Dexter - A Review & Reflection

On 30th September, Showtime's mammoth hit Dexter will return for its seventh blood soaked year, drawing us closer to the conclusion of the journey led by TV's favourite serial killer. Indeed, Season Eight will be the final chapter of a sprawling, psychologically overwhelming and viscerally unforgetable show that has truly pushed the boundaries of both network television and the morality of viewers.

Based loosely on the series of novels by Jeff Lindsay, Dexter Morgan (Michael C Hall) is a top notch blood splatter analyst for Miami Metro Homicide, a forensic investigator working with the local police force, who just happens to be a ritualistic multiple murderer. But, as always, he's a killer with a difference, with a code in fact. He only kills other killers, murderers who have slipped through the net of justice. Displaying predatory instincts and knowingly ironic righteousness, Dexter uses his retributive executions as an outlet for his "dark passenger", a lingering psychotic aspect to his personality that would otherwise overwhelm him.

While sounding gimmicky on paper, Dexter has earned its status as one of TV's hottest properties not by indulging its avid fans with macabre blood lust, but rather by giving us a rounded, sublime character study of a man who we would otherwise run away from screaming. With each Season intricately detailed and balanced, giving the sense of a grand novel with each episode covering a chapter, the narrative focus developed by show creator James Manos Jr creates a cinematic, empathetic saga really delving into the human condition and finding one's true self.

It's a party I arrived at late, having finally given in it to repeated assurances of its excellence, and the series has had me hooked ever since, to near obssessive levels. A nightly viewing of an episode became a double bill, then quickly a triple bill, forsaking sleep for a little more of Harry's Code and Darkly Dreaming Dexter's Deeply Deplorable Doings. Eight weeks after watching the pilot, I witnessed the ultimate 'Oh Crap' moment that is Season Six's cliffhanger conclusion. Over that short time frame, I marvelled, laughed, cried and realised I was watching something very special.

With the next installment on the way, now seems a good time to reflect, to look back at the magic that has unfolded, and to really isolate and name the strengths that have made Dexter such essential viewing. I'll review each Season individually, speculate over what we can expect in seven, and take a look at some of the show's finest moments.

BE WARNED, SPOILERS.

The Set Up

Season One, loosely following the story set down by Lindsay's Darkly Dreaming Dexter, introduces us to the titular character in his own words, courtesy of a supremely scripted voice over allowing us into the mind of the killer. He's nestled in the heart of Miami's police department, exploiting the miserably low conviction rate the city has to offer to get fresh kills and samples for his blood slide collection. His personal life is effectively concealed by his tentative relationship with the damaged Rita (Julie Benz), fresh out of an abusive marriage, and by extension her two young children, Astor (Christina Robinson) and Cody (Preston Bailey).

On the workfront, Dexter is a mostly popular figure, the source of support and professional inspiration for foul mouthed sister Debra (Julie Carpenter), a rookie officer looking to make the move from Vice to Homicide with her brother's help. He's also the subject of unrequited advances by his boss, department head Lieutenant Maria LaGuerta (Lauren Velez), an insatiable political animal, as well as being a colleague/friend to the amiable, bear like Detective Angel Batista (David Zayas) and fellow lab geek and general sex pest Vince Masuka (C.S Lee). The one snag is Sergeant James Doakes (Erik King), the macho and aggressive ex military man who is the only one who sees something off about our protagonist, and watches him closely.

As each story pans out, we learn more about his background via appropriate flashbacks to his youth, in which his foster father Harry (James Remar) sees the darkness inside of his adoptive son, and begins to train him, instilling in him a code to follow. The top two rules: never kill an innocent, never get caught. Harry is a massive figure in Dexter's life, even after his death, and these moments are crucial in his make up.

Season One - Ice Trucks & Blood Rooms

Angel Batista (David Zayas) and Dexter (Michael C Hall) examining the handiwork of the elusive Ice Truck Killer

The Plot

Everything is pretty serene at Chez Dex, until the arrival of a new, eye catching murderer quickly dubbed the Ice Truck Killer, who is gleefuly draining the blood of various prostitutes and leaving their carefuly cut up remains in public to be found. Fascinated by the method and audacity of his rival, Dexter is naturally delighted when the killer begins communicating directly with him, playing games and leaving calling cards in his fridge. This is ultimately the greatest of thrills for him.

The season follows both Dexter's personal exploits, with victims ranging from a manipulative psychiatrist to a young sociopath in waiting, and his interacting with the unseen ITK, who's interest in the protagonist grows stronger and more intrusive with each step, suggesting a personal link. While Miami Metro try to catch the same killer, they don't find the same clarity, with a couple of exonorated suspects along the way and more than a few PR disasters. Debra finally earns her spot in the bull pen of the department, though she has to deal with being the chew toy for LaGuerta, while also trying to balance out her work with a decent social life. This takes a turn when she meets Rudy Cooper (Christian Camargo), a prosphetics specialist who she meets through one of the killer's victims.

Dexter is traumatised by the room of blood.

Meanwhile, Dexter finds himself dealing with problems at home when Rita's ex, Paul (Mark Pellegrino) is released from prison and comes back into the picture, ostensibily seeking custody for his kids. The breakthroughs in his personality caused by his visits to a manipulative psychiatrist he ultimately offs are set back by doubts over Harry's honesty regarding Dex's past. This crisis is exacerbated by the heated legal battle between Paul and Rita taking place just as the ITK returns, creating a room of blood, a crime scene just for Dexter, which haunts him and forces him to confront a repressed, traumatic memory. Discovering the truth about his origins, and the horrific incident which birthed his dark passenger, Dexter finds the key to unlocking the truth about his nemesis.

It comes too late, however, as the now unmasked monster takes himself a prisoner for the final endgame, one which finally reveals the connection between the two, and pushes our hero into making a truly impossible choice

As a lone slice of fiction, Season One truly is a work of art. Featuring a meandering but focussed plot with plenty of room for sub-stories and tangents, its singular narrative manages to accomodate both an astonishing A-Plot which slowly burns and then blasts into life halfway through and episodic B-Plots which entertain, amuse and horrify. Many of Dexter's most memorable kills are unrelated to the main story, but feel natural and organic. Watching the season is alot like watching a twelve hour long film.

Rita, Harry, Dexter, Doakes, Deb, Angel & LaGuerta

It sets the bar incredibly high, with the promise of the pilot episode more than lived up to. Casting is top notch, using actors not commonly known to most TV goers to avoid distracting performances, while also getting perfect performances from each. It helps that the writing is so specatacularly good, with gentle doses of gallows humour and sweet, smile inducing moments. Each character is given a distinctive voice and personality, fully justifying their actions, but at the same time all are allowed to grow and develop, particularly Dexter and Deb, who change progessively and not for conveniance sake.

It also helps that, again due to the scripting excellence, characters who on paper sound unlikeable, such as Doakes and LaGuerta, are eventually able to draw sympathy from the viewer. LaGuerta's political battles with Captain Matthews (Geoff Pierson), her superior, are fascinating in how they develop, and her demotion in the final stages puts us firmly on her side. Everyone is given time to shine, and not a single player in the game is a passenger.

This means there is a rich background for the figurehead, Dexter himself. Michael C Hall has created an unforgetable protagonist, one who is endearing and charming in his wit and ideology, despite being terrifying in his intent and method. Though he's an admitted monster, we never see him as an antagonist, and his emotionally stunted nature is both funny and painful at the right turns, while his exploration of his born in blood past is heartbreaking and rivetting. His chemistry with castmates feels organic and true, while utter devotion to the character ensures we are watching Dexter Morgan, not Hall, as we go from episode to episode.

The progression and eventual escalation of Dexter's dealings with the Ice Truck Killer, going from almost flirtatious to ultimately hurtful, are sublimely constructed and paced, with enough teasing to ensure complete attention followed by breathtaking set pieces to alert us to something hugely significant taking place. The revelations, first the 'who' and then the 'why', are both surprisingly shocking and then both hugely saddening and tragic. The finale, in keeping with this, is an emotionally packed encounter, a defining moment. After so many hours leading us here, it is a fitting conclusion.

And, of course, a few ends are left deliberately loose, leading us into...

Season Two - The Hunt & New Dex

Dexter is forced to question himself in his pursuit of freedom.

Things aren't so good for Dexter. Although his relationship with Rita and the kids gets stronger with every day, his spending more time with them means he hasn't killed in over a month. The desperate urge to get back to his calling his made worse by Doakes, who is now permanently following the protagonist after Dexter's suspicious involvement in Deb's kidnapping, and by Brian's memory which haunts his every step.
Even when he grabs a victim, he can't go through with it. A second effort sees a gangster escape from his table. Things can't get any worse...but then they do, when Dexter's graveyard of victims at the bottom of the sea are discovered, leading to the FBI arriving on the scene to investigate, led by legendary Serial Killer Hunter Frank Lundy (Keith Carradine).

