Digital Refrain

Illustration by Jamie Carr (@nbrhd_story on Twitter)

In my experience as a Serious Television Consumer, I’ve found that animated series tend to get the short end of the stick when it comes to garnering accolades. Sure, animated comedies like Archer get their share of praise, but when the time comes for people to make their year-end lists and discuss its merits, you’ll rarely see it ahead of live-action shows like Community or Parks and Recreation. I’m not sure if it’s a subconscious reaction or what, but animation as a medium just doesn’t seem to get taken as seriously. This is particularly evident with animated dramas. If The Cape had been a well-made meditation on the responsibilities of superheroes instead of being mediocre and campy, or Heroes hadn’t fallen off a cliff after its first season, I’m confident they’d both get more respect from critics and TV snobs than, say, Batman: The Animated Series or Justice League.

It’s this kind of bias that spurred me to write this post. The spring slate of shows has been an extremely good one, with the return of Mad Men and Game Of Thrones, in addition to the premiere of Girls. Despite the pedigree of three shows (I am a regular viewer of all three) and the groundswell of support they receive — obnoxious Lena Dunham backlash excluded — the show I look forward to watching the most every week airs Saturday mornings at 11:00 AM on Nickelodeon. The Legend of Korra is a sequel — which is a bit of a rarity for TV — to Avatar: The Last Airbender, which developed a rabid cult following (and received a horribly botched movie adaptation), but still didn’t garner a lot of mainstream attention when it initially aired.

If you’ve ever seen the original series, or had the misfortune of seeing M. Night Shyamalan’s tedious interpretation, the premise for both series is roughly the same. Among normal citizens there exist a minority that can manipulate specific elements — water, earth, air, and fire. The most powerful of these “benders” is the Avatar, who is the only person on earth capable of bending all four elements, or even more than one. The Avatar is essentially a more magical version of the Dalai Lama: when one dies, he or she will be reincarnated shortly thereafter, ensuring that there is always an Avatar to help maintain balance in the world.

In this case, Korra, the series’ titular character is the avatar in question. She is a 17-year-old girl (voiced by the excellent Janet Varney) who has managed to master firebending, earthbending, and waterbending in relative isolation, but must travel to Republic City to study airbending with Tenzin (a surprisingly pensive J.K. Simmons), the son of the previous avatar. It’s a bit sad that a strong female protagonist is still a relevant accolade to give, but one of the biggest strengths of the series is how good the title character is. There are a lot of pitfalls when it comes to constructing a female character who makes a point of fighting regularly. On the one hand, you can get preachy (and often hypocritically oversexed) “girls can kick ass, too!” characters that ruin the equal ground they’re on by drawing too much attention to their gender and playing it off like a novelty.

The flip side to this is the glorified damsel in distress, whose strength of character is constantly undermined by her need to be rescued from predicaments by male characters (Samus in Metroid: Other M is the perfect example of this). Korra avoids both of these — easily enough — by treating its protagonist like, you know, an actual person. Korra is an incredibly talented martial artist, but she’s also a teenage girl, and the writers make a point of finding a happy medium between the two.

Korra is an excellent cornerstone, but she’s also surrounded by  a fleshed out, fully realized world. Avatar was set in an almost feudal society composed of the earth and fire nations, as well as the nomadic water tribes, and the air temple — which was wiped out by the genocidal fire nation. The politics at play in the series — particularly the willingness to address mass atrocities in a show ostensibly for kids — did a lot to make it an immersive viewing experience. Korra could have coasted off of this previously established structure, but the writers instead elected to create an even more complex environment to house its characters. Republic City, 100 years after the events of the original series,  is a fascinating amalgamation of old and new technology, political backbiting, and societal development. Its filled to the brim with steam punk inventions that would bring tears to Jules Verne’s eyes, features a popular sport — “pro bending” — that puts Quidditch to shame, and is the site of some serious political unrest. It seems that the cities non-benders aren’t exactly happy with their social status, as their opportunities for employment aren’t what they used to be with benders essentially making certain manual labor obsolete with their supernatural abilities. Instead of facing the straightforward threat of a fascistic, malevolent nation like Aang, Korra must deal with many of the people she’s sworn to protect and the shadowy leader they’ve rallied around.

Korra‘s story and characters would be enough to make it a worthwhile experience, but its superb animation and action sequences elevate it from good to essential viewing. You won’t find a better looking animated series on television at the moment. Korra’s characters and environments are beautifully drawn, and the animators have added some delightful, anime-inspired facial tics and reactions that really help to drive home the show’s sense of humor. The show has the best action on television as far as I’m concerned, with some absolutely jaw-dropping sequences — several involving a fan favorite character, who is essentially Batman and Spiderman combined — and almost unlimited options, given the medium. Its fights are incredibly well-choreographed, constructed with the help of martial arts and MMA consultants — giving the show a wide range of styles to throw at its audience. Korra might shoot fire out of her mouth one moment, then subsequently body slam them. The results are, by and large, pretty bad-ass.

