"The Fabelmans" is Pure Spielberg

I've watched Steven Spielberg films my entire life, know an awful lot about his background already from articles and documentaries, and feel primed to enjoy this movie in a way that most people aren't.  So, I'm heavily biased in favor of liking "The Fabelmans," Steven Spielberg's lightly fictionalized dramatization of his youth, serving as his origin story as a filmmaker.  I'm honestly a little worried that I'm too biased to give any kind of useful commentary here. 

This feels like a film that Spielberg has been trying to make for some time, with its hero worship of John Ford, and its nostalgia for the 1950s and 1960s.  However, what elevates the film above a trip down memory lane or an exercise in self-mythologizing, is that it spends the bulk of the running time on the disintegrating marriage of Burt (Paul Dano) and Mitzi Fabelman (Michelle Williams).  Their son Sammy (Mateo Zoryon Francis-DeFord as a child, Gabriel Labelle as a teenager) is the Spielberg stand-in, a budding director who is putting together his own elaborate productions by the time he's in his teens.  As Sammy learns the art of shooting, editing, and manipulating film, he also begins to pick up on his mother's unhappiness, and his father's denial.

The film follows the Fabelmans through several eventful years, and relocations from New Jersey to Arizona, and later to California.  Until the California section, the plot is very incidental, only touching on the big moments and events in Sammy's life - a camping trip, film shoots, and special visits.  Memorable characters like Uncle Boris (Judd Hirsch) will show up out of the blue for a couple of scenes, and move on. Seth Rogen provides a lot of energy as Burt's best friend Bennie.  Chloe East is a scene stealer as Sammy's high school girlfriend Monica.  David Lynch shows up at the end to play a character I will not spoil, for a scene that is my absolute favorite thing I've seen in a movie all year.  It helps keep the audience on their toes, not knowing what or who is going to appear onscreen next.      

The anchors of the cast, however, are Paul Dano and Michelle Williams.  LaBelle does a great job as Sammy, but Burt and Mitzi have to be these idealized, yet very human parental figures, and the film only works because Dano and Williams do such beautiful work.  You can see the cinematography and tone of the film change over time as Sammy matures, and learns to see his parents as real, flawed people.  Likewise, Burt and Mitzi become more and more complex, and their relationships with Sammy change significantly.  "The Fabelmans" feels like the culmination of all those other Spielberg films about parent/child difficulties, and the director is definitely working through his own feelings about his parents, both now deceased.  Ultimately there's sympathy for both Burt and Mitzi, and an acceptance of their decisions that perhaps is only possible at the end, from an adult perspective.  

That's not to say that the film is all serious family melodrama.  "The Fabelmans" is much funnier and more entertaining than I was expecting.  The depictions of amateur filmmaking in particular are great, giddy fun.  However, I appreciate that the film isn't about the actual act of filmmaking to the same extent as something like "Super 8" is.  More emphasis is placed on examining the creative impulse and the unintended consequences of creating art.  Likewise, Sammy deals with antisemitism when the family moves to California, but this is only one aspect of his difficult transition to a new environment, and not treated as one of the major themes of the story.  There's also a little bit of winking at the audience, especially with the final shot.  

Longtime Spielberg fans like me will get more out of the film than those who aren't.  The references to his other work aren't obvious, but they're there.  However, it's still perfectly accessible for general audiences, and might even have been a crowd pleaser under the right circumstances.  Best of all, "The Fabelmans" feels like Spielberg is really striving for something unique and personal in a way that he hasn't in a very long time.  After this and "West Side Story," we're definitely seeing Spielberg in a creative resurgence, and I can only hope it lasts.

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Rank 'Em - MCU Phase Four: the Series

I decided to split up this feature into two posts for the MCU Phase Four, one for the movies and one for the Disney+ series.  And because it doesn't seem fair to be lumping everything together, I'm leaving out the one-offs, "Werewolf by Night" and "The Guardians of the Galaxy Special," and the animated series, "I Am Groot" and "What If…?"