Though able to release the memory of his brother and end his killing rut, the truth about Dexter's framing of Paul is revealed, and he is forced to pretend he is a heroine addict to avoid further suspicion from Rita, pushing him into therapy. His inital reluctance is overcome thanks to the enigmatic Lila (Jaime Murray), who quickly establishes a connection with him and then becomes his sponsor. Speaking through the facade that he is an addict, Dexter is finally able to voice his feelings on the dark passenger's influence over him, and discovers strengths and possibilites within himself. He even goes as far as to track down and confront the man who killed his mother. This action pushes him into the arms of Lila, and by misunderstanding cause the breakup of his relationship with Rita. A brief truce with Doakes is smashed, and he comes after him harder than ever, while Rita's desire to keep Dexter in the life of her family draws out Lila's dark side.

Doakes' efforts to nail Dexter for the Bay Harbour Butcher case backfire, and he himself is fingered and hunted, leading him back to Dexter himself, but this again goes awry as he is apprehended by Dex and locked in a cage, ready to be delivered to the FBI. But then the doubt creeps in again, and Dexter even contemplates turning himself in as Doakes tries to form an understanding between them, and act in the role of confessor. Unwilling to lay down without a fight, Lila forces her way back into Dexter's life just as he's trying to rebuild his relationship with Rita. Attacked on all sides, Dex faces a seemingly impossible battle to keep all around him intact.

Lila (Jaime Murray) proves to be as much of a threat to Dexter as the FBI hunting him.

Defying convention and making a bold and brave move, Season Two turns the show's focus 180 degrees, making the protagonist the antagonist and leading to a contemplative, though eventful, aside. In essence, the big bad of the season is Dexter himself. And, in keeping with the panache of the first season, it proves to be both highly successful and wonderfuly executed, allowing Dexter to explore ideas and chains of thought he's never considered before. It also shows us new sides of him, with a more animalistic Dexter being both jaw dropping and strangely satisfying as he embraces emotions he's for years kept tightly penned up.

Once again the writing and Hall's perfomance make this dynamite viewing, completely natural and understandable. Dexter's decision to beat the crap out of Santos Jimenez (Tony Amendola), the man who butchered his mother, rather than kill him might sound out of character on paper, but in execution is actually eye opening and expansive. Decisions like this define the plot, just as Dex's brief seperation from Rita proves highly effective when it could easily be misjudged, and the quality of the story hinges on risks.

Much of the seasons' most memorable moments come from the Doakes-Dexter dynamic, especially after the former is captured and locked in a cage at Jimenez's cabin in the woods. Here we see parts of Doakes' character that has never been shown before, a empathetic understanding and utter committment to justice proving a dichtonomy that goes beyond his wish to escape captivity. When Dexter realises that Harry's death was in fact suicide, and that it was caused by his horror at actually seeing his son in the act of killing, it is Doakes who proves most consoling. Erik King, already impressive, proves wonderfuly subtle here. The inevitable endgame between the two, where we know one of them faces death or incarceration, is unbearable to watch unfold as we find ourselves rooting for both but knowing no compromise can be reached. Somebody has to lose.

Doakes and Dexter develop an unlikely bond during the former's inprisonment.

Elsewhere, the FBI led manhunt for the Bay Harbour Butcher is a plotline that is rife with thrills and tense entertainment as it slowly narrows down the search and puts Dexter in the headlights. The subplots, which include a comic series inspired by the killer and a wannabe vigilante figure taking up the reigns, are brief but well judged, adding detail and layers to the overall arc. Playing the nemesis figure, Keith Carradine gives an excellent, nuanced performance as Lundy, who is both entirely convincing as a veteran manhunter and also highly amiable, particularly through his relationship with Debra, whose growth and development in the season is something to behold.

And, posing the unseen threat, Lila is a memorable character who has a huge impact. Many will and do hate her and the acidic influence she has over the protagonist, but her make up is complex and layered, interesting and compelling, and she is well played by Jaime Murray. She is certainly not Dex's soulmate, but she leaves an unshakeable impression on him for sure.

Continuing its tightly written tradition, the season comes toe to toe with that which preceded it with strongly tied plotlines and excellently balanced character driven storytelling, giving itself room to breathe and treat every figure to extended development and exploration. In effect, nothing is left out of Season 2, and there isn't a single second of time wasting filler. The balancing act conducted is supreme, giving us a thrillingly paced and awesomely assembled saga. While the manner in which Doakes exits may anger some, it proves absolutely neccessary for all of the arcs present and running. It's a case of the ends justifying the means, and it is one hell of an end.

Season Three - Best Buddies & New Families

Miguel (Jimmy Smits) proved that friendship and killing don't mix.

His near escape at the end of the previous season has given Dexter a new lease of life, and things are better than ever. His killing touch is back, supplemented by his new dumping ground, and his relationship with Rita is at it's most blissful. However, his latest kill goes wrong when he stumbles on a confrontation and has to kill a stranger to survive. The ramifications are huge, as the man was the brother of hotshot DDA Miguel Prado (Jimmy Smits). Dexter finishes what he started, only for him to run into Miguel, who had also tracked down the vic and fully intended to kill him. Through this, the pair unexpectantly become friends. Meanwhile, Rita falls pregnant with Dexter's child, and Dexter proposes to her. The motive behind a series of killings investigated by Deb and new Detective Joseph Quinn (Desmond Harrington) becomes quickly clear when witnesses Deb has interviewed over Oscar Prado's murder start dying by this method.

The relationship between Dexter and Miguel is transformed though when Miguel stumbles upon Dexter's true nature and his killing ways, but much to Dex's surprise he accepts them and then begins helping him as they become partners. Then the big step, as Miguel himself plunges knife into heart. But any illusions Dexter has that he has found someone to share his need with is subsequently shattered when Miguel promptly murders a rival lawyer. Tension mounts between Dexter and Miguel as their conflicting views become an active issue, ruining their friendship and pitting the two against each other. In a deadly gambit, Miguel sets The Skinner (Jesse Borrego) on Dex. Dealing with such a high profile figure, Dexter has a hard time working out how to take out his old buddy, and the clock is ticking as LaGuerta's suspicions over the murder Miguel conducted mean she is now in the attorney's sights. All this with a wedding fast approaching...

Debra and Quinn (Desmond Harrington) work to apprehend The Skinner

After the full throttle pace of Season Two, Three proves to be a more transitional and thoughtful spell for Dexter, with its early stages in particular having a more laid back beat. It's also the first time the cast dynamic of the show has been altered, with Desmond Harrington's Joey Quinn drafted in to fill the significant void left behind by Doakes, while the flashback format with Harry is scrapped in favour of a physical manifestation of Dex's father appearing, ostensibily acting as a mouthpiece for the code. This proves an excellent move, and never comes across as 'my ghost friend' as one might expect. In fact, since most of the flashbacks used a different actor to portray younger Dexter, this is the first time that Remar and Hall have shared the screen for extended periods of time, and the chemistry between the two makes the exchanges work.

Three proves to be the first occasion that a fairly well known actor has been brought in for the entirety of the season. Playing a complex and dynamic character, Jimmy Smits is excellent value for money as Miguel, an unpredictable force who's flamboyant rants, though animated, are not hammy, and are in fact perfectly in keeping with the character, as Dexter proves an excellent outlet for his rage. The direction the story takes, with Miguel eventually becoming an accomplice and co-killer, doesn't seem like the natural path, however, and one wonders how the arc would have panned out had Miguel played more of a master role, keeping Dex's trail clean while assigning him victims and opening up avenues for him to exploit.

A more permanent addition to the cast is Desmond Harrington as Quinn, and he brings alot to the table as Quinn, a bold as brass detective low on ego but high on testosterone. Though his backstory peters out and ultimately doesn't have as much significance as one might imagine, he does seem like a solid player and has a lot of potential for the future. There is excellent chemistry between he and Deb, always flirting around the edges of sexual tension, and his dynamic is suitably different from the other characters to ensure he doesn't step on any toes.

Previously only seen in flashback, Harry (James Remar) becomes a manifestation of the code.

 From the established cast, Angel's string of horrific luck (failed marriage, rape charges) finally turns as he meets and romances a fellow cop, though this is the extent of his plot involvement. There is one excellent scene, however, where he finds the man responsible for attacking his girlfriend, and then briefly leaves the fate of the perp in the dark, an interesting moment where we reflect on his nature and character. A nice character twist with Masuka, where his feelings are hurt and he subsequently becomes more sensible, much to the bemusement of his colleagues, is an amusing concept but is handled somewhat heavy handedly.

While the plotting and dishing out of material to the cast is just as balanced and tightly organised as always, a drop in pace means that Season Three doesn't quite run as smoothly as its predecesors, and may not stick in the memory despite being well structured. Miguel Prado is a highly memorable character who visibily has a long lasting effect on Dexter, and the legacy left behind cannot be soon ignored. After all, for a brief time, Dexter had an accomplice, and was then betrayed by him. Such events breed much development leading into the future.