The Legend of Korra is nearing the end of its truncated first season, but it’s already been renewed for a second one. It couldn’t hurt to watch Avatar (which is available in its entirety on Netflix Instant) before checking out Korra, but the show is generally welcoming to new viewers, without too much hand-holding.  Korra is thrilling, funny, well-acted, and always riveting. If you’re not up on this yet, you are missing out. It’s as simple as that.

Illustration by Maddison Bond

by Thom Powell

“The thing about [Gilly] that I find so interesting is that after all that Craster has done to her, she’s still got hope that life might get better.” -Samwell Tarly

Game Of Thrones can be an incredibly morbid show, mainly because Westeros is itself an incredibly morbid place. Season two’s final episode finds virtually every character in some sort of disadvantageous predicament. Robb must choose between the woman he loves and an alliance he desperately needs. Tyrion is no longer the hand of the king and must suffer the mockery of Maester Pycelle in his new, somewhat cramped living quarters. Arya must find her way back to Winterfell without the help of Jaqen H’ghar. Daenerys is — as she’s been very fond of reminding us lately — without her dragons and must risk her life in the House of the Undying. Jon must kill a brother in order to infiltrate the wildlings. Stannis must regroup after a particularly crushing defeat. Even Theon is faced with the choice between certain death, cowardice, or permanent service for the Night’s Watch. Despite these grim situations, Sunday’s episode was clearly about keeping hope alive in spite of difficult odds.

We begin in King’s Landing, with a newly disfigured Tyrion forced to bear the mockery of Pycelle, who informs him of his loss of status. We then see Joffrey doling out rewards for the victory at Blackwater — giving Lord Tywin the position Tyrion has been stripped of, granting Petyr Baelish dominion over Harrenhal, and agreeing to the Tyrells’ request to marry Margaery. Cersei’s attempt on the imp’s life may have failed, but she did succeed in taking virtually everything from him. The credit he rightfully deserves has gone elsewhere. And yet, Tyrion still has hope. He dismisses Shae’s idea of running off and living their days together outside of King’s Landing, because he still has faith in his abilities. As he tells his concubine: “I do belong here. These bad people are what I’m good at — out-talking them, out-thinking them — it’s what I am, and I like it. I like it more than anything I’ve ever done.” Tyrion may not have much going for him at King’s Landing, but he still has Shae, and he still has the respect of people like Varys, who understand how instrumental he was in protecting the interests of the kingdom.

Things aren’t going so well for the Starks, either. With Joffrey’s new betrothal to Margaery Tyrell, Sansa’s momentary elation is brought to an end by Littlefinger. Sure, she no longer has to marry him, but as Baelish points out, that doesn’t mean the Lannisters will let her go, nor does it mean Joffrey won’t try to have his way with her. Things seem better, but they may have just gotten worse for Sansa. Despite this, however, she receives unlikely help from Littlefinger, who tells her that he will help get her home. Even if his intentions aren’t entirely honest — he rather creepily compares her to her mother — it’s still a sliver of hope that Sansa can cling to in an otherwise desperate situation. The other Starks find themselves in similar situations. Robb ignores his mother’s advice and marries Talisa, crossing Walder Frey in the process. Catelyn is still under house arrest and is far from making amends with her son. Arya has escaped Harrenhal, but must now make her own way. Like Sansa, they still have some hope to cling to. Robb has his new marriage, Catelyn has Brienne and Jamie, and Arya has Jaqen H’ghar’s coin. The Stark armies may be without advantage and bereft of any leverage they once had, but Robb will have another well of support to help him gut out the remainder of the war. Catelyn may have lost her son, but she can still get her daughters back. Arya is rudderless, but she has a backup plan — courtesy of the shape-shifting H’ghar — should her return to Winterfell fail.

Winterfell, however, isn’t in great shape either. Theon is besieged by Roose Bolton’s forces and unable to even seek the respite of sleep, due to a particularly annoying horn-blower. His options are limited. His men are outnumbered 20 to 500 and going home with his tail between his legs isn’t an option. Maester Luwin suggests Theon take the black and serve with Jon Snow. He decides, instead, to take his chances and fight — delivering a rousing speech that would make Herb Brooks proud, which he hopes will inspire his men to do the impossible. This proves futile, as his second in command knocks him out (damn you, Finchy!), presumably to deliver him to Bolton’s men, before burning Winterfell to the ground. Everything appears lost for Luwin, who is dying of a spear wound, until he sees Bran and Rickon emerge from the great city’s charred remains, along with Osha and Hodor. The Starks may be split and Winterfell may be gone, but the boys are still alive, and they can make the decision Theon could not by seeking the assistance of the Night’s Watch.

