Wes and I made it through the first season of Heroes about two weeks ago but I’ve forgotten to blog about it until just now. Lately, my mind is like a pocket with a hole in it and ideas get stuffed in there but not all of them come out on the other side. Or they do, but not when I intend for them to come out. I’ll rediscover a lost idea while doing the laundry and suddenly we have abandoned clothes and brilliant blog posts. The socks weep for lack of understanding.
Getting back on track, let’s discuss Heroes: I liked it. Certain elements (such as the cinematography and Hiro) pleased me more than others (Sylar’s supposed invincibility and the Petrelli family in general). I have to admit I was disappointed by the season finale. When Nathan showed up (ostensibly leaving his mother stranded in the parking lot or on some New Jersey turnpike?) and volunteered to fly his brother to the moon it struck me as the only disingenuine note in an otherwise solid show.
I’m a strong believer in credible character arcs. I was ill-prepared for Nathan’s move there so it rang a little too hollow for my taste. Likewise, when the camera panned away and Sylar was no longer laying in a pool of sweet comeuppance I ranted for a good five minutes about how frustrated I was with Hiro for not decapitating him or something.
Goodness, people! If you’re facing a monumentally evil antihero the only solution is to decapitate him. Think about it: What is the one solution in almost every scary movie that is guaranteed to stop the bad guy? That’s right, decapitation! Why do you think they went so hard on William Wallace in Braveheart? He was a big threat who demanded a big solution. How about Resident Evil? That’s right, decapitation again.
As you can see, the opinions bubble over like a melting ice cream cone around here.
Overall, I would say the good outweighs the bad and that Heroes is a good show. I like the mythology and I am looking forward to the next season. My only hope is that Peter Petrelli is more like his future self in season 2. I liked his scar-face strip-club persona much better than his softer-side-of-pushover one.
If you’re in the mood and want to watch a masterfully executed charcter arc watch 3:10 to Yuma. Wes and I watched that last weekend and I loved it. The evolution of the characters is so nuanced and skillful that at the end I was moved. Not the kind where you cry and feel sad for a second but the kind where I actually thought to myself while watching it, “Wow, this is really moving stuff”.
Also, I loved how in the movie everyone had yellow, crooked teeth. I dislike anachronisms in movies, particularly when everyone in a historical epic has perfectly capped Hollywood teeth. I always notice and it always irks me. I also dislike touching newspapers but I suppose that’s a different issue entirely.