Season Four - Nemesis & Mutually Assured Destruction

"Hello...Dexter Morgan" - The Trinity Killer

Married life with a newborn son (named Harrison) is hardly ideal for anyone, so imagine how poor Dexter is feeling. Tonight's the night...to finally sleep. Shorn of much needed rest, Dexter continues his efforts to keep his family, job and dark passenger in order, but is visibily strained. A trip to court to provide evidence turns into a disaster when he mixes up case notes, putting a killer out on the street and earning him the wrath of a furious Quinn. Having decided to make the lucky criminal his next subject, Dexter works a crime scene that there is more to than meets the eye, something confirmed by the sudden re-appearance of Frank Lundy, who's interest in the murder is ominous. It later transpires that an identical murder took place in the same house twenty years earlier, and Lundy's motives are revealed: now retired, he is looking for the serial killer who got away, the nameless Trinity Killer (John Lithgow). After inital awkwardness due to their prolonged seperation and her having a boyfriend, Deb begins to reforge her working relationship with Lundy to investigate Trinity, with Dexter's help, who is overburdened with multiple responsibilites and minds himself prone to aggressive outbursts.

The tension between Deb and Lundy finally breaks as they sleep together, with her now seeing her future with the former FBI man. Any hope this will pan out, however, is shockingly cut short as she and Lundy are gunned down outside his hotel, and she is forced to watch him die while she survives. It initially seems obvious to Dex that Trinity is the man responsible, since Lundy had supposedly seen him earlier that same day. Taking up the reins and picking up Lundy's old case files, Dexter is able to identify him as Arthur Mitchell, and is shocked to discover that the brutal murderer returns to a loving family and good home. He decides to postpone killing him in favour of learning from him, an attempt to console how he can balance being a serial killer and a good father and husband.

Dexter's punishing schedule of balancing family, work and killing proves fatal

Becoming something of a friend to Trinity, and a familiar face to his family, Dexter even goes on a road trip with him to Tampa for a charity building job, during which he learns of Arthur's dark past and then stops him from committing suicide. Through observation, Dexter learns that the home life Arthur has is in fact a dark lie, and after an explosive altercation on Thanksgiving, in which Dexter attacks Trinity to protect the man's son, Jonah (Brando Eaton), his cover is blown and he is forced to retreat. A now recovered Deb begins to follow the same trail as her brother and turns the attention of the department to Trinity. Dexter is now stuck in a destructive game of cat and mouse with Trinity, and is driven to desperation trying to hold everything together as he goes in for the kill while also keeping his department at bay.

But when Trinity finds out who Dexter really is, it ultimately becomes a tragic effort...

By dint of its horrible, traumatic and devastating ending, Season Four is destined to be the most memorable and probably most defining season of the show as a whole, but it would churlish to claim that it only deserves any accolades because of its final scene. In fact, the finale is simply the fitting end to a stressful, overwhelming run that packs thrilling plot developments, fascinating character studies and complex story strands to wonderful effect. After the previous season had hinted at a slight decline in form, four simply hits the accelerator and is quite possibly the show's best year.

Born in blood, like father like son

A cornerstone of Dexter up to this point, there again isn't a line of dialogue or choice shot that is put to waste, with everything geared up and intertwining together to create a magnificent whole, a grand and almost epic story of serial killer vs serial killer, with plenty at stake and much to sacrifice. The ultimate focus, the testing of Dexter's abilities to hold all the facets of his life together without breaking, means he is pushed harder than he ever has been before, and the human error in his ways is quite notable. He isn't a criminal genius or superhero, and he does begin to make mistakes, whether it's falling asleep at the wheel while housing a corpse in his trunk or getting into a needless feud with Quinn, he is coming apart at the seems, proving to be his undoing. The sheer blunt horror of the punishment, the thing that had to give, is both fitting and bitterly hard to take.

Then there's John Lithgow as Arthur Mitchell, the Trinity Killer. While Christian Camargo, Jaime Murray and Jimmy Smits put on excellent displays and created great antagonists for Dexter to deal with in the past, none of them come close to Lithgow's sensational, Emmy winning performance. A horribly conflicted role, Trinity is a man who almost seems to kill involuntarily, and is constantly horrified by his own actions. He doesn't have the psychopathic emotional displacement that Dexter does, he feels every kill, and is traumatised over and over again as he recreates his dark past. It's impossible to feel sympathy for such a monster, but yet we cannot dismiss him as such so easily. In the folds of an intimidating, powerful killer, there is a young boy mourning his sister. Such nuance is brought to the screen by Lithgow, both scary and pitiful, terrifying and meek.

John Lithgow's wonderful performance elevated the story to near perfection

Hall has him covered, of course, while Jennifer Carpenter is especially impressive, particularly during a scene in which the full impact of Lundy's death hits her like a train. It's painful viewing, totally without vanity of self consciousness, and the words trigger the tear jerk by the simplistic understanding there is for her helpless, bereaved state. The manner in which Lundy is brought back, giving us Trinity in the process, is a superb plot development and helps the continuity of the series. A much likeable character played with relish by Keith Carradine, his return is welcome, neccessary and inspired. It's traits like this, of which there are many in Season Four's scripting, that makes it work so brilliantly. Subplots come and go. Quinn's relationship with reporter Christine Hill (Courtney Ford) initally seems frivolous, but eventually turns out to be crucial to the A-Plot in a manner which escapes conveniant writing. A Batista-LaGuerta relationship, though interesting, lacks the punch of the other stories, however, and marks the third season running that has seen Angel have nothing to do other than chase a girl. We do learn alot about the characters, however, and LaGuerta has never been as sympathetic as she is here. The bitchy snark who tortmented Deb seems a millions years ago.
 
Ultimately four sets a benchmark for the remainder of the show, and pushes the question: has it peaked?

Season Five - Grieving & Healing Through Blood

Mourning doesn't come naturally to Dexter, but he can make an exception...

Shellshocked doesn't come close to describing the state Dexter is in as the new chapter begins. Disjointed and unable to process what he has seen and lost, the police and FBI arrive in force at his house as they begin the process of investigating Rita's murder. Anchored to his surrounds by son Harrison, Dexter contemplates leaving, truly believing that his loved ones are better off without him. Ready to sail away, forsaking the funeral and an interview with the Bureau, he has a confrontation with an unruly redneck, and kills him, then finally, pushed by Harry, lets out his pain and hurt before going back to deliver his eulogy for the woman he loved. While cleaning up Dexter's house, Debra and Quinn have a sexual encounter, one that she isn't inclined to discuss afterwards. The department moves on to a new case while Quinn begins to suspect Dexter was involved in Rita's death but goes too far, and is suspended by an enraged LaGuerta.

Though aware he should be concentrating on his children, Dexter cannot help but follow his instincts when he believes a murder has taken place, finds his instinct is correct...only for his kill to be witnessed by a young woman, Lumen (Julia Stiles), being held prisoner. After a long deliberation, Dexter manages to earn Lumen's trust and in turn release her, and then helps her track down the other men responsible for her imprisonment and torture. By this point, Astor, angry at Dexter over her mother's death, decides she no longer wants to live with him, so she and Cody move to their grandparents' house. Quinn, still suspicious of Dexter, pays recently fired cop Stan Liddy (Peter Weller) to start snooping out his enemy. Debra's stint in records sees her find evidence which puts Homicide onto the same track that Dexter and Lumen are covering.

They eventually identify the responsible parties, led by superstar motivational speaker Jordan Chase (Johnny Lee Miller), in their quest for vengeance that becomes romantic by turn. In his efforts to gain justice for Lumen, Dexter attempts to somehow redeem himself for Rita's death, and in the process puts himself in mortal danger.

Given the shocking way that Season Four concluded, it's perfectly natural that the following installment was going to struggle under the weight of expectancy and be, in effect, a transitional period as we and Dex adapt to life without Rita. However, after making a strong start, Season Five starts to suffer problems that have not been seen throughout the show before, and the biggest flaws that it has to offer ultimately come down to the two areas it has always been strongest: acting and writing.

Lumen (Julia Stiles) and Dexter find themselves at the mercy of Jordan Chase (Johnny Lee Miller)

It's quite possible that it displays some of Michael C Hall's finest work, particularly in the first episode, 'My Bad', and the last, 'The Big One'. But this is somewhat dampened by the work of Julia Stiles who, for all she has ability, is distractingly miscast in the role of rape/torture victim Lumen, over-emoting at certain turns and being generally unconvincing at others. While she handles the traumatised introduction very well, scenes such as the aftermath of her first attempted kill and her recollections of the men responsible are painfully wooden, as opposed to painfully honest. It is a great shame, because with a better, and probably less famous actress, the role would have been far more compelling. The role her character plays also poses problems, as the show finds itself taking the same steps seen in Season Three with Miguel. Although this is acknowledged in one of the episodes, it's hard to really be wowed by Dexter allowing Lumen to execute one of her tormentors when we saw a near identical scene with a different character two years ago. That Dexter himself lets this happen with little fight suggests he hasn't learned from his mistakes.

