But I am not sure about Fringe.
It's not the plot that I am concerned about. Something about the X-Files meets Alias theme tells me that this could go on for a while, and with a mythology that is at once intriguing and a bit more accessible than say, Lost or Alias.
I am not concerned at all about the characters, although it is strange that for once the female character is the least compelling of them all. It is not like an Abrams heroine to play second banana to anyone, much less two men. But there can be no question that the good doctor and his son are the bread that makes the sandwich.
It's not even the unlikely Boston locale that unsettles me. I mean, seriously? THAT much supernatural activity in that state? Hell, in that part of the country? At least Alias held to its main conceit and sent Sydney Bristow all over the world. The least they could do is send the operatives all over the country.
No, it is not any one of these things that makes me hesitate to fully embrace and obsess over Fringe. It is all of them put together. There is something not quite right, something not quite gelling, that gives me serious pause. It might be that the main actress, Anna Torv, is not grabbing me, a rare thing in an Abrams find (the man is pretty much batting 1.000 on finding gorgeous, compelling new talent with actual talent). Because the actress is not grabbing me, the actor is, and Joshua Jackson is the best part of the show. And the girl is not even matching him. Which might be the point... she is the serious government type, and he is the sarcastic know-it-all with no loyalties. Maybe. But I don't like it. And even Sydney Bristow with her two dead fiances and rogue mother and dead friends had a sense of humor. There is something off about Fringe, and I cannot quite put my finger on it.
And so, I remain skeptical.
1 comment:
But the Mango is such a friendly fruit!
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