“DEAR GOD THE TERRY MATALAS. THE TODD STASHWICK. OMG, THE SMELL OF SPOILT IP. THIS MAKES ME SOUR. REMEMBER, WISTFULLY, AS I DO, WHEN MY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE WAS ON FULL DISPLAY ON THE CHISELED VISAGE OF ACTOR PAUL BELLAMY, ACTING HIS BALLS OFF AS THE ANDROID UPON WHOSE FACE YOU COULD READ HIS EMOTIONS. INSTEAD OF, YOU KNOW, THIS SERIES OF VAPID, FAUX-DICKENSIAN VOICEOVERS.” — Vision the Gandalf from the second half, sitting to my right, right this second
Smiles are baffling.
I mean, just look at the Secret Hideout of it all on display. What’s the difference if you can see Jon Berenthal playing this version? That sort of interchangeability isn’t the universe-forward thing you think it is, Terry.
And speaking of nepotism, Stashwick as a Temu version of Jeffrey Dean Morgan as an AliBaba version of Hugh Jackman as a Woolworth’s knockoff of Clint Eastwood? Mister Kitty, the Gentleman Raow, Third of his Name, hacks up hairballs in my office corner on the daily that is more badass than his portrayal of Paladin. Stashwick’s portray, not Mr. K’s.
Human Spadertron crushes everything, and having avatar versions of the garage robots carried me through the first episode.
I dunno, having the folks who shitted up Picard S2 & 3 with their Alex Kurtzman sadness x2 seems to not be a very good idea in practice.. It’s just so WHYYYYYYYYY? I mean, there are flourishes of great. Funny nods to stuff, everything James Spader says is gold, but having a zombie robot be the emotional center of the plot is an intellectual exercise and not a STORY. It’s literally the same level of who-cares over there at Secret Hideout’s take on modern Star Trek but a XEROX of them. Can you imagine the averageness?
Anyway, I started the second ep but if I don’t care about a zombie version of a character who I didn’t really connect to at all in the first place, and then start E2 with the story of his magic half robot kid who mom is some kind of nexus being and that is so convoluted, yoiou know, I think I’ll just wait for the next bus. Doomsday‘s in six weeks or so, yeah? Walker will have told me his film school college boy review by then and I can cleen up all that cat yak and put TK-421 back at his post.
Just, you know, remind me that when I finally get nabbed by whoever for whatever and I’m taking a ride down the road, I’ll be fine if they sit me next to a hot half-Goth girl who takes me down Exposition Boulevard and I’ll figure the rest of it out. I’m making this up as I go.