From best to least, here's the Disney+ series of Phase Four:

She-Hulk - Tatiana Maslany is so good as Jen Walters that my biggest issue with the show is that the animation of She-Hulk can't quite keep up with her performance.  Otherwise, this is a nice break from the rest of the MCU, just a fun, casual, low stakes sitcom about surviving everyday life with superpowers and all the rest of the comic book nonsense that comes with this universe.  And it's a perfect format for guest stars, fourth wall breaking, and the occasional wedding episode.  It's the series least vital to the MCU in terms of story, but the one I would definitely miss the most if it were canceled.  

Wandavision - This was doing so well up until the finale.  I loved all the TV parodies, Katherine Hahn, Evan Peters, and Teyonah Parris.  I loved that Wanda got to be dark and complicated, and Elizabeth Olsen got to play some really dramatic scenes.  This was a great choice to kick off the Disney+ shows with, because this is the kind of messier, more difficult story that couldn't have been done in the films.  However, the creators evidently still felt obliged to cap it all off with a big battle and tee up for the next "Doctor Strange" movie, which set expectations for all the series that followed it.

Loki - I've been going back and forth on this one, because I don't think the plotting really works, and it ends just when things are getting interesting.  However, I like the characters that are introduced, especially Sylvie and Mobius.  I have high hopes for Kang, and it was pretty gutsy that he was introduced here.  This is also the most ambitious Disney+ series when it comes to concepts and designs - some executed better than others.  Also, "Loki" is an ongoing series, with a new season in the works, so a lot of these loose threads and incomplete arcs are going to get more attention in the future.  

Ms. Marvel - This show wasn't made for me, because it's very much YA content.  However, it definitely has an underserved audience, and I'm so glad that this exists for them.  You can tell how thrilled everyone involved in the production was with the opportunity to put Kamala Khan and her Pakistani family and community onscreen.  All the episodes following Kamala in New Jersey are great.  However, when the show takes a field trip to Pakistan for a few episodes, things go sideways.  The villains are also  probably the least interesting MCU foes to date - some sort of interdimensional djinn?

Hawkeye - This one was fun.  The Christmas theming was a great decision, and Hailee Steinfeld is a great addition as Kate Bishop.  I wasn't sold on some of the villains, however, and I'm worried about Echo getting a spinoff based on what I saw of her here.  The big surprise baddie was also kind of a letdown, especially since he was dispatched so quickly.  Still, all the comedy worked, Hawkeye got some needed time in the spotlight, and all the little cameos and side characters were used well.  However, I've had enough of the "Rogers" musical.  After D23, the joke's been run into the ground.    

Falcon and the Winter Soldier - I understand that the production was majorly disrupted by the pandemic, and certain plot points had to be rewritten.  However, the end result is still an uneven mess of mixed messages and unclear themes.  The series got me to like the two central characters more than I did at the outset, and introduced some promising new players, but this is a prime example of a show with way too much going on.  It also feels very much like a connector piece, too busy setting up future movies to give its two leads the fuller, more satisfying character arcs I was hoping for.

   

Moon Knight - This was the series that I was anticipating the most at one point, because of the cast.  Oscar Isaac and Ethan Hawke playing a superhero and villain?  How could this go wrong?  Well, despite a good start, "Moon Knight" almost immediately turned into a subpar "The Mummy" pastiche that kept undercutting itself.  The action was unsatisfying.  Horror elements were quickly abandoned.  The writing was especially poor, and made me suspect that this was originally intended for much younger audiences.  Congrats on the first Egyptian superhero, RIP Gaspard Ulliel, and let's move on.    

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"The Banshees of Inisherin" Breaks Up

Colin Farrell used to annoy me. I couldn't ever explain why, and I got over it eventually, but there's still something about his screen presence that rubs me slightly the wrong way. And that makes him perfect for Martin McDonagh's "The Banshees of Inisherin." McDonagh has returned to familiar territory, not only reteaming with actors Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, but for a story set in remote Ireland about violent, unhappy men.


