Dear “Fringe,” Wake Up and Stop with the Snooze

Season Two Recap

FRINGE

The FOX Network on Thursday Nights at 9 pm

By Tyler Weaver, Guest Columnist

Tyler Weaver

Season two of Fringe opened with a bang. Literally.

Olivia Dunham, our daring damsel of deduction, smashed through the windshield of a crashed SUV, the payment for the answers she so relentlessly sought in season one.  The finale of season one was one of the best hours of television in recent memory.

In my review of season two’s opener, I made it clear that I enjoyed the episode, and was anxiously awaiting what the season held. In fact, I said

“…season two hits the ground running, goes for the jugular, and doesn’t let up.”

Based on the merits of that premiere episode alone, my statement was correct.  It was an adreneline-fueled opener, a pulse-racing return to a favorite show.  Storylines which had “dramatic” stamped on their forehead were set up – the death of Agent Charlie Francis.  The shapeshifter super-soldier.  A shattered and broken Olivia Dunham.

But there was one story that worried me.  The tired cliché of Olivia’s amnesia. For a show(runner) dedicated to not giving answers, this felt like a cop-out.  But, I decided to proceed into the depths of season two with an open mind – cautiously optimistic, as the lessons of season one taught me.

Then came episodes two and three.

When I hear the term “filler,” I don’t like it. I like “filling,” as in, “the filling in Twinkies is a ridiculously succulent guilty pleasure.” I don’t like filler episodes, particularly when they serve only to prolong the revelation of the deeper mystery. The other show I review here at Pulptone, House, deftly handles filler episodes. Nine times out of ten, each episode that is designed as a jumping-on point is well thought-out, intelligent, and has enough forward momentum that there are elements of the overarching story that come through.

Episode two of Fringe hit the brakes. For a show that “hit the ground running,” “Night of Desirable Objects” brought back memories of hitting the front brakes on a bicycle whilst going downhill, resulting in falling facefirst off the bicycle.

And this gets to the heart of my problem with Fringe thus far. Horrible pace. Start. Stop. Brake. Yes! Green light. Wait. No. Red. Stop.

Promising setups failed to deliver – most notably Evil Charlie. Here was a storyline that had the potential to further break Dunham, to shatter the fragile emotional state of a broken woman.  Here was the chance to get your protagonist into a tree, and hurl stones.

Here is where the showrunners threw beach balls.

Instead of being an emotional and dramatic sucker-punch, Evil Charlie was, at best, a Vincent D’Onofrio from Men in Black tribute performance – only played with complete seriousness.  I don’t fault Kirk Acevedo – he did what he could with such lackluster material, but the storyline and performance was laughable.

The conclusion of the “Evil Charlie” storyline in episode four, made for the only “wow, cool” aspect of the storyline – namely when she shot him in the head. That Olivia had to shoot what used to be her partner and friend, is potentially a dramatic issue that we will see reach fruition in the coming episodes – though I’m not holding my breath.

A large part of the problem in the first few episodes was Dunham herself. She became an increasingly uninteresting character as she recovered from her injuries dealt by physics in episode one. Again, I fault the writers. Simply lackluster material. As I found myself caring less and less about Dunham, the “Evil Charlie” storyline fell flat, and his “villainy” was reduced to insignificance.  A hero is only as good as their villain – and when the threat is a laughable missed opportunity… it doesn’t bode well for audience reaction.

The amnesia storyline played out predictably – it fulfilled its purpose to string along the audience, and to try the patience of those who wanted to learn more and get on with the story.  The one thing that the amnesia storyline brought to the show was (and I call it “thing” because I have yet to decide if it’s a good or bad thing) the character of Sam Weiss, a wisdom dispensing bowling alley attendant who, in the words of Nina Sharp, “put her back together again.”  For those of you reading my reviews, you know that I refer to Weiss as “10 Frame Yoda,” and shall continue to do so from here on out.

The other issue I’ve been ragging on Fringe about for the past few weeks is the absolutely abysmal handling of exposition, and because of this, the reduction of characters that offer so much potential to being mere expository mouthpieces. This has plagued three characters in particular: John Noble’s Walter Bishop, Blair Brown’s Nina Sharp, and the horrifyingly wasted Leonard Nimoy as the “Third Man” of Fringe, William Bell.

An irresistible cocktail of intelligence, barely restrained madness and childlike curiosity, Walter Bishop is the anchor of the show. Each week, John Noble crafts the most endearing mad scientist on television. When he’s scared, we’re scared. When he is lost in his childlike wonder, expressed through bombastic exertions of glee, we feel it too. When he tells Astrid or Peter or Broyles or Olivia or so on and so forth the small detail that has no bearing on the rest of the show, and is there only to get us to the next scene, however fleetingly – we witness a character wasted.

