Oct. 5th, 2010

A spot has opened up in my TV roster, and I've been marathoning (slowly, due to the bizarre-o LoveFilm DVD allocating algorithm) the first season of Fringe.

Full disclosure: I have a special place in my heart for The X Files, which was not only the first show I was fannish about (it made me read history, because I am incapable of Doing Fandom Right), but also the first show for which I stumbled across fic.

I was mildly intrigued by the idea of Fringe, and like the following things about it: 
  • The pilot is, frankly, an awesomesauce actioner, and has a capable, brave, and gutsy female protagonist kicking ass and taking names. 
  • It offers the possibility of one of my favourite types of manpain: the tormented father/son relationship.
  • It is exceedingly shiny.
A few episodes in, and the following things have become apparent: 
  • The production values on the rest of the season are much lower. 
  • You can tip your hand too soon when establishing a multi-season conspiracy.
  • While the ghost of white Courier-esque font must loom large over the post-production process, the floating establishing sub-titles are distancing, and look derivative and cheap. [They are discussed at length here, font geeks.]
  • Science is practiced best by (mostly male) people who work, for whatever reason, by themselves, and are capricious, indifferent to the feelings of others, and can be forgiven anything (including assaulting their co-workers with syringes full of drugs) because of their utter brilliance.
I miss you, Scully.



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