Liz Tells Frank What Happened In “The Mighty Ducks”
HOCKEY FEVER! Do you have it? Probably not, as you are an educated man of letters — not to imply that educated men of letters are immune from enjoying the spectacle of dudes on skates pounding the shit out of each other… What was I talking about again?
Ah, yes. HOCKEY FEVER! As I write this, Frank, the NHL is deep into playoff season, and because I have a surprising amount of friends who are super-into hockey, I have also been following along casually. (I am a fan of sports, but only on a very low-key level — I can only consume content on the regular when it comes in half hour or one hour chunks.)
My point is — HOCKEY FEVER! If you and others reading this are not hockey fans, I feel bad for you son, but I have two suggestions that might help you get back on board with the game:
Liz Tells Frank What Happened In “Fringe” (Sorta.)
So this isn’t the first time I’ve tried to tell you about Fringe — when the show first premiered in 2008, I watched the first couple of episodes with an eye towards filling you in on a regular basis. I even came up with nicknames for the characters, like Agent Cate (because star Anna Torv looks like a poor man’s Cate Blanchett) and Pacey (because Joshua Jackson was on Dawson’s Creek, a show I never watched as a teenager because of its lack of space battles).
But while the show wasn’t awful, the first few episodes also failed to hook me (you’ve seen one misfit FBI team investigate strange phenomena, you’ve seen ’em all) and so not only did I not tell you what happened in it, I stopped watching altogether — an experience, I’ve heard, many other potential fans also shared. (Especially fans unwilling to put their faith in a J.J. Abrams production after Alias and Lost failed to follow through on their narrative promise.)
Here’s the trouble with Fringe, though — once you get past those first six or so first season episodes, Fringe is awesome. I mean, it’s not immediately awesome, but about halfway through the first season it starts getting good, and then it gets better, and then it’s onto full-on awesome, and then its awesomeness quotient increases exponentially until the awesome meter breaks and gets awesome juice everywhere. But you DON’T CARE about the mess. Because of how awesome it is.
I wouldn’t have discovered this, though, if my dad — who pushed through those first few episodes and became a fan — hadn’t (with my permission) spoiled me on a detail from the season one finale. So today, Frank, I’m not going to tell you everything that’s happened in Fringe — I’m just going to tell you enough to make you (hopefully) want to watch it. Read the rest of this entry