From the high end to the legendarily mundane

Most fiction is either character-driven or plot-driven. The novels that make up A Song of Ice and Fire and the subsequent TV series, Game of Thrones, are notably character-driven. There is no high concept that drives the story. It's pretty much straightforward epic fantasy. But it's a story that is steered by several amazing characters, such as Tyrion Lannister and Arya Stark. It's the lack of these that currently hinders its prequel, House of the Dragon. The Rings of Power has the mild advantage of being plot-driven- everything centers around massive events like the creation of the rings and the fall of Numenór -but also having multiple characters that are interesting in and of themselves, like Galadriel and Halbrand. Granted, Galadriel is being written and played by Morfydd Clark so intensely as to be borderline annoying at times. Yes, we get it. You're obsessed with Sauron, greatest surviving servant of Morgoth, whom you hold responsible for the death of your brother and whom you will never, ever stop pursuing. We're right there with you but, at some point, we're all hoping that you learn one of Sauron's essential talents (e.g. more flies with honey, etc.) And, yet, somehow your vinegar roped in the queen-regent of the Dúnedain, Míriel (Cynthia Addai-Robinson.) It's that kind of irritating leap that made this the first episode of Rings that felt more rote than splendid. It was still interesting, but it was also the kind of routine adventure story that you'd expect from material much lower on the scale of such things and more like you'd get out of a Terry Brooks novel (to speak of only one of the most notable of Tolkien ripoffs, complete with a Gandalf who sends some halflings on a mission.)

Just like that Brooks novel, this episode of Rings also involves a sword that the dark forces want to possess. Said weapon is in the hands of young Theo (Tyroe Muhafidin) who is determined to be more active in the defense of his fellow villagers that have taken shelter in the very watchtower that Arondir and company abandoned a couple weeks back. Everything old is new again and all that. The fact that this is much like Théoden leading his people to Helm's Deep should be in the forefront of most LotR fans' minds, if they're paying attention. And, again, this is what makes this episode somewhat rote in its telling. This is the adventure story, as the common people do their common things and the heroes among them stand out, to one degree of success or another. The fact that Theo waits until dark, when the orcs can move around at will, to try to escape from the otherwise empty village is another example of how one person's hero is another person's fool. But stumbling into things is also one of the easier ways of getting a story out of them, so here we are. There's a Tolkien nerd moment when the old man warns Theo of the return of Sauron, since said name was given to him by the elves as something of a mockery of his original name (Mairon, "the admirable"; Sauron means "the abominable") Would Sauron's servants use the elf name? Obviously, that's way too much detail for the casual viewer but it occurred to the Tolkien nerd.

The events on Numenór are a little more awkward in terms of delivering a story. Isildur "failing" at the Sea Guard tests is pretty standard for Campbell's hero's journey and, as noted, Míriel is somehow convinced by Galadriel discovering the secret of her ailing father. I guess they did well enough in showing just how disturbed the queen regent was by the vision she kept seeing in the palantir that she has, but it still felt unconvincing and simply like a plot element (e.g. this is how Elendil and a bunch of Dúnedain first end up in Middle-Earth!) that had to be fulfilled. Speaking of the seeing stones, it was odd to hear Míriel say that "the rest" had been lost or hidden, considering that when the Numenóreans finally moved to M-E for good, they brought seven of them along with them and Tolkien lore suggests that there may have never been more than eight in the first place. One other detail is that, in the books, the stones were only used for communication and it was mentioned that they could be used to view the past. The presence of visions of the future was never a thing, but artistic license by the show writers has already been employed, so this is probably just another one of those things. Still, I question why the others had to be "lost or hidden", rather than simply explaining that the one in the palace was simply one of them. Galadriel would have known what they were and why they were there, as they had been given to the kingdom by the elves. It was nice to see them displaying Pharazôn's political acumen, by setting up a rabble-rouser to inflame a crowd, only for the chancellor to calm them and display his leadership qualities. Thus are coups set in motion...

