Archive for the 'reviews' Category

Stuck in the Middleman

Every summer, I bemoan the loss of all my favorite shows, and every summer, the networks throw me a few bones to keep me entertained throughout the warm months. (Yes, I know that summer is supposed to be spent outside, enjoying margaritas on patios and long walks in the sunshine, but I live in the UK. We get six days of sun all summer.) This year, we have Swingtown, Weeds, and Burn Notice, all quality programs that make the long wait till September a bit more bearable.

ABC Family is also trying to get into the action with The Middleman, a show that is earning far better reviews than it has any right to. It’s all part of the channel’s efforts to rebrand itself, an effort that had surprising success with the frat house comedy Greek. What makes Greek so successful is that, despite having the feel-good exterior with a warm creamy center necessary for a family channel, it is also well-written and surprisingly original. The show takes some of the most easily stereotyped characters in the history of TV — the party guy, the rich guy, the gay guy, the nerd — and gives them depth and layers. It’s actually an intelligent show underneath it all.

The Middleman, unfortunately, does not succeed on the same level. Based on a graphic novel, the basic premise centers around the titular heroes, who go around secretly saving humanity from various bizarre things that defy rational explanation. This is a common sci-fi trope for a reason — it’s a whole lot of fun — so I won’t say anything mean about that. Yes, I can forgive a lack of originality if it amuses me. I’m fickle that way.

In fact, overall, the show should work. It’s whimsical, but not self-consciously so. Matt Keeslar is entirely charming as the veteran hero, and Natalie Morales, playing his newly recruited assistant is…fine, I guess. Her line readings are a bit forced at times, but she sufficiently embraces her character’s geekiness for me to overlook that flaw. In the end, the program suffers by trying to be young and hip AND a family show. Every time it succeeds with the former, the latter pulls it right back down. Just as I start to enjoy the ridiculously quick-paced banter or the stylized production, up pops the “family” from the channel’s title. We’ve got a robot that looks like a cranky schoolmarm and a gorilla that thinks it’s a gangster. I’m fairly certain that I saw those when I was seven and watching The Wonderful World of Disney. It’s not fresh, and it clashes noticeably with the parts of the show worth watching.

It’s not a bad show, by any means. If I stumbled across it while flipping through channels, I’d probably watch it. It’s a pleasant enough way to kill an hour. But, since iTunes gets a pound off me every time I watch a show, I’m going to pass on this one…and keep waiting eagerly for September.

Did anyone out there watch this, or do you tend to forget that you even have a channel called ABC Family?

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Swinging Through the Summer

Swingtown cast

I was born in the 70s. I drank Tab, and bought records, and wore frighteningly huge jeans. My family would go to potluck block parties, kids rode their bikes throughout the neighborhood, and we all thought that Jello salad satisfied the “fruit” requirement of a square meal. In that way, I recognize the world in Swingtown, a world that looks just how I remember it. That is, until everyone starts taking off their clothes. I don’t remember that 70s at all (which is probably for the best, considering that I was six when the decade drew to a close). However, after viewing the first episode, it is a world I plan to visit again.

Swingtown is CBS’s entry into the original summer programming schedule. It’s an interesting show, a strange cross between the groovy goodness of Boogie Nights and the emotional brittleness of The Ice Storm — with a liberal helping of Wonder Years nostalgia topping it all off. Perhaps the strangest thing about the show is that it’s on CBS, a network that has no aversion to dismembered body parts (see its CSI catalog), but has remained nearly virginal in regards to sexual matter. Suddenly, it’s airing a primetime show that happily features orgies, partner-swapping and implied teenage sex, in addition to such 70s treats as quaaludes and coke. The Parents Television Council is already in a tizzy, I assure you.

The promise of naked, writhing bodies and the controversy surrounding the show drew a fair number of viewers for last week’s premiere, despite the show receiving only fair to middling reviews — proof that you can never underestimate the prurient interest of the American people. And this is a good thing, because the show is better than the initial reviews would suggest, and it has potential to be a damn good show.