But it's not just here that the writing suffers badly, as we are given a primary anatagonist who while interesting and convincingly played by Johnny Lee Miller, is ultimately neglected. Throughout the show, the bad guys have always been given a little leighway, so as to help us understand why they are monsters. By contrast, Jordan Chase used to be fat, and is good at manipulating people. Beyond this, we get absolutely no insight into why he does what he does, or how he is able to get such a good handle on Dexter. His death is lacking in closure for anyone other than Lumen. Elsewhere, we have Dexter find a nanny, Sonya (Maria Doyle Kennedy), who is given plenty of face time but no real purpose, other than being able to take up mothering duties for Harrison at the drop of a hat, meaning Dex's single parent status is almost irrelevant. This degree of convenient plot writing is exacerbated by the fact that when Astor and Cody leave to live with their grandparents (Paul's parents, I might add), this isn't being done to add further angst to Dexter's psyche, it is simply a move to put them on a bus and get rid of them. It's a slap in the face that  after four years of adapting to the circumstances within his life, Dexter now gets a free pass by dint of easy writing

Dexter defies the code by allowing Lumen into all aspects of his life

Season Five also contains the episode that, for me, is the worst one so far, and mindboggling in its stupidity. This would be 'Everything is Ilumenated", in which a scenario at a warehouse takes place which aims for comedic farce, and reaches it for all the wrong reasons, playing fast and loose with logic at the expense of credibility. It ultimately concludes with Dex, Deb and Masuka coming across two of the former's victims, one of them partially wrapped in plastic sheeting, the other shot dead. Masuka amusingly surmises that this was a sex game gone awry and, in a truly baffling development, nobody thinks to disagree or look for further evidence. Never have well developed television characters been so badly treated, and made to look so moronic, for the sake of making the protagonist's life easier. Another interesting plot arc, that played out by Peter Weller's dirty cop Liddy, is allowed to reach a deflated conclusion which again doesn't stand up to scrutiny. It seems to end with Quinn being fully aware that Dexter is a killer, but letting it slide because...well, he's hooked up with Deb, and also Dex lies about a blood test which clears him. So...there's that

Ultimately, the Season is saved by Hall's acting and a well written development arc for his character, ending with Harrison's first birthday party and him finally finding some sort of peace over Rita's death, as well as rebuilding bridges with Astor. It's a nice epilogue, and one that leaves the next season open.

Season Six - Apocalyse & Finding Faith

Travis Marshall (Colin Hanks) finds a way to both complete his tableaus and get revenge of Dexter

As Season Six starts, Dexter has finally entered a good streak in his life post-Rita. His son Harrison is about to start pre-school, he is back to killing in normal ritual manner and is at the peak of his game. With a new fully available nanny at his disposable, in the form of Angel's skimpily dressed young sister Jamie (Aimee Garcia), and with his apartment extended he has extra cover to indulge in his dual identity. Enter the Doomsday Killer, or killers, an old man/young apprentice team of religious fanatics (played by Edward James Olmos and Colin Hanks) who are re-enacting scenes from the book of revelations.

In a political move, Matthews surprises everyone by choosing Debra as the new boss after LaGuerta is promoted, and in the process Deb breaks up with Quinn after he had proposed to her. Dex begins truly examining religion for the first time, and through this meets Brother Sam (Mos Def), a reformed con who is preaching the good of God while running an auto garage staffed by other former prisoners. After a brief, meaningful friendship, Dex is pushed over the edge by Sam's murder at the hands of one of his flock.

After a brief stint letting the dark passenger out to play on a road trip, Dex returns and concentrates his attention on DDK, and finds that the sidekick/young man (actually named Travis Marshall) is something of a reluctant participant, and through him he goes after the heinous older man (Professor James Gellar). It transpires that Gellar was actually dead all along, that Travis is the sole killer, and that the 'apprentice' was in fact being guided by a quite unreal manifestation of him. The department reach the same conclusion soon after, pitting Dexter into a race with his own people to find and stop Travis before he completes his killings, made more difficult by Travis finding unlikely help in his efforts and by the fact that he knows Dex's face.

Deb proves to be a less than PR friendly spokesperson for Miami Metro Homicide

For all it's good ideas and nice twists, it is impossible to view Season Six without constantly being haunted by the memory of the near perfect levels of excellence the show once reached. The bumps in the road that began appearing in Season Five become potholes in Dexter's sixth year, and for every right turn it takes, it takes multiple dead ends and occasionally falls horribily into substandard quality which, though excusable by the measure of other television, is utterly unacceptable here. The inescapable theme of the season is faith, and this recurring point is as subtle as a sledgehammer blow to the chest. Having occasionally dabbled with religion and its imagery in the past, the story suddenly finds as many ways as it can to shove it down Dexter's throat.

Not only are the big bads religious fanatics, but recurring character Brother Sam is a Born Again Christian, and Dex's interview at a pre-school is marred by Christian subtext, leading to an insulting exchange in which the sister running the convent...sorry, school....is baffled by the idea that somebody could be an atheist in the modern era. That this isn't killed dead on the spot by someone as intelligent as the protagonist is strange to say the least, and given his wit and attitude towards the issue, his own crisis of faith is out of character and ultimately gimmicky.

The highlights of the season prove to be seperate from the main plot, which plods along and is heavy with needless scenes featuring Travis and Gellar, where their dialogue is intended to be ominous, but comes off as asinine and struggling to achieve filler status. Dexter's dealings with an old serial killer, The Tooth Fairy (played with distinction by Ronny Cox) are far more revealing and constructive in the main character's development than him exploring God's influence.

While it may be the show's most poorly rated episode, Nebraska proves to be a good change of direction and shows a rare sight: Dexter letting his dark passenger take the wheel. While Brian Moser may be underused in his return, it allows for some interesting situations, while the opportunity to revist the loose end that was the Mitchell family is well constructed and thought out, and has a decent, if retrospectively dark, conclusion. The episode suffers from poorly thought out writing, however, and could easily have been a virtuoso hour had it been better developed.

Dexter becomes the Devil in the mind of the Doomsday Killer

The season's big twist, Travis being the sole killer, is straight out of cinematic cliche and doesn't feel like a Dexter moment at all, as well as making our hero appear bizzarely stupid. This development was predicted by many before hand, due to Gellar's non-interaction with any character other than Travis, but the crawling pace of their exchanges means such subtle hint is lost in the mundanity. It also poses Hanks' Travis as the main mastermind, a role which he doesn't have the presence to pull of. While the notion that the big bad is in fact a meek young man is certainly original and fresh, moments where he pushes to be intimidating are horribly misjudged. Insult is added to injury with the needless suggestion that Travis' tragic back story was actually just proof that he was "a monster all along". After the dismissive manner in which Jordan Chase was handled in the previous Season, this is unforgiveable by Dexter standards. This is main character, a whirling maelstrom of darkness and exercised demons, basically saying that his target was born evil, a concept the show has been against since the beginning.

The decision to make Debra the Lieutenant of Homicide is a good one, but again comes off as clumsy seeing as how she jumps up two ranks by dint of her handling of an off-duty shooutout. Though her troubles adapting to the new responsibilites are interesting, and lead to a series of revealing interviews with a therapist, they also end with the truly astonishing (for the wrong reasons) suggestion that Deb is in fact in love with Dexter, and that is fine because they aren't blood related. While this 'twist' could at least be described as original, it also puts the dynamic between brother and sister on very thin ice.

Deb's elevation means that LaGuerta, now Captain, is pushed almost completely out of the picture, and she has less screen time than the show's other new, often pointless characters. The break up of Deb and Quinn sees the latter turn into a drunken wreck, a potentially useful character switch which opens some doors while at the same time shatters some of his previously established traits. Sadly, it means that Batista's main role, other than being somebody's brother, is that he's saddled with an unreliable partner and has to deal with it.

The numerous tableaus left by DDK were one of the Season's best features

And herein we get to two of the season's real problems. First, needless and out of character situations which feel totally alien to the show's dynamic, of which there are many; Dexter gets a blowjob at his school reunion in what feels like a deleted scene from Californication; Masuka is heartbroken by his romantic interest, a new forensics intern, trying to sell case evidence on EBay; Batista and Quinn smoking weed and getting high; Jamie (Batista's sister, Dex's babysitter) on a date with Louis (Masuka's replacement intern). In many ways, the last one is the worst, as it's a scene between two characters we don't know or care about that adds nothing to the story, and comes across as a heavy handed attempt to put interest into otherwise background plot dwellers. Admittedly, this leads to a curious development whereby Louis decorates the ICT's multi-coloured prosphetic hand, stolen from archives, and mails it to Dexter, suggesting he knows something he shouldn't. But beyond this, it doesn't feel in keeping with the show, and is insulting when considered that established regulars are being ignored in favour of...this.

Secondly, lazy writing. The worst example comes at one of Travis' crime scenes, where there is evidence that incriminates Dexter. Rather than face this reality head on, instead the script has the cops WAIT FOR DEXTER TO ARRIVE before entering, giving him the chance to wipe out his connection to events. This is mindbogglingly mishandled in its execution, and is so blatantly a backtracking effort to avoid our hero copping heat that its almost laughable. Such cheap ploys are depressingly regular here, and really break the illusion the show has created for us to live in. And, finally, we get to the final scene. The big, huge even, cliffhanger is more a case of "it's about time" than it is appropriate, and worse still has no real connection to the rest of the season, suggesting it was tacked on by the writers to ensure interest in the next season.

