You have arrived in the LEXXVERSE where the spirit of Lexx lives on. Home


My 2 Cents on Viva Lexx Vegas
 Moderated by: Ketana, CheshireKat, aeonflux  

New Topic

Reply

Print
AuthorPost
Bilbo67
Heretic


Joined: Fri Oct 27th, 2006
Location: The Daisy Hill Cluster Lizard Farm
Posts: 469
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Tue Oct 18th, 2011 02:17 pm

Quote

Reply
My 2 Cents on Episode 4.21: Viva Lexx Vegas
(10/18/11)

 
 
Ah fall.  The trees are dying, the cold germs are mutating like self-replicating rabbits, the cute animals are seeing to their affairs in advance of saying “Screw you people, we’re outta here,” and the lingering stink of the Josh McDaniels era continues to envelop my beloved Broncos like a fog made out of vaporized diapers.  That gloriously inconvenient time of year when the sun starts ducking out earlier and earlier, just to spite the rest of the working world, and a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of bulging discs, ground up cartilage, and bacon-esque strips of still-quivering forearm flesh being awkwardly chiseled away from a remorseless cement death orb while victims yet to be defiled stand two dozen abreast afore it’s vertically mis-advertised alter, unseasonably defrocked and precision marinated with dubiously biodegradable slime, each quietly ruminating in his own way on the fact that he’s laid down a non-refundable C-note in the wasted aim of attempting to quash that unfeeling hell-sphere’s inslakeable avarice for human suffering (but a precursor to the recurring rite of passage the is the communal, thirty-degree “hey man, I can’t quite reach that spot…ya mind?” WD-40 shower…guffaw all you want, but it’s what keeps me from getting soggy). 
 
Yes, strongman nationals are almost upon us yet again.  Time sure flies when you’ve forgotten what it’s like to roll out of the sack in the morning and not have to pop and realign seventy percent of your joints before you can so much as indulge in a vigorous early morning power scratch.  It’s been just about eighteen months since I officially started back up competing, by far the longest injury/illness-free stretch I’ve enjoyed since closing my eyes and plunging my hand into the Big Bag O’ Esoteric Hobbies back in ’08, and you know…I’ve come to believe there’s something to the occasional near-death experience!  Almost like it’s Mother Nature’s way of saying “Slow down…or I’ll kill you!”  Sure, it was more than a little deflating having to all but start back over in the cellar when I got out of the hospital (stomach thing in summer ’08), or when my SI joint stopped strafing my pain receptors every time I so much as sneezed or shifted in my seat (spring of ’10, after voluntarily dropping out of competition for a little over a year), but both times I eventually rebuilt myself, and discovered along the way that a little medically mandated time off did wonders for the rest of my working parts.  Not to say I haven’t enjoyed some of the big numbers this most recent unbroken stretch has enabled me to put up, but I’d be perjuring myself (under penalty of a ten minute facial fusillade from Ketana’s truck-mounted WWII-era atomic spit wad cannon) if I said I wasn’t starting to occasionally feel my age in bacterium years.  Methinks a little Holiday holiday is in order after next month’s gauntlet run…unless, by some confounded miracle I actually manage to win a pro card, in which case I’ll have to kick my already borderline-suicidal training into high gear, lest I want the bevy of badasses I’ll be joining to see me as anything other than fashionably disastrous target practice.
 
We shall see.  In truth, I’m pretty much taking it in stride this year.  Last year I over-trained, over-thought, over-paid (Picard > Kirk…pretty much sums up my feelings regarding Priceline), and basically worked myself into an unspoken frenzy.  ‘Twas my first time at a show of that caliber, and somehow or other I let the self-imposed pressure get to me.  Considering the fact that I completely botched two of the seven events, I actually finished with a pretty decent placing.  Still, there were times when it felt like I was the only one there not having fun.  Complete opposite of how I usually approach these shows, and my training in general.  Can’t be having that.  Ergo, this year’s recipe: less brooding, more goofy fake accents and rambling, incoherent non-sequiturial anecdotes before, after, and possibly during events.  
 
 
 
Lordy…that probably meant a whole lotta nothin’ to most people!  Might as well face facts now…when I finally sign off from doing Lexx reviews sometime next year, I’m probably gonna have to break down and start a blog. 
 
Oh GOD, what I am I saying!?!?
 
All right folks at home, you’re on…you have exactly four more creatively-infringing “cheery byes” to convince me that Torchwood, True Blood, or Law & Order (which apparently qualifies as science fiction for some reason) is the bestest thing since Sliced Pudding [patent pending].
 
 
Now then, as those of y’all who frittered as much of the precious gift of life away on the Skiffy board as I did when this episode first ran might recall, in the days leading up to its premier the hypulation briefly reached self-immolation pitch, due to the widely whispered rumor that Tim Curry would be returning to portray some kind of bizarre new manifestation of Poet Man.  Dunno ‘bout the rest of ya, but I certainly swallowed it without bothering to chew, because despite scaring every last atheistic tendency right the hell out of me at the tender age of eight (how else would you describe a grade schooler involuntarily muttering “Oh God” and “Oh Jesus” at the sight of anything even remotely resembling a clown?), I think he’s a tremendous performer who practically lactates charisma and can elevate even the sorriest T-grade production with his mere presence (see approx 80% of his IMDb credits for reference).  What a boon it would have been if the beans could have gotten one of the three A(ish)-listers (loved Barry Bostwick, but unless I’m mistaken I don’t believe he boasts quite the resume the other three do) from season 1 to swoop in and surprise us!  It’s the kind of magnanimous “Here’s one for the road” gesture that makes you forget all about pantsless Priests, tone-deaf trees, and the fact that we never dropped back in on the socially uninhibited, pin-up proportioned Living Dead Girl \m/ presumably still running a-clothing-optional-muck across the Buckeye State (by all means, please tell me how sick in the head I am…).  Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.  For that matter, I’m not altogether sure it was EVER intended to be in the first place.  For every bboarder who believed kindly old Doc Frank was going to pay us a house call, there were just as many skeptics who dismissed the rumor as exactly that: unfounded gossip that caught fire following a TV Guide misprint that mistakenly credited Tim Curry as the star of the show (which I could see happening, given how little attention the show was paid, that Curry was, arguably, the most casually recognizable actor involved in the project, and that the show’s alternate title—Tales From A Parallel Universe—was mistakenly applied to the first-run VHS edition of the individual installment in which he appeared, further compounding the confusion).  My fault for assuming people who are essentially paid to bone up on TV trivia mightn’t occasionally half-ass it.
 
Can’t speak for the rest of y’all—particularly the ones who’ve seen/read the relevant supplemental material and will proceed to gut, stuff, mount, and neglect to dust the preceding paragraph in ten words or less (consider that a challenge!)—but count me among the skeptics.  I doubt Tim Curry was ever slated to be involved.  Oh I’m sure his name was frequently bounced around during the season 3/4 “revolving door resurrection” era, and they may have even tried to get in touch with him, but I can’t see it going much further than that. 
 
Still, I can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a smattering of truth to the rumor, as it could account for this episode’s most distinguishing characteristic: a plot—if it can so be called—that feels like it was scribbled on a discarded toilet paper tube five minutes before production began.  Seriously, nothing of substance happens in this episode!  That it’s cheaply made and relatively low key is understandable, as the effects staff was almost certainly saving the last of the CGI nest egg for the finale, but hardly a valid excuse for the finished product.  We’ve seen the beans make something out of next-to-nothing in the past.  Character development, zany, jet-black humor, and good old-fashioned all (North) American debauchery…you don’t need a blockbuster (or even mockbuster) budget to engage in any of that.  Case in point, Gondola, a top-notch season 3 offering principally centered around half a dozen characters sitting in a balloon and talking, or some of the more whimsical, low-key season 4 side adventures like Mort and Prime Ridge.  With a little imagination and devil-may-care legroom, less can be an abundance of more. 
 
