acoolmac

There is a decent analogy, one that applies itself rather well at times, between the production of a streaming media limited series and the weaving of a tapestry. There are, in each, thousands of threads that comprise the final product. Each thread, when woven correctly, will be drawn tightly against the threads before and after, neither too loose nor too tight. Done successfully, there will be an understandable, recognizable image created that draws the viewer easily into its theme. It is an analogy that can be carried into a multitude of aspects.

Lessons in Chemistry is as finely woven a tapestry as could possibly be created. It glides through frames of time as smoothly as silk, shifting from Elizabeth Zott's storm-battered childhood through the academic gender discrimination of the fifties and into a time of rising above. The screenplay is masterfully written, and Brie Larson's depiction is superb. Within all those movements in time, the characters she and the supporting cast and the brilliant script bring to life, change and grow in perfect synchrony. This is character development at its finest.

Hoping not to stray too far down the analogy path, I will merely add that all the threads in Lessons in Chemistry have been woven into a gorgeous, brilliantly colored, work of art.

You do have to pause and consider why some reviewers feel the need to critique a series based on some technical flaw they hit the rewind button six time to find. Was it their compulsive need to put their vast expertise on display for the rest of us to marvel at? "I've driven since I was sixteen and that six-minute car chase through the streets of Paris just didn't look real to me (based on that driving experience, and the little woman and I visiting Paris back in '82.)" Do they yearn for those former days of glory and the reality in the series just didn't do it for them?

One reviewer of the series Vigil grumped-undoubtedly from genuine experience-that the submarine shown in the episodes was far too wide to be real. The first question for that particular reviewer was, "Have you EVER watched an airplane film, any type of airplane film? Bad guys, heroes, innocent passengers, frantic flight attendants, and at least one cockpit crew member all running through the plane's aisles. Never a drink cart in those films." Second question would be, "Wouldn't a documentary suit you better?"

Technical aspects of most action/suspense films are stretched across the spectrum, from fairly accurate to the absurdly unbelievable. Bullets bounce off a three-quarter galvanized pipe our hero is hiding behind. A guy gets punched ten times with blows one of which would hospitalize him. And we accept it because it is film. It is supposed to suspend our imagination.

Vigil is an excellent series from a suspense and mystery point of view. It is gripping and intense all the way through. The at-sea/on-land intermix is in near perfect balance. It is multi-layered enough for even the most discerning viewer. Suranne Jones and Rose Leslie give us their typical exceptional acting abilities, and the rest of the caste is superb. And believable (if you can just get beyond that submarine hull being a tad too wide.) Enjoy it, it is highly entertaining.

Start with Midge Maisel, the show's iconic lead character, and let your memory slide back through five seasons. As you scroll down (or back if you prefer) and touch upon names like Susie Myerson, Joel, Rose, Abe, Moishe and Shirley, you begin to realize that you can remember them all. Quite distinctly. And then you might ask yourself how that comes to be. We are talking five years worth, right? With a little reflection, the answer becomes apparent--great acting, great writing, great directing, and costumes to beat the band (to employ a hackneyed but appropriate cliche.)

These memorable characters are that way because they were brought to life. They had humorous, wistful, sometimes tragic aspects to their personalities, all of that stemming from the show running attributes listed above. They were nuanced characters. Look no further than that signature turning of the palms and a slight shrug of the shoulders from Lenny Bruce. A simple gesture that spoke a multitude of emotions. A simple gesture we remember--and likely will for years to come.

There was only one viewing flaw, in the reviewer's questionably humble opinion, and quite minor considering the superb complexities developed over the five seasons. As the show neared its completion, an enormous amount of plot and character resolution need to be set forth. To do this, flashbacks and flash-forwards were used to satisfy the end-stories of all those memorable characters. This had at times the sensation of a plucked elastic band. If that was the only flaw in its history, then The Marvel Mrs. Maisel should be placed with all due honor in that highest of categories--A Classic.