are live-action commercials for the in-show entertainment and housing development, all but the last of which could pass for actual ads if not for Kenny and his family hovering in the background like ghosts, ignored and detached from it all while going about their poverty-stricken lives. It’s a decent joke, but the reaction it elicits is more like that toward a great political cartoon, which in this case is nailing the point about how gentrification isn’t about improving the lives of those living in an area as much as it’s about turning it into a playground for the wealthy. Several individual lines bolster this stance. And the final melancholy scene between Kenny and his sister is—yes, this is South Park we’re talking about—powerful. It’s one of the few times I can remember genuine emotion on the show, and maybe the only time it didn’t have some dirty or sarcastic angle to it.

This wasn’t just a great episode by itself, but also presents many opportunities for story, satirical, or character arcs in the ongoing plotline this season is developing. While I was skeptical before, now I’m excited to see where this story goes.

Black Mass

The saga of Boston gangster James “Whitey” Bulger has many elements tailor-made for Hollywood: FBI corruption, political adjacency (if not also corruption), gunrunning for the IRA, a decade-and-a-half manhunt, and just regular gangster stuff. With Bulger’s capture and trials bringing him back to prominence in recent years, the time seems prime for this story to get the thrilling Al Capone or Henry Hill big-screen treatment. But Black Mass declines to take the classic gangster film route, opting instead for a less alluring, more meat-and-potatoes approach that doesn’t stylize or glorify the brutality on display.

Johnny Depp certainly gives a performance to match, in a complete about-face from his hyperactive whimsical roles of late. As Bulger, Depp is one scary dude, his voice a soft-spoken, unmistakably evil growl, his demeanor calm yet absolutely seething like he’s about to snap at any second. When he does finally explode into violence, there’s no release for the audience, and the tension never dies when he’s onscreen. Nor once is he ever sympathetic, even in the obligatory family scenes, or endowed with any Hollywood sensibilities of a sort of moral code, twisted though it may be. It’s a commendable rebuke to the tendency to canonize our famous criminals as pop culture legends instead of the monsters they are, and it single-handedly elevates a picture that is otherwise mostly average filmmaking.

The film’s narrative—depicting Bulger’s 1970s and 80s heyday as the top crime boss in Boston, during which he enjoyed immunity from law enforcement thanks to striking an informant deal with corrupt FBI agent John Connolly (Joel Edgerton)—is framed around three of Bulger’s former associates (Jesse Plemons, Rory Cochrane, and W. Earl Brown) relating their boss’ crimes to the Feds after he went on the run. This structure makes for some GoodFellas-esque narrated sequences describing the details of Bulger’s criminal activities. Except, without any of the exhilarating style of Martin Scorsese’s picture, or any other. The underworld depicted here is one of grey, dreary settings, not the lavish, almost enticing hedonistic lifestyle that's come to be associated with the gangster genre.

But, this framing device is only used on and off, and where it’s not utilized for extended periods is where the plotting suffers a bit. The scenes not buoyed by narration seem like little more than random events punctuated by outbursts of violence, with almost no context for viewers without knowledge of the major events in Bulger’s criminal career or their importance (it also touches surprisingly little on his relationship with his Massachusetts State Senator brother, played onscreen by Benedict Cumberbatch). With such a loose structure, the endless scenes of dark, dank interiors get a little repetitive, and the grimness rather lethargic.

Still, on the whole, the gangster portions are solid. It’s the FBI scenes that are truly flawed. Defending Bulger to his superiors, Edgerton’s corrupt agent comes off like an unruly schoolkid trying to talk his way out of the principal’s office. Never do we get the sense of the alleged institutional corruption that overlooked Bulger, nor a convincing depiction of how Connolly managed to trick the whole agency into letting the crime lord stay free. All seem rather incompetent. And while the gangland cast displays a more believable low-key gloom (this life isn’t glamorous to them, just their job), the Feds are all overacting, as if they’re in a contest to see who can do the most outrageous Boston accent.

Black Mass is far from the most detailed and definitive word on the Whitey Bulger story (and Scorsese’s The Departed, which took some inspiration from Bulger’s story, is a much more entertaining movie). But where it’s good, it’s quite good.

South Park, "Where My Country Gone?"

Well, it looks like the show’s going to repeat what it did last year and give us a season-long ongoing narrative, because PC Principal and a few other things from last week made it to this episode. I’m not sure how I feel about that, as I felt last year’s connectedness yielded mixed results at best. On the other hand, it made for the night’s top moment this time, with a Caitlyn Jenner gag that almost seems like it was cut for time from last week. It was passively awful and ruthless in the right South Park way, and hilarious.

