What a great episode tonight. It took me a while to warm up to this series, to get over the "ick" factor, if you will. Now I hang on every word and savor every cinematic detail. I love all the characters and all the intrigue. "What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive," indeed. Tonight it got into the selfishness of the male lead (the paterfamilias pluribus, if I may) vis-a-vis plural marriage. He took off his wedding ring to flirt with a recently nationalized waitress from Serbia, while he has three wives at home, plus a bunch of children. I can't wait to see how that's going to play out.
Last night we watched the latest episode of "John from Cincinnati." Much as I try, I don't think I'll ever be able to get into this one. And, in this case, I don't think it's my fault. It doesn't speak to me. I guess I'll watch it, yawning (unless it gets better), till the end, just to find out what it's all about. Who is John from Cincinnati and where is he really from, why is surfer grandpa levitating, what's with the spontaneous healing, what the hell is going on, why should we care? Meanwhile, however, it's boring. The dialog, when it's not crude and vulgar and just a bunch of shouting, is inscrutable. The characters are repugnant. The plot is slow. It's really, really bad. But, as they say in Latin, de gustibus non disputandum. Taste in art is subjective. (I also like some artistic things that many probably consider bad, although I can't think of an example at the moment.)
No doubt this show has some avid fans, but they're probably people I wouldn't want to know, and who probably wouldn't want to know me. I have no special place in my heart for burned-out, drug-addled, wrinkled old surfers and their largely insane kin and acquaintances.