On the island of Inisherin, during the Irish Civil War of the 1920s, life is difficult and bleak. One day, Pádraic (Farrell) is told by his best friend Colm (Gleeson) that the friendship is over, and Colm doesn't want to be bothered by him anymore. Pádraic doesn't take this breakup well, and keeps trying to fix the situation. His sister Siobhán (Kerry Condon), local oddball Dominic (Barry Keoghan), and other members of the tiny community get involved as the hostilities escalate to violence, destruction, and worse.


"Banshees" is a long, slow film, and I initially had some trouble with the thick accents. However, it proves to be a funny, dark, and exceptionally brutal examination of this group of characters, who are all wildly stubborn and prone to extremes. Farrell and Gleeson have never been better as Colm and Pádraic, who have grown apart over the years, though only one of them realizes it. You'll likely sympathize with both men to some extent. I've usually been in Colm's position, the artsy introvert in the middle of an existential crisis, who simply wants to be left alone to play and compose music. However, I've never threatened to cut off my fingers to force anyone to keep their distance.


Then there's Pádraic, whose whole world has been turned upside down by the rejection, and his fundamental way of looking at the things challenged. It's not simply a matter of Pádraic not being able to take no for an answer, or being unable to empathize with Colm's wishes, but he doesn't like what the split says about himself as a person. Pádraic has gotten along fine in life being a nice man, rather than a smart man or an interesting man, and suddenly this doesn't seem to be enough. A major change to his life has happened, completely out of his control, and he can't accept it. Farrell gets some wonderful existential rants to vent his frustrations as Pádraic's attempts to improve the situation just make it worse. In typical McDonagh fashion, things get so much worse. And it turns out that Pádraic isn't so nice.


Those who are not familiar with McDonagh's work should be warned that the movie gets gory in a way that not too many non-horror films are. And those who are familiar with McDonagh's work should take heed that the aforementioned gore isn't remotely as bad as some of the other Grand Guignol gruesomeness he's unleashed onstage over the years. Most of his preoccupations are with giving us some good, long looks at the beautiful island, and introducing us to the various people who live there. Everyone from the foul mouthed priest (David Pearse) to the gossip-obsessed shopkeeper (Sheila Flitton) to Dominic's troubled policeman father (Gary Lydon) are memorably written and performed.


And the immersiveness of Inisherin is what I appreciate the most about the film, ultimately. The story wouldn't have nearly the impact that it does if McDonagh hadn't taken the time to properly show us how this little world works. Events only play out the way that they do because Inisherin is tiny and Colm and Pádraic can't get away from each other. They're surrounded by deeply religious, deeply fatalistic people who prefer to turn a blind eye or suppress all their feelings to an absurd degree. And everyone is so down to earth that Pádraic's second closest friend is his miniature donkey, Jenny, who he habitually brings indoors for a cuddle, to Siobhán's consternation.



"Banshees of Inisherin" exceeded my expectations considerably. I don't feel I've said enough about Kerry Condon as Siobhán or Barry Keoghan as Dominic, but both involve a high degree of spoilers, so I'll just say they're integral to the film, and the actors are wonderful. This is my favorite McDonagh film that he's made to date, and honestly might be my favorite thing that he's done, ever.


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The Art of "Tár"

Todd Field's "Tár" is a tough watch.  It's just shy of 170 minutes long, and follows a contentious period in the life of a celebrated female conductor, Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett), currently about to embark on the career capping achievement of recording Mahler's Fifth Symphony.  It's helpful to have some familiarity with the classical music world, in order to keep up with the music terminology and orchestra politics. The first female conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, Tár relies heavily on the help of two women, her wife and concertmaster Sharon (Nina Hoss), and her assistant Francesca (Noémi Merlant).

