Roswell
Destiny (2)

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Back on the scoping fjords of Sandy Land, the Alien Four plus Liz kneel over Nasedo's most recent incarnation. I would be really upset that Liz is anywhere in the vague region of the rest of them right now, but I seek my solace in the fact that I've already watched the ending and [SPOILER WARNING] it made it me giggle. And so they invoke the magic healing powers of River Dog's stones, and they stare in a mix of shocked bemusement and just sheer embarrassment (if you think I'm inventing these emotions as a projection of my own horror at the continual river of cheese begat by the special effects, you didn't watch this sequence and you've never seen the show, have you? HAVE YOU?) as Evil Ed's body morphs into the creature within, a wholly "Judy the Time-Life Operator," lazy-as-hell approach to envisioning the large head, skinny body, and big black eyes that have typified the physical make-up of the "alien." And so Evil Ed wakes up. He doesn't know how the orbs work. Max suggests that Evil Ed become Pierce, so they'll have the inside track at FBI headquarters and no one will ever chase them again. This bodes well for next season. I'll kind of miss Evil Ed and his signature brand of eeeevil. But for now he's gone, and there are larger issues to consider. So they concentrate on the orbs. And then they glow. And then the "writers" reach back into the interplanetary library and pull out a dog-eared copy of A Beginner's Guide to Derivative Holograms, perusing liberally the Star Wars chapter, and even stopping by the rather lengthy tome on Superman's home on Krypton and just what exactly those darn crystals do when you place them in the correct slots. The four find out that they have lived before, that their essence has been mixed with human genetic material, that Max and Isabel really are brother and sister and the hologram is their mother, that Tesla was Max's wife, that Michael was Max's second in command. Their planet's enemy has come to the Earth, an enemy which for some reason they need to combat here so they can resolve the conflict of slavery raging on their home planet. She even begs, "Help us," probably because they're her "only hope." Then she turns into a Tinkerbell white light and flies off, and oh isn't it just all so very, very touching. But not half as touching as what happens next. Max observes that "things will never be the same." But he still wants to be with Liz. He grabs her arm and tells her so, but she woodenly (why oh why do I even bother qualifying?) observes that he has a destiny and she cannot stand in the way of it and blah blah blah ENDcakes. At which point the opening-credits sequence theme song kicks up, a delicate poetic circularity that informs me this is all very, very close to being over. Liz kisses Max and cries and runs away like she has steel rods instead of normal people arms. Buh-bye. This is all so very sad and touching. Except for the crying part. I even get a little bit greedy and hope that her soul-crushing jaunt down the rocky desert hill is accompanied by a tumble and fall of generally debilitating proportions. But that's just me. I strive for more.

And she's gone. Tesla turns to her fearless leader and brave husband and asks, "What happens now, Max?" But his answer, drowned out as it previously would have been by the planetarium music, mercifully obscuring the dialogue in pretty much every scene that isn't this one, is now shrouded by a Close Encounters of the Please Don't Renew This Trash Kind of beeping which becomes apparent all around them. Fade to blue blinking lights in a variety of locations, as yet another communicator of some kind is set off. And there he is: Howie. He wants it that way, and he wants to wait twenty-one episodes and fifty-five minutes to try and deliver his one line without the collective population of at least two planets bursting into unaccountable, spontaneous giggles: "It has begun." I know I'll spend the entire summer season wondering just exactly what that means, at least in between the times I'll spend obsessed with gaining a handle on just exactly what science fiction classics I can play catch-up with, so I can feel rested and ready to sign my contract for the second season of this bring-down-the-house sci-fi juggernaut that will be sure to define a generation of television that, when you look at it from its word for word basics, well, it just plain isn't very good. Suggestions?

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Roswell

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