It may be essential, perversely, since many viewers found themselves questioning the show during its sixth year, and the phrase 'jumping the shark' has been used more than once. Whether six proves to be a spectacular dip in form, or rather just the show losing its way without hope of healing, fringes on how it evolves following the big twist.

Season Seven - A Preview

Seven depends heavily on how Deb reacts to the Dexter revelation

And so to the penultimate installment, the soon to come Season Seven. Considering the Deb catches Dexter in the act ending to Six, expect its opening to directly follow on from this continuity. Further reports suggest that there will at least some flashbacks in the opening episode, going back to Deb and Dex as kids, the first time such moments have been seen since Season Two. On top of having a massive cliffhanger to resolve, there is also the small matter of Louis the creepy intern and his unholy interest in Dex, as well as his apparent knowledge of the serial killer's involvement in the ITK case.

Press releases and on set reports confirm various details, from casting and characters to plot developments. Prime among them is the addition to the cast of Rome's Ray Stevenson as Isaac, the head of a Russian mob syndicate in Miami. There will also be appearances from Calista Flockhart and Jason Gedrick, while Billy Brown will return as Mike Anderson, suggesting that the character does have some purpose after all. At least one source has stated that the Bay Harbour Butcher case will come up again, with LaGuerta reigniting her fight to clear the name of one James Doakes. It's also to be understood that Seasons Seven and Eight will follow one extensive plot arc leading into the ultimate series finale, a unique move as far as the show is concerned, suggesting it will be a long goodbye.

Regardless of the story, how Season Seven and beyond that Eight progresses will be entirely reliant on the writing team on the series bucking up their ideas and delivering far more intricate and disciplined scripts. It's hard to believe that the conclusion to the saga could be botched, but the sharp decline in quality since the start of Season Five does not bode well for the future. There is a certain degree of faith required, however, blind though it may be, as well as the assumption that a decision on how to end the show was taken long ago. Without a long term plan, justice will likely not be done.

Were I to go into speculative mode, I'd have to borrow elements of a theory I read a few months ago. Following Deb discovering Dexter's dark hobby, she initially is horrified but gradually begins to see the value in his work, and well serve as his keeper, keeping him clean and safe from investigation and in return having her dearly beloved brother kill off criminals who slip through her net. This angle, which seemed likely in Season Four, is one that is definitely open for use and would kill multiple birds with one stone, as well as putting a nice spin on the Dexter-Deb relationship. A relationship, incidentally, which is at real risk of being sensationalised, something the program cannot afford.

However, were it not to improve significantly on the abberation of the Season past, there is a real risk that it will not last long enough to reach a natural conclusion, or that by the time it does nobody will be watching. They have to start getting it absolutely right, and have to start now.

Delicious Dexter - The Greatest Moments

Given the quality of the show, picking out single moments of excellence is pretty difficult, although some scenes and occurences are just so overpowering or incredible that they simply cannot be ignored, those slices of Dexter's life that have such an emotional punch that they leave an indelible mark on you. Others are more subtle, more underplayed, but have such a huge significance that they were utterly essential viewing. I've tried to narrow them down and find the definitive moments that makes (or made) Dexter the monster success that it is.

"Who the fuck are you?"

One of the most satisfying endings to an episode during the entire run comes in Circle of Friends from Season One. The episode sees the Ice Truck Killer seemingly apprehended, and he is a great disappointment to Dexter, a road kill taxidermist living in a trailer park who ticks all of the serial killer cliches. Desperate to know why he took such interest in him, Dexter visits the man, Neil Perry, in prison, and after a long, creepy shot of a scowling Perry taking his seat, finally offers a tentative "hey".

In response, a baffled Perry demands: "Who the fuck are you?". Cue an adorable smile from Dex, and an audience realising: "Shit, he's still out there"...

Born in Blood

Another classic Season One moment, and one of the most overwhelming of the entire series, forms the basis of the superlative episode Seeing Red, in which Dexter's traumatised reaction to a crime scene containing gallons of blood on floor and walls sends him down the rabbit hole, haunted by a recurring, repressed memory of a young boy crying in claret.

Having been suckerpunched by this, Dexter resolves issues around him before finally confronting the recollection, returning to the crime scene left for him by ITK in search of the truth. He, and we, could not have bargained for what it is.

Cue a memory of Dexter, as a three year old, witnessing the brutal murder of his mother by chainsaw in a cargo container, her final words telling him to close his eyes as she is hacked to pieces by ruthless drug cartel runners. The boy in blood, born in blood, was Dexter himself all along. An astonishing moment, it was the first time the show brought tears to my eyes...horrific, disturbing and utterly, utterly sad.      

Goodbye, Biney

The emotional rollercoaster that was Season One finally came to a halt in one final, tragic and dramatic farewell to a character never to be forgotten again.We'd only just come to terms with the revelation that Rudy Cooper, Deb's boyfriend and the real Ice Truck Killer, was in fact Brian Moser, Dexter's brother, when he gave Dex a simple choice; either kill Deb and be united with the one person who could love him for who he was, or instead kill Brian. After choosing his sister, Dex protected her and then snared his returning, venegeful bro in an ambush.

Cue Brian on Dexter's table, and the chance for one final exchange before the knife came down. There was no joy or ritual in this kill for Dex, no blood sample taken and no pictures to taunt the soon to die, this was what he described as "putting [Brian] down". Overwrought and emotional as we'd never seen him before, Dexter finally ended the nightmare, slitting Brian's throat midsentence. "I can't hear any more".

Elevating the table to drain his brother's blood, Dex sags in the corner desperately sobbing, reflecting at what he lost, or rather was forced to lose.

The Bay Harbor Butcher

Coming out of nowhere, a blindside punch catching crisis hit Dexter off guard, was the discovery of his deep sea graveyard in Season Two opener It's Alive!, with the bodies of his victims found by salvage divers in the bay harbour area of Miami's coast.

The camera pan back, revealing the lip of a crevice decorated by so, so many black plastic bags, each one containing the dismembered remains of each person to adorn Dex's table, gave us a horrifying sense of perspective on the sheer size of Dexter's lust for murder, and also the ultimate Oh Crap moment.

Open mouthed shock was the reaction they were no doubt gunning for, and they got it.

"Just stay away from me..."

Another villanious moment for Dexter in Season Two came in the episode There's Something About Harry, with the plucky killer working on his frame job of Doakes. Having gotten a lucky break, virtually presented a potential vic on a plate, he quickly rushed the man back to the cabin in the Everglades, gleefully slicing him up while the horrified Doakes, still in his cage, screamed at him to stop.

The aftermath of this, with a traumatised Doakes staring into space and weakly telling Dexter to stay away from him, nails home the fact that, for all he is the protagonist and our personal favourite, Dexter is still a monster, and is still the bad guy. That it sparks Dex's realisation that he himself caused Harry's suicide is just the icing on the cake in the most unflattering of character study moments.

Harry's Tears

An unexpected moment of personal understanding, emotional growth and ultimately the release of grief, Dex's visit to the table of The Skinner in Season Three finale Do You Take Dexter Morgan? proves to be one of the highlights of the year.

Facing near certain death of the hands of the psychotic loan shark and former interrogator George Washington King, Dexter, via Harry, discovers just how pained he is by the thought of not seeing his son growing up, and missing out on his life. As Harry sobs, Dexter comments that he's never seen him cry before.

"These aren't my tears, Dex" Harry replies "They're yours"

Understanding his father's pain at last, he forgives him, and a newfound love for his unborn son putting fire in his heart, Dexter turns the tables on King and makes a bloody, ruthless and utterly bad ass escape.

Hello, Dexter Morgan

With Dexter's cover as 'Kyle Butler' broken, he found himself playing a game of cat and mouse with new nemesis Trinity in the latter parts of Season Four, culiminating in the episode taking its name from the blood chilling final line.

After a botched attempt to find the elusive Trinity at an arcade, Dexter gives up his search and returns to the station at the behest of a troubled Deb. What he doesn't know, however, is that Trinity has seen him leave, and follows him all the way to the Homicide department, thanks to a stolen visitor's card, and simply walks in the door. Seeing him enter, Dexter breathes a quite 'no' before rushing out to confront the mass murderer.

Casually strolling up to him, Trinity reads the hero's ID and coldy utters the immortal "Hello...Dexter Morgan"

In the ultimate game changer, Trinity now knows exactly who Dexter is...

Dead in a Bathtub

...and this moment leads to the final, heartbreaking and shattering event which changes Dexter's life forever and proved to be one of the boldest, most shocking TV moments of all time.