Absent those fundamental factors, you wind up with something like this, which is all the more confounding when you stop to consider that FOUR writers are credited as having worked on the script: Lex G, Spira & Selzer (better remembered as the namesake for a rancid Canadian highball), and newcomer Frank McGinn.  I’m not sure what to make of that.  Perhaps, if the Tim Curry theory holds water, it began its life as a radically different shooting script that had to be hastily retooled when the big guest star dropped out (makes sense in that regard…the transcript reads like a first draft in places).  Or, perhaps the draft was subjected to a marathon game of Can’t Someone Else Do It?, until Frankie, the kind hearted janitor with the wooden neck, stepped up and mopped them across the finish line.
 
One way or another, we wound up with this: a loose concoction of fairly decent embryonic ideas haphazardly spit-pasted together and seasoned with a few meta references (in particular, this ep pays subtle—but by NO FREAKIN’ MEANS unintentional—homage to two very esteemed Lexxians…place yer bets now!)
 
 
A’ight, enough with the blah-blah; what say we roll them bones?
 
As part of their last-ditch effort to cold open the show on every habitable continent (Antarctica’s a no-go, and while it hasn’t exactly won me many friends among the doggedly dogmatic, I don’t believe in Australia), the beans immediately air drop us into Egypt, one of countless old-world locales where the History Channel—that towering bastion of rationality and no-nonsense fact checking—has lately inferred little green men to have swooped down and taught us how to erect megalithic structures…apparently just for the hell of it.   Try as he might, Zahi Hawass just can’t be on every channel at once, so our inquiring minds are dumped upon the mercy of semi-renowned Egyptologist/two-time Cracker Jack double prize recipient Professor Snuffy Nostrilitis, and his perpetually perspiring full-bodied flunky, the Big Bopper.  Now, Egypt is something on the order of about two thousand degrees even at night, archaeologists undoubtedly burn a boatload of calories in the course of their daily doin’s (you’d be amazed at how many carbs you can offset simply by dangling from the undercarriage of an out-of-control Nazi biplane, your sass-talking, self-reliant sweetheart clinging to your free arm and taking poorly aimed pistol shots at the entire north African Jagdwaffe fleet as you clutch the next-to-last corner of the map to the entrance of the labyrinth leading to the chamber housing the key to the lock to the crypt of the king clutching the needle to the compass that will harness the energy of the Aurora Borealis and point your ship in the vague direction of the fried fish nugget stand at the third-floor food court of the lost city of Atlantis between your teeth), and dig sites aren’t exactly known the world over for their smorgasbord catering, so will someone please give me a detailed, scientific, point-by-point explanation for why the fat guy hasn’t lost a pound since they’ve been out there?  Take a moment to iron out your presentation if you must, I’ll just be over here in the corner pondering whether the lank armed term paper pusher’s pliable pickaxe adheres to Toon Town physics, or if he’s one of the very few customers in the history of no-tech mining equipment to purchase a genuine lemon.  
 
No time for customer complaints, Dr. Schnozz.  We’ve a full schedule of barely coherent events to see to, and can’t very well spend all forty-eight allotted minutes tooling around one of the most mystifying places on Earth.  That might actually lend itself to a unique, engaging original story (I mean let’s face it, Stargate got the ball rolling, but never once thought to inject a little depraved undead cuddle-lust into the mix).  Ergo, the Bopper—unfamiliar with the “let the soon-to-be rubbed out rube do all the physical toiling first, THEN bash his brains out” strategy—rears back and makes good on his moniker.  Guess the air in Egypt must be considerably more gelatinous than the stuff I breathe, because I’ve swung many a pick, posthole digger, log splitter and quasi-frightened kindergarten cousin in my day (popping off with a different entendrefied action hero quip each time) and never once herd a single “whoosh.”  As with anything involving complex repetitive motion, I’m sure I probably wasn’t doing it right.
 
Cue the crawl, where for the first time in quite some time—perhaps all season—we’re treated to the full, unabridged “Yo-Way-Yo” opening, as opposed to the abbreviated season 4 version.  This time I WILL speak for the herd when I say that any Lexxian worthy of his or her commemorative Baby’s First Lexx Galley Mush Nozzle Mobile [patent likely pending until the heat death of the universe] would almost certainly prefer that version.  It has a certain rousing elegance that portends something epic…and in a certain bent sense, it delivers exactly that, as we immediately cut from the title sequence to a panoramic shot of Xev—feet up, boots slung—licking the last traces of salty meat juice from a large oblong bone.
 
Good night, folks.
 
Yes, our heroes are right where we left them, bumming a ride on Air Force One, fresh off their AK-addled romp through the picturesque, landmine infested malaria hatchery that, until moments ago, was South Vietnam.  Plush carpeting, reclining leather handicapped stalls, a nearly naked nymphomaniacal nitwit, all the $16,000 a taxpayer-funded-plate spare ribs he can wolf down…these things mean nothing to Stan, who appears to have smuggled a particularly large, jagged stick onboard.  Never in my wildest, most giraffe-kick-induced dreams could I have pictured Stan departing from a stopover in southeast Asia with anything other than a stupidly lucid smile on his face and a complete absence of pants (…really wish I could have kept that part from creeping into the dreams.  Does the concept of “less is more” mean anything at all to the human subconscious?)  And yet there he stands, brow furrowed, fists clenched white hot in anticipation of delivering the killing blow to yet another buzz.  I suppose that could have something to do with absorbing a high speed, close-range golf shot directly to the frontal lobe.  Like Phineas Gage (and, were it not for his quick feet and astute “HOLY CRAP!” reflex, my brother) before him, perhaps that crushing contusion scrambled his forebrain to the point that the Stanley Tweedle we all know and are loath to admit we resemble to one desperate degree or another effectively ceased to be, leaving a frumpy, fidgety, fussbudgety ghost in his potato-shaped shell.  If that’s the case, then this new guy—whom we’ll call Stan—is every bit as anxious to get the hell off the planet as his somewhat-less-than-divine predecessor.   
 
Well, that won’t be happening right away, what with NASA burning through space shuttles faster than most of us regular folks go through new heads; or so Priest confirms following a just-to-the-left-of-the-screen phone conversation that doesn’t appear to actually take place.  As he’s technically only a few hours old, Stan fails to grasp the fact that in certain situations, stomping your feet and droning “IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT
IWANTITIWANTIT!”
is not the end-all/be-all of negotiating tools.


Xev, meanwhile, who spent a substantial portion of the previous episode playing den mother (there’s an Oedipus joke buried somewhere in that statement, but I’m almost positive that if I don my trusty pith helmet and go digging for it you’ll never hear from me again) has once again shed her alt-mode and kicked all semblances of responsibility to the wind.  Cryo stint notwithstanding, have we ever settled on exactly how old Xev is supposed to be?  Cause her casual relapse into “party like my teenage daughter—who could, like, totally pass as my twin—‘s favorite rock star” mode could bespeak a sudden onset midlife crisis.  May we all age that gracefully (Hey arthritic party people! Who’s up for Jell-O shots!)
 
Leave it to Kai, at long last, to step in and let slip the voice of reason.  Having lately demonstrated that the dead, when sufficiently compelled by imprecisely worded demonic logic and/or a script error, are perfectly capable of harboring and acting upon their own desires, he paternally reminds the others that the Lexx is in no condition to fly anywhere habitable without a continent-sized carb load, and may in fact have already weakened and deteriorated beyond repair.  Likewise, the Earth is a Type 13 catastroplanet that’s limping by on borrowed time and seems to be nursing an acute, sentient grudge against our heroes and anyone who tags along with them for more than seven paces.  The only sensible course of action at this juncture would be to point the Presidential party plane in the general direction of Texas, invite themselves aboard the Noah, and start calling dibs on as many tiny bags of over-salted cashews as a bunched up red jumpsuit can hold.  While they’re at it they could re-establish contact with the Lexx one last time, rig up a remote ocarina to summon the remaining moths, just in case they ever need them, retrieve, reboot, and reassign 790 (after strapping his little green cart to a MOAB and slingshotting it in the general direction of Texas Stadium), and maybe…just maybe, check up on Tina, who, when last we saw her, seemed to have fallen prey to the mad machinations of a wild-eyed, wheelchair-bound septuagenarian sex fiend.  Might as well toss a little salt on that cold case while the buzzards are still hard at work trying to digest braces.  Yup, good old Kai.  Bout time he finally put his foot down!
 
