Oh Fringe. We had entertained the possibility that you might not delight us after a couple weeks apart. But no, we still get a kick out of the brazen theatricality of your gore and the dextrous way that John Noble deals with Walter Bishop's mad scientist / Monk tendencies. You're like House if it was produced by Troma Studios, and we're still sold!
Now, we stand behind our previous thoughts on the matter: Anna Torv does too much, and Joshua Jackson does too little. And now we have proof: dig that scene last night where Peter unloaded on Broyles about having to take care of his dad. Did he same out-serioused by Lance Reddick, who could probably stare down Mt. Rushmore if he wanted to? NO. No, he did not. Peter and Broyles are too totally different types of people, but these weird circumstances have brought them together -- and last night we saw the first hints of the kind of actual working relationship they could have. One frenzied, the other rock solid, one half-criminal, the other by-the-book, but both a little world weary and skeptical by nature -- and slowly becoming believers in some weird, weird stuff. Now that's a show!
Also, let's be honest, it's been a long time since we've liked a "guy in pain" scene like we liked Peter being electrocuted in order to read the brain of a dead guy. (Oh, right, the plot: Godfather, parasite; Olivia, German prisoner; Peter, dead guy brain reader. Moving on.) Sure, Jack Bauer's been given the Mr. Joshua treatment a few bilion times, but how often did he get a chaser of blissful opiates at the end as a reward? That was awesome! More drugs, Fringe, and more weird violations of the dead, and we will probably stay with you to the bitter, bloody end.
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