It’s easy enough to comment on the strangely unerotic orgy scene (hey, it’s hard to make muttonchops look sexy in 2008), or the coked-out neighbor, and to think that the show is geared toward the lowest common denominator. However, much like Big Love, it seems to have less interest in exploring the details of this, well, unconventional lifestyle choice and more in using it as a springboard to explore universal human emotions of love, jealousy, longing and, yes, lust.

I may remember the 70s as a time of roller skates and disco, but sociologists tell tales of a darker world, one of people trying to find their way when stuck between the traditional family values of previous decades and the more permissive values that emerged from 60s counterculture. Swingtown takes a fairly literal view of this conflict, plopping traditional families and marriages into the heart of a sex-crazed, anything-goes neighborhood. Here, the fact that it’s on CBS may actually work in its favor. The show cannot hope to titillate through excessive amounts of bare flesh or gratuitous sex scenes. Instead of finding drama in the bedrooms, it mines everyone’s reactions to the sexual liberation, and the fallout that’s sure to ensue.

The show offers strong acting across the board. Jack Davenport and Molly Parker convincingly and subtly portray the complex emotions that would inspire them to open their marriage, a feat more remarkable for the script’s lack of subtlety. Grant Show and Lana Parrilla have a bit less to work with, as the confident pros of partner swapping, but they convincingly swagger around the pilot and are entirely believable in their seduction of the neighborhood noobs. The only weak spot is Mirriam Schor, though that fault may lie less with the actor than the script. Her shrill Puritan is the show’s biggest misstep, as her character’s strident moral judgments only make the sex-and-drugs lifestyle far more appealing. Simplistic characters have no place on a show that seeks to deal with complicated moral issues, and this women is in dire need of some character development.

Currently, Swingtown only has a 13-episode summer run, and if it continues to sit on the fence as to whether it’s a good-time guilty pleasure or a thoughtful exploration of the sexual mores and contradictions of the time, 13 episodes will be plenty. If, however, it manages to pick a side or — better yet — seamlessly blend the two, we may find ourselves wanting to visit Swingtown long after the summer heat has subsided.

If nothing else, at least it will teach a new generation how to do the Hustle. Some things are timeless, after all.

Swingtown airs on CBS, Thursdays at 10:00pm

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Ashes to Ashes, Funk to Funky

Life on Mars was arguably the best British drama of the decade. It was thoughtful and thought-provoking, engaging and entertaining, and was capped off with a near flawless finale. Everything seemed to be wrapped up as neatly as possible when dealing with the story of a time-traveling cop who may or may not be in a coma and/or completely mad.

ashes to ashesOf course, if you’re the BBC, struggling a bit to find truly high quality programming amidst various searches for the next West End Star or the world’s most awkward conversations between parents and teens, you can’t actually let the story end — especially when you’ve created a near iconic figure in Gene Hunt. All you need is a new setting, a new protagonist, a new David Bowie-inspired title, and you’re good to go. Whether the end result is a new winning formula or a strong contender for the “Beating a Dead Horse” award is another matter altogether.

Still need to watch the finale of Life on Mars? Then stop reading, cause I refuse to spoil it for anyone. Otherwise, follow the jump to the Ashes to Ashes review.

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The Terminator Lives On in The Sarah Connor Chronicles

the sarah connor chronicles

Remember the days when The Terminator was just an action movie starring the future governor of California? Now, it’s an entire mythology based on the original film, two sequels (with a third in development), and — starting Sunday — a television series.

I never saw Terminator 3. At the end of the second film, Arnie himself promised that it was over, and, silly me, I believed him. I decided to pretty much ignore the story from that point on but, much like the robots on which the story is based, the damn thing will not stop coming. Denial obviously isn’t working, so perhaps it’s time to check back in and see how the tale of robots and future dystopia is coming along.

After watching the pilot for the new The Sarah Connor Chronicles, I can at least say that the idea has a bit of life left in it. Whether or not it has enough juice to power an entire television series is another matter.

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Battlestar Galactica: Razor Cuts Into Season 4

I love Battlestar Galactica with a love that transcends all reason. I love the moral ambiguity, the in-your-face war allegory, the way it makes Armageddon dirty-sexy. Or maybe sexy-dirty. It’s that sort of terrible dilemma that keeps me watching this show, the way no question, even a shallow one, comes with a simple answer. I would watch this show even if nothing ever happened on it, so much do I enjoy the characters and the tone. And that’s a good thing, really, because nothing actually happened on Battlestar Galactica: Razor, but I liked it anyway.