And, it was kind of downhill from there. The rest of the episode had the perverted, bigoted teacher Mr. Garrison riling people up against the influx of immigrants. But, this is South Park, so there of course was a stand-in for the actual immigrants hated by so many stupid people—sorry, I should be more P.C.: “patriotic Americans”—in the real world.

So, who is this target of Garrison and his followers’ ire? The same time-travelers from when the show broached this subject over a decade ago? A new crazy and dirty creation? Maybe the forgotten British wussy Pip and his family?

The answer is more disappointing than all of them (except for Pip, screw him!), but very predictable: The floppy-headed Canadians.

I’ll probably take some fan heat for this, but it needs to be said: the running Canadian joke is NOT funny. It never was funny. And no, I’m not turning into PC Principal and saying it’s offensive (seriously, if any viewer doesn’t know Canadians are nothing like that in real life…); I’m saying this because it’s just so stupid and always has been. Aside from the movie, everything throughout South Park history that's incorporated this joke is mediocre at best, excruciating at worst.

This time, it’s mediocre. There were some funny lines courtesy of Butters, and the twist of why Canadians are immigrating to the U.S. was amusing. And while it failed to make much of a point on its chosen issue, the satirical sharpness was prime. The depiction of ant-immigrant racism and ignorance was so on point that if it weren’t for some dirtiness thrown in, it would blur the line between parody and imitation. Also, a running plot point of Kyle being denied the chance at being the show's moral center, being ridiculed and dismissed as P.C. when he’s really the voice of reason, stands in stark contrast to the preceding episode. Last week may have made the show the hero of conservatives and other anti-P.C. loudmouths and trolls, but I think this week belongs to the liberal crowd.

The Muppets, "Pig Girls Don't Cry"

Of all the people to breath some new life into the no-so-novel-anymore mockumentary sitcom, it turns out not to be actual humans at all. But anyone familiar with the Muppets should have expected nothing less. The Muppet Show arguably pioneered the behind-the-scenes spoof nearly four decades ago, and Jim Henson’s creations were masters at breaking down the fourth wall before the term “fourth wall” was even in the lexicon. And this show is new territory for the Muppets? Please! They practically invented this stuff.

The show takes place behind the scenes of a fictional late-night show hosted by Miss Piggy (Eric Jacobson). Kermit the Frog (Steve Whitmire), who’s now on the outs with Piggy and dating another swine coworker (Julianne Buescher), is the show’s producer, and the rest of the bunch all serve different roles in the production. As with similar fake docs, cameras follow them around recording their work and personal lives, with some solitary interviews thrown in. In this premiere episode, said personal storylines focus on Fozzie Bear (Jacobsen again) trying to win the acceptance of his human girlfriends’ parents, a well-worn sitcom plot turned on its head into a funny arc.

In their revival in the last half-decade or so, the Muppets have never seemed like an empty nostalgia trip. Instead of lost in the current time period like many an aging star who return to a world different from when they faded, they have a full grasp of current pop culture and can spin it into laughs. Such is very apparent here. Not only does it rip on itself and the genre it’s part of, but it integrates celebrity cameos and current pop culture in funny ways, alongside the timeless Muppet slapstick, absurdity, wit, and goofy playfulness. As for those reports of it veering into more adult territory, fans can rest easy: they’re well on the abstract side, never veering into cynicism or Avenue Q risqué. Adults will laugh while kids won’t suspect a thing, and the characters you grew up with are the same as they ever were.

Well, kind of. The episode portrays Kermit, ever the wet blanket who in prior vehicles never seemed mad even when he was mad, as slightly more aggressive, and cutthroat in the necessary Hollywood way. It looks at times like so many years of buried frustrations are about to explode. That in itself would be a sight to see, and it’s suggests the possibility that we might get to see the characters we love grow and evolve. But whether that happens or not, the jokes and great fun are enough to keep me watching.

Minority Report, "Pilot"

2002’s Minority Report is an underrated gem in the careers of Steven Spielberg and Tom Cruise, a mind-bending noir mystery with some heavy and interesting sci-fi concepts. Its main premise—a police force with the ability to predict murders and arrest the killers before they happen—could make a great series, a unique take on the police procedural that integrates cool sci-fi and wrestles with ethical quandaries and free will. But, if this pilot is any indication, the Minority Report show we did get looks to have squandered all that potential and delivered a shallow, flashy but empty series.