By the end of Season Four's final episode, The Getaway, it seems as if Dexter has won the battle, and has indeed succeeded in balancing the books in his life. Fresh off of killing Trinity, Dex returns home with the understanding that Rita and son Harrison are in the Keys. Then he finds a voicemail telling him that she returned home having forgot something...then he calls her...and her phone is still at the house...then he hears a baby crying in the next room...

Rushing through to the bathroom, he discovers Harrison bawling and sitting in a puddle of blood...Rita's blood, for she is bled out in the bathtub, Trinity's final victim. Posthumously, the monster has gotten his revenge on Dexter, and it was his failing.

Born in blood, life father like son.

Showing How You Feel

Dexter is having a bad week. Distraught by Rita's death, by the anger directed at him by her children, he decides to leave in the belief they will be better off. He's hardly gotten started by the time he runs into an unruly redneck at a boathouse, and their altercation turns violent...when Dex beats him to death with a mini-anchor.

After a prolonged absence, Harry returns to support him, telling him it's alright to show how he's feeling. In an pique of animalistic rage and pain, Dexter does just this, screaming indignantly through the tears, and comes out the other side realising he has to go back and face the truth, that the woman he loved is gone.

Seeing Dexter emotional is rare. Seeing this, pure emotional outpouring, is both horrifying and moving.

Reflective Dex - Final Thoughts

For six full years now, Dexter has kept us in state of surrendered obediance, a devilishly manipulative show that pushes the boundaries of taste and moral sensibility and somehow manages to be more satisfying, enthralling and amazing than anything else on the airwaves. In short, is a series that has given us a twisted, psychotic serial killer who we can all love and support. That single sentence speaks volume on the quality of writing and acting that prevents such a set up from simply being an oxymoron.

After dozens of kills, seminal displays and breathtaking set pieces, the show has remained fresh and always found a heart upon which to pin its various displays of drama, action and humour, at the centre of which is one of the best designed and beautifully orchestrated character studies in the history of fiction, a protagonist so fleshed out and evolved that he has become a real person in our mind. That he kills people in his down time is little more than a fascinating sidenote.

Through his various adventures, struggles and travails, we have lived out some truly extraordinary experiences, a degree of empathy created that lets us see our own dark passenger, our own dangerous tendencies and question the ethics we once held dear. After all, imagine if a loved one was like Dexter? Could you bring yourself to put him down like he did his brother?

That such ideas can be raised speaks volumes, and shows that without doubt, Dexter is a series to be savoured, it's brilliance in the opening stages negating a recent decline in quality. Watching it back, it's clear it can get better, and that, hell, maybe Dexter Morgan himself can to. Here's hoping.

Until then, another two seasons beckon. The experience starts all over again, on 30 September.

The Grey - Film Review

It's an indication of how strange Hollywood's plan for its minions' is, that, when read on paper or seen in a trailer, Joe Carnaghan's The Grey has all the makings of a Rambo-esque Alpha adrenaline fuelled adventure, with newly installed cinema badass grandpa Liam Neeson fighting a pack of wolves hand to hand in the harsh wilderness.

Once a highly promising director of hard boiled, emotionally charged drama thrillers, Carnaghan post-Smokin Aces and The A Team has the reputation for being one of film's experts in over the top entertainment, while Neeson's recent mutation from highly revered leading man into action hero is one of the most unlikely since Bruce Willis permanently waved goodbye to his comedy roots with Die Hard in 1989.

This sets up to a survival horror/thriller of disappointingly familiar nature, albeit played straight.

Ottaway (Neeson) is a security contractor for an oil company in rural Alaska, paid to protect the drillers from occasional wolf attacks through the scope of his sniper rifle. Beset by personal demons and suicidal urges following his wife's exit from his life, Ottaway's meaningless existence is thrown into sharp focus when he and a group of other employees are left stranded when their civilisation-bound plane crashes in the desolate snowfields of the frontier state.

The small knot of survivors (played by Frank Grillo, Dermot Mulroney, Dallas Roberts, Joe Anderson, Nonso Anozie and Ben Bray) are marooned in blizzard like conditions, wounded and surrounded by their dead colleagues. Initially intent to hole up and wait for rescue, their plans are quickly discarded when they discover they have fallen into the hunting grounds of a wolf pack, the lethal creatures making their presence known immediately. With the threat of artic conditions on one side, and being torn apart by nature's hunters on the other, Ottaway rallies the team and begins to lead them out of their nightmare, but not before there numbers begin to dwindle, pushing each and every man to his extreme limit, outcomes varying in gruesome, haunting manner.

All the hallmarks of a standard, Stallone-esque blockbuster are here on show. We have the grizzled loner with all the know-how and experience to combat the threat and to serve as the natural leader type. The group contain a couple of egregious trope codifiers as far as survivor characters go, with the most obvious being Frank Grillo's asshole cynic and Joe Anderson's buttmonkey slacker. There are the big bads of mother nature, even including the big boss mentioned by name with a sense of dread, then finally revealed in the climax. However, while The Grey cannot be said to be original in its set up, it is superbly observed in the manner it completely deconstructs and refocusses the vital components of the genre.

This is where Carnaghan and Neeson take the chance to get back on track, or more likely simply deliver a poignant call back to their initial, more objectively valuable work. Showing the tone and style of his finest work, Narc, Carnaghan here tones down his visual flair to suitably grimy effect, while also using the spine of the story to bring to the screen a film that is both a touching character study and a deeply sorrowful, emotionally resonant redemption tale.

While all about him goes to hell, Ottoway slowly adapts to his nightmare circumstance, using his personal trauma as the fuel to keep walking, and keep protecting his scared, witless flock. The demons that almost destroyed him are given physical manifestation by the merciless wolves, used in the film with a touch of dramatic license to both heighten the thrills and better emphasise The Grey's core there: finding meaning to one's internal struggle, giving it a name and fighting back, discovering the inner fire required to take battle and preserve one's own life.

At the start of the film, Ottoway is all set to kill himself, having come to the conclusion that his exitstence is meaningless, irredeemably empty and void. Ironically, he is stopped by a wolf's call, and in the disaster that follows uses the memory of his wife, once a weight on his weary shoulders, as a beckoning call to continue his journey. By film's end, he is willing to use everything at his disposal to keep going, to at least try to fight his way out.

In this, the casting of Neeson is inspired. While many actors would have happily brought beef and gusto to the role, the veteran Irishman has the natural authority and leadership qualities that make Ottoway the Alpha of the human pack, and also provides the film its soul. Hurt, downtrodden, having long given up on questioning his lonely and pointless life, Neeson displays a permanent emotional pain, one that stalks him with every step, but is buried deep and left to dwell while he exerts physical strength and will power to make escape a tangible, though tragically unobtainable target.

It is a powerhouse performance, multi-faceted, and one that dwarfs his back catalogue post-Schindler's List and makes a mockery of the disposable trash such as Taken and Unknown that had seemingly painted him into a niche corner. One scene in particular, in which Ottoway screams at God to intervene, to finally make his presence known and give him something, anything, to make going forward the decisive action, is both brilliantly apt and wonderfuly moving. By this point, his burden is so ferocious he questions what is worth his own actions.

The other characters, though side pieces in the common goal, are played with distinction by a cast of mostly obscure actors. Each player has distinct characteristics, decidedly human traits that, while not fully fleshed out, gives them individuality which dicatates their words, if not their unpredictable fates. Frank Grillo's Diaz, in particular, is superbly developed as a subplot, starting off as a cliche and then growing, his final scene both harrowing and affecting, the good in him coming out just as the light burns out.

The wolves, centre piece they provide, are deliberately exagerrated in both appearance and behaviour but don't come off as the villains of the piece, but merely as a representation of true peril. They act as they do, innate and not chosen, lethal and dangerous but ultimately just by their own nature, not by evil. When one character, in a pique of bloodthirsty rage, saws off the head of one of the animals for a trophy, it is a mostly empty gesture, an unneccesary surrender to regretable savagery. It is a glowing testament to the The Grey's message that the monsters of the piece are not the bad guys.

By bringing such opaque depth, much of it in saddening retrospect, Carnaghan here has accomplished brilliant work. While misled viewers may find themselves questioning an often slow and baleful piece, ultimately depressing, they fail to see the uplifting nature and journey at its core, one that transcends the survival thriller genre and uses it as a means to and end to tell a far more memorable, haunting story. In the darkest, deepest recesses of our world and in his own dark cloud laden life, John Ottoway finally finds a reason to once more go into the fray, to soldier on. For anyone who has ever questioned their existence, doubted themselves to continue, it is a profound, almost overwhelmingly positive message. Somewhere in our core, we can find the will to go on, even if because there is nothing else for it.

Sad, moving and highly thoughtful, The Grey is both a crowning achievemant for Joe Carnaghan, and a touching stage piece for Liam Neeson. A film rather than a movie, it easily surpasses the standard of common such fare in pursuit of something more meaningful, and finds it in the stark cold corner of our world, one beset by danger, but also self discovery and, ultimately, redemption. This is what the Grey is truly about.

Once more into the fray,
The last good fight I'll ever know,
To live and die on this day,
To live and die on this day...