Futher away, things are going a bit better for the likes of Stannis Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen. All seems lost for Stannis, who laments the loss of his brother and nearly chokes Melisandre, until he heeds the red priestess’ advice and looks for his destiny in the flames. We don’t know what he sees here, but it’s clearly some sort of personal victory, as he’s struck silent. He may have hit rock bottom after the defeat at Blackwater, but that means things can only go up from here for Stannis. Meanwhile, in Qarth, Daenerys finally enters the House of the Undying. This was a pretty huge relief, considering the last few weeks of “MY DRAGONS”-related inaction from the mother of dragons. In one of the best scenes of the finale, Daenerys is shown the things she could have had — a still alive Khal Drogo and a healthy son — but manages to resist the temptation of these images in order to get her dragons back. Pyat Pree’s motivations for stealing her children are finally explained (the presence of her dragons enhances his magic to previously unforeseen heights), but his plan fails. Dany has no intention of being chained up for an eternity with her dragons, and burns Pree to death with a single word. With her dragons safely returned, Daenerys exacts her revenge on Xaro Xhoan Daxos — who will serve the rest of his short tenure as the King of Qarth locked inside his own empty vault — and loots his home for valuables that she and Jorah can parlay into a ship. We got the first taste of how destructive dragons can be with this episode, and it’s only a matter of time before Westeros sees how terrifying they can be.

If things are looking dire in Westeros, it’s only a matter of time before they get worse. Beyond the wall, Jon Snow is forced to kill Qhorin Halfhand to gain entry into Mance Rayder’s forces, but for once, the most important events on this front involve Samwell Tarly. He, like the main players in Westeros, has hope things will get better, but those hopes are quickly squashed. The white walkers have finally returned, and not in small numbers. The parade of the dead that Sam witnesses (hidden behind a rock) might be the best scene of the season. It’s terrifying in a way The Walking Dead can only dream of. The power struggle over the iron throne has been the focal point of the entire series, but it’s here that we see how futile it ultimately is. Winter has finally come. Like Theon, the denizens of Westeros have made their bed and must lie in it — they just don’t know it yet.

Illustration by Maddison Bond

by Thom Powell 

The degree of difficulty in executing Sherlock Holmes is harder than you’d think. While people have been taking cracks replicating Arthur Conan Doyle’s iconic character for quite some time, the results have been mixed for the most part. For every series like BBC’s initial, Jeremy Brett-led forays into exploring the character, we get ten more mediocre titles, like Guy Ritchie’s two films (particularly the second one), Barry Levinson and Chris Columbus’s “Young Sherlock Holmes,” or video game adaptations like “Sherlock Holmes: Nemesis,” which is gripping and suspenseful for entirely the wrong reasons.

I’m a fan of the original Conan Doyle stories, and it’s for this reason that I was a bit reluctant to check out the BBC’s “Sherlock.” I’d always liked Martin Freeman (even in other notably underwhelming adaptations) and was intrigued by Benedict Cumberbatch’s exceptionally British name, but given its arrival at the heels of Ritchie’s first film and the “Holmes in a modern day” premise, I wasn’t really sure it would do anything interesting with the character, let alone execute the transition to modern day gracefully. Basically, I was certain “Sherlock” would be as clunky and misguided as the upcoming CBS series “Elementary” — which squanders the presence of Johnny Lee Miller by pointlessly making Watson a woman (just cause!) and placing a still-British Holmes in America for absolutely no reason — promises to be.

However, when I finally watched it months after it aired (via Netflix Instant), I was delighted to find that “Sherlock” was not a tarted up CBS procedural or a glib, self-congratulating set of character references in a modern setting. Instead, I was treated to three episodes of one of the best written, acted, and executed shows currently airing on television. Holmes is a delightfully tactless, self-described “high functioning sociopath,” and Cumberbatch plays him with equal measures of childlike glee and petulance. Freeman is every bit as good in his portrayal of Watson, capable of moving from exceptional comic relief to credible gravitas seamlessly. These performances are great in isolation, but what makes “Sherlock” truly exceptional is the positively magnetic chemistry between the two. Holmes and Watson are frequently and hilariously mistaken for a couple throughout the series and, quite frankly, it’s a notion that’s pretty easy to buy into. The two bicker like they’ve been together for decades and there’s rarely a scene in the show where they aren’t at each other’s side. It doesn’t take much of a push to construe their bromance as something more — which countless slash fiction and romantically themed YouTube tributes have taken the liberty of doing.