In the first season, though it became cliché, each of the “freaks of the week” were somehow tied to Walter’s experiments in the macabre. The freak of the week served a purpose, each episode structured so as to move us toward the season finale.

In season two, Walter is mostly in his lab, finding various things that – at the moment – have no bearing whatsoever on the outcome of each individual episode.

That’s not to say that Walter doesn’t get a chance to shine.  He does.  Even when doing blatant exposition, he manages to “Walterize” the scene, and make it somewhat interesting. There are moments of pain for Walter, as we see him in Seattle, wanting nothing more than to go home, to get away from the damp odor that reminds him so painfully of his 17-year incarceration in a mental hospital.  There are moments of hilarity and warmth , notably with Joshua Jackson’s Peter Bishop, as they move into new digs, and debate whether or not he likes custard amid complaints of Walter’s nude jumping jacks whilst singing opera.

In episode four, we finally get the return of William Bell.  Answers are promised.  And answers are delivered.  Nauseatingly so. Answer upon answer upon answer. The obligatory “I’m going to get you into a room, and tell you everything” scene. It felt as though we were three steps away from Bell chopping off Olivia’s hand, declaring “I’m your father,” and her screaming “Noooooooo!” before flying headfirst through the windshield of an already crashed SUV in “our” reality.

But – we did get more answers than an Abrams show has heretofore delivered. The problem is that they were so boringly delivered that I honestly didn’t care about the revelation of what should have been a very cool story tease – a coming war between the two realities with mercury drinking shape-shifters and an attractive blonde lead on the front lines.

The trick with exposition delivery is to make sure it’s delivered seamlessly – not through random pauses, flashbacks, and bionic-handed women. Ok, maybe bionic-handed women – but only if it’s done well!

However, all is not lost.

Episode five, “Dream Logic,” was a return to form.  There was  emotion, particularly in a scene where Dunham laments the loss of Charlie to Peter.  There was an emotionally engaging oddity, a special project 10-Frame Yoda gave to Dunham.  The collecting of business cards – which at episode’s end was revealed to be a message, perhaps from an alternate universe Charlie – “you’re gonna be fine” – the first words he ever said to the young, nascent Dunham on her first stakeout.

The “Freak of the Week,” finally brought back to the forefront the first of season one’s stunning reveals – that the Peter we know and love was actually plucked from the alternate reality.  The Peter of this reality died at five years old. A frightening and unsettling dream sequence of Peter in present-day gave us our first glimpse of Walter’s kidnapping of the alternate version of Peter… and signals the beginning of the inevitable fallout of Walter’s actions.

I’ve notably left Joshua Jackson’s performance out of this recap. It’s not because he was bad. In fact, quite the contrary. Jackson is a revelation in this show, proving he’s got the acting chops to be more than that guy from that show about a creek. The only reason I don’t mention him here is that the character hasn’t had much to do – except kick the ass of a human bomb-rigging rogue Colonel and exert a new dominance over Broyles.

A look at the ratings for Fringe isn’t a pretty sight.  It’s been declining steadily, and the decision by Fox to move it to Thursday nights is looking to be a bad one.  There’s an air of “playing it safe” on the part of the showrunners – apparently unable or unwilling to top the conclusion of season one.

I’m not a soothsayer, and I don’t have any idea of what’s being said behind the scenes, or how the show is viewed at Fox, but I will be surprised if Fringe makes it to a third season.  Budget cuts are visible, a rushed writing period is apparent.  DVD sales of season one are mediocre – in an article at TV Overmind, it’s stated that

“DVD sales are a huge factor in renewal, with some shows being renewed mostly on the strength of their off-air brand performance. ‘Fringe’ debuted with $3.8 million dollars in DVD sales, almost half of what fellow WB product ‘Supernatural’ made.  If you want a comparison that will really make you gasp, ‘Heroes’ absolutely trounced it with close to $15 million.”

The numbers aren’t the only issue here. I don’t know that the story – if it stays on its current course – can continue past this season.  The only conceivable way is if the “snowglobe war” is the conclusion of season two, and season three is a decidedly different Fringe-verse, the new post-war world.  I’m sure Abrams and co. have some great plan – though if the current trend is any indication, my faith may be misplaced.

Fringe is a show that has great potential.  It’s incredibly frustrating to see that potential repeatedly squandered, with only the occasional sliver of light showing.  I fear that Fringe may become the latest victim of Abrams’ insistence on convoluted mythology and lack of focus.  Mythology is great, but a show only becomes mythical if people care… and that number is  dwindling.

Even though baseball is giving Fringe a vacation for another two weeks, I’ll be back next week with an “alternate universe” review of the season thus far.

Should be fun.

Tyler Weaver is a guest columnist for pulptone.com and is an independent filmmaker, currently writing two feature scripts and producing a music video.