Uh-huh.  Uh-huuuuuuuh…I see.
 
Well then…never mind. 
 
So we’re off to Vegas, because…um…LINE!!!
 

 

 
…because “Bilbo, you dolt, then the title wouldn’t make any sense!”
 
 
Let’s say a warm “How ya’z doin’?” to the Contraltos, a gaggle of greasy, gooberish goombahs who apparently missed that memo about mob-run casinos being a thing of the past.  For anyone who may have been lured into this episode under the pretext that they’d get to see that annoying twit from Twilight get mauled to death by a horror from beyond the grave, well that’s exactly what you’re in for, from a certain point of view.  Some of you might recognize Louie—aka Nicky the Neckbeard, Frankie Five Chins, and the Waterfront Wheezer—as the deposed cleric from Ruma who wound up playing heavily salted havoc on Lyekka’s cholesterol level.  Also along for the ride is Sonny—born Adoptonio Bastardi—who seems to have parlayed his early season 3 gig as Prince’s blade brandishing gondola pilot into a career marginally more conducive to intermittent showers (in theory).  Rounding out this little thing of theirs we have King, a first-timer who wins an extra wooden nickel from me for bearing a striking resemblance to Elias Koteas, one of my favorite shoulda-made-it-bigger Canadian thesbos.
 
Just as they’re on the verge of setting Italian Americans back a full century, their dust parlor door swings open and Remo—the aforementioned Big Bopper—stooges into the room, yammering about antiques, and how the family needs to shift its focus to particle physics.  For the so-called life of me I cannot figure out how the hell that line made it into the script (assuming again, for wafer-thin argument’s sake, that there really was one).  It has no bearing on the story whatsoever, and fluttered by so quickly that it barely qualifies as padding.  Was that some kind of holdover from an earlier, loftier version of the story?  Or did a punch line somehow slip below my radar?  Because unless they somehow expected the folks at home to whip up their own “shifty-eyed union goons constructing the Large Hadron Collider” joke half a decade before the general public became aware of it, I got nada, capisce?    
 
Tell ya what IS funny though: Kai getting bested in a staring contest by a bobblehead doll!  Did Mike McManus improvise that scene?  A big part of me hopes he didn’t, if only so that I might have at least one medium sized bone to throw at the writers.  How can you not love those little devils?  Yes, if I have one regret about not being NFL material, it’s not that I’ll never get to hoist the Lombardi Trophy, never get my burly bronzed bust enshrined in Canton, or never get to sit at home on my entitled ass while my backup takes all the practice reps and a hand-picked team of NASA-grade number crunchers attempt to convince the higher-ups of the precise over-inflated monetary value of my so-called love of the game.  It’s that the kids who so look up to me because they’re not yet old enough to Google police briefs were forever denied a little Bilbo bobblehead of their very own.  
 
We get the first in our series of tenuous meta-references in the form of a chatty cabbie who asks what part of Canada B3K is in (umm…the part with all the beavers?)  He jaws politely with our heroes for a while, lapping the meter with his patented seventeen stoplight shortcut and wincing only slightly at Xev’s surprisingly improved caterwauling (by which I mean it’s been downgraded from a blight on all sentient life to a mere hate crime) before suggesting they drop their AmEx shaped anchor at King Tut’s Casino, which he likens to a palace (so, ample closet space and open season on first cousins?). 
 
Further assuring them of the locale’s “A-number-one” rating (AHA!  I knew that cab driver looked familiar…so the Duke of New York finished out his term and retired to private life, just as the Founders intended!), the cabbie all but wheelbarrows our heroes into the lobby, where a gunselishly adorned Remo asks if they’re in town for the big sci-fi convention.  I must confess, that line sailed over my head the first time I watched this ep, thanks in no small part to the fact that Kai suddenly looks rather pear shaped.  Did the dead man set a new land speed record for swiping robes and towels, or have you gals just been giving ol’ Marble-abs McManus the benefit of the doubt for too long?  Whichever the case, I’m counting that con remark as a meta reference…and as a COLOSSAL blown opportunity!!!  Why didn’t our heroes attend the convention?  Okay, so the beans may not have seen full-episode potential in such an idea (even though it’s there in spades), but the fact that they didn’t even have them drop by is downright absurd.  Think of the myriad ways they could have lovingly skewered their own fan base, perhaps by putting out some sort of pre-production announcement inviting real life Lexxians to come and appear as extras, essentially playing wigged out versions of themselves (before you even ask, yes, yes, and HELL YES!).  OR, perhaps Lex and Jeff could have persuaded the notoriously camera-shy Paul Donovan to channel every fanboy stereotype he has ever harbored or embodied into a scenery-scarfing cameo to end all cameos!  If they didn’t want to get so meta as to directly reference Lexx, why not pay wink-wink/nudge-nudge homage to the various shows that inspired them? I mean come on…what could be more nerdgasmically awesome than Kai engaging in a dry roasted battle of wits with an uber-dedicated Spock stand-in? 
 
Two words:
 
Eva.  Freakin’.  Habermann.
 
You can’t tell me that wouldn’t have brought the house down!  And the convention setting would have been the PERFECT excuse for the beans to drop that nuclear grade surprise on us.  It wouldn’t even have to be gratuitous…something as simple as Xev and Eva bumping into each other, sharing an awkward moment where they look one another over, and then continuing on their way. 
 
Taken a step further, perhaps Eva’s character eyes Xev’s lizard digs and says “Nice dress,” to which Xev replies with something along the lines of “Thanks, I made it myself.” 
 
Taken a second step further, perhaps Eva’s character is in spunky German party-girl mode, hears a song she likes, and spontaneously starts dancing with Xev!
 
Taken yet another step further, perhaps Eva’s character is three solar sails to the wind and just so happens to be one of those indiscriminate “I love you” drunks who thrives on long, drawn out kisses the way most of the planet thrives on sunlight.
 
Taken further still…
 
 
Okay, I’m starting to understand why that idea got shot down (…did I really just type that!?  All right, that’s it, no more jeans on hot summer days for me!).  Of course, those of you self-loathing enough to stick with my reviews since day one know that I’m something of a stickler for continuity, so you’re probably surprised I proffered that scenario at all, seeing that Eva’s incarnation of Zev was a recombobulated version of the full figured original model, and thus, shouldn’t have an Earthly doppelganger.  If anything, Lisa Hines should be the one making the cameo.  To all your Bilbo botherin’ bellyachin’, I say the following:
 
1) I know.
 
2) Who cares!?!?
 
3) Invite Lisa to the party too!  The more the merrier.  As a thumbscrew-grade twist on one of the oldest recurring themes, have her throw herself at Stan every second she’s on screen! 
 
 
Alas, none of the aforementioned madness shall come to pass, for as you’ve no doubt heard, fan-written rewrites of filler episodes of shows that wrapped up production almost a decade beforehand seldom make it past the RETURN TO SENDER AND CUDGEL ON SITE stage.  Instead, our heroes are escorted directly to their suite by a bellhop with a sunken chest and a permanent frowny face, sporting what looks like a black version of Xev’s old Fifth Element clown wig.  I guess I’ll count that as a reference too. 
 