The opening sequence—a foot chase with former precog (one of the three murder-predicting psychics for those who don’t remember the film; the show’s a sequel, by the way) Dash (Stark Sands) rushing through 2065 Washington, D.C., to stop a murder he envisioned, psychically one step ahead of every obstacle—is the lone bright spot before the show plunges into badness. He fails, but he’s tracked down by D.C. detective Lara Vega (Meagan Good), just as he conveniently starts to have another vision, which is conveniently related to the one at the beginning. Since Pre-Crime, as it was called, is now illegal, the two conduct an off-the-books investigation to save the impending victim.

That plot may not sound particularly bad, or out of the ordinary for a pilot, and it isn’t. The problem is that, for all the interesting possibilities the material presents, the show focuses on none of them.

For example, the episode presents a plot point in which former Pre-Crime arrestees were left with brain damage from their imprisonment in suspended animation. It’s an idea with interesting moral and story implications, but instead of exploring it, the moment is wasted on some tired mismatched cop humor (and a pigeon joke, no less, a fitting metaphor for the show’s treatment of the material). The pilot’s seemingly attempting to establish the two leads as a comedic duo, which is not only very out of place, but lacks even a sliver of humor, let alone chemistry between the two. Sands is little more than an extension of socially inept dolt stereotype that’s getting really annoying by now (basically another clone of Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory), while Good’s character is so generic and underwhelming that I can’t really think of anything to say.

The show seems less interested in its plot potential than showing off the technology of the future, which is an unoriginal mix of Back to the Future Part II-type zaniness and the logical extension of our current tablets and smart phones (the movie’s technological predictions seem pretty off now, but its story was strong enough that it still would have worked with Mystery Science Theater 3000-grade effects). Worse, it also tries to be cute and funny with so many prophetic pop culture references (though I did laugh at a Tinder joke). It’s almost like a live-action episode of Futurama, minus the smart plotting, great characters, and actually being clever or witty about all the cultural references.

Speaking of Futurama, couldn’t the much-discussed, amusing cross-promotion with The Simpsons have included Matt Groening’s head in a jar, as a sort of double reference? It wouldn’t have made the show any better, but it still would have been cool!

South Park, "Stunning and Brave"

In this ongoing cultural meditation about political correctness that's been playing out among comedians, South Park rarely ever comes up (when it was controversial once upon a time, the outrage was more of a moralistic “think of the children” variety than about being un-P.C.). This, I think, is because the show negates the argument that any subject is off limits (at least when it comes to comedy) simply by existing, by being dirty and offensive, but also funny and sharp. I won’t go so far as to say they couldn’t make as effective a statement by addressing the subject directly, but that didn’t quite happen here.

This one sees South Park Elementary get a new principal in the form of a fanatically P.C. college jock. Cartman, of course, is thrown into detention, but so is often-hero Kyle for the crime of not really being enamored with Caitlyn Jenner, and the only person in town who isn’t fearfully gushing about her (for what it’s worth, liberal supporter of LGBT rights though I am, I was completely indifferent to all the Jenner stuff of this past summer). Eventually, the town is overrun by the same P.C. types, whose organization resembles a hard-partying frat.

That last part is one of the show’s classic reversals, imbuing the aggressively overloaded machismo and groupthink of the most stereotypical fraternity lunkheads with the very un-frat-like ideas of political correctness. But besides a funny opening—a self-aware chastising of the very un-P.C. events in some classic episode plots—these characters have nothing to do but act as exaggerated boogeymen. While I see the satirical angle of showing how obnoxious and oblivious “bros” can be, I can imagine every Internet commenter and cultural commentator who thinks “privilege” is a dirty word and rails against political correctness having all their prejudices confirmed, blind to any irony. And then, so many pop culture and news references from this summer are thrown in at the finale, but they serve no point, as if they just included because they felt like they had to have some timely stuff.

And yet, I discerned two valid points from it all. One was that political correctness and the evolution of what’s acceptable is probably inevitable. It doesn’t matter what your opinion is because the culture and conversation is bigger than just what you think. The arrival at the point was one of melancholy and reluctance, but just as different viewers will take the P.C. frat differently than I did, some watching might not think that’s a bad thing. The other point is that, frankly, if we had to be totally politically correct, there would be no Cartman. And what would South Park be without Cartman?

Cultural commentary aside, there have been many funnier episodes, but I laughed at the aforementioned opening sequence and seeing Cartman take a beating. One thing that didn’t make me laugh, though, was Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s obsessive hatred of Tom Brady, which pervaded the episode. Come on, guys! I’m not fan of his either, but the joke is getting kind of old.