We were also brought back into the realm of the dwarves, as we finally returned to the amusing interplay between Elrond (Robert Aramayo), Durin (Owain Arthur), and Disa (Sophia Nomvete.) Obviously, all of this was leading up to the discovery of mithril at Khazad-Dûm, which is fine. It's a good way to show off the mistrust of the elves that the dwarves share with the humans, as well as the grasping possessiveness that the former have when the possibility of crafting something comes around. Disa is by far the most entertaining of the trio (That's right, racists. The Black dwarf is the cool one.) Alongside the typical blustery Durin and the aloof but still earnest Elrond, Disa is entirely practical yet eminently sociable and clearly the one most capable of navigating the disruptions created by the instincts (or agendae) of others. Nomvete is kind of a delight and I really hope her role expands in the future. In contrast, the appearance of the Morgoth-serving elf, Adar, was kind of restrained. I had expected a bit more of a Romulan experience, with the cold intellect surrounded by some degree of actual fury. For his couple of minutes on screen, he's essentially still the figure in the shadows that didn't need to be seen or named at all. That may be what is still the Diablo-esque nature of the M-E scenes shining (shadowing?) through, though, which is still part of what makes the show enjoyable. So, we've lost a bit of the shine of wonder and are through to the "story simply progressing" phase; much like the difference between Peter Jackson's Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. It's still absolutely worth the time.

Carnivals are usually fun

Give me a line that doesn't sound stupid. I dare you!

Jeff Bezos apparently told his creative types that he wanted to have the "next Game of Thrones" as an Amazon original. Carnival Row is supposedly one of the first entries in that attempt to recreate the (ahem) magic of the HBO series. I can tell you right now that, if by some miracle they actually succeed in that effort with this show, I will lose what little faith I have left in humanity. It's been a while since I've seen something this bad. Yes, I know the last episode of Game of Thrones was just a few months ago, but even that had some redeeming value (Solid actors with actual roles, a decent line or two, etc.) I didn't see any whatsoever in Carnival Row.

First off, let's just assert one thing: No show is going to capture the zeitgeist the way GoT did for two reasons: 1. The multiplicity of networks means no one is watching any one thing at any given time. There's too much choice out there to capture the same size audience so that that one thing will be the only thing talked about at the office the next day. 2. Almost all of these new services are offering up entire seasons in one go. There is no designated watching time, such that you know that you and several million other people are all planted in front of your TVs at the same time (and tweeting about it at the same time...) That kind of communal activity just isn't possible when some people binge things inside 24 hours and others can only watch them over a few weeks. At the moment, Hulu is the only one attempting weekly releases to try to maintain that community tension (and, of course, show commercials.)

Wait... You want us to say what?

That asserted, there's no way that Carnival Row should become the next big hit because no one except Jeff "more money than any deity you can think of" Bezos would have been willing to pay for it. It's awful, top to bottom, from every technical perspective you can think of: acting, direction, writing (save me, Jeebus; ESPECIALLY the writing), as well as the more nuts-and-bolts stuff like lighting and basic physical functions (how dual, insect-like wings actually work, for example.)

Now, granted, you had to expect that the acting would be brutal if the lead is Orlando Bloom, whose range is essentially "pensive but wooden figure constantly trying to convince you that he actually has emotions.", but how did they trick Jared Harris and Indira Varma into this? Promise them they'd only have scenes with each other so they could feed off one another and ad-lib their way out of the awful script? Apparently not, since it was still awful when Harris was explaining- to his wife -how his job works and the status of the current legislature. Because she wouldn't know these basic things, would she? And, overall, the acting doesn't rise above the level of Bloom's emoting in front of his boss (complete with requisite fist slamming to the desk) at how much he feels for the Fae people and their plight. Could they have made this any more obvious? How about if he did the classical "baring a breast with a ready dagger" bit?

Dreary. Like pretty much everything.