What surprised me, however, is how "Tár" isn't nearly as much about music as it appears at first glance.  Lydia Tár could have been any other kind of artist or creator working at the top of her field, and the story would have played out largely the same.  Rather, "Tár" is more interested in the nature of artistic success, how it enables and shields those perceived as great, while at the same time destabilizing and feeding into their worst impulses.  Lydia Tár is clearly a great conductor.  However, she is also a flawed human being who shows favoritism, disloyalty, hypocrisy, vindictiveness, selfishness, and self-destructive impulses.  She lies constantly, especially to herself.  Watching Cate Blanchett tear into this role with everything she's got is one of the high points of her career. 

"Tár" starts placidly, with a series of meetings, encounters, and presentations showing us various facets of Lydia Tár's life and everyone in it - her manager Eliot (Mark Strong), her young daughter Petra (Mila Bogojevic), and the aging assistant conductor, Sebastian (Allan Corduner), she wants to replace.  We see Tár display the dazzling intelligence and brilliance that has won so many admirers, and that comes with a long, long list of accomplishments.  Then comes the scene where she teaches a class at Juilliard, and has an unpleasant argument with a student named Max (Zethphan Smith-Gneist).  And suddenly, there are cracks in that facade, suggesting that her reputation as a trailblazer and a challenger to the classical music establishment only goes so far.  Suddenly, we see her insecurity, meanness, and lack of generosity.  As the film goes on, the unfortunate incidents compound, we're left to question how much of Tár's public face is a construct, and whether it's necessary for her to sink to such lows in order to achieve such highs. 

I appreciate that Todd Field created such a detailed universe around Lydia Tár that it feels very genuine, populated with all the accouterments of the fascinating classical music world.  I've come across more than one viewer who initially assumed that "Tár" was the biopic of a real person.  Lydia Tár doesn't exist, but at the same time there have been many Lydia Társ in many different fields and artistic disciplines.  Ask which specific figure or controversy she's based on, and you're liable to get a hundred different answers.  The choice to make Tár a conductor, however, is a canny one because there aren't any obvious real world analogues, though it feels like there should be.  

Music plays a major part in the film, though not as much as I'd like.  Blanchett does a credible job playing the piano and working with the orchestra, but the majority of the screen time is spent on Tár's personal life rather than her artistic one.   Field treats what music we do hear with great respect, emphasizing the amount of work that goes into preparing for a major performance.  The score was composed by Hildur Guðnadóttir, and each additional composer whose work comprises the soundtrack is prominently credited.  A key character is played by cellist Sophie Kauer.  However, I can't shake the feeling that Field could have gone much further, musically. 

I'm still processing "Tár,"  and questioning if my coolness to it is in response to the film or in response to what I think it ought to be.  It's incredibly well made and unapologetically arthouse, with plenty to say.  It absolutely has my appreciation, but I don't understand yet why I didn't enjoy it much.  On the other hand, with a film like "Tár," enjoyment feels like it's not the point.  This is a film to be obsessed with, to be challenged and overwhelmed and disturbed by.  Like its main character, the complexity and the difficulty is something to be welcomed.  I wonder if it's simply been too long since I've seen a film with such lofty, uncompromising aims.            

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"Athena" and "Blonde"

I regret that I haven't seen any of Romain Gavras's previous films.  However, from everything I've read, "Athena" is a significant breakthrough for him.  It's a highly stylized, beautifully shot chronicle of three brothers, war hero Abdel (Dali Benssalah), angry agitator Karim (Sami Slimane)  and the self-interested Moktar (Ouassini Embare), who are caught up in a fictional social uprising that results from the on-camera death of their youngest brother at the hands of the French police.  The action centers on Athena, a banlieue, or housing development, largely inhabited by minorities and immigrants.  There's also a cop, Jérôme (Anthony Bajon), who is part of the police siege of Athena, and ends up a hostage of the rebels.   