 
I guess I’ll also count Remo lucky that his eyes aren’t sockets of red soup right now.  I know there’s no such thing as a National Underworld Aptitude Test, but even the most spongeheaded among us should realize that clear plastic safety goggles are completely useless when you’re working with white hot sparks.  Trust me, this is the nearly abascinated voice of experience talking here, capisce?
 
 
Right back up to that sweet suite, where Kai unscrambles the idiot box just in time to catch Louie Lovehandles’ portly pitch for Ramses’ Girls of the 18th Dynasty. Okay, first of all…
 
DING! DING! DING!  WE HAVE OUR FIRST LEXXIAN REFERENCE!  TAKE A BOW RAMSES, WHEREVER YOU ARE!
 
Second of all, a quick history lesson: there were a whole mess of pharaohs named Ramses…but they didn’t incest their way onto the scene until the 19th Dynasty.  For Lunchpail Lou’s promo to make a jigger of scholastic sense, the girls in question would have to be scantily clad old crones (I leave it to you to craft, deliver, and shudder at your own “years of experience” jokes).  But what do you expect from a “King Tut” who completely missed the boat on that pesky little historically documented “nubile, quasi-androgynous eighteen-year-old” thing?  I mean, between the indoor aviator shades and that pelican pouch dangling from his chin, dude’s about a pair of deck shoes and a tight fitting polo away from lighting up a cheap stogie and proclaiming his everlasting devotion to da Bearss.
 
Having all at once altered his vacation plans from “hang about and wait” to “hang from the ceiling from a set of velvet toe hooks about three feet from the ground while I wait for a couple of naked strangers to finish coating me in axle grease and filling a small wading pool with ping pong balls,” Stan picks up the all-knowing thought-activated phone (I certainly didn’t see him dial the damn thing) and promptly orders room service, Egyptian style! (Locust and frog leg sampler platter with twice baked boils and a side of hot pestilence).  He opts for girl #24 and girl #88 (so named for their respective page counts in the free clinic archives), and it’s at this point that I must ask you to abide a quick venting.  Because despite the fact that the episode is almost ten years old, and that he probably has no recollection whatsoever of having contributed to it, by simple seniority rules, Frank McGinn is still the new fish on the writing staff, which means he hasn’t even begun to earn the kind slack I normally cut the beans (and that S’nS earned a piece of after their first outing).  Ergo to this day I owe him a thorough foot slap (like a kick, but different) for dropping the ball when he had an open opportunity to make a perfectly acceptable AND acceptably perfect “67” reference!!!
 
Meanwhile, in a development sure to irk the catering staff to no end, Remo’s sarcophagus has begun leaking fermented loganberry juice all over the hallway.  A mere brush with some manner of black, demonic ooze sets him to stammering and making the kind of clicky, half-hiccup type noises one typically associates with an astute lizard trying to mimic human speech.  Is it all right with you guys if I rename him Goob from here on out?  Cool.  Per da boss, Goob’s new assignment is to forget all about the low rent cosmic horror he may have inadvertently unleashed and comb the casino for undercover cops, known the underworld over for using “Outta the way.  Official police business,” as an excuse to cut to the front of buffet lines.
 
 
The opening moment of the next scene is kind of hard to describe.  Actually, I take that back: it defies description…with a vengeance!  As usual, I’ll lob a pair of unsupported guess-grenades into the middle of the fracas and hope it all works out: either Brian didn’t know the camera was rolling, or the script explicitly said STAN DOES SOMETHING STUPID (keep in mind: FOUR writers!).  But perhaps I’m being a bit too harsh.  After all, I’d probably be making capillary-bursting Jim Carrey faces in the mirror too if I’d just had one of those “…make lemonade” epiphanies.  Hard to believe this is the same Stan who seemed dead set on having a miserable time just ten minutes prior, but like Prince always told him, the key to overcoming an unappealing situation is to simply turn it around and make it work for you!  BANG…problem solved, just like that.  And what are Xev and Kai supposed to do while he’s “I just need to concentrate on baseball”-ing around the suite with a couple of off-the-rack professional pleasers?  Why “join in” of course!  Or so he spewfully suggests while inexplicably planting his chin on Kai’s shoulder (woah Nelly, here there be serpents!  Codpiece contusions and ten-penny nipple-induced puncture wounds aside, are you really prepared to sit through the notch-on-the-bedpost version of Kai’s “I have killed” speech?).  I have to wonder if Brian Downey—known to have a sense of humor that’s more than a little “out there”—adlibbed that line.  And I mean have to.  It’s the only thing keeping me from declaring Frank McGinn a gremlin and placing a five figure bounty on his burgundy and teal hide.
 
“The dead do not join in.”  Anybody recall Kai saying that?  Because I sure as hell don’t, which means we should be but a self-evaluating moment away from the most crucial coin toss in the history of the Tweedle epoch.  Thankfully, as the camera operator instinctively doubles over to unload a volley of bile, the focus shifts to Xev watching the Queen of Sheba, a feral, pharmaceutically augmented little filly who I aspire to one day look like from the neck down (yes, I said it…and I stand by it…read up on the cosmetic side effects of prolonged female steroid abuse to see why I’m so galdarened envious.)  

There’s a mummy going around.  Full stop.
 
With all the dramatic fanfare of a beige wallpaper establishing shot, a paper-mache horror from beyond the recycling bin galumphs in to frame to begin its blunt-force chiropractic internship, leaving the scant handful of us who didn’t just say “Well…guess I’ll turn in now” or “Dear God, I hope I left the oven on” to dejectedly contrast the first season’s startlingly anatomically accurate gore with a mock slab of decomposed ribs that look like Hot Topic skater pads or the kind of pullover a Schumacher-era Bat goon might wear.
 
 
Like you, I’m still trying to mentally make peace with what I just witnessed, so I’m not entirely sure what Stan says the second the camera cuts back to him, but it sounds vaguely similar to oo-rah!  Fitting, I suppose, as the trollop take-out he ordered are always on the lookout for a few good men.  But in a pinch like this, one will do.  Like a pair of bubbleheaded blow-darts, they whiz right by their jilted john and lock on to the jillion watt estrogen magnet next to him.  Cue much haggling and shuffling out of the others, despite Xev’s unaccountably inviting desire to suddenly STAY! (sure, it’s highly unlikely she’d want to join in—at least with Stan—but one-in-a-googleplex odds =/= impossible.  At the very least she’d make one helluva bench coach!)  But there’ll be none of that, so go she does, and the director immediately lapses into “I’m sorry” mode by testing the limits of the up-angled camera shot as Xev sashays down the stairs toward the casino floor.  Truly a visionary.
 
After doing a little business, Stan kicks back and prepares to get down to business, “any which way at all” (translation: “Yeah, front desk?  Can you wait precisely five minutes, then send a trauma team with a gallon of Pedialyte and a pocket sized jaws of life up to the Screaming Naked Flesh Pretzel Suite?  Thanks a bunch.”)  We get a nice little Giga Shadow callback in the form of one of Stan’s more memorable extemporaneous self-exaltations. Then the girls lash his arms to what appears to be exactly nothing while the nitpickiest amongst us pause the video to quietly ponder just what color Brian Downey’s hair actually is (dude’s rockin’ what looks like some wicked highlights this time out).  
 