But the direction was poor, too. Chase scenes are supposed to build tension, not stutter for five minutes while the two participants keep pacing each other, but that's exactly what happened as Rycroft Philostrate (Bloom) and Unseelie Jack (Matthew Gravelle) race across the rooftops. It was like trying to turn over an engine when the starter is failing. You keep feeling that something's about to happen as the car does that shudder... but then nothing. So, you try again. That's not tension. That's anticipation and despair, because the motion that you get means nothing and the motion you expect never happens. You want tension? Go watch The Bourne Identity again to see how to set up and conduct a chase scene. Oh, and the names... Rycroft Philostrate. Vignette Stonemoss. Imogen Spurnrose. Seriously? I mean, you're serious with this? It isn't fantastical enough that you have people with wings and demons living in the sewers and you think Orlando Bloom can actually act, but you have to give people names that would make each and every one of these people despise their parents?

But that's part and parcel of the worst part: the writing. It's brutal. Half of it is exposition, but even where it isn't, they have the True Detective, season 2 pattern down cold (i.e. People don't fucking talk like that!) My favorite bit was where Bloom confronts the sergeant he suspects and the latter responds: "Just what are you insinuating?" Wut? Not "What's all this about?" or "Tryin' to make a point?" or even "What are you tryin' to say here, inspector?", all delivered in standard Cockney. No, no, no. Let's reach into Webster's for the elevated term because that's the first thing that would come to mind for Average Joe Desk Sergeant. All that tells me is that, in addition to your world not being real (suspension of disbelief!), your characters aren't real, either, because they speak like someone just handed them a script, rather than how they would if they actually lived in your unreal world. JFC, Tamzin Merchant's entire role (Imogen) is exposition! Every time she opens her mouth, she's dropping facts like an almanac to people that should already be familiar with them. She even describes what we've already seen, as if we need that explained to us like her entire family history and marital status. "Carriage!" Yes, we saw that. This is the same response I'd expect from a four-year-old pointing out the window to say: "Fire truck!", because it's exciting for him and he thinks no one else saw it. But we're watching the screen (presumably), so we don't need it announced.

"I'm about to tell him what style of hat he's wearing!"

The crowner is, appropriately, the last scene, where you'd expect some more detail and, instead, are given none, presumably because the writer (René Echevarria) thought it would be "mysterious". Unseelie Jack is about to unburden himself of, y'know, everything and decides that that's the moment to drop some hints about the horrible things that he's seen and why Rycroft Philostrate(!) has no clue about the real world. It's at this point that you'd normally drop in a couple names or words that the audience won't recognize or understand so that they have something to entice them into watching the next episode (although, with this series, perhaps this is a blessing.) Think Melisandre talking about the Lord of Light/Red God/R'hllor. You don't know who that is or what its role is in Westeros, but she name-drops because it's natural to her (she lives there and, really, with the Red God) and it gives the audience something to think about, in addition to providing a little detail on the world. We get none of that from Unseelie Jack's monologue. None! It's all horrible darkness this and you won't believe what I've seen that, but we don't get one single detail about this obviously overarching plot element. So, his entire speech becomes ephemeral, as we later watch a Fae woman get devoured by something in the sewers down by the docks which, for all we know, might be a common thing in these parts... and tells us the same thing his useless speech did!

Me, too. It's called "This screenplay."

I'm not even getting into more technical detail, like how showing everything with a blue lens to make it seem "dark" also begins to make everything blend together. Or how you don't soar, as Vignette(!) does in the opening scene, with dual, halteres-type wings (think common housefly.) Or how working girls don't sleep with their johns! That's because they're working and need to move on to the next guy. If you're going to use sex as a major plot element, you might as well know how it works, yo.

I honestly can't fathom how even Amazon greenlit this thing and I've seen Britannia. Echevarria was showrunner on Terra Nova (once described as "Stargate Universe by Dr. Seuss"), if that gives you any indication at which level things are operating. But if one is trying to field the "next Game of Thrones", one certainly wouldn't start here. Aim higher.