You can draw parallels to the recent "Les Miserables," from "Athena" co-writer Ladj Ly, or to "La Haine," which addressed many of the same themes over twenty-five years ago.  However, the piece of media I couldn't stop comparing "Athena" to was Childish Gambino and Hiro Murai's "This is America" music video.  They're visually similar, sharing long tracking shots, a densely composed mise en scene featuring multiple planes of action, jarring onscreen violence, and ominous symbols like a background rider on a white horse.  However, what they really get across is this roiling, righteous anger of a dispossessed minority population directed against hostile law enforcement and the wider culture that supports them.  In "Athena" this anger has exploded into escalating riots and attacks, with an opening sequence that shows Karim leading a raid on a local police station, rendered in a stunning, eleven-minute long take.  

There's not much of a plot to "Athena" or any real grappling with the film's themes in any depth.  The film serves as an expression of raw grief and pain in the face of injustice and tragedy, raising far more questions than it has the capacity to answer.  I found the ending something of a cop-out, going for an ironic moment instead of something more substantive.  The characters are fairly thinly drawn, all trying to do the right thing according to their different outlooks on the situation, and all reluctantly pushed toward tragic outcomes.  However, the staging and the scale of the rioting is like nothing I've seen before.  Gavras goes for a high degree of stylization in the action, using fireworks and flares in night scenes, and having his rioters outfitted in bright colors.  The emphasis is on chaos over violence, on the wider sense of social disorder over any potentially cool moments of destruction.  The use of classical and choral music is haunting, giving the scenes of unrest an operatic quality.   

I wish that I had more context in order to adequately parse the film, but I am deeply impressed with and moved by the filmmaking of "Athena," and it's one of my favorites of the year so far. 

Now on to "Blonde," one of the most punishing films of the year.  This is a nearly three hour biopic of Marilyn Monroe that I'm tempted to call an anti-biopic for how it turns the usual conventions of the biopic formula against the audience.  Director Andrew Dominik paints Monroe's life as an endless struggle.  As a child, little Norma Jean Baker (Lily Fisher) has an unstable mother (Julianne Nicholson) who tries to kill her, and she ends up abandoned at an orphanage.  She grows up to become the beautiful Marilyn Monroe, played by Ana de Armas, and enters the snake pit of Hollywood, where she is constantly exploited and abused.  Her love life is bumpy, including relationships with Joe DiMaggio (Bobby Cannavale) and Arthur Miller (Adrien Brody), but it's her tragic abortions and miscarriages that really wreak havoc on her fragile mental health.  

Based on the highly fictionalized account of Monroe's life in the Joyce Carol Oates novel "Blonde," the film version recontextualizes nearly all the memorable moments of Monroe's career with the behind-the-scenes glimpses of her ongoing degradation and pain.  Getting her big break comes as a direct result of a dehumanizing sexual encounter.  "The Seven Year Itch" is paired with the dissolution of her marriage to DiMaggio.  "Some Like it Hot" signals her spiraling health and drug addiction.  As for her rumored relationship with John F. Kennedy, that's here too - an excruciating, humiliating affair that feels like it's punishing the viewer for thinking that a tryst between the two could have been anything other than another trauma for Marilyn.  Her awful childhood isn't something she overcomes or makes peace with, but what proves to be her undoing in the bitter, bitter end.

"Blonde" looks absolutely gorgeous, thanks to Chayse Irvin's cinematography, but it frequently feels like a horror movie, and at nearly three hours in length, it's terribly wearing.  The dreamlike tone is similar to Pablo Larrain's recent "Jackie" and "Spencer," except that Marilyn is never the hero of her own story, but a perpetual victim.  I like De Armas as Marilyn Monro - she has the right physicality and allure - but it is such an infantilized, frequently shell-shocked version of her that I couldn't help but recoil.  I respect Andrew Dominick's impulse to show the troubled woman behind the iconic image of Marilyn Monroe, but the Marilyn in "Blonde" is hardly closer to the truth, now made into an avatar of suffering and abuse.  There's no complexity to her, the film falling back on the absence of her father as the root of her psychological turmoil, and it's disturbing how often she seems to regress into a little girl.