The two hour “event” tells the story of life on board the Pegasus after the Cylon attack. If you’ve seen season 2, you already know what happened, which takes a bit of the suspense away. Instead of telling the story from the point-of-view of Admiral Cain, a new character is introduced: Kendra Shaw. Worryingly, I had to go look that up on IMDB two hours after watching the episode. That could, of course, be early onset senility or some sort of delayed booze blackout, but I suspect it’s because I knew, even as I watched it, that this character didn’t really matter to the series. That fact is key to your ability to enjoy these episodes. If you’re looking for a continuation of the series and development of key characters, you’ll be disappointed. If you’re able to see it as a one-off chance to explore some stories that have yet to be told and build upon existing themes, you’ll likely enjoy it.

I decided to be a bit contrary and fell into both camps. It was good. Really, it was. This show dwells so far within a morality no man’s land that any episode is sure to raise a few questions. Unfortunately, it didn’t raise a lot of news ones. While the Galactica’s story has been that of making difficult choices to ensure survival, the Pegasus’s story was…that of making difficult choices to ensure survival. Of course, what makes it striking is the different versions of survival told. In the initial mini-series, President Roslin suggested that they run as fast as they can and start making babies, whereas Cain simply wanted to survive in order to fight another day. While Roslin’s way sounds like considerably more fun, Cain’s posed the essential question: Are we what we succumb to, or what we choose to fight for?

Unfortunately, these questions were already asked during the Pegasus arc in season two (and reiterated during the occupation of season three), so it feels a bit redundant. We know you’re a deep show. You don’t need to keep reminding us. Now can Starbuck kick someone’s ass, please?

The show did have a few tricks up its sleeve. Michelle Forbes took full advantage of her last chance to play Cain, again portraying a woman capable of murder, one who condones rape and torture, all without descending into mustache-twirling villainy. The real surprise came from Tricia Helfer’s Gina, whose romantic ties to Cain mirror Six’s relationship to Baltar. Unlike Baltar, whose attachment to Six is so great that he continues to hallucinate her presence, Cain punishes Gina for her betrayal in the most inhumane ways possible, thereby setting Gina up to feel betrayed in turn. In the end, that was the story of the Pegasus: betrayal of love, of humanity, of hope. Galactica may be a soap operatic mess from time to time, but they got nothing on that other ship. Betrayal destroyed Pegasus and, when we consider how things were left at the end of season 3, that could be a brilliant setup for the themes of season 4.

The weakness, however, was that Razor never felt as if it was connected to the upcoming episodes. Although it did feature the usual lead characters, their storylines did not progress or develop, which is especially sad when you consider that the show was at its best when Starbuck was doling out a bit of punishment, or Adama was practicing his “severe” expression, or Lee was finding something new to complain about. Unfortunately, for those of us who still find ourselves humming “All Along the Watchtower” when remembering the frakking incredible ending from the last episode, this lack of progress is also a recipe for disappointment. This show is well on its way to “legend” status, and it’s hard to be satisfied with a story story that’s merely really good.

So, yeah, I liked it. I just didn’t really, really like it. The line for partially satisfied fans with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement regarding their favorite show can form behind me.

Tell me, BSG fans: which line are you standing in?

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Jumping the Shark and Other Tricks: Heroes, House and Friday Night Lights

Being a fan of an American TV drama means always waiting for a favorite show to jump the shark. It seems unavoidable. Unlike shows from other countries, which have a limited number of seasons and episodes, US shows tend to stay on the air until they stop making money — and the only way that happens is when people stop watching. Eventually, no matter how great the original premise, the strain of keeping 22 episodes of a show on the air for multiple seasons can take its toll on the creative process. And, when the show eventually changes, the original fans feel betrayed (talk to any hardcore Buffy or Alias fan for a demonstration of this). Of course, if the network pulls the plug while the show is still in its prime, the fans never forgive the network for its lack of faith, as any Deadwood watcher can attest. It’s a no-win situation.