9/10

Two Dragon Tattoo Girls - Comparing Incarnations

With David Fincher's re-adaptation of Steig Larsson's hugely popular The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo now available on DVD, after a hot cinematic release among fans and critics, it seems a good time to break down its elements, along with those of its 2009 predecesor by Niels Arden Oplev, and attempt to find the better film.

While naturally following the same basic storyline, each work differs in its interpretation of Larsson's posthumous legacy, meaning deviations both in plot and in character focus and development. And, of course, with the remake being a Fincher feature with an improved budget and a larger pool of talent and resources, there is the subject of objective quality.

It is also worth noting that, for all the mixed opinions and preferences, there is no suggestion that Fincher's effort is unnceccesary. Both films have seperate merits to be explored here.

Lets start with a murder...

The Main Plot - Finding Harriet's Killer

As stated, the main plot of both films is the same; disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist is hired by wealthy industrialist Henrik Vanger to solve the disappearance, presumed murder, of his niece Harriet more than forty years ago. In doing so, he finds that the killer is likely a member of the Vanger family, all of whom live on an isolated island in Northern Sweden. He is joined in his quest by Lisbeth Salander, a punk chick who has become familiar with Blomkvist after being paid to hack into his computer. The pair crack a code in Harriet's journal, discovering a connection to a series of murders dating from the 1940's to the 1960's.

Each film takes different takes of this blueprint, however. Oplev's original takes deviations from the source material with the intent of muscling up the relationship between Blomqvist and Salander (more on this later), which includes them working together more closely, and also by having Salander figuring out more of the key clues. A road trip to the scenes of old crimes throughout the country is undertaken by both as a dysfunctional partnership, building up a stronger bond.

Fincher's effort, meanwhile, has the pair working seperately for long stretches. Salander takes on the past murders more or less single handedly, while Blomqvist remains at the Vanger estate and researches his hosts' backgrounds and character. Similarly, the serial killer plot is somewhat sidelined, given less time to generate mystery, instead deployed pragmatically as a plot point to further explain/cloud the reasons for Harriet being killed in the first place.

Both adapations reach the same conclusion, in terms of finding the killer, and then in finding out the truth about Harriet. But while Oplev cranks up the shock and suspense by pitting Blomkvist into unknowing, mortal danger just as Salander discovers the truth, Fincher finds his way to this point with an anti-climax, not helped by a lack of prior time spent with the big bad, in which Blomqvist is fully aware of who the killer is as he is thrust into the jaws of probable death, and in fact reaches this conclusion before the distant (both literally and figuratively) Salander, who's discovery is now just a precursor to her hot footing back to home base for a rescue mission.

The closure to the Harriet case ends the same in both, but has different ways of getting there. While the original incorporated an incredibly fortutuous need for long distance flight to reach its goal, Fincher finds a more interesting and more natural compromise, involving switched identities which helps avoid the character of Harriet feeling too divorced from the film's dynamic.

Subplots - Libel, Lies & Family Ties

Greater contrast comes with the vareity in subplots and background events and machinations within the two pictures, with each incarnation going down very different roads. While the original picks up and mixes around the more core, emotional minor story arcs, the remake instead goes for a stylised loyalty to the book which sometimes casts the heroes as unlikeable, or questionable, and doesn't quite feed into the underlying subtext of the story which I'll touch upon later.

The dark cloud hanging over Blomqvist's head, in the shape of an upcoming stiny in jail, is markedly absent from the Fincher version, likely down to the confusion that the Swedish justice system's quirks may have caused within Western audiences (in the original, Blomqvist is able to carry out the case, then goes to prison at the end on the charges presented at the beginning). Instead, Blomqvist merely has his life savings drained because of a fine for his misdeeds, giving him a more mercenary motivation for working with Henrik Vanger. Notably, the family connection from the original is also shed, despite it providing a significant plot point in Oplev's version.

While the Swedish incarnation played down the role of Erika Berger, Blomqvist's co-editor on Millenium and vague love interest, the American release boosts it up, which in a strange turn gives Blomqvist a little less sympathy, while also removing the subtle hints at romance between the reporter and Cecillia. The presence of his teenage daughter is also brought in, a character dropped from the first adapation, and her main purpose is to unwittingly solve a puzzle for her father, a solution reached by Lisbeth in the first film. While this may stay true to the book, what was a moment of crowning character establishment in the original becomes a contrivance in the redo. The daughter's sudden appearance at Blomqvist's digs seems suitably random, gets little attention or time, and then simply provides an answer to a question that Mikael had been unable to break.

This also leads into a major difference which, although not immediately noticeable, has some ramifications on the tone. In the original, Blomkvist arrives at the Vanger estate and spends most of the duration there, apart from the cross-country roadtrip. This establishes a set location, and makes certain events, such as Blomqvist being shot at, more tense, since he previously believed he was on familiar ground. However, the remake sees him journeying away from the island, including a flight to London, and trips back to Stockholm. Not grounded, it takes away some of the idiosyncracies of the existence he leads while working on the case, and means we spend less time with the Vanger family than we probably should. 

Certain plot elements, mostly red herrings, that were dropped from the original are also retained here, including a retrospectively encounter with the estate's handyman, a subdued and strangely harmless meeting with the mad recluse, Gottfried Vanger (used as a dangerous game in the original), and the part played at the end by Lisbeth's hacker friends, which seems abrupt given the lack of an established relationship between them (Plague, in particular, who in the remake seems to simply be selling her equipment, while in the original is more of a half-friend). The lengethened interactions between Lisbeth and her pervert guardian are ill judged, almost making it seem as if she is dwelling on an old victory.


While the full throttle speed of Fincher's effort means it generates more adrenaline, it also leaves it dealing with scenes and exchanges that, in reality, could easily be ditched.

Themes - Men Who Hate Women & Personal Growth

As I touched upon in my review of Oplev's film, Dragon Tattoo in many ways is a well layered and thoughtfully constructed thriller that is simply a vehicle for some very taboo, very dark and disturbing themes that have a powerful impact and are resolved as the story is. The very fact that the source material novel's original title is 'The Men Who Hate Women' provides a glaring example of just how overshadowing the film's morals and subtext are.

These are themes, however, that are not touched upon to damaging effect in the second effort. Stephen Zallian's script, though highly competant, lacks the subtlety and amibuity of Nikolaj Arcel and Ramus Heisterberg's, which provides plenty of food for thought about Swedish subculture and the toxic, sexist attitudes of the past, best distilled in the form of the anti-women murders and by Lisbeth's treatment by certain male scumbags.

Indeed, the omission of these themes is felt most painfuly by the character of Salander, who also misses out on the sense of personal growth and learning that the first film granted her. The 2009 version provides an unexpected journey for her character, and she learns more from Blomqvist than he could ever know, finally finding a positive male role model, and hope that she can build on this in the future. The 2011 remake, which perhaps stretches on too far into the book's overwritten finale, doesn't provide this, and in fact leaves her cut off and alone, albeit with a far more healthy bank balance. Money, it seems, is closer to the heart of the remake than it probably should be.

Similarly, Blomqvist's romantic life in the remake is on par to bed hopping compared to his lonely, tortured and vulnerable incarnation in the original, and makes him far less admirable, thus less of a good influence, and certainly not somebody that a misanthrope could fall for. It rather bites the hand that feeds by having the male protagonist fully capable of carrying out and solving the investigation by himself, rendering Lisbeth little more than a makeweight to a speedier conclusion. In many ways, it also makes the title obsolete, since Lisbeth is no longer the crux or the pinnacle of the story, merely one of its more interesting characters.

The Nazi sympathiser background subplot, one of the many controversial aspects of both book and Oplev film, is also downplayed. While a mark of great shame for Swedes, it lacks much interest to Zallian's screenplay and to the remake's target audience in general, and were it not for its presence in the book, would feel thrown in as a means to avoid using the word 'evil' in regards to largely unexplored characters.

As I'll go into detail about in a moment, the sense of personal growth that both the original novel and the Oplev version enjoys is sorely lacking from Fincher's effort, which puts more emphasis on story than character development. In the source material, and the Swedish adapation, both Blomkvist and Lisbeth come out of the Harriet case having discovered something about themselves, and finding in it the strength to endure and to push on and fight back against their respective injustices. Redemption, in a certain guise, is prevalent. This simply isn't the case with the remake.

Salander & Blomqvist - Partners and More

In many ways, the core elements of Larsson's novel can be broken down into three vital components: The Harriet case, the under-lying subtext, and the Salander-Blomqvist relationship. Each are indispensable to the story and plot, and with any of them missing the soulful impact generated by the written words would be greatly diminished.

The main strength of Oplev's version is how it is able to balance the trio sums of part in such natural tandem, staying true to Larsson's vision even when moving away from his means. Without the themes, Girl With the Dragon Tattoo becomes a mystery thriller with a romance. Without the complex romance, it becomes pretty disposable. This is a bridge that Fincher's effort comes dangerously close to crossing.