It does achieve moments of beauty, and I appreciate how uncomfortable and unflinching some of the performances are, but "Blonde" doesn't do right by Marilyn Monroe, and that's a fundamental flaw.

  

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"Armageddon Time" and "Argentina 1985"

I haven't had the best luck with James Gray, who has always made very personal, specifically situated dramas.  However, "Armageddon Time" has been one that I've found hard to stop thinking about.  Taking place in the early 1980s, we follow Paul Graff (Banks Repeta), a Jewish sixth grader who lives in Queens with his tight-knit family and attends public school.  Paul acts out in class, and quickly becomes friends with a fellow troublemaker, Johnny (Jaylin Webb), who is African-American.  Almost from the start, Paul notices how the world treats the two of them differently.

There's such a heartbreaking simplicity to the film, charting Paul's loss of innocence and gradual disillusionment.  The film is set during the first election of Ronald Reagan and America's turn toward conservatism in the '80s.   Paul's parents (Anne Hathaway and Jeremy Strong), are financially comfortable, but constantly worried and hyper-aware that their situation could change.  Paul believes they're rich, until he leaves public school and is sent to private school, a far more privileged and homogenous environment.  Paul's loving grandfather (Anthony Hopkins) represents the immigrant generation that fled antisemitism in Europe.  He encourages Paul's artistic ambitions and counsels him to stand up against bigotry.  Paul, however, pretends he doesn't know Johnny when he shows up at Paul's new school, and when his parents notice Johnny hanging around the neighborhood.

I enjoyed the performances here, with everyone getting to play complex characters, each with their own troubles.  Banks Repeta in particular does very well with Paul's evolution from an insufferable brat into someone more sympathetic, as Paul becomes more self-aware and grapples with the guilt of his own complicity in the social order.  Gray treats him as thoroughly ordinary, despite Paul constantly being told that he has great promise and potential.  Part of the story's power is forcing the audience to acknowledge the vast gulf between what the adults say to Paul, and what their actual expectations of him are, mirroring their underlying values.  The filmmaking is spare, but indelible, with cinematography by Darius Khondji keeping the gloomy winter scenes picturesque.  There's nostalgia for the era apparent in some frames, but little sentiment.       

A more crowd pleasing film comes from Argentina and director Santiago Mitre.  "Argentina, 1985" is a courtroom drama covering the Trial of Juntas, which sought to prosecute the military leaders of the dictatorship that controlled the country during the Pinochet era.  Our heroes are the prosecuting team of Julio César Strassera (Ricardo Darin), a seasoned attorney, and younger upstart, Luis Moreno Ocampo (Peter Lanzani).  Unlike a lot of recent courtroom dramas, the focus of "Argentina, 1985" is the actual case and legal strategy.  Of course there are the usual fictions employed to drum up excitement and to make our protagonists more sympathetic, such as a few fictional family members for Strassera, but at no point do these dramatic devices ever distract from the larger story.  

It's impressive how such a rousing film can be born of such sobering subject matter.  The film eases us into the most intense and dramatic accounts of the juntas' crimes against humanity slowly.  The circumstances of the trial, and the struggles to put together a case take up most of the running time.  As a procedural, it's note perfect, with clearly defined objectives, an appealing gang of underdogs to root for, and emotionally charged material.  As a dramatization of a historical event, it's properly weighty and informative.  Not knowing much Argentine history didn't trip me up much at all, and I suspect the film might play better the less you know about the actual events.  Hearing the testimonies of the victims and survivors is incredibly moving, and the trial framework helps to add context and stakes.