Xev, meanwhile, appears to have gotten lost and wandered into the cellar from the Amytiville Horror house, while a borderline vertigo-inducing up-angled shot of the mummy suggests that the camera guy is either toasted like a cheap bagel, or the beans were hard at work getting their little upskirt side business off the ground when they suddenly remembered they still had an episode to finish filming, and decided to just run with it.  And, because someone probably timidly raised their hand at the eleventh hour table read and meekly asked “So…um…why is there a mummy in this episode?” (takin’ a world record setting leap of faith in assuming they even had a table read for this a la carte train wreck), Kai—who has set about wandering what I’ve just about decided is one of only two hallways in an enormous, multi-storey hotel and entertainment venue for reasons that the five cumulative super-crucial minutes’ worth of an NBA-sized extra in a threadbare Skeltor costume My Left Foot-ing his way from identical brightly lit corridor to identical brightly lit corridor just wouldn’t allow the FOUR WRITERS to dwell on—happens upon the strawberry smoothie sarcophagus, which he recognizes as the property of one Mr. Drago (*SIGH*…already exhausted my Rocky IV joke in the previous review.  Damn you, self-imposed standards…)
 
By and by, Xev finds her way to the underground cage fighting dungeon, where she proceeds to dethrone the Queen of Sheba with what Garooch seems to think is a pin (had I but known that I could have bludgeoned my high school wrestling opponents half to death and been awarded the full six team points!  I may not have won a state championship medal…but you can damn well bet I’d have left the building it!)  Meanwhile, back in the Ramses Suite (so THAT’S where everybody used to rush off to for the LexxBar after-party when midnight rolled around and someone invariable shouted “Hey Bilbo, go check waaaaaaaay in the back to see if we’ve got any more pickled Cheez-Its.”  Ah, memories…speaking of which, I know it’s only been about eight years, but do y’all think it’s too soon to ask Outcast1 if he’s done using my toothbrush?), Captain Stan’s first mate has decided to stage a mutiny.  How a man with his piercing gaze and curious ability to slip one side of his shirt on and off between shots in spite of the fact that his arms are tied to the wall continues to strike out with the ladies still baffles me to this day.  And, because this episode also doubled as the director’s forty-eight minute audio/visual application to the Michael Bay Drive-Thru Academy of Epileptic Shot Splicing, we’re just as quickly whisked back down to the lobby, where Kai pauses to shake his head in disgust at the inebriated up-shot camera guy, who almost certainly must have swallowed his tongue by this point.
 
Well, let’s see, because the script said so and is apparently infallible, the little matter of the captain’s mercurial mast gives way to a (surprise, surprise) go-nowhere plot burp about King and his tri-chromosomal court mistaking Stan for a government agent.  I’d personally call da boss into my office for a little cement shoe sit-down over his Kai-esque restating of the obvious (get yer own freakin’ gimmick, ya half-a-moron, ya!), but he gets a pass for inadvertently teaching me the neckfat deathlock.  One mistaken-identity lap dance from a seven foot trash bag monster later, and the forgettable fugazis finally start hitting the floor. 
 
Question: what kind of moribund mirror-world are we living in when Xev is decked out in little more than a Rasta mop and a couple strips of ancient Egyptial Ace wrap, but the Man of a Thousand Flesh Folds keeps getting all the close ups?  I may have to recant my previous accusations…I don’t think that camera guy is drunk.  I think he’s legitimately trying to get revenge on the world.  With no way of knowing what I could have possibly ever done to this guy, all I can say is “I’m sorry,” and “Don’t look at me, it was Angel’s fault!”
 
Well, as anyone who follows closed-circuit, underground, intergendered casino cage fighting as closely as I do could tell you, nobody stays on top for more than five or six minutes (ask Prince!...no, seriously, he’s been a fan since the early days).  Xev’s walked (like an Egyptian) all over her last half dozen curiously hirsute challengers, but no dynasty lasts forever.  She had a good run…took her licks, made her bones, and came out smiling.  Now there’s a big wad riding on her, which means it’s time for her to go down.  But as the torch-carrying, testosterone-addled masses will sigh wistfully and tell you, the lil’ lizard doesn’t lay down for anybody!  For reasons that once again wound up on the cutting room floor to clear the way for another sustained tracking shot of the Gump Reaper ambling down the hallway grunting “Must…fire…agent…” under his breath, that’s going to throw a wench-shaped wrench in the bookies’ plan (does anyone who paid attention to this episode—all negative six of you—recall seeing any actual betting/collecting going on, or is this like when my schoolyard chums and I used to wile the lazy summer afternoons away playing investment banker?). 
 
 
SIDEBAR: It’s pronounced fuggedaboutit!  Ya friggin’ mamaluke!
 
 
Oh, hey, remember Goob?  Well, he’s a goner.  You’d think that by this point in his life Stan would react to a pile of freshly mangled corpses the way you or I would thoughtlessly dismiss a wisp of clouds or a dying alien prince asking us to save his homeworld (happens to me about twice a week).  Instead he squeals louder than a one-man Judas Priest tribute band and makes an irregular bee-line for the elevator…and in hindsight, I can’t really blame him, since the dead have essentially been rising from the grave to torment him for the past two seasons.
 
A quick peek over at the Bathroom Spycam & Pseudo-Sports Network, where Xev has decided to stick to her principles by dishing out some Cluster Lizard krav maga to a recently paroled Wesley Snipes.  She more or less expresses my feelings about Blade III without so much as breaking a nail or accidentally flashing us (lousy non-Newtonian skirt physics), and celebrates her big win with an impromptu bounce-off that is inexcusably relegated to a small background screen.  God, I hope this director was fired…by which I mean coated in gelignite and catapulted through the middle of a fireworks display, capisce?
 
Stan and Kai finally meet back up on the rickety Hitchcock stairs, where at last we’re treated to the big reveal.  After Stan zips his fly up, Kai explains to us, through him, that the pile of homicidal hobo blankets snap, crackle, and popping its way around the casino is a primitive, DIY pseudo-assassin that some long-dead faction of universe-hopping heretics cobbled together using the remains of one of his many victims, a philosopher poet named Drago.
 
Okay, first things first: His Divine Shadow, ancient and wizened god-like malevolent entity, Insect overlord of countless thousands of worlds, by-proxy ruler of an entire universe and architect of the near-downfall of the entire human race took time out of his busy day to roust his most skilled, valuable, and irreplaceable Assassin, and order him to waste perfectly good protoblood, spaceship fuel, and people-who-actually-pose-a-marginal-threat-killing time to whack a poet?  Jillikers…this guy must have sucked.  I’m talking “Jewel, a Vogon, and van full of freshman lit. majors tossed into a big cosmic cocktail shaker” sucked.  Why it was necessary to dispatch an Assassin when the pilot episode clearly showed that most irritating rabble rousers were rounded up by local authorities and shipped off the Cluster is beyond me…but if this guy’s as blowful as Kai infers, then it’s entirely possible the heretics called a temporary truce and asked HDS to do them a solid.
 
Now, that said, this is an ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT IDEA!   
 
Kai squaring off with one of his victims…the consequences of the horrific actions he was forced to commit coming full circle after all these centuries.  That’s something the beans never even hinted at, and could have provided untold acres of fertile ground for some truly memorable storytelling.  Instead we got…whatever this was. 
 
And it’s a damn shame, too, because if the beans had taken the time to properly build up and explore the character’s history and motivation, I believe they could have treated us to something very special and unique: Lexx’s first full-fledged “anti-villain.” I actually gave this quite a bit of thought the summer after season 4 first aired, when I decided to build up my Lexxian street cred by staying up ridiculously late to devour reruns of seasons 2/3 and crank out the clipped, condensed first generation of my episode reviews (at the low low cost of being dog tired at my landscaping job).  To say I had Lexx on the brain at the time would be an understatement…I thought about the show all the time.  Would have spend the better part of that summer sketching pictures of the characters on the back of a Trapper Keeper if I’d owned one, possessed an inkling of artistic ability (even my stick figures look like some horrifying matter transporter accident befell them), or had the luxury of not having to dig a bunch of glorified ditches for ten hours a day.  It was about that time that I started thinking about writing a fan story, and though I never actually jotted any of the ideas down, I continually replayed them in my head throughout the course of my daily hundred-degree skin cancer baths.  The most intriguing of the lot was a sort of cat-and-mouse-type thriller that would have pitted Kai against some dangerous adversary from his past.  Someone with whom he had an intense personal history.  Obviously such a premise would have limited my options, since post-Assassin-upgrade Kai essentially has no personal history.  I outright dismissed the notion of having it be another Brunnen-G, and eventually decided that the character would have been an early, off-world heretic who aided Kai in his quest to locate the Time Prophet.  I never gave this character a name, nor did I ever specifically pin down the exact series of events that would have set him on his collision course with Kai two thousand years later.  Perhaps he would have been one of Kai’s first Assassination targets.  Perhaps in so doing, Kai would have personally slaughtered his entire family.  To up the ante, perhaps HDS might have peered into Kai’s mind in order to find and annihilate this man’s home world, as punishment for providing the means by which the Brunnen-G mounted their virtually non-existent offensive. 
 
