So I caught the premier of the much-hyped new J.J. Abrams (Lost, Alias) show Fringe last night, and I must admit I was pleasantly surprised! I debated with myself whether I was going to watch it or not, I've found that often the shows with that much hype end up disappointing, but in the end....well...there really wasn't anything else on!
The opening scene had me hooked, a plane full of passengers is traveling from Hamburg to Boston during an electrical storm. We see snippets of random passengers until we focus on a man clearly in a state of panic. He pulls out an insulin pen and injects himself. Seconds later he's on his feet, being chased by a flight attendant, he finally turns and something is wrong with his face. Soon the entire plane is infected....
Leave you wanting more? It did me! They're re-airing the pilot later this week, so I won't say anymore about the plot, in case anyone wants to check it out for themselves (Sunday night 8PM on Fox).
While I was riveted by the plot and enjoyed the superb acting (a special surprise, Joshua Jackson who's Clooney-like acting on Dawson's Creek generally annoyed me) I did find myself somewhat put off by some of the photography. I don't necessarily need or want my Sci-Fi shows to be "artsy", which Fringe did occasionally try to be last night. It's my hope that in future episodes, the writers, directors, and editors will realize that their show is at it's best when making up crazy experiments (communicating telepathically with a man in a coma?!) and chasing bad guys and lose all the weird camera angles and lighting choices.
I would encourage my fellow Sci-Fi lovers to check out Fringe but be warned that the opening scene described above is not for the weak stomached! I'll definitely be watching the next new episode on Tuesday!
- I'm human, so I've got some issues, but all things considered I guess I'm reasonably normal. My parents are still married. My best friends are my sisters...okay, so I'm normal for the 1850's whatever. I'm opinionated and nerdy. I'm walking the line between tweener-style pop culture love (witness my ever-burning New Kids love and inexplicable Twilight obsession) and elitist culture snob (I can't seem to get enough 19th century British Lit and historical biographies) but, after 30 years, I'm finally learning not to give a crap what anyone else thinks about me. Oh, and those are my feet in the picture. The socks were made by a friend.