“Sherlock” could coast on its stars’ effortless compatibility and still produce eminently watchable, self-contained pseudo movies (each episode has a 90 minute run time). Fortunately, though, writers Steven Moffat, Steve Thompson, and Mark Gatiss — who is a formidable double threat, portraying Sherlock’s effete brother Mycroft in addition to writing the series’ two strongest installments — have crafted an expansive universe in a mere six episodes, with an impressive roster of well-written recurring characters, excellent character development, and a gripping, unpredictable central antagonist. The modern touches are extensive but never unwelcome. Instead of writing on journal on his friend’s escapades, Watson starts a blog. Holmes doesn’t have an issue with opium, but he does occasionally overdo it with nicotine patches. The changes made are necessary for the show to work, and it never feels like the writers make them without proper forethought or discretion. The result is a fully formed, sustained universe that enriches and enhances the show’s already sound foundation.

It’s hard to imagine a movie franchise churning out three excellent films in a single franchise each year, but that’s essentially what we’re getting with “Sherlock.” Quality hasn’t just remained consistent, but has steadily increased, with the second series — particularly its terrific finale — building on the character work of the first and besting it in the process. Three episodes per series never seems to be enough with this show, even given their lengthy run times. The show’s second series finished airing on BBC America a little over a week ago, and the yearlong wait for new episodes will prove to be excruciating. A more poorly executed series would wear out its welcome quickly, but what could be a tedious production schedule is instead turned into an immense strength by the show’s high level of quality.

A frequent problem with recommending a television series tends to be the lengthy process a new convert must undergo through its back catalog in order to catch up. It’s hard to commit to an ongoing series with the prospect of having to devote dozens of hours just to discuss it with other viewers. This isn’t an issue with “Sherlock.” Anyone who wants to be completely on board in time for series three will have a year (or more, potentially) to watch nine hours of television, which is pretty far from being an insurmountable task. The show’s accessibility makes it even easier to catch up. The first series, as previously mentioned, is available on Netflix Instant, and the second will soon follow suit. Give it a try. If you give the first one a chance, I promise it’ll be harder to stop than it will be to burn through the remaining episodes.

Illustration by Maddison Bond

by Thom Powell 

“Look at me. Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother was a killer. Your sons will be killers some day. The world was built by killers, so you’d better get used to looking at them.” – Sandor Clegane

I think I can pretty confidently say that I’ve never seen a show do what Game Of Thrones did tonight. The scope of the battle of Blackwater is virtually unprecedented for the medium — likely rivaled only by another HBO production, Band Of Brothers — and the results were absolutely breathtaking. This was the best episode of the series since “Baelor,” the first season’s penultimate installment wherein Ned Stark met his unfortunate end. It seems that the show-runners are structuring their seasons in a manner similar to The Wire, with the second-to-last episode functioning as the climax and the finale acting as the denouement in addition to setting the table for the next season — and, like last season, we got a hell of a climax.

We don’t get much time to gather ourselves before the battle starts, just a few uneasy scenes. The episode begins with as Davos, along with his son and the rest of the men aboard Stannis’ fleet, steels himself for battle. The conversation between the onion knight and his son acts as a nice juxtaposition between the idealism of those who buy into Melissandre’s lord of light and the weary resolve of a realist like Davos. His son believes the people of King’s Landing will welcome their rightful king with open arms as Stannis’ superior numbers overwhelm Joffrey and the other Lannisters, but Davos knows things will not be so easy. No one has ever successfully laid siege to the capital and its residents will see only invaders, ones that will sack their houses and rape their women if given half a chance.

The Lannisters are similarly apprehensive. Tyrion confesses his fear of failure to Shae, while Cersei prepares for the worst with Maester Pycelle. Both know they might be dead in a matter of hours, whether by way of sword or axe, or self-administered poison, in Cersei’s case. Joffrey has Sansa kiss his sword for good luck, who manages to get in a dig at him by asking if he’ll be serving at the front lines. It’s been a pleasure to see how much Sophie Turner has been able to expand Sansa’s character this season. Sansa wasn’t really given much to do in the first season, aside from act maddeningly immature, but Turner does an excellent job of conveying the constant terror she’s forced to live under, which makes the moments when she has the courage to get a verbal barb or two in (like she does to Joffrey about his cowardice) even more satisfying. She mournfully tells Shae that Joffrey will survive the battle, because “the worst ones always do,” and it’s hard not to agree with her depressing assessment. We also get a bit of insight into Varys’ psyche in his scene with Tyrion, as he reveals a deep-seated fear of magic and people like Melissandre who practice it, and teases that this may have something to do with why he was cut and forced to live as a eunuch. Meanwhile, tensions are mounting between the forces the Lannisters have employed, as Bronn and the Hound are at each other’s throats, in a scene that will doubtlessly inspire some very… interesting fan fiction.