Shark-watch 2007 started early this season. Heroes‘ shaky start had lots of people predicting disaster. House fans wanted to know if the cast shakeup would cause irreparable damage to the characters’ chemistry. And Friday Nights Lights, which has inspired a tiny but rabid following, had to cope with fans closely watching every scene for the slightest hint that the show was pandering to some undetermined network agenda.

The Fonz jumps it.Here’s the thing: none of these shows are even close to the proverbial shark. The term comes from an episode of Happy Days, in which the Fonz goes water-skiing in Hawaii and literally jumps over a shark. It was ridiculous, out-of-character, and completely against the spirit of the show. It wasn’t just that the show made some bad decisions; it suddenly felt like a different show altogether. The three shows above haven’t committed any such crimes. They’ve simply written some plot lines that loyal viewers don’t like. And, to those whining about this, I can only say: tough. No, really. Disagreeing with a storyline is not the same thing as the storyline sucking.

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Viva Laughlin vs. Blackpool

Hugh’s the man.I watched Viva Laughlin last night. I watched because a) I am a sucker for any show in which characters randomly break into song & dance and b) because until Hugh Jackman decides to leave his wife and show up at my house with Gerard Butler and a large bowl of chocolate pudding, I must content myself with watching him on screen.

Despite receiving abysmal ratings, I didn’t find the show a complete waste of my time, even if it is on CBS. After all, it did deliver on its promise of a singing, dancing Hugh Jackman. It wasn’t awful. But, immediately after it finished, I took myself to YouTube to watch the first episode of Blackpool, the BBC series on which Viva Laughlin is based, and the American version suffers in comparison.
I am not one of those who believes that all British television is superior to American television. After all, let’s not forget which nation inspired Dancing With the Stars and Deal or No Deal. However, translating a very British show to an American audience requires a solid understanding of the subtle cultural differences between the two countries. The first season of The Office US faltered because it was a bit too painful, too awkward and mean for its American audience. Americans seem to need a bit more hope. It’s one of their greatest charms — that a shopkeeper can say “Have a nice day!” and actually mean it — as well as one of their worst faults (”So what if my Hummer only gets 4 MPG? Science will solve global warming!”). In general, American network audiences don’t want to spend an hour in a depressing, hopeless environment.

When I first arrived in the UK a few years ago, a friend pointed out the primary difference between British and American soap operas. American ones feature an aspirational lifestyle of wealth and privilege, whereas British soaps, such as EastEnders, focus on the working class. Both are a form of escapism for the viewers, but lead to very different paths.

To be fair, Viva Laughlin at least tries to fit the story into its own cultural context. It transplants the setting from rainy, gloomy seaside Britain to the terminally sunny desert of Nevada. The US version centers around a 1300-room, 5-star casino; the British one takes place in a pathetic “amusement arcade” near a depressing theme park. Both versions feature flawed leads, but while the British version of Ripley Holden is a drunken, lying, womanizing Neanderthal with an unexpected devotion to his community, the American Ripley is a physically fit, simplistic dreamer with an unrecognized selfish streak. He is even faithful to his wife (though, to be fair, turning down Melanie Griffith’s fish lips may be more a sign of good taste than loyalty). When the men seek to intimidate the daughter’s middle-aged boyfriend, the American does so through a decisive punch to the jaw. The UK’s Ripley intimidates through mysterious, sinister references to his own past. Unfortunately, Americanizing the story completely changes its tone. Blackpool is a grim, harsh story, with the karaoke interludes a jarring counterpoint. The American version is a shiny and colorful fantasy, one in which the brightness of Laughlin overpowers the murderous plot line. The show loses the depth that made the British version interesting.

David TennantAnd all this before we even get into the ways that David Tennant’s D.I. Carlisle outright humiliates Eric Winter and his pretty-faced version of the same role. Tennant is a master of irresistible charm as cover for deep sadness; Winters looks like he got lost on his way to the Days of Our Lives set. Although Hugh Jackman could get me to watch just about anything (I’ve seen Kate & Leopold, for god’s sake. I am not proud of this.), his movie star appeal can only sell so much, and the show ends up being all light charm — which would likely have more appeal if I hadn’t seen how a little darkness would have made it so much better. Simply put, the UK wins this round.

