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Review: American Gods’s Sophomore Season Is Parched for Visual Panache

In its second season, the show’s leisurely road trip downshifts into a total lethargy.

1.5

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American Gods
Photo: Starz

And lo, American Gods is risen, as one of its principal deities might, from a tumultuous cast and production shakeup since its 2017 debut. Showrunners Bryan Fuller and Michael Green exited the series after the first season, and their replacement, Jesse Alexander, was pushed out late last year. To the show’s credit, such behind-the-scenes strife isn’t immediately noticeable, as the season soldiers on with Neil Gaiman’s source material and all of the main characters intact. But it’s perhaps worth keeping that drama in mind when considering how imbalanced the new season seems, having lost some of the visual flair that helpfully contrasted with the material’s most languid, expository moments.

Beyond ignoring the first season’s environmental devastation and explaining away Gillian Anderson’s departure with her character’s contrived transformation into the bubbly, emoji-spouting New Media (Kahyun Kim), things mostly pick up where they left off. Shadow Moon (Ricky Whittle) and his employer, Mr. Wednesday (Ian McShane), head for a meeting of the old gods with war on the brain. Rather than fade into obscurity, Wednesday hopes to convince his fellow deities to fight against the new gods of things like media, technology, and globalization. Belief creates and sustains these beings in Gaiman’s world, and few people believe in old gods like Czernobog or Anansi these days the way they believe in their cellphones.

In retrospect, it seems appropriate that so much of American Gods’s first season was less concerned with that promise of conflict than watching the characters simply drive from one destination to the next. Road trips, after all, afford little more than opportunities for people to talk and take in the scenery, and that’s pretty much what the season was—a lot of flowery monologues delivered by impeccably cast actors against a backdrop of elaborate, surrealist visuals fitting of the story’s magical, majestic scope.

Each episode of the first season brought another deity, another locale, another world-building prologue like Anansi (Orlando Jones) speaking to the captives of a slave ship or a tribe traveling to America during an ice age. These interludes, among others, were what really sold the show’s leisurely pace, the idea that it was as much about luxuriating in tone and texture as it was getting to where the plot was going. In what becomes an unfortunate statement of purpose, the second season’s first three episodes abandon those lovely preambles for an approach that feels significantly more straightforward, less concerned with its own aesthetic than adapting page to screen while getting to the meat of the conflict.

For a different series, scaling things back might have been a blessing. But for American Gods, it clarifies that the bombastic imagery was just about the entire point, because the episodes sag when only thin characters and the breadcrumbs of actual plot progression are left to shoulder the weight. There’s the occasional striking image, like a gray-skinned man whose body rises out of a tangle of wires that clump together like tentacles, but many others are totally nondescript; the new deities merely hang out in a bunker somewhere, and some scenes do little more than randomly blur the screen and play with filters, sometimes to disorient and sometimes just because. Even a meeting of the old gods is dimly lit, with medium close-ups and ethereal, eye-straining auras that fail to sell the grandeur of the gods’ true forms.

Without the visual panache of the first season to balance the occasionally thin material, it becomes hard to ignore that the characters are more words than people, vehicles for expository monologues that stand in for actual conflict. As everyone splits up and then comes together only to split up again, it becomes apparent that the series lacks the strong personalities necessary to get the audience invested in what, at this point, seems to be little more than a heavenly dick-measuring contest. People die and collect objects with no real urgency, and it takes more than a blank character like Shadow Moon to convince anyone they need to hear the good news about their lord and savior Odin. By making just a few tweaks in storytelling focus and technique, the show’s leisurely road trip downshifts into a total lethargy that suggests no amount of faith can sustain American Gods.

Cast: Ricky Whittle, Ian McShane, Emily Browning, Pablo Schreiber, Crispin Glover, Orlando Jones, Yetide Badaki, Bruce Langley, Mousa Kraish, Omid Abtahi, Demore Barnes, Peter Stormare, Cloris Leachman, Kahyun Kim Airtime: Starz, Sundays, 8 p.m.

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Watch: Two Episode Trailers for Jordan Peele’s The Twilight Zone Reboot

Ahead of next week’s premiere of the series, CBS All Access has released trailers for the first two episodes.

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The Twilight Zone
Photo: CBS All Access

Jordan Peele is sitting on top of the world—or, at least, at the top of the box office, with his sophomore film, Us, having delivered (and then some) on the promise of his Get Out. Next up for the filmmaker is the much-anticipated reboot of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone, which the filmmaker executive produced and hosts. Ahead of next week’s premiere of the series, CBS All Access has released trailers for the first two episodes, “The Comedian” and “Nightmare at 30,000 Feet.” In the former, Kumail Nanjiani stars as the eponymous comedian, who agonizingly wrestles with how far he will go for a laugh. And in the other, a spin on the classic “Nightmare at 20,0000 Feet” episode of the original series starring William Shatner, Adam Scott plays a man locked in a battle with his paranoid psyche. Watch both trailers below:

The Twilight Zone premieres on April 1.