Whatever the case, after witnessing atrocity upon atrocity, the heretic would have finally come under Kai’s brace.  All she wrote, right?  Well, not exactly.  Somehow or other the man would have survived or been revived.  I didn’t give that a whole lot of specific thought either, but I figure between characters like Mantrid, Desh, the Wake the Dead brats, et. al., there are a hundred ways to cheat death in the Lexx universes.  The point is, he would have lingered on—fully conscious and in some form of stasis—for two millennia aboard a colossal, labyrinthine prison ship orbiting a red star until a chance encounter with the Lexx crew some time during the first half of season 2 (after Xev’s revival in 2.3, but prior to Mantrid’s formal reemergence/challenge in 2.12).  He would prove himself affable and sympathetic toward Xev and Stan—Xev in particular, who would equate his centuries in conscious isolation with her own bleak past.  However physically repugnant he may be (never gave that a whole lot of thought…picking up on a theme yet?!), Xev’s love slave synapses would fire their traditional pheromone volley.  He would refuse her advances in the most genteel way possible, praising her beauty, likening her to something out of a dream, but insisting that even after all this time, his heart only belongs to his long-dead wife.  I had in mind a particularly poignant sequence, whereupon he breaks down sobbing with equal parts joy and anguish upon learning that the Divine Order is no more.   When he pumps the crew for details, there would have been an amusing bit of banter between he, Stan, and 790; the Stunner giving a more than a little inflated account of his heroism, 790 poking big gaping holes in his sails every step of the way.  Finally, after a time, Xev would chime in and say that the real hero was Kai (who’s still in cryo at this point).  Being “something of a dead man myself,” and wishing to express his gratitude to Kai in person, he asks to meet him.  Everything’s hunky-dory until he sees Kai’s prone form in the cryopod, whereupon the heretic is deluged with ancient, painful memories.  From here, the exact circumstances of the heretic’s history with Kai would be incrementally revealed over the course of a series of flashbacks. 
 
I never did work out the middle section, but somehow or other he would
 
a)      prove himself a credible, lethal threat to Kai in some way
b)      spent the rest of the episode attempting to exact revenge on him
c)      maintain the audience’s sympathy the entire time
 
That last part is the real kicker.  I wanted the heretic to come across as the “villain” only insomuch as he’s trying to kill Kai…for what almost anyone with the slightest amount of empathy would acknowledge as the “right” reason.  One thing I absolutely would have taken steps to avoid is the token “crossing the moral event horizon” moment that frequently punctuates this kind of story.  We’ve all seen it before: a heretofore sympathetic, nuanced antagonist does something downright evil or appalling, effectively granting the audience permission to hate and/or root against him.  Not that this can’t be used to great effect as a villain’s defining moment, or as part of a deliberate swerve; but in too many lazy cases I’ve seen writers essentially fall back on it as a Get Out of Audience Ambiguity Free card.  None of that here.  My heretic would not slaughter innocents, stab people in the back, etc.  Ideally, I wouldn’t have him harbor any genuine animus toward the other crew members…although I never considered whether he would have discovered that Stan, through no fault of his own, dealt the reform sector a crippling blow and went on to serve as a cog in the Divine machine.
 
So how would it all have ended, you ask?  For once we come to something I over-thought.  Somehow or other, the heretic would have lured Kai over to the prison ship and sealed both of them inside.  Perhaps by apologetically using Stan and Xev as bait, but perhaps not.  As I mentioned before, the hulk would be an absolute labyrinth of dark, twisted corridors littered with the bones of long-forgotten inmates.  As he would have posed some kind of physical threat to Kai, I’d attempt to ratchet the tension up and up and up as the heretic stalked the dead man through the corridor, all the while rattling off the names of his slaughtered comrades and loved ones (essentially echoing Kai’s oft-repeated mantra).  A simple brace shot wouldn’t faze him, and he’d be more than a match for Kai in a hand-to-hand scenario (so yeah…no small amount of reaching would have been involved!).  Because one climax is never enough, I came up with several possible candidates:
 
*Kai somehow immobilizes the heretic—perhaps in some kind of prison restraints.  To the degree that he’s able, Kai apologizes for what he did.  The man either tearfully persuades Kai to mercy kill him, or maintains his silence until Kai leaves.  The Lexx departs and Mantrid’s drones dismantle the prison ship.**
 
*Something happens by which the heretic is convinced Kai has been destroyed.  Bereft of purpose, he sits alone in one of the prison ship corridors waiting for the last dim light to flicker out.  Lexx departs, Mantrid does his thing**
 
*In a last-ditch effort to kill Kai, the heretic grasps hold of the dead man and blows both of them out an airlock where they plummet toward the star.  Perhaps Kai braces himself to safety (onto a moth? The Lexx?), or perhaps they both plunge into the star.  The heretic is incinerated, Xev and Stan are distraught at the thought that Kai’s dead…nope, he survives (in keeping with Kai’s near invulnerability, but sloppily executed…even if you handwave the gravity issue, it would take him a hell of a long time to pass through a star!)
 
*Same scenario above, except this time, the heretic decides to crash the prison ship into the star.
 
*Heretic decides to crash into the star after using Stan and/or Xev as Kai-bait.  Amicable chap that he is, he intends to let them go back to the Lexx first, but somehow or other their conveyance (be it a moth or a prison ship shuttle) is disabled (either by pure un-happy chance, or because Xev attempted some spur-of-the-moment heroics).  Though visibly distraught over the decision, altruism edges out retribution, and he abandons his quest for vengeance, using the last minutes of his life to help Stan and Xev escape before the ship succumbs to the star’s gravity.
 
 
(**Though it would be in keeping with the first part of season 2, I hesitated over the Mantrid ending, because one of the very few sequences that I completely fleshed out in my mind would have been an early establishing shot of a groggy, half-animated Stan nodding off while effectively channel surfing Lexx’s view screen from the pedestal.  During the few seconds he’s out, Mantrid’s swarm devours some nameless planet, whereupon Stan wakes up and has a humorous, borderline stoner-esque exchange with the Lexx about “disappearing planets.”  No way would I have omitted that scene, so having two appearances from Mantrid might have seemed like overkill.)
 
 
Well now…I certainly didn’t mean for that to drag on that long (…).  But for the brief couple of weeks that I dwelt on that idea, I really got wrapped up in it, and I guess reminiscing on it brought out the blabbermouth in me.  Obviously it had to have been inspired by this episode, as I’d already seen it…but you know, thinking back on it I don’t remember that consciously being the case.  I think I’d completely forgotten about this ep by the time I started kicking these story elements around.  In fact the Kai revenge plot element didn’t occur to me until after I’d spent a while haphazardly cooking up goofy things for Stan and 790 to say (a few of Stan’s self-applied titles were later cannibalized and wound up in a couple of my reviews, and the heretic’s holographic head-fake fighting style found its way into the fic I eventually did write).  Unfortunately, that’s as far as it ever got.  I never put anything down on paper, and the retaining wall of text y’all just hoisted yourselves over is as close as I’ve ever come to sitting down and attempting to sort out those fragmented story splinters.  Maybe at some point down the road I’ll dust it off (properly kneaded and shot full of the right cream filling, I think it could make for a damn fine comic book!  Now, if somebody could just leave a trail of breadcrumbs from Brian Downey’s door to this post…)
 
 
But for now, we’re stuck with this.  Speaking of which, it’s nigh time we cashed our chips in, capisce?
 