Watch the clips below and do your own comparison. What do you think?

Continue reading ‘Viva Laughlin vs. Blackpool’

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Speed Reviews: New Dramas

It’s nearly October, and I’ve still barely made a dent in writing about all the new shows this year. I have an excellent reason for this: most of the shows bore me silly. Out of respect to my short attention span, I offer the 25-word review.

Reaper: The other show featuring a twenty-something mega-mart employee with unexpected powers and annoying sidekick that is not Chuck. Chuck, however, has Adam Baldwin. It wins.

Bionic Woman: The show casts Katee Sackhoff and doesn’t give her the lead role. No further proof is needed that the producers don’t know what they’re doing.

Dirty Sexy Money: Desperate title tries to make a thoroughly competent and dull show sound sexy. No one is fooled. Good actors, high production values, tired plots. Zzzzzzzz.

Private Practice: Take one strong female character. Move her to Los Angeles. Stir in neuroses and rejected Ally McBeal plots. Bake with popular, likable cast. Serve tepid.

Journeyman: Time travel drama appealing to the Quantum Leap demographic. Most likely show to linger on for seasons despite no one you know actually watching it.

If I was doing this properly, comedy reviews should follow, but that would require me to watch Caveman, and even I have to draw the line somewhere. I do have some taste, after all.

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Friday Night Lights: Stealing My Snark

Cast of Friday Night LightsI have never watched more than five minutes of a football game at once, despite growing up with a brother who was a rabid 49ers fan. I hated pretty much every minute I spent in high school, convinced that life would dramatically improve the moment I graduated (thankfully, I was right). I have the sort of irrational fear of Texas that can only be found in a frothing-at-the-mouth liberal such as myself. Despite all that, I love Friday Night Lights with a passion that transcends all reason. This is the best show on network television, and almost no one is watching it.

It came fourth in Friday’s ratings battle, coming after the dreadfully titled Women’s Murder Club, a show which would be far more interesting if it were actually about an organized group of female murderers, and the just plain dreadful Moonlight. I despair.

If you read the critics, you know that the love for this show is almost universal. You’ve probably heard about the flawless realism, the subtle drama, the brilliantly acted characters, but you still aren’t watching it. Perhaps you’ve decided that you are too old for a teen drama, or too bored by football, or maybe you actually go out on Friday night. For the record, I would just like to say that you are wrong.

This is not a show about football. It is a show about chasing the small dreams, the ones we build in our heads and hearts to keep us going every day even as we attempt to cope with the real dreams, the friends and family that surround us. It is about struggle and pain and acceptance and grit and determination and, most of all, it is about love. Not the sort of love you will find in some fictionalized fairy tale, but the enduring, sustaining, heart-breaking kind everyone who has ever had a family or a partner will recognize instantly.

The honesty is staggering. Nothing is airbrushed in this show. In Friday’s episode, Tami Taylor (masterfully played by Connie Britton) is shown coping with postpartum depression, the camera trained on a close-up of her unmade-up face, every pore and wrinkle visible. The camera demands that we see her emotions in high-definition clarity. The audience is never kept at arm’s length, the show’s emotional pull as generous as it is masterful.

I have no snark for this show. Not a bit. Only pure, unadulterated appreciation and respect and a deep, deep fear that it will be canceled before the rest of the world catches on. In the first two episodes of this season, the producers have brought in a ridiculous murder plot in a shameless attempt to boost the ratings, and I can forgive them even that, for they still gave me 37 minutes of perfect television. Don’t force them to depend on cheesy love triangles and shirtless teens for further ratings. Watch it, please. For me?

I’ll give you a cookie if you do.

Am I the only one? How do you feel about FNL? Or are there any other shows that inspire you to stand on street corners, begging people to watch them with you?

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Watching bad TV so you don’t have to.

It is that magical time of year again, when the U.S. networks roll out the best of the best, the shows that made the cut after countless meetings between paranoid executives, determined talent and artificially earnest agents. Millions upon millions of dollars have been sunk into these shows. For months now, they have been paraded before focus groups and critics, tweaked and and doctored and polished until they shone. Which, of course, begs the question: Shouldn’t these shows be, you know, GOOD?

Forget about the recent legal woes of your favorite Hollywood starlets, for nowhere is there more proof of Hollywood’s continuing dependence on illegal substances than a quick perusal of the 2007-8 television season. First, we have an over-reliance on shows featuring ordinary people gifted with superpowers, a marketing choice seemingly based around the fact that if people like Heroes, then they will love Reaper’s story of the teenager with the magic Dirt Devil that vacuums up the damned. Sadly, I did not make that up.

Failing that, they are offering shows based on films from the 80s (The Sarah Connor Chronicles, coming early 2008), TV shows from the 70s (The Bionic Woman), spin-offs from existing shows (Private Practice), and, yes, insurance ads (Cavemen). In some cases, like The Bionic Woman, the networks managed to display a stunning gift for predictability by combining the two themes of this season into one: familiarity and superpowers. If this doesn’t turn people away from the Internet and cable, then…well, I’ll sit with a self-satisfied smile on my face and say, “THIS is what you get for canceling Veronica Mars, you bastards!”

Perhaps the most painful example of the fall television disaster is CBS’s vampire-with-a-soul offering, Moonlight. Now, I could offer plenty of commentary on the premise, but I’ll let the straight description from TV.com speak for itself:

Moonlight follows Mick St. John, an immortal vampire and private investigator and his struggle to exist after he was bitten 60 years ago by his vampire bride on their wedding night. It also follows his internal torment as he falls in love with one he should not, one who is mortal named Beth, a news reporter, as well as his dealings with the woman who made him a vampire, his sire Coraline.

Ah, yes. A vampire-with-a-soul who is also a private investigator who also loves a mortal woman but is NOT Angel. They are completely different shows. On different networks. And, indeed, there is absolutely no place for comparison because, while one of those shows was good, the other…well, sucks, to use the unavoidable description. Really, really sucks. Rather than waste more time on this review than the writers spent coming up with the premise, I offer you five reasons why you should not, under any circumstances, watch this show.

1. The dialogue. Oh, the dialogue. The lead helpfully says, “When I became a vampire, my senses went up to 11,” offering his fresh take on vampiric abilities through the always-topical Spinal Tap reference. Not enough? How about his line when confronting an enemy: “I know she was here, man!” Yes, man. Next, he will be threatening him with, “Dude, I’m so going to drink your blood!” and “That’s a groovy crucifix, baby.”

2. The character’s name is Mick St. John. Enough said.

Moonlight3. The cast. Alex O’Laughlin plays the lead character with such a general lack of emotion (save smugness and a cooler-than-thou attitude) that the viewer roots for decapitation. Sophia Myles continues to promote her specific brand of sleep-inducing acting by barely seeming to appear on screen, even when she is the only person in the frame. If I could bear to watch this show again, I would be looking forward to her first scene with Shannyn Sossamon, a scene which would only be notable for containing less interest or charisma than you would find at a city council discussion of traffic lights. The only bright spot is Jason Dohring, but his ability to actually make the banal lines sound interesting is quickly smothered by the charisma vacuums with which he is surrounded. On the plus side, however, so long as the other three actors are kept busy, they won’t be turning up on any shows I actually like.

4. The plot. The red herring is so obvious that the actual killer is clear to anyone who has ever seen an episode of Murder, She Wrote. This, sadly, leaves the viewer with only the cast and the dialogue for entertainment. It was a very long hour.

5. The altered mythology. Now, I have no problem with a show creating its own universe, so if they want to say that vampires don’t die from a stake to the heart or direct sunlight, I’ll accept that. However, since they clearly rewrote the traditions as an excuse for the lead to preen while wearing black wrap-around sunglasses and skulking artfully in the shade, I call foul. Next week: St. John is forced to wander about shirtless on the beach with a ’sexy’ glower on his face.

There is a tiny little sliver of hope for the show, as Dave Greenwalt has taken over show-running duties, and his experience with Angel suggests he has some gift with this preposterous premise. However, unless he plans on having the vampires attack all the writers before setting themselves ablaze as penance for their crimes, I don’t think he has a chance in hell.

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