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Review: Amazon’s Hanna Quickly Exhausts the Novelty of Its Premise

The series fails to uphold, subvert, or otherwise comment on the stylistic vision or thematic coherence of its source material.

1.5

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Hanna
Photo: Amazon Prime

Like the 2011 film upon which it’s based, Amazon’s Hanna follows the eponymous teen (Esme Creed-Miles) as she embarks on a revenge mission against a shadowy spy agency. The series milks visceral thrills from Hanna’s fight skills as she kicks, punches, shoots, and kills burly adult men. But where Joe Wright’s film was distinguished by its thumping Chemical Brothers score, bluntly filmed and brutal action scenes, and strikingly lensed locations, the series neither carves a unique path for itself nor upholds, subverts, or otherwise comments on the stylistic vision or thematic coherence of its source material.

After an opening sequence that sees Hanna’s parents fleeing for their lives from the spy agency, the series flashes forward to regard Hanna training with her ex-military father, Erik (Joel Kinnaman), in the woods where they live in solitude. When the duo is eventually forced to flee their safe haven, Erik reveals to Hanna that he’s actually been preparing her to hunt and kill a villainous C.I.A. agent named Marissa Wiegler (Mireille Enos). While Marissa is shown in flashback to be nefariously connected to Hanna’s childhood, Erik tells Hanna nothing else about her target. Consequently, the central mystery of Hanna’s origin, and Marissa’s role in it, is predicated on the secrets that Erik keeps from her for reasons that are never made clear.

Every episode of the series more or less follows the same format, as slow-burning cloak-and-dagger spy games eventually yield a few more revelations about Hanna’s past before leading to an eruptive and often incoherently filmed climax. The season’s middle stretch is particularly dull, as Erik and Hanna’s first attempt to kill Marissa goes awry and the teen finds herself stranded with a vacationing English family. Hanna attempts to use the relationship which emerges between Hanna and the family’s daughter, Sophie (Rhianne Barreto), to yoke a violent revenge plot to a coming-of-age teenage drama—which doesn’t work, chiefly because it’s impossible to understand why the otherwise unremarkable Sophie would be suddenly obsessed with Hanna, who’s nearly feral and prone to extreme violence.

Of course, Sophie’s fascination with her new friend is mysterious in part because Hanna herself is purposefully difficult to know, with Creed-Miles uses her open face and wide eyes to portray Hanna with a faraway look and a curious intelligence. The girl is inscrutable by Erik’s design, but less understandable is why the adults in the series, particularly Marissa, are similarly vague. Throughout, Hanna goes to great lengths to make its villain, who’s shown committing heinous acts, more sympathetic to the viewer. Certain plot twists suggest that Marissa may be ready to deal with her guilt over the nature of Hanna’s being, yet Enos’s severe, unsmiling performance and the season’s hectic third act go a long way toward muddying our sense of whatever change of heart the woman may be experiencing.

This muddled depiction of Marissa’s ostensible moral transformation, along with the introduction of a cabal of more menacing villains operating alongside her, rob the season finale of catharsis—which is about the only quality otherwise still preserved in the vicious retributions doled out by Hanna. Just as the series struggles to define Marissa’s motivations, it doesn’t hint at what might eventually happen to the rest her shadowy organization. The season’s conclusion asks as many questions as it answers, appearing to exist only so that Hanna may sustain itself, offering more henchman bones for Hanna to snap without wondering whether the character should, or even wants to, keep snapping them.

Cast: Esme Creed-Miles, Mireille Enos, Joel Kinnaman, Khalid Abdalla, Rhianne Barreto, Benno Fürmann, Sam C. Wilson, Félicien Juttner Airtime: Amazon Prime

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Watch: The Long-Awaited Deadwood Movie Gets Teaser Trailer and Premiere Date

Welcome to fucking Deadwood!

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Deadwood
Photo: HBO

At long last, we’re finally going to see more of Deadwood. Very soon after the HBO series’s cancellation in 2006, creator David Milch announced that he agreed to produce a pair of two-hour films to tie up the loose ends left after the third season. It’s been a long road since, and after many false starts over the years, production on one standalone film started in fall 2018. And today we have a glorious teaser for the film, which releases on HBO on May 31. Below is the official description of the film:

The Deadwood film follows the indelible characters of the series, who are reunited after ten years to celebrate South Dakota’s statehood. Former rivalries are reignited, alliances are tested and old wounds are reopened, as all are left to navigate the inevitable changes that modernity and time have wrought.

And below is the teaser trailer:

Deadwood: The Movie airs on HBO on May 31.

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