Drago sends the rest of the Tutti clan to that big gin rummy game in the sky, then drags himself down to ringside in time to catch the tail end of Xev’s (off-screen!) victory dance.  He corners Xev, who doesn’t let a little thing like the cage door being wide open stand in the way of her trumped up suicide attempt.  Thankfully, Xenia is under contract for three more episodes, which means Kai arrives just in time to free her from the mummy’s clutches and…
 
…and here we go… “I have killed…” Right now you’re probably expecting me to gnash my teeth and gently remind Kai that Drago could empty out an entire strip mall in the time it takes him to recite the traditional version of his speech.  But I’mma let it slide this time, because he mixes the words up a bit to include “…the pedantic and the pseudo-intellectual.”
 
DING! DING! DING!
 
And with that we have a BILBO REFERENCE!  (Where in the cotton-pickin’ hell are my residuals?)
 
So the plan is simple, and for once, fairly logical: let Drago have his way with Kai until he simply runs out of fuel.  Same way you’d combat an Assassin, provided you found a way around that pesky little “lungs chopped into humus paste” problem.  Makes perfect sense that Kai would think of it…so why does he bother trying to evade capture at all?  We’ve seen the guy essentially shrug off a Lexx blast, what could Drago possibly do to him?  In the interest of curtailing collateral damage, wouldn’t it make the most sense for Kai to simply stand in the cage and let Drago strangle and pound on him to his petrified heart’s content?
 
But of course, then we’d miss out on Kai spitting out gobfuls of rejected Beck lyrics and hurling his brace like a baseball, which I suppose makes sense, if Drago has been cured in such a way as to make his hide extra dense/durable.  Kai’s enhanced strength being what it is, it’s possible he’s putting a few extra g’s worth of mustard on those shots.  Makes me wonder why he didn’t try to simply lop Drago’s head off (it was the first thing Thodin did to him, and appeared to be the first thing he tried to do to Vlad).
 
And since when does Kai taunt his prey?  Not that I’m complaining.  One of the very few kicks I got out of this episode (self-inflicted notwithstanding) came from listening to Kai needle Drago with his own pitiful poetry as he attempted to claw his way back to the sarcophagus.  I guess when you think about it, it’s not entirely unprecedented.  He had some choice words for His Shadow, Mantrid, and the petty bureaucrats, and I for one have no problem imagining Assassins employing psychological warfare to flush out and/or demoralize their victims on those rare occasions when the “walk toward the problem and lob your brace at it” strategy came up wanting.  Gold star for that scene!
 
Giant razor-toothed sad-face for Priest’s sudden appearance.  Rolf looks genuinely confused here…like Lex and Jeff threw a bag over his head in the middle of the night and drug him to the set for an unannounced pick-up shot.
 
And with that, Drago collapses and is no more.  Into the garbage chute with him, eh?
 
Pshhhh!  Silly gooses, you!  Why go to all that trouble when you can drag the all-powerful, unstoppable, Assassin mauling death machine many long, painstaking miles out to the desert and bury him WITH HIS FUEL, IN A STRUCTURALLY COMPROMISED IRON BOX HE’S ALREADY ESCAPED FROM ONCE.
 
That’s it, I’m out.  I gotta go stack my leftover fireworks atop my furnace.
 
 
Despite the way I may have come across, I didn’t hate this episode.  I didn’t really even dislike it, for that matter.  But I didn’t like it either.  I guess you could say I “nothinged” it.  It had no reason for existing, did nothing to further any of the still-going story arcs, and could be stricken from the lineup without consequence.  The whole thing came across as rushed, and unfocused, which is a pity, for as I mentioned, there were some genuinely inviting ideas lurking about that the beans could have seized on:
 
*already mentioned the Kai vs. victim plot
 
*ditto the convention
 
*Lexx & Vegas…should have gone together like Bunny and a bounce house (little sitcom side project I’m tinkering with.)
 
*Mixing it up with the mob…awesome idea
 
*Why not have them romp around Egypt instead?
 
*Xev as a champion cage fighter had potential…could have been the primary focus of an episode, or parceled out of the course of several.
 

Despite my tendency to cast the word in a pejorative light, “filler” is not a dirty word.  Any one of the abovementioned elements could have been fleshed out into thoroughly enjoyable stand-alone episode, had the beans zeroed in on them.  Instead, they went one of the worst possible routes and gave us—among other things—a weak retread of one of the absolute high points of season 4, and the entire series for that matter.  Tying vampire mythology into the history of the Divine Order…brilliant.  Attempting a half-baked version of the same thing with a less interesting horror staple…even us third-rate fan fic scribblers know better than that!
 
*Scrambles to crumble up and eat his unfinished draft of Lexx Meets the Phantom of the Park*
 
 
 
Cheery bye.
 
 



____________________
If you're normal, the crowd will accept you. But if you're deranged, the crowd will make you their leader.
— Christopher Titus
Abby1964
Heretic


Joined: Fri Mar 26th, 2010
Location: San Antonio, Texas USA
Posts: 1915
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Tue Oct 18th, 2011 05:09 pm

Quote

Reply
I have to agree with you that the beans dropped the ball big time by overlooking opportunity after opportunity in this one. I too had often though Kai vs Draco Part 2 had much greater possibilities than what we were given even though I did learn Divine Assassins are very nimble and adept at scampering up chain link fencing. Yes that was a scamper, who knew scampering was an ability of the undead?

But the thought of Eva and Xev running into each other would have been like finding the holy grail!



____________________
Squish
Heretic


Joined: Wed Jul 20th, 2011
Location: Little Blue Planet, California USA
Posts: 253
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Tue Oct 18th, 2011 06:20 pm

Quote

Reply
Bilbo, another epic leave-me-breathless rant about one of the most useless Lexx episodes created.  Thanks a bunch for filling an hour of my time with your brain droppings (intended to be completely affectionate).


Squish and Squishling



____________________
"Who dares to love forever, when love must die..."
--Freddie Mercury
mayaXXX
Divine Executioner


Joined: Tue Oct 24th, 2006
Location: Dark Zone, Naturally
Posts: 2454
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Tue Oct 18th, 2011 09:03 pm

Quote

Reply
As usual, I'm breathless with awe at your stunning review!! And I agree that the ep fell way short of its potential.

:2567:



____________________
"Blah blah blah, Vampire Emergency, Blah..."
IT'S OFFICIAL
Bilbo67
Heretic


Joined: Fri Oct 27th, 2006
Location: The Daisy Hill Cluster Lizard Farm
Posts: 469
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Tue Oct 18th, 2011 11:47 pm

Quote

Reply
Abby1964 wrote: Yes that was a scamper, who knew scampering was an ability of the undead?
Coulda made for one heckuva Spider-Man if they'd decided to pull the trigger on that franchise about two decades earlier.


Squish wrote: Thanks a bunch for filling an hour of my time with your brain droppings (intended to be completely affectionate).

Makes a hearty soup base, or so I'm told.



mayaXXX wrote: And I agree that the ep fell way short of its potential.

Oh, the potential was absolutely there.  I'm sure the actors were all doing the best they could with what they had, but as I pointed out already, what they had read like a very rushed first draft.  The kind of thing you expect to slip through the cracks during a writers' strike.



Opinions can change over time, of course, but this an 4.19 might be the only episodes I truly dislike.  I rather enjoyed many of the oft-cited "worst" episodes:

*People have ripped Eating Pattern for having nothing to do with the rest of the season 1 arc...I quite enjoyed it as a quirky standalone romp, and in terms of the direction the series would take, found it to be the most Lexx-like of the lot.