Then, finally, we get to the battle, as the bells of King’s Landing ring and Stannis’ men beat the drums of war. The initial stage is a slow burn, as Tyrion (along with Joffrey, Lancel, and the Hound) watches the arrival of the enemy ships and deals with his nephew’s impatience. Davos is suspicious, as it appears the Lannisters have only sent one ship in defense — and he’s right to be, as the ship is unmanned and appears to be leaking Mountain Dew out its sides. As it turns out, the green (albeit still XTREME) liquid seeping out is the wildfire Tyrion commissioned the alchemists guild to make several episodes ago, and with a few well placed torches and flaming arrows, it’s set ablaze and engulfs half of Stannis’ fleet. The ensuing fireball (the force of which knocks Davos into the water) is one of the more impressive uses of special effects I’ve seen on television, especially compared to a show like LOST, which attempted an explosion of a similar size with more disappointing results. The carnage from this explosion — even with its slightly unconvincing green flames — is engrossing and appropriately horrifying, with thousands of Stannis’ men burning to death in agony. From there, we get to see the landing of infantry and siege of the castle, which, while not as explosive as the wildfire, is every bit as gruesome. Men are pelted with arrows, hacked to death with small arms, and, in one particularly memorable scene, a man’s head is reduced to a bloody pulp by falling rocks. The scope of this battle is very impressive here and nearly comparable to some of the biggest in the Lord of the Rings films. Director Neil Marshall (The Descent, Dog Soldiers) may have had to reduce its size from its original depiction in “A Clash Of Kings,” but we’re still treated to a pretty epic fight, especially for the medium.

As the battle rages on top of and outside the castle walls, Cersei, Sansa, and the rest of the noblewomen wait anxiously in a guarded chamber. Here we get some of the episode’s best character work, as Cersei drinks and informs Sansa about what will happen if things don’t go well for the Lannisters in battle. As she says, “If the city falls, these fine women should be in for a bit of a rape. When a man’s blood is up, anything with tits looks good.” It’s interesting to see Cersei in such intimate moments, as her frustrations with the limitations of her gender are clearly on display and she, at times, seems to have some genuine concern for Sansa. Shae suggests that Cersei hates the Stark girl because she’s jealous of her, and it’s hard not to agree with that. Sansa has yet to be forced to the side of an unworthy husband as a mere ornament that’s expected to pump out kids. She’s yet to suffer the humiliations Cersei has, and Cersei clearly resents her for it. Instead of getting to be involved with the battle, Cersei is forced to wait and either die or cede all the glory to her brother or son. Despite the deep-seated resentment, however, Cersei still confesses intimate details and offers advice to the young maiden. In one particularly telling moment, she tells Sansa that as children, her and Jaime looked nearly identical until they were eventually forced into their respective roles — her as a lady and Jaime as a warrior — and it’s clear that Cersei wishes she could have gotten the same instruction as Jaime. Instead she’s left with one weapon — the one between her legs — which is useless to her against Stannis Baratheon. This leaves her no option but to wait, drink, and offer whatever comfort she can to her youngest son.

Things begin to break down for the Lannisters, as the Hound is rendered pale with fear by the fire everywhere. He returns to the castle, has a stiff drink, and tells off Tyrion and the king before storming off. Before he leaves for good, though, he pays Sansa a visit in her chambers (where she’s gone at Shae’s suggestion). There haven’t been a lot of character moments to be found this season for Sandor Clegane, but we get a great one here. Throughout the season he’s insisted that killing is the thing he loves the most, but once he’s been forced into fight-or-flight mode, it seems it’s not the solitary object of his affection. He tells Sansa to leave with him and offers to escort her back to Winterfell, and his intentions seem genuine. It’s unclear whether Sansa trusts him, and we’re left with a cliffhanger as to whether she decides to run off with the now-stray dog. With Sandor AWOL and Joffrey taken to safety at his mother’s request, it dawns on Tyrion that he’s the only one left to lead the forces of King’s Landing. With Stannis at the gates, he’s forced to appeal to his men’s survival instincts: they have to fight back, or each and every man fighting this battle on the Lannister side will lose everything. The consequences at stake are enormous and they’re enough to convince his men to return to battle. Tyrion’s words find their mark, and his forces mount a brave counterattack, but Tyrion takes an ax to the face in the process, narrowly escaping further bodily harm with the unexpected assistance of Podrick Payne, his squire, who impales his assailant with a spear. The blow doesn’t kill him, but things aren’t looking good for the imp, as he lays helplessly on the ground, blood seeping out of his face.