"Argentina, 1985" plays out very much like a Hollywood courtroom drama, from back in the day when Hollywood still made courtroom dramas.  However, it grapples with so much Argentinian history and seeks to exorcize so many of the country's ghosts that I can't imagine that it could have been made by anyone but Argentinian filmmakers.  The performances and editing stand out, especially in the trial scenes where the lines are occasionally blurred between reality and fiction, recreating some of the footage that was broadcast on television.  And I appreciate the ending, which is not the fairytale ending where justice is done, but does allow a significant moral victory for the heroes, and a path forward for the country's psychic wounds to begin healing.       

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Exploring "1899"

Minor spoilers ahead.

I only know about Baran bo Odar and Jantje Friese's series "Dark" by reputation.  It's on my ever-expanding "to watch" list, but frankly the multi-generational, time-hopping premise is a little intimidating.  Their latest series, "1899," is more approachable.  It's a mystery show, about a steam ship in 1899, the Kerberos, which is carrying a diverse group of passengers from the UK to America.  Strange phenomena occur onboard, after they encounter a ghost ship, the Prometheus.

I've seen a lot of mystery box shows, and "1899" is one of the most ambitious.  There are well over a dozen major characters to keep track of, all speaking different languages, and frequently having trouble communicating with one another.  Most of the action revolves around a female doctor, Maura (Emily Beecham), who is onboard the Kerberos due to cryptic instructions from her missing brother.  There are many other passengers, whose pasts and identities are uncovered over the course of the season -  a family of Danish immigrants including the pregnant Tove (Clara Rosager), the haunted ship's captain, Eyk Larsen (Andreas Pietschmann), a stowaway, Jerome (Yann Gael), a newly married French couple, Lucien (Jonas Bloquet) and Clemence (Mathilde Ollivier), a Chinese woman, Ling Yi (Isabella Wei), in disguise as a Japanese geisha, a Polish stoker, Olek (Maciej Musial), and a Spaniard, Angel (Miguel Bernardeu) who is awfully intimate with the Portuguese priest, Ramiro (Jose Pimentao) that he's traveling with.  Expect a lot of subtitles.  

Then there are the two characters who aren't introduced with names - a solemn, silent boy (Fflyn Edwards) who is the only apparent survivor of the Prometheus, and a man in black (Aneurin Barnard), who climbs aboard the Kerberos at the end of the first episode, seemingly out of nowhere.  I immediately assumed that they were the same person from two different time periods (spoilers: they're not), because this is exactly the kind of show where we expect such metaphysical twistiness to take place.  Impossible and illogical things are constantly happening.  Comparisons to "Lost" are inevitable, since we're often not given direct explanations for why specific events occur.  However, the narrative never dwells on these elements for long, constantly juggling multiple storylines, characters, and POVs.  And how things are happening is never as important as why those things are happening.  

The show stands out because the premise is executed so well.  There's a simple and straightforward explanation for all the madness that you can probably guess long before the big reveal.  However, "1899" has excellent storytelling sensibilities, spending much more time setting up the characters and systematically working through all of their personal baggage, while the larger mystery is playing out.  Also, "1899" is never just about solving the mystery, but establishing the Kerberos as this microcosm of a society, with strictly delineated classes and rules, and then throwing the whole system into chaos.  The show starts fairly slowly, but the calamities and disasters are soon coming fast and furious after a few episodes, and the writers are good about featuring different characters.  If you don't care for Maura, you still might like to follow Tove or Clemence or Olek or the Captain through the story.    

I don't care much for the look of "1899," which is dark and gloomy and bleak.  For a show that relies so heavily on visuals, and with so much care put into the design elements - sinister triangles abound -  it's awfully insistent on staying as dreary as possible throughout.  It often reminds me of a horror themed video game, with its dim lighting and preoccupation with small tokens - keys, a medal, letters.  However, the show's creators are very adept at using the visuals in interesting ways, often ending episodes with inexplicable imagery. The first episode ends with the discovery of the boy, clutching an ominous black pyramid.  Strange tunnels keep appearing and disappearing, somehow leading to unnerving places from the characters' pasts.  Aurally, however, we run into some cultural missteps.  There's a preoccupation with anