sehope's Blog

In Gotham's penultimate episode, everything finally seems to be coming together. Whether you're rooting for the heroic Detective Jim Gordon, anxiously awaiting the rise of the young Bruce Wayne or (like me) reveling in the evil and chaos sewn by the show's colorful villains, episode nine, "Harvey Dent," probably had you feeling pretty jazzed.

This week, the central vigilante was not a vigilante at all. Ian Hargrove (Leslie Odom, Jr.) is a mentally ill inmate at Blackgate Penitentiary who is liberated by former associates of the recently deceased Russian mobster Nikolai. They, working in collusion with Fish Mooney, want him to build a bomb (he is somewhat of an bomb-making MacGuyver) to help them penetrate the iron door of Falcone's money vault. They succeed, but Fish has bigger plans. She sends her own closet bomb expert, Butch, to blow up the whole operation, in hopes of further crippling Falcone. Hargrove - who may be, as his brother insists, just a sick man caught in a series of bad situations - is recaptured and sent to Arkham Asylum, where the mayor has decided to relocate all of Gotham's criminally insane.

The episode was appropriately titled "Harvey Dent." How appropriate that in the same episode Arkham Asylum is reopened, we meet one of its most infamous future residents. Dent is earnest, intelligent, and Gotham's youngest-ever assistant district attorney and is destined to be both an ally and (later) an enemy to both Gordon and Batman. He is brought in by the Major Crimes Unit to help investigate the Wayne murders. Selina "Cat" Kyle, the only eyewitness of the Wayne murders, has returned and, with a sketch artist, recreated an image of the killer. Dent wants to use the idea of a witness (without putting Cat in any danger) to bring down a mogul named Dick Lovecraft. Gordon is hesitant at first, but is won over by Dent's commitment to "make this city a better place."

Lovecraft is not a direct reference to any major character in the DC Comics universe. There is a minor villain named Dr. Lovecraft, but his name is more likely a nod to H.P. Lovecraft, the American horror novelist. The Arkham Asylum was originally named as a nod to Arkham, Massachusetts, a fictional town prominently featured in the writer Lovecraft's works in the 1920s, and in the works of those who followed and expanded upon his Cthulhu Mythos. The term "Cthulhu" will be familiar to fans of True Detective; this character-creature was one of many "weird supernatural horror" easter eggs in the first season of Nic Pizzolatto's critically-acclaimed series.

When Dent meets with Gotham's Lovecraft (Al Sapienza), we the audience were offered a glimpse at the beginnings of Dent's own mythos. When his plan to misle Lovecraft by pretending that a key eyewitness can tie him to the Wayne murders doesn't work, and instead draws a threat from the powerful man accused, Dent snaps. "Don't threaten me. I will rip you open," he growls, then returns to his calm and unthreatening manner. Somebody's a little bit two-faced, if you know what I mean.

Meanwhile, for her own protection, Gordon has sent Cat to stay at Wayne Manor with Bruce. The two future allies have a predictably rocky start; the genius rich boy writing his own school curriculum and taking lessons in discipline and willpower was bound to clash with the street-wise, chipped-shouldered, curious orphan. But eventually, they connect through a little pre-teen flirtation and the mutual understanding shared only by those who have lost parents. The strict but loving butler-caretaker Alfred, who is initially wary of Cat's influence on Bruce, also comes around to her charms when he sees them having a food fight. Bruce's interminable seriousness is finally softened as he dives under tables and dissolves in peals of laughter unheard since the night of his parents' death.

Elsewhere, the Penguin continues his slow but persistent takeover from the ground up. He sneaks into Fish's "weapon" Liza's apartment and, with a keen sense of smell, deduces that Fish has sent Liza to unhinge Falcone. No one can pull one over on this guy.

Of note in the last few episodes has been the spectacular music that accompanies Penguin's antics. At times, a honky tonk piano give a jaunty circus feel to his quirky walk. While sleuthing in Liza's apartment, lilting violins lend a creepy air to his pursuit, giving way to expansive Zimmer-esque "bramms" to underscore his dark revelation. It's the only place where the score truly seems to complement the action, rather than distracting from it. Though the music, like the rest of the show, has calmed down a bit from the first episode, there is still work for composer Graeme Revell to do in unifying the cadences of music and drama.

At the end of the previous episode, Gordon's girlfriend Barbara had left town, fearing for her life after a brush with Falcone's thugs. Though this was not a major theme in the ninth episode, it was woven lightly throughout. Poor Jim, always having to deal with the raucous criminals of Gotham City while keeping his personal troubles at bay.

But Barbara may not have left for the reasons she stated. At the end of the episode, Gordon calls Barbara, pleading: "I don't have anything without you and I love you." This heartfelt voice over gives way a surprising image: Barbara in bed with Major Crimes Detective Renee Montoya, her former lover. What is really going on here? Can Gordon truly trust either of these women?

Indeed, just as everything seems to be coming together, everything will come undone for its characters in the fall finale on Monday. Fox has released eight minutesof the episode already.

The Gotham mid-season fall finale will air Monday at 8 p.m. on Fox.

It's official. Gotham has finally embraced its neo-noir silliness, just as Penguin has finally embraced his avian nickname. It's a new day in Gotham.

Well, not really.

The last two episodes of Gotham have picked up their pace and tightened some loose ends - but the city of Gotham has not yet changed. It's still a terrible place full of terrible people, both downright evil and willfully hamstrung.

In episode seven, titled "Penguin's Umbrella," Jim Gordon (a much more emotive Ben McKenzie) finally takes his place as a worthy hero in this dark world. After it is revealed that he did not, in fact, kill Cobblepot when the crime Don Carmine Falcone ordered him to, Gordon is convinced that Falcone will be out to kill him. With nothing to lose, he faces Falcone's hitman, Victor Szasz (Anthony Carrigan) head on. Szasz comes to the GCPD precinct and dramatically perches on a desk, calling out for Gordon across a sea of stunned faces on paralyzed bodies.

Now, are we truly supposed to believe that all those cops would quietly stand and stare, then disperse at Szasz's command, leaving him alone with Gordon? Are all of these women and men truly that cowardly? Yes, that's exactly what we are to believe. Gotham is, after all, the worst city ever. And are we supposed to believe that Butch, Fish Mooney's thug (played by Drew Powell in a deliciously wicked performance), would really run a heist using a road block made of nuns? Yes, yes we are.

It might be the fact that the series seems to be taking itself less seriously and camping it up with abandon. Or maybe it's the lack of truly bad dialogue in these last two episodes. (Though Fish Mooney still has some of the worst, like that "scaly-faced bitch" line. Huh? He's a Penguin, not a snake!) But somehow, I did believe it. For the first time since Gotham's premiere, I felt myself rooting for Jim Gordon as he stood, feet firmly planted, and took on the three thugs sent to bring him in. Due to the hitmen's ability to shatter a lot of glass, but somehow not hit Gordon, he gets away. He continues his quest for the arrest of Gotham's most corrupt and ends up at Falcone's doorstep. As he is about to slap the cuffs on the Don of all Dons, he learns that his beloved Barbara has been captured by Szasz and will be killed if he moves forward.

The quest is over. Another day, another loss for the good guys. Love gets in the way of justice. Gotham City, have you no compassion?

In episode eight, "The Mask," the GCPD is back to investigating weird criminals with weird methods. A corporate finance head makes his prospective employees fight to the death for a position at his firm, with an abandoned cubicle farm as a ring and staplers, printer cartridges and desk phones as weapons. "Let the games begin," the ringmaster says over the intercom. How very Jigsaw of him.

Despite losing some of its self-serious gravity and embracing its campy side, several moments in episodes seven and eight had me asking: "Is this really network television?" Graphic stabbings, flying bullets, severed fingers and self-mutiliation, plus quite a few sexually suggestive moments, put Gotham in running for boldest new network series. It is perhaps out-scandalized only by ABC's steamy Thursday night double-whammy of Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder. It's no Game of Thrones, but it's pretty audacious next to its more tonally even network sisters Gracepoint and Red Band Society.

Meanwhile, through the previous two episodes, Penguin has begun to step into his role Gotham's cleverest puppetmaster. Episode seven opens with him strolling down the street to a jaunty honky tonk piano theme, finally the master of his own fate - with his own musical theme and everything! When his new boss Maroni calls him a golden goose, he cheerfully and deferentially quips, "honk, honk!"

Falcone and Maroni broker a deal whereas Maroni gets to keep his golden goose in exchange for some real estate. And so, the tangled web of Arkham special interests grows more convoluted. Little does Maroni know, he's drawn a much shorter stick.

Robin Lord Taylor as the scheming, maniacal Oswald Cobblepot (a.k.a. The Peguin).

In a flashback, we learn that, after Penguin snitched on Fish Mooney and Falcone, he bargained with Falcone to save his own life using both a promise and a valuable secret. He asked Falcone to give the task of killing him to Jim Gordon, who he knew would spare him. Then, he promised, he would come back to Gotham under a different name and be Falcone's undercover agent in the Maroni operation. He would help him defeat Nikolai and Fish, who were planning to take him down and assume power. Falcone agreed, and the events of the first season so far unfolded just as the Penguin had predicted. Penguin is alive with both of Gotham's most powerful crime lords and the most earnest of the city's crime-fighting force under his thumb, and no one is the wiser. They always say don't piss off a goose. Honk honk, indeed.

Coming up in the final two episodes before good network dramas give way to weeks of holiday specials and reruns, Alfred will begin to teach the the caped crusader about honor, pride, loyalty and fighting. The relationship between Alfred and Bruce has felt stalled so far; for an alliance that plays such a huge part in the Batman legacy, it has been back-burnered for too long in this series. Finally, Alfred's world view and personality are coming through, and Bruce is growing.

We'll also meet Gotham's sharp young assistant district attorney, Batman ally and future plastic surgery candidate, Harvey Dent.

Gotham airs Monday nights at 8 on Fox.

Making friends as an adult is weird.

As a kid, your world is small. You sit next to other kids on the bus. You swing on swings. You play in the sand. Your moms drink wine on the porch while you ride bikes in the driveway. Friendship.

As a teen, you pick a category and define yourself. Jock, geek, goth, theater kid, music nerd. These are your people. Stick to them like glue, and enjoy the same things as far as your minimum wage part-time salary from the grocery store will take you. Friendship.

College is a time to break free from your high school gang and experiment. Show up at that loud party house and hang out with whomever. The possibilities are endless. Here you really start to define yourself, and meet people who share your interests and appreciate the things about you they don't share. Friendship.

But as an adult, the field is rough. As outlandish and shallowly referential as Selfie can be, the message about adult friendships in episode three, "With A Little Yelp From My Friends," is a refreshing one.

For many of us in our mid-twenties, between work, relationships, maybe school and our deep social commitment to the Internet, who has time to put in all the effort it takes to make real adult friends?

Step one: find out what they like. In the age of the Internet, many of us cyber stalk everyone we meet. Where are they from? What does their significant other do? What movies do they like? Do they use proper grammar on their Facebook and Twitter? Are they mean to local businesses on Yelp? Do they post funny things? Political things? Ignorant things? All preliminary questions to friendship, these days.

In episode three, Eliza cyber stalks Joan, a coworker with whom she thinks she has nothing in common. She finds Joan's only social profile: a Yelp account. She learns what Joan likes and dislikes, and tries to use the woman's own words to foster a connection between them. But friendships can't be forced, and their contrived connection tanks quickly.

The best friendships are the ones that pop up organically, where you least expect them. Eliza confesses to Henry that she eats standing up because no one used to want to sit with her at lunch. The two stand together and eat, and finally make a connection.

"When a friendship is real, you can feel it."

Episode four finds Henry challenging Eliza to spend her weekend doing something productive, like helping a friend, rather than partying and trying to maintain her social media reputation. Eliza in turn challenges Henry to spend the weekend having fun, rather than working.

Charmonique (Da'Vine Joy Randolph), the receptionist, is preparing for her high school reunion. Eliza offers to help her get ready. The two laugh, share common interests, and dance to "No Scrubs" by TLC in Charmonique's wig room (which, she notes, is climate controlled and valued at more than $60,000). When Charmonique's babysitter cancels, Eliza ends up babysitting her 9-year-old son, Kevin.

Eliza's struggle to connect with this precocious young man is comical and endearing, and somewhat humanizes her. But are we truly to believe that this vapid narcissist would have stuck around? Maybe. Maybe deep down, she's just a damaged spirit hiding her love and care in favor of approval.

Selfie is migrating from a swirling trough of social media jokes to a sweet (albeit simple) exploration of relationships in the digital age. It's not exactly insightful. In fact, it remains about as shallow as Eliza was when we first met her. But certain story lines show potential for a more poignant meditation on human interaction.

At her reunion, Charmonique hopes to reconnect with a high school crush. But Mitchell McMoney (Isaiah Mustafa) is now a priest, and he deeply shames her for being irresponsible in her sex life and becoming a single mother.

Countless women -- especially black women -- are shamed for having children "out of wedlock," even though studies show that's the new normal. Just this month, North Carolina State Senator Jim Davis made racist and accusatory statements about the effect of black single motherhood on rates of incarceration. McMoney's judgment of Charmonique is as relevant as any social media-infused quips peppered throughout the show so far.

But Charmonique does not internalize McMoney's shaming. Instead, she turns inward.

"I'm glad that you found higher love," she tells him. "But I have self love, and that's real love."

At the crossroads of "Decent Story About Friendship" and "Dude Tells Girl How To Behave," Selfie's writers seem to have chosen the right path. Selfie's message of the week: love yourself. Everyone's first friend is his or herself. Once you know yourself like a bestie, you can bring that person out to meet people, and maybe make other organic, lasting friends.

Can a lowly, hobbling dishwasher take over Gotham City without anyone noticing?

In the fourth episode of Gotham, the political tangles of government, law enforcement and the rival gangs reach a climax. The disturbed vigilante justice of the first few episodes gives way to organized crime syndicates at war.

The rival crime bosses Carmine Falcone and Dom Maroni each want a piece of the coveted Arkham district of Gotham. At the site of an old mental health hospital, Arkham Asylum, Falcone wants to build a low-income housing project, and Maroni wants to build a waste treatment plant. Before their untimely deaths by an as-yet-unknown assassin, Thomas and Martha Wayne wanted to rebuild the asylum to help Gotham's neediest.

But in the highly political battle for this decaying monument to Gotham's dark decline, the Waynes no longer have a say. It's one crime boss against another, with the hapless mayor (a criminally underutilized Richard Kind) caught in between.

First, a hired assassin takes out a councilman and his aid, who backed Falcone's plan. Then, the same assassin takes out a backer of Maroni's plan. In the midst of the chaos and violence, Oswald Cobblepot makes a play by staging a stick-up at the Maroni-owned restaurant where he has been hired as a dishwasher. The stammering dishwasher becomes a hero, hiding with some of the sought-after cash in a freezer. Maroni promotes him to restaurant manager, and a Machiavellian smile flickers across his dirty face. The Penguin was behind it all.

Though this is no The Wire in terms of complex sociopolitical storylines, the cohesive Arkham arc was one of the best so far. The lukewarm compromise reached between the warring parties highlighted the complications of managing rival constituencies and underscored the corruption at the heart of Gotham. The twist of Cobblepot's involvement in the shakeup between the gangs, while somewhat predictable, laid further groundwork for the rise of what seems to be the season's central villain. The series seems to finally have its feet on the ground. It is slowly gaining balance. In time, it may even run.

While the scenes of the city of Gotham are gorgeous, like something out of a big budget DC Comics flick, and the mostly well-constituted cast does an OK job with what they're given, there is still somewhat of a disconnect in this series. A quarter of the way through its initial 16-episode run (which was increased to a full 22 just this week), the best writing, most intriguing storylines and best acting can be found among the villains, who still don't feel central enough to the story.

Harvey Bullock is boring. He's lazy and corrupt, and he hates his boy scout of a partner. What else can we learn about him? Donal Logue is a good actor, perhaps second on this program only to Robin Lord Taylor (Cobblepot). And plus, he looks great in the role (that hat!). I only wish he was given some worthy material.

Even James Gordon himself, the central protagonist in this swirling ensemble, is boring. Ben McKenzie's flat acting and unending state of agitation are really starting to get old. Does the boy scout detective have any states of emotion beyond anger and trepidation?

Gordon and Barbara's relationship problems are boring, too. When she gave him an ultimatum ("Let me in or let me go"), I wasn't hoping for a raised boom box Say Anything moment. I was just relieved. (Yawn.)

The villains, on the other hand, are impossible to look away from. As the conniving Fish Mooney, Jada Pinkett Smith is superb. Despite the occasionally strained lines of cheesy dialogue the writers put in her mouth, when Pinkett Smith's seductive schemer is on screen, I am hooked. Edward Nygma's (Cory Michael Smith) maniacal grin and pointed syntax captivate in his brief scenes. Even the identity-stealing assassin was more compelling than any of the series' do-gooder protagonists.

And as the shrewd and unassuming Cobblepot, Taylor continues to impress. In scenes where he feels his power growing, the nimble tinge of pleasure in his face and stature are undeniably good. In scenes where he is vexed, his bubbling rage brings goosebumps to the skin. Forget the boy scout cop, his lazy partner, his worried fiance and even that broody orphan in the mansion. I want this guy to win!

In the next episode, "Viper," we meet a superhuman ATM thief with an apparently insatiable taste for milk. Makes sense, right?