The final sequence of the episode is arguably its finest, in which Cersei sits atop the iron throne with Tommen, her youngest child, and tells him a story to comfort him. The story here has obvious parallels to the events of the show — it involves a lion protecting her cub from wolves and telling him that he will grow up strong one day and eventually become king of the animals — and clearly acts as an impetus for the queen to reassure herself in the face of mortal danger. It’s an emotional scene, as we see cutaways to a wounded Tyrion and slowly come to realize that Cersei’s plan to keep Tommen “safe” is to give him a more peaceful death by way of poison. Before she’s able to tip the vial into his mouth, however, armed men storm the throne room. We see Tywin Lannister at the forefront and, more surprisingly, Sir Loras Tyrell (Renley’s bereaved lover), who removes his helm. The Lannisters have won the battle. Stannis’ men are beaten and forced to physically remove him from the battlefield as he flails around in desperation and demands they stand and fight to the last man. The battle is over, for now, but the war still rages. The Lannister victory is an important one, but it’s just as bittersweet as the National song that plays over the end credits. There will be more death and disappointment to come for Westeros. As the Hound says, their world is built by bloodletting. This is only the beginning.

Illustration by Leif Seifert

by Thom Powell

In the moment, things seem to make sense. Pogs? They were pretty rad at the time. H.R. Pufnstuf? Quality, wholesome entertainment for America’s children. Ten years from now, we may look back at the rise of brostep and wonder what we were thinking, but for now, Skrillex continues to make people rage all across this nation’s college campuses. The here and now often blinds us to how ridiculous trends can be. However, while the trends and aesthetics of a particular era often mask their true nature, some things are just lame from the outset. It may have sold over one million copies upon its release in 1997,  but I can’t imagine a world where Master P’s infamous posse cut “Make ‘Em Say Uhh” was taken seriously at any point in time.

In the spirit of fairness, I wasn’t really old enough to hear the song upon its release, so I don’t have the proper context for that period of rap music. Still, some things just can’t be rationalized, regardless of consolations. “Make ‘Em Say Uhh” is bad. Really, really bad. When I listen to it, I often wonder what each rapper involved thought of the final product. Were they pleased? Relieved? Anxious? How many high-fives were exchanged? I’ve run these scenarios through my head a number of times and I just can’t picture anyone involved listening to the final product and thinking, “Yup. Nailed it. This is exactly what we were going for.”

It’s hard to pick a starting point with an unmitigated disaster of a track like this, so I’ll forgo musical analysis for a bit. Let’s take a look at its music video first. Make some popcorn, get comfortable, and we’ll meet back in five minutes.

Yikes. Where to start with this one? The tank? Yeah, let’s start with the “platinum” tank. What is it doing there? Or better yet, why is it a thing at all? If Master P was willing to shell out “millions” to make a solid “platinum” and “gold” tank, couldn’t he have at least gotten one that didn’t look like a prop from a Sci-Fi channel original movie? The crazy thing about the tank — aside from, you know, everything else about it — is that it’s referenced in the actual song. I guess Master P just assumed everybody would watch the music video, because making the tank a recurring theme in the verses (it’s referenced in four of the song’s five) is kind of a head-scratcher. Maybe he meant for it to be emblematic of the excess and avarice running rampant in the rap game at the time, because by the end of the video the tank has fired at and hit both of the basketball court’s backboards and caused a full-on stampede, as the spectators try to escape the tank’s Travis Bickle-esque violent outburst. It’s either a subtle commentary on the gilded age of rap music, or it’s just dumb. My money’s on the latter.

Outside of his career as a rapper, Master P was a pretty good basketball player, which makes the actual basketball on display in the video a bit confusing. The guy played semi-pro basketball in the now defunct Continental Basketball Association, and measures an impressive 6’3″. Why, then, are he and everyone else playing on what is clearly an eight-and-a-half foot rim? I mean, sure, I’ve played games on rims that high. It’s fun to be able to dunk, and it lets me forget about my vertical leap, which is more reminiscent of Bill Laimbeer than Michael Jordan. Here’s the thing, though: I DON’T FILM MY EXPLOITS. Do you know why, Master P? Because it’s embarrassing. If you were Lil Wayne-sized you’d have an excuse, but you’re nine inches taller than the average American man! If you’re going to show us some cool basketball highlights, at least give us the real thing! This slap in the face is rendered even more insulting by a Shaquille O’Neal cameo, who reacts to the on-court action like Dikembe Mutombo at the dunk contest. What a sham. And don’t even get me started on the freaking No Limit Gorilla, mainly because Shutdown Fullback already covered that particular angle in detail.