*Lots of downright INTENSE hatred for White Trash, to the extent that I went into the episode expecting it to bury the needle on the suck scale.  Aside from the terminally annoying guest stars--who get theirs in grand fashion--I thought it was a great episode that shed a lot of light on the events of the cleansing.

*A Midsummer's Nightmare was good old fashioned dumb fun. 

And that right there is probably this episode's biggest failing.  It was plenty dumb...but it wasn't any fun!



Thankfully, for the lot of us, the beans managed to quickly right the ship, because the next episode on the docket KICKS ASS!



____________________
If you're normal, the crowd will accept you. But if you're deranged, the crowd will make you their leader.
— Christopher Titus
Abby1964
Heretic


Joined: Fri Mar 26th, 2010
Location: San Antonio, Texas USA
Posts: 1915
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Wed Oct 19th, 2011 09:22 am

Quote

Reply
Ah well we did learn that the dead do multitask. They can recite bad poetry, run up and down stairs and kill you (Or at least make you run out of tar) all at the same time and effectively!



____________________
PeridotEyes
Heretic


Joined: Mon Oct 30th, 2006
Location: Water Planet, Florida USA
Posts: 228
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Thu Oct 20th, 2011 10:30 am

Quote

Reply
Bilbo agrees, this one fell far short of its potential.  It was sadly lame.  *sigh*  Still there's nothing on the satellite or the airwaves today that's close to the insanity and delight that was Lexx. 

Still miss that genius.  There's nothing I watch on Skiffy these days. 




____________________
'Or not.' Kai, in Mort.
blondgod
Heretic


Joined: Mon Nov 6th, 2006
Location: California USA
Posts: 10
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Thu Oct 20th, 2011 02:46 pm

Quote

Reply
I enjoyed this one and thought it was hilarious! I must be the only one.



____________________
Part Cluster Lizard
PeridotEyes
Heretic


Joined: Mon Oct 30th, 2006
Location: Water Planet, Florida USA
Posts: 228
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Thu Oct 20th, 2011 06:53 pm

Quote

Reply
It was all right.  There was a lot of hype about it when it was on the way, so when it came up we were all a bit disappointed.  Gratuitous Kai ass shot, anyone?  Anyone? 

Been a while since last I went through the series.  Perhaps it's time to dust off the DVDs and run them through my new Blu-Ray player and HDTV.  I haven't watched it on the big screen yet.  John Wayne's The Alamo is in there right now.  I'd never seen it.  Didn't they call those epics when they made films with armies in them?  I've been on a total Richard Boone kick of late.  What an actor he was.  *wonders who played General Sam Houston in the remake* 


 






____________________
'Or not.' Kai, in Mort.
Abby1964
Heretic


Joined: Fri Mar 26th, 2010
Location: San Antonio, Texas USA
Posts: 1915
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Thu Oct 20th, 2011 07:36 pm

Quote

Reply
To be honest even without all the hype it wasn't horrible, but it was a very far cry from brilliant. Just too many missed opportunities for moments of brilliance in the episode that were overlooked.

And the more I consider Bilbo's Xev/Zev missed opportunity the more I like it.  That would truly have been brilliant.  And for god's sake it was Vegas!  The nerdiest, ugliest, most uncouth used car salesman can get laid in Vegas and once again we got the 'Stan can't get laid' joke which had truly worn thin at this point.

Heck! How about Eva playing the prostitute in the blue wig bumping into Kai and Xev on her way out of the room after banging Stan?  That would have been truly priceless!

Last edited on Thu Oct 20th, 2011 07:42 pm by Abby1964



____________________
Bilbo67
Heretic


Joined: Fri Oct 27th, 2006
Location: The Daisy Hill Cluster Lizard Farm
Posts: 469
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Thu Oct 20th, 2011 10:57 pm

Quote

Reply
PeridotEyes wrote: There's nothing I watch on Skiffy these days.
Nothing in their lineup that really tickles my fancy these days either (although I don't watch much TV in general these days).  Cryin' shame, cause around the time Lexx was airing they had a pretty decent run of shows: Lexx, Farscape, Invisible Man, Exposure (NEVER EVER EVER should have been cancelled!), Sliders.  Hell, I even enjoyed the short-lived Tremors series for what it was (I'd follow Burt Gumer into Hades, I would!)

To say nothing of some of the sci-ni series (they don't call 'em that anymore) and original movies they cranked out (made-for-TV or not, Children of Dune still boasts one of the most impressive film scores I've ever heard.




blondgod wrote: I enjoyed this one and thought it was hilarious! I must be the only one.
Heya blondgod!  Loooooooooooong time!

Dif'rent stroke for dif'rent folks.  Like I said, I quite enjoyed a lot of so-called "worst" episodes in the series.  Moreover, I bet if we all thought it over we'd discover we all have SOMETHING we like that falls into "I must be the only one" territory (...for decorum's sake, NO EXAMPLES!)




Abby1964 wrote: Heck! How about Eva playing the prostitute in the blue wig bumping into Kai and Xev on her way out of the room after banging Stan?  That would have been truly priceless!

There's some traction to that idea...but I think it's worthy of a swerve.  Thin or not, you could still play up Stan's...shortcomings...in a way and still have him come out on top...in a way.  Consider:

Working-girl Eva pays a call on Stan (perhaps when he's blindfolded...it'd be for the best if he didn't recognize her).  Somehow or other she's grossed out, weirded out, or just plain has a headache.  So at the last second she pulls the old switcheroo...and throws Lisa Hines at him.  He shoots, he scores.  What a seven-layer wink/nod/cup-check to the fans that would be!




Seems a lot of us are on the same page vis-a-vis the whole "wasted opportunity" thing.  That said, does anyone else remember the Tim Curry rumor, and can anybody definitively shoot it down (or confirm it?)  PE & Maya, I know y'all were bboard regulars around that time.  Either of you know anything I don't (keep it Lexx-related...I'm sure there's probably a character count limit to these posts eventually!)



____________________
If you're normal, the crowd will accept you. But if you're deranged, the crowd will make you their leader.
— Christopher Titus
PeridotEyes
Heretic


Joined: Mon Oct 30th, 2006
Location: Water Planet, Florida USA
Posts: 228
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Fri Oct 21st, 2011 11:25 am

Quote

Reply
Bilbo, it's been a long time since Viva Lexx Vegas.  :cool:  As the former virgin said to the traveling salesman, I expected more than that. 




____________________
'Or not.' Kai, in Mort.
Angel
Divine Executioner


Joined: Tue Oct 24th, 2006
Location: Keeping Kool With Kai...
Posts: 11376
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Fri Oct 21st, 2011 12:48 pm

Quote

Reply
PeridotEyes wrote: Bilbo, it's been a long time since Viva Lexx Vegas.  :cool:  As the former virgin said to the traveling salesman, I expected more than that. 



Not even Stan came. :(:shock::c030a:



____________________
The dead do not squeeze and please....
PeridotEyes
Heretic


Joined: Mon Oct 30th, 2006
Location: Water Planet, Florida USA
Posts: 228
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Fri Oct 21st, 2011 01:14 pm

Quote

Reply
Tough to climax when you can't get it up.  Didn't little blue pills exist 10 years ago?



____________________
'Or not.' Kai, in Mort.
Abby1964
Heretic


Joined: Fri Mar 26th, 2010
Location: San Antonio, Texas USA
Posts: 1915
Status:  Offline
Mana: 
 Posted: Fri Oct 21st, 2011 04:31 pm

Quote

Reply
PeridotEyes wrote: Tough to climax when you can't get it up.  Didn't little blue pills exist 10 years ago?
I thought Stan had the opposite problem, he couldn't get it to go down! :shock:



____________________

 Current time is 04:50 pm
Page:    1  2  Next Page Last Page  


Quick Reply
Enter your quick reply:



Black_metal theme exclusively by: WowBB Theme Mall
Powered by WowBB 1.7 - Copyright © 2003-2006 Aycan Gulez
SciFi Updates