For those who are counting, that means Season 7 for Entourage, Season 3 for True Blood and Season 2 for Hung. All well-deserved.
Let’s face it, the Entourage boys are fun. How could you not be happy for Turtle that he’s dating an honest-to-goodness Hollywood starlet? And how could you not be touched by Turtle’s deep-seated friendship with Johnny Drama that he was even willing to ask Jamie-Lynn to do a makeout scene with Johnny on his TV show?
I was even feeling badly for Vince that he’s all alone, kinda. And E that he’s bored at his work. Though his little girlfriend was totally right – why was he bothering with that when he doesn’t have to? Especially when it isn’t really working out.
As for Hung, well, that show is a winner. It’s not what I expected, except it is exactly what I expected – something funny and whimsical and smart from HBO. HBO has rarely disappointed. And even when it’s not quite hit (John From Cincinnati), it’s still been … interesting.
It had been a while since we had seen Scott on Big Love, and there he appeared last night, all sadness and apologies to Sarah that he hadn’t been around to help her get through the pregnancy and miscarriage.
As Ben punched Scott out last night, the estranged boyfriend seemed … more familiar than in the past.
“Is that the guy from Breaking Bad?” my husband asked.
I answered my husband as I am wont to do, with an offhanded, “Nah, no way.”
Then I paused, looked again. Nah, couldn’t be. By the end of the scene where Sarah and Scott were — ahem — being intimate, I knew it was indeed the hapless Jesse Pinkman from one of my favorite shows on TV, Breaking Bad.
There are two things that make Breaking Bad as awesome as it is: Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul. And Cranston won an Emmy for his awesomeness last year, so that one goes without saying.
So Aaron Paul is on not one, but two of my favorite shows.
On HBO, as Big Love hurtles toward an incredible season finale next weekend, Scott promises to figure prominently into Sarah’s life.
On AMC, Jesse and Walter just escaped from the insanely murderous (and now dead) Tico (they have Emmy awards for guest stars, no?) and from being discovered by Walter’s brother-in-law, Hank, who’s both a total hardass and a total softie.
Tonight was quite possibly the best episode ever of Big Love.
You have to admit, you’ve been waiting for YEARS for Nikki Grant to get hers.
And, frankly, I was glad to see Bill embarrassed by Nikki’s betrayal. He’s always excused Nikki’s behavior and he is always, ALWAYS trying to play one side against the other.
Honestly, I get sick and tired after a while hearing Bill talk about the principle and the hereafter. He was kicked off the compound and his father treats him like crap. He “believes” in the principle because his wife was about to die and he needed money to help care for her, and Nikki to be a nursemaid.
So he sold his soul and his principles to Roman Grant when he needed it; but then he turns on Roman the second he doesn’t personally need Roman anymore. He affiliates himself with Roman when he needs it, then affiliates himself with Albie when he needs it. Then he double-crosses both or either at a moment’s notice.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the Hendricksons/Grants/Heffmans until the Big Love season premiere aired tonight.
They have got to be the most dysfunctional family this side of The Simpsons. More so, even.
As usual, Nicki is keeping tons of secrets from her families. I have to say, though, she just always looks so guilty about everything; I don’t understand why anyone ever believes a single word she says. Seriously – can anyone remember a single time when she told the truth?
That said, her rooftop declaration was, for a change, brave and selfless (though still dishonest, but for a good reason for a change). Chloe Sevigny is truly a fabulous actress. I’ve never seen a character I so intensely disliked who managed to worm her way into my heart in almost every single episode. Before, of course, she totally ticks me off again.
And while I feel badly for Barb, facing another cancer scare, I’m tired of her feeling sorry for herself. I mean, at least she is trying to take matters into her own hands by bringing Ana into the family, but she’s still playing the, “I want to have a say in my family” victim card.
Look, Barb, you’ve had the chance, more than once, to leave this family. You haven’t taken it. Sure, you love your husband. And you have a love, of sorts, for Nicki and Margie. But you only have part of a husband. And you have two wives. I mean, my husband could tell you that’s just not fair.
As for Margie, she’s basically insane. I mean, let’s face it. She wants a fourth wife in the family so she can have more responsibility. She is no longer the naif. She is as calculating as Nicki is, in her own way. She’s the public face of the company to the gambling interests; she’s been dating Ana along with Bill, for all intents and purposes. And if she can get Ana in the family, she’ll no longer be the newbie.
And Bill? I realized tonight that he just ticks me off. All this preaching about what is holy about the afterlife and all that, it’s really all about him and his needs. Granted, his wives have a lot more freedom than the wives on the compound. A LOT more. But does he not see the toll this is taking on his children? And does he not see history repeating himself with Frankie being kicked out of the compound?
OK, obviously he does. And he’s been conflicted in the past. But I can’t help but feel it all is about what he wants and his hormones. I just somehow got really pissed off last night.
And poor Ana. I got kind of mad at Margie last night when she was basically telling Ana that she’s a loser and being a sister wife is her destiny and the fulfilment of her life. Ana’s got some serious self-esteem issues if she believes that one.
The only person I still hold out hope for is Sarah. She does need to get out of Utah, and far away from her family. She knows this is all wrong, and it’s killing her to see her family fall deeper and deeper into the life.
As a child of the ’80s, I grew up with television – albeit the kind you had to get up and change the channel on manually. TV commercials were great for bathroom breaks or grabbing a drink from the kitchen.
By high school, we finally got cable and — gasp! — a remote control. HBO ran its movies somewhere along the lines of 35 times a day, and I saw Star Wars more times than I can even count. But no pause button, so if I had to make a trip to the little girls’ room, I’d miss something.
On viewing No. 4,236 of Star Wars, that wasn’t an issue, but if it was the HBO premiere of Down and Out in Beverly Hills, well, you just might have had to miss the part “when a dirty bum meets the filthy rich.”
We had one of those old clunky first-gen VCRs the approximate size of Rhode Island that actually had a remote pause button, but it had to be connected via a cord that snaked across the room. It was so unweildy, actually, that I believe I used it only once, during a marathon viewing of Galactica 1980. (Hey, I was incredibly crushed over the cancellation of the original BSG, I was ready to latch onto anything. Even Wolfman Jack with a Cylon.)
