Weeds to conclude after eight seasons. And yet another three-act narrative closes shop one season early...

I like Weeds, having watched it first for work-related reasons and then having caught it on my own slowly over the last year or so via Netflix.  I'm not a die-hard fan, so news of its upcoming cancellation following the upcoming eighth season would otherwise be untroubling save for one key factor. Weeds, like any number of ongoing episodic series was clearly structured into a three-act structure, with three seasons for each act.  Like 24, Mad Men, and (so far) Sons of Anarchy among others, the show's long-form storytelling clearly established a set structure.  The first three seasons established the core premise (Nancy sells dope to neighbors in upscale Agrestic after her husband dies) and literally burns down the primary story, while the second three seasons upended Nancy's world and left her at what amounts to rock-bottom (her family abandoned her and she basically surrendered herself to police custody at the conclusion of season six).  That leaves three seasons to rebuild to some kind of third-act finale.  But just like 24, the logical narrative has been cut short by a season.

When death is expected, life is the best plot twist. Why I hope Bruce Wayne survives The Dark Knight Rises.

With two months to go before Chris Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises, much of the summer will focus on rampant speculation.  This speculation will mostly focus on two would-be plot turns.  A) Is Miranda Tate (Marion Cottilard) Talia Al Ghul in disguise? and B) Does Bruce Wayne die at the end of the picture?  I don't pretend to know the answer to either of these questions, although Cottilard recently gave an interview swearing that her character was not Ra's Al Ghul's daughter in disguise.  Personally, I hope neither of those things are true.  First of all, there has been so much assured presumption among fans and pundits over the last two years concerning these matters that it would be lovely for all of the guessers to be wrong.  At this point, it is almost taken for granted that Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) will perish by the end credits.  Thus at this point, it would actually be more daring, 'ballsier' if you will, for Nolan to leave Bruce Wayne alive at the end of his three-part Batman saga.  Second of all, the 'shocking death' has slowly morphed over the decade from an unlikely plot twist into a writer's crutch.  Does anyone here remember the last time they were truly surprised by a last-minute fatality on their favorite television show or a major new movie?  What was once rare became occasional in the era of The X-Files, inevitable in the era of The Sopranos, and absolutely expected as the likes of Lost and 24 wrapped up their series runs.  What was shocking is now painfully predictable.  And the 'shocking fatality' is now seemingly the primary mode of surprise and plot-twisting in contemporary pop entertainment.

Watch/Discuss: J.J. Abrams's new series, Revolution, gets a trailer. Or the inherent peril of close-ended television.

The premise is genuinely chilling, and the opening moments have a real kick to them.  But once the show starts up its real storyline, we quickly see the problem with this kind of seemingly short-term narrative storytelling.  By the end of this four-minute clip, we already know that there is some amulet that apparently makes electricity work again.  So it appears that the core arc of the show will be a journey to find this amulet and theoretically use it to restore power to a world that currently has none.  Fine, but does that not presume that the show will in-effect be a long waiting game as we (im)patiently wait for the core problem to be solved.  Yes we can hopefully become invested in certain characters and enjoy the two decent actors on display (Gincarlo Esposito and Billy Burke), but won't every would-be goal post be a false alarm, every climactic reveal be the equivalent of 'Your princess is in another castle'?  

Mendelson's Memos Flashback - As Sex and the City 2 opens, a look at female escapist fantasy and how it differs from male escapist fantasy.

I have a heck of a lot more readers now than I did in September 2008, when I first published this massive essay on gender and escapism. Since Sex and the City 2 is facing (fairly or not) the same kind of scrutiny that the first did, I thought it was worth a re-look. This is not about whether the films are good or not, but whether critics properly understand the genre that said franchise represents. If you've been reading me from the beginning, this is pretty much as it was with a few minor tweaks...

Can Sex & the City 2 overcome the TV-sequels curse? Is it Star Trek: the Wrath of Khan or X-Files: I Want to Believe?

As most of you know, Sex & the City 2 opens worldwide on Thursday, May 27th. Expectations are running high, with the general consensus that it will perform in a similar fashion to the first picture ($57 million opening weekend, $152 million domestic total). But the odds are indeed stacked against it. There are two major issues at play. First, and more obviously, the $95 million picture (costing $30 million more than the first film) will have to overcome the infamous Tomb Raider trap. For those new to this site, the Tomb Raider trap (named for the enjoyable adventure yarn that is Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life) is the phenomenon in which a generally-disliked film becomes a smash hit based purely on marketing and hype. But the arguably superior sequel flops or under-performs because even though it is a better movie, audiences aren't willing to take the chance again (other instances of this phenomenon include Addams Family Values and The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian). Unless you were a die-hard fan of the original show, you probably didn't care much for the original Sex and the City movie. So theoretically only the hardcore fans will check this one out this time, right? But the real danger is the fact that it is a sequel to a film that was itself based on a television series. It's a tiny genre, one that is made up of either out-of-the-park smash hits or out and out flops. If it ends up as an example of the latter, the Carrie Bradshaw sequel should be thrilled to gross 1/2 of what the original made.