As mentioned earlier, the two leads spend little time together, not even accounting for the fact that the film is well into its second act by the time they actually meet for the first time. There is little opportunity for the pair to bond, get to know each other, and develop a familiarity in the way that they do in the original. The duo solving the murders on the road is wonderful at strengthening their dynamic. Having them working away from each other, as in the remake, is a great way to avoid them even getting to know each other. It's for this reason that the sex scene between the two is both abrupt and, aesthetics aside, oddly empty and vacuous. While it came as a surprise in the first film, this was more down to the fact that Lisbeth's behaviour and manner suggested she would never consider such a thing. There was also something of the profound about her healing herself after her rape by allowing herself into the arms of Blomqvist, who she has grown to quietly like. Her approach in the remake strengthens the perception that she is simply messed up, something handled much more completely and sensitively in the Oplev version.
 Either that, or it screams of 'mandatory sex scene' time. 

As individuals, both characters suffer in the second film too. Blomqvist in the original is wounded after his trial, professional life destroyed, personal life ruined, confidence lost and soul damaged. Through the Harriet case, and his relationship with Lisbeth, he finds the fire to fight back, culminating in him ending the film with hope and passion, despite being incarcerated. He has rediscovered himself, and believes in himself and his crusade more than ever.
Meanwhile, Salander is similarly broken, but in a far more irrevocable way. Every man she's ever known has abused or mistreated her, she feels alien to the world, and her response is a resonant 'fuck you', both in her attitude, her outward appearance, and by the way she lives. She doesn't apologise for anything, simply takes what she can and gives nothing back. Life's shit, get a T-shirt. But through the investigation, and through knowing and finding a love for Blomqvist, she starts to believe things can be better for her, and that a more comfortable normalcy can be found after all. When she visits her dying mother, and speaks of finding someone, it shows she's starting to believe that, finally, she may just get a shot at something happier.
Both of the two find something in the other, and it makes them better.

Casualties of Adaptation: Blomqvist's bond with Lisbeth from the 2009 original is lost in the remake

These things are dropped like an anvil by the Fincher version, to its detriment. There is no real soul searching for Blomqvist, more stung than hurt, and he pursues his investigating out of personal curiosity more than anything else. Lisbeth already has a strong male bond in her life, in the form of a legal guardian who suffers a stroke, making Blomkvist's impact on her less tangible. Neither find much meaning from their work/fling, and, crucially, she is far more vulnerable than he, something which goes against the grain. Her attachment to the dogged journalist suddenly seems hopelessly out of character and childish, bordering on adolescent crush.

Worse still, the conclusion arrives at a needlessly long and detailed montage of Lisbeth's revenge for a friend mission, which drags on needlessly, despite the original's interpretation working superbly due to brevity, and making her all the more impressive by merely showing what she'd accomplished, not how she'd done it. The side effect of this is that we watch a young woman going to such trouble to help the man, only for her to go back at the end and find there's no real victory for her to be had. The downer ending isn't a problem in itself, but renders much of the story pointless in the process. The original was bright and optimistic in a bittersweet manner, which felt more natural to the two protagonists. The remake shows that nobody learned anything, and that the only real winner was Henrik Vanger, a character who, despite being likeable, is hardly someone we're that bothered about once the 2 1/2 hours are up.

As well as feeling shoe-horned, unnatural and ultimately meaningless, the Salander/Blomqvist bond is devalued by deconstructing its own dynamic, far from poignant.

Technicals - Acting, Music & Looks

One category that Fincher's version was always set to dominate is the technical field. With more money to spend, a far more widespread pool of actors to bring in, and his own flawless, unique eye for art, the Fight Club director was always going to make Dragon Tattoo look good. Swedish cinema's best export the original may be, but some people will always be bigger and better.

While the cinematography in the Oplev version may be gorgeous at times, particularly the snow swept Vanger Island, the visuals in Fincher's repose are startling, dark and grimy but beautiful and varied. While the original Blomqvist arrives on a still, white day, the remake has him departing his train in a snowstorm, a viscerally freezing and biting ambience. Using far darker tones, the art direction is both heavily stylised and wonderfuly adept at setting the tone. In this regard, it blows Oplev's version out of the water by providing mood simply from the picture.

It's helped by the work of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, who colloborated with Fincher so successfuly for The Social Network (picking up an Oscar in the process). While Jacob Groth's score for the original is expert and at times superb, it doesn't share the same sizzling intensity as the work provided by the Nine Inch Nails alumnus. A sense of dark, shadowy foreboding, bottled rage and benign violence permeates from every chord, giving the piece a sinister charge. While the opening credits sequence is as baffling as it is ultimately meaningless, the cover of Immigrant Song is both a brilliant piece of music and superlative in establishing the tone.

As you would expect given the aforementioned focus the remake bears, the remake's pacing is snappy and sharp, edited stylishly and crisply, as opposed to the more longing and patient cuts of the original. Frantic at times, this combined with the soundtrack makes the remake magma hot in its energy, barely giving the audience time to breathe. It is, however, one of the main reasons it is unable to deliver on an emotional level like the original does.

In the acting stakes, Fincher's work does some heavy lifting in promoting character performances from good to great, while matching Oplev's when unable to better it. Daniel Craig imbues the sense of ferocious drive that makes Blomqvist a successful investigative journalist, disgrace not withstanding, as well as looking the part. What he makes up in terms of authenticity and energy, however, is somewhat lost in terms of humanity and eccentric imperfection, a subtle character trait that Michael Nyqvist nailed so comprehesively in the original. He is great to watch, in a different manner, and is far more interesting in his reactions, perceptions and general sense of healing.

Plummer's performance provides a better rounded Henrik Vanger

 But it's not his role or perfomance which is of such interest to moviephiles, it is that of relative newcomer Rooney Mara as the iconic Lisbeth Salander. After all, Noomi Rapace utterly dominated the first film, and as a result exploded onto the International scene in this breakout, unforgetable role. She is utterly authentic as Lisbeth, matching her words and her mannerisms with an uncanny and natural performance. She wears her neo-Goth attire like a uniform, and her acid wit and dark heart on her sleeve.
For what's it's worth, Mara is superb in the role, a slightly different interpretation which feels real, valid and varied. She is never burdened by the weight of expectancy, and doesn't not allow Rapace to overshadow her work. While the remake's portrayal of Lisbeth is flawed, there is no fault on Mara's part.

Many of the other characters enjoy uprgrades too, with venerable powerhouse Christopher Plummer (a late replacement for Max Von Sydow) excellent as Henrik Vanger, a step above the workmanlike Sven Bertil-Taube, and actual Swede Stellan Skarsgard both erstwhile and amiable, then deeply sinister and creepy, as Martin Vanger, more faceted and interesting to watch than Peter Faber. There is also solid work from Joely Richardson, Robin Wright and Steven Berkoff, each actors who have rarely been seen in the limelight of late. One part, however, that the original still holds stronger stakes in is with Nils Bjurman, the perverted legal guardian. While Yorick van Wageningen is suitably dark and horrible, Peter Andersson of the Oplev version is far more authentic and less pantomine. The infamous rape scene, which Bjurman orchestrates, loses none of its impact in the remake, though is far more uncomfortable in the original due to the less cinematic pacing and build up.

In fact, this is the case with a number of the Fincher version's more notable scenes, when contrasted with how they were handled in the original. The villain reveal, in particular, is long and drawn out in the newer release, albeit with a nice endgame, while in the first it is sudden, shocking and more suspenseful. The loss of Lisbeth's personal connection to the event, and the off hand manner in which it is handled, is both jarring and almost insulting when compared to the Oplev version.

As a matter of course, the Fincher film has one distinct technical discrepency, and that is it having a script which simply lacks the depth and care that the first film was blessed with.

Summary - Findings & Ratings

Considering the parties involved, it shouldn't be a surprise that David Fincher's version of the great story is an absolute treat, a stunningly visceral and devilishly structure mystery thriller with an air of dark malice and sinister deeds, one that is well played out, flawlessly mounted and well executed. That it lacks the soul, wry as it may be, of most of his works isn't a hugely damaging loss when approaching the film as a standalone piece, which it easily serves as.

However, while Niels Oplev's piece may lack the cut and thrust of Fincher, a level of performance you shouldn't expect of any director, it does hold dear to its heart a character driven, character focussed, character dictated arc, and though it may not stay fully faithful to the events of Steig Larsson's book, it lovingly sticks true to its intentions and its meaning. Watching the remake, I couldn't but imagine Fincher simply being in charge of the original script, with a few components brought over too. While excellent as a film, the new version falls short of the greatness of the original by ignoring what made it so satisfying, layered and intelligent.

While by no means a disrespectful remake, and certainly a film that exceeds its predecesor in certain areas, the Fincher version skimps on the heart of the material and goes for the jugular instead, creating a piece of startling entertainment without emotion, a top notch thriller that loses the drama.

In short, the 2011 incarnation is a worthy flick, but not a grand story. The 2009 version, however, is this, and more. You may enjoy the remake more, but you're love for the original will be greater.


The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009)                    9/10


The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011)                    8/10