OK, that was a fun distraction, but let’s get to the actual meat of this failure stew. It’s time to discuss the music. Master P’s verse is pretty militaristic, which is hardly surprising considering the ridiculous tank that the song is built around. He bellows about “calling in strikes,” refers to himself as both a “colonel” and  ”commander in chief,” and egregiously mispronounces the word “dossier,” which is fine, I guess. It was a nice effort, and to be fair to Master P, it’s one of those words you read a lot more than you hear. I’m nothing if not evenhanded. He closes by making a generic reference to the streets being a place where “anything goes,” which is about as close to a justification of the tank as the guy is willing to offer. P’s verse is the song’s shortest and probably its least eventful, so now is as good a time as any to talk about this song’s hook. It seriously might be the worst chorus in rap history — worse than Soulja Boy’s “Yahhh,” (apologies, Sean Highkin) and possibly even worse than The Black Eye Peas’ “My Humps.” Was there no one in place to tell Master P that cacophonous moaning doesn’t qualify as a chorus? And what’s making ‘em say “uhh?” The sweet dunks on the kiddie hoop or the impossibly cheap looking tank? The most obvious answer is the song itself, but that seems a bit too meta for Percy Miller.

The next two verses aren’t particularly notable. They’re by Fiend and Silkk the Shocker, respectively (the only proper response to those two names is “who?”) and both offer reasonably competent, if boring, contributions. Fiend gives off sort of a low-rent Petey Pablo vibe. He’s a little shlubbier, and lacks Petey’s resplendent Canadian tuxedo or memorable chorus gimmick. Silkk’s verse sort of goes off the rails about halfway through, but that’s mostly overshadowed by the two verses still to come.

Mia X’s verse is a ray of sunlight in a song otherwise darkened by ironic detachment and a paucity of talent. I honestly can’t even be sarcastic about this verse. The “unladylike diva” goes so hard on this track, to the point that I even like her reference to the video’s stupid tank. Her flow is solid, she doesn’t go off the rails trying to speed rap, and the lyrics are reasonably clever. Mia’s presence is absolutely necessary to keep “Make ‘Em Say Uhh” on the interesting end of the bad song spectrum. If you’ve seen Tommy Wiseau’s epic disasterpiecce “The Room,” there’s a point about halfway through the movie where he finally stops inundating his audience with scarring, unwatchable sex scenes. The presence of these scenes is vital — they’re just one component of what makes it arguably the best bad film ever made — but at a certain point, they need to stop in order to keep the audience from leaving, so they can enjoy the benignly terrible climax and denouement of the movie. Mia X offers a similar respite for listeners. Without her competence, we would grow increasingly disillusioned with Master P’s tank-driven nonsense, which would be a shame, because that would mean missing out on one of the most unintentionally hilarious verses in rap history.

Let me preface this next paragraph by saying that I have nothing against Mystikal. I’m not entirely fond of him as a person (google his legal troubles if you want to know why), but as a musician, he’s released some pretty solid hip-hop. For the most part. Mystikal closes out “Make ‘Em Say Uhh,” and he chooses to do so by setting fire to the entire song and snorting its ashes. The guy has never really been restrained as a rapper, but here he sounds like James Brown doing a karaoke version of something out of Twista’s catalogue before giving up and just yelling nonsense words. Calling Mystikal unintelligible here is like saying Two And A Half Men can sometimes be unsubtle. I can’t make out 80 percent of what he’s saying, and what is discernible is total nonsense. By the end, Mystikal has slowed down considerably, appears to be out of breath, and is babbling about being “true soldiers” before completely losing steam and letting out an exhausted “nah nah, nah nah,” which proves to be the perfect cherry on top of… well, whatever this is. By traditional standards, his verse isn’t “good,” but I can think of few appearances in hip-hop that delight me quite like this one.

Unlike Brutus in Julius Caeser, I come not to bury “Make ‘Em Say Uhh,” but to recommend it. Liking things ironically can get a bit tiresome, but “Uhh” is the rare bad song that is both entirely listenable and raucously entertaining. Its replay value is surprisingly high and the unintentional comedy on display — especially when supplemented with the video — puts artists like Lil B to shame. Master P’s attempt at a posse cut shouldn’t be considered “good” in any era, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun, notable, or important.

by Thom Powell

“Great rangers never get old, is the problem. Shit ones, neither. Some in the middle last a long time.“

Game Of Thrones, at its heart, is a series that focuses on the pursuit of power and the type of people seeking it. Sure, it’s coated in layers of sarcasm, sensuality, and enough profanity to rival Malcolm Tucker, but these things merely distract from the emerging conceit of the series: mediocrity is an asset if you want to sit the iron throne. As is pointed out to Sam by his more seasoned colleague, men like Qhorin Halfhand do not survive as long as they do by acting like Ned Stark. The great and the worthless alike die quick deaths beyond the wall, and that’s equally true in Westeros.

