Captain America’s girlfriend is super awesome, yea!
The three best things about Marvel’s new mini-series Agent Carter are, in order, the costumes, the cars and the hair. That’s because it’s set in the 1940s, where everybody looked classy, all the time, especially criminals and badass lady secret agents.
“So help me, God, I will shoot you, and my hair will look awesome when I do it.”
The next best thing about Agent Carter is the titular (hee! titular!) secret agent herself, Agent Peggy Carter, who is totally ass-kicking and beautiful and funny and don’t take no crap from her stupid 1940s bosses, who are all like: “Woman, brew us some coffee, on the double!” (Although she’s terrible at fake-crying, as you find out when her friend gets murdered.)
Agent Carter (the show) reminds us that Agent Carter (the lady) was dating Captain America (the Chris Evans version), then sits back and lets the plot take over.
I hope Chris Evans shows up for some guest spots, because he’s beautiful.
To tell you the truth, I’m a little confused by the plot, but maybe that’s because I missed the first 20 minutes or so. All I know is Iron Man’s grandpa (or dad, or uncle) has been (probably falsely) accused of treason or some damn thing, and Agent Carter is working with the (adorable, yet hot) butler Mr. Jarvis to clear his name, and also keep James Frain from imploding the city, and also Henry, the taxi-driver from Fringe was there. Then there’s another bad guy who has a total hard-on for shooting people right in the forehead, leaving perfect little holes and barely any blood and definitely no brain splatter, because that is exactly what happens when you get shot in the head, and also Agent Carter’s coworkers are a bunch of chauvinist pigs, because it was the 1940s and feminism hadn’t been invented yet.
Nah, seriously, it’s been around forever, so why are people still acting like it’s a bad word?
Also, Ray Wise shows up, and I’m just going to call him as the big baddie right now, because why would you hire Ray Wise to not play a bad guy?
The answer is: You wouldn’t bother. He’s the bad guy.
Anyhow, there’s a lot of punching and shooting and fast driving in beautiful cars, and there’s even knockout lipstick, because of course there is, so Agent Carter is definitely better than Gotham, and, I might even go so far as to say, probably worth watching.
Agent Carter! A show you should watch, if you feel like it!
Summer Glau is not as awesome as I was led to believe
Living in a world surrounded by Whedonites, such as I am, I’d heard a lot of good things about Summer Glau. Or course I should have realized that praise coming from people who are Whedonites should be taken with a grain of salt, but I don’t hate everything the man’s ever done. (I just don’t worship it, you know?)
Oh God they have a button.
And I know I’ve been going on a lot about The Cape lately, but God bless it, I am really trying to give the show a chance. I need stupid bubblegum television! I need mindless action sequences and over-the-top villains. I AM TRYING TO LOVE YOU, THE CAPE, WHY DO YOU KEEP RUINING IT!
So, anyway, Summer Glau stars on The Cape as Orwell, which is ha ha ha because George Orwell wrote 1984 and, like Big Brother, Orwell is watching you.
We love Big Brother!
God, I wish they were that clever all the time.
(And that’s not even all that clever, but when you compare it to everything else on the show, it’s like someone was channeling a real writer or something.)
And the thing about Orwell is that she’s supposed to be a computer genius, fine, I’ll buy that, whatever. But all of a sudden, she’s buddying around with The Cape, which might be interesting if there was one iota of sexual tension between the two of them or something, but it’s more like watching two rocks just sitting there, and neither rock realizes the other exists. Oh, and one of the rocks has washboard abs, but truly awful hair.
I’m sorry, folks, I just don’t enjoy image searches for this guy, so this is what you get.
And the other thing about Orwell is that she’s not supposed to be some ass-kicking machine, which is, apparently, what Summer Glau is known for, even though she is smaller than most 8-year-olds. (And, actually, I know a couple of tall 7-year-olds, too.)
OK, I have to admit this IS impressive.
So, fine, she’s not kicking ass and taking names, but can’t she try, I don’t know, not delivering her lines like some sort of automaton? It’s bad enough we’ve got The Cape’s wife who can’t fake-cry to save her life and his dead-eyed kid, and they’re not spending nearly enough time focusing on Chess, who is far superior to the heroes in every way, especially in the being-portrayed-by-James-Frain way, which is rapidly becoming a super-big plus in my book.
Gratuitous photo of James Frain as a vampire alert!
But Summer Glau isn’t even trying? Or maybe she is trying, and she’s just not that good?
I mean, God, the car has more personality than she does.
Look, all I know is: Whedonites, you lied, and I won’t forgive you for this.
A love letter to Chess
Dear Chess, also known as Peter Fleming, also known as the best character on The Cape, the show I am only watching because he is on it,
I love you.
Still hate those ridiculous contact lenses, though.
Why do I love you? Because you are the best character on The Cape, even better than Rollo the dwarf strongman and Lollipop the dead raccoon. (No! Lollipop! WHHHYYYY? Couldn’t they afford the animal trainer anymore?)
I think they should write more scenes where Rollo hurts The Cape. Those are good scenes.
You are even better than Ruvi the hypnotist, whose name I keep hearing as “Ruby,” and wondering which chick that is, and you are certainly a much better character than boring, boring Orwell and too dumb to live Vince Faraday, also known as “The Cape,” that guy we are rooting for to get thrown off a building, finally.
Seriously, you are the dumbest superhero ever, I swear to god I should probably stop laughing at you because you have some sort of brain injury.
Sure, Chess, you’re not the most original villain out there. I don’t blame you for that. You’re trapped in a universe of poorly-written dialogue, cliches and plotholes. That’s not your fault. You’re doing your best. And by “your best,” I mean, “redeeming this show.”
And looking hot in suits.
(Well, almost redeeming it. It’s still pretty awful, and if things don’t improve, I don’t care how much I love you, I am cutting it loose.)
But, Chess, I do love you. I want you to know that. The way you flirt with chicks who are trying to murderize you. That’s great. The way you look good in cowboy hats and hang underneath trains, cutting their brake lines (which somehow makes the train stop, don’t ask me, I don’t live in a comic book TV show).
And I don't even LIKE cowboys.
The way you’re apparently being written as having disassociative identy disorder all of a sudden. (On a related note, I wish it was still called multiple personality disorder, because that was easier to spell.)
Chess, I love you so much that I don’t even mind that you’ve taken your supervillain moniker from one of the most boring of all the board games. (Better than Battleship, I suppose.)
I suppose it goes without saying, but both are infinitely better than checkers, the boringest board game that ever bored.
If you ever want to escape the poorly written horror of an existence you’re living, call me! I could write beautiful fan fiction for you!
It'll be CLASSY fan fiction, I swear.
Hollywood Hates Me 