Robb is certainly a great warrior — as Tyrion Lannister points out, he has never lost in battle — but he appears to be setting himself up for a fall by caving to his desires for Talisa. While it’s certainly a shame that Robb had to commit to a marriage of convenience with one of Walder Frey’s daughters, it was ultimately a necessary move, and going back on his word could very well prove costly. He could’ve used Cersei Lannister’s advice to Tyrion: don’t think with your cock. Catelyn isn’t helping things either, likely alienating the Karstarks even further by releasing Jaime (under the supervision of Brienne) in a desperate gambit to get Arya and Sansa back. Granted, this got us a wonderful scene between the two warriors — I expect Jaime/Brienne shippers will be out in full force before long — but the way the Starks are mishandling their decisions outside of battle, it might not be too long before the young wolf suffers his first defeat in battle.

While the Starks seem on the verge of collapse, Tyrion, Varys, and Bronn are working furiously to prevent Joffrey from doing the same. The threat of Stannis Baratheon’s ships isn’t the Imp’s only concern, as Cersei threatens his livelihood by capturing “his whore.” While this turns out to be poor Roz instead of Shae, it’s just another reminder for Tyrion to watch his back. Cersei is nothing if not petty, and she is far more interested in sabotaging her brother than helping him defend King’s Landing. If Tyrion didn’t already have enough on his plate, he has to deal with the insolent little shit of a king he’s sworn to serve, who seems content to ignore his counsel. He may want Joffrey to fight alongside his troops in battle, as he says to Cersei, but his nephew seems to think killing Stannis will be as easy as executing Ned Stark and is looking past an impending siege in favor of delusions of more Stark heads mounted on spears. Joffrey’s invincibility complex provokes some eye-rolling from his hand and Varys, but it could be a serious problem if he decides to overrule his uncle’s more subtle plans to defend the city — both from Stannis and, as Bronn reminds Tyrion, the starving masses within it.

If things aren’t going well for Robb, they’re certainly not going Theon’s way, either. As we discover, his decision to fake the deaths of Bran and Rickon to save face over their escape has blown up in his face. He receives no support from Yara and instead is presented with an ultimatum: leave Winterfell and return with his tail between his legs to be judged by Balon Greyjoy, or attempt to hold the North with no support. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that Theon’s decision to betray the Starks wasn’t particularly well thought out on his part. Ned Stark put Balon in his place for a reason, and Theon ultimately makes a better Stark than a Greyjoy, just as his father feared. With dwindling support from all sides and a price on his head by the man he once called his brother, it doesn’t seem things are going to end well for the only remaining Greyjoy son.

Things were a bit less eventful outside of Westeros, with relatively little transpiring for Jon Snow or Danaerys. Ygritte saves Jon from being gutted by an eccentrically decorated colleague. Qhorin has also been captured as well, and suggests that Jon might serve the Night’s Watch better as a spy among the wildlings before pretending to blame him for the deaths of his fellow black brothers. Meanwhile, Sam finds a cache of obsidian weapons which, if Chekov taught us anything, should prove useful in the future. The weakest segment of the episode belonged to Dany, who squandered a lot of the momentum of last weeks Lynchian conclusion by whining about her dragons some more and failing to advance the plot even a little bit. Her eventual trip to the House of the Undying should be fun, but it seems pointless to even put her in the episode if she’s not going to do anything.

Stannis seems to be occupying the middle ground the brother of the Night’s Watch was referring to. In what was probably my favorite scene of the night, we got some insight into war that got Robert Baratheon into power through Stannis’ conversation with Davos. While his brother took the glory and the throne, Stannis and everyone else in Storm’s End were starving, forced to eat horses, then cats, then dogs, then rats, then nothing. If it weren’t the smuggling of a crabber’s son, cannibalism or starvation might not have been far off. But, because Stannis was willing to seek help from a man his subordinates would (and continue to) look down their noses at, he managed to keep his promise of protecting the Baratheon stronghold. So, of course, he’s repaid by Robert giving Storm’s End to a pre-adolescent Renley. Stannis was an afterthought then and he’s still one in the eyes of the current king, which is ultimately what makes him dangerous. The lack of attention from his equals may explain Stannis’ willingness to put his trust in those outside the traditional structure of power, which provides him his greatest strengths in Davos and Melissandre. The man no one wanted, with the help of a lowborn knight and a priestess of a largely forsaken god, could potentially overtake King’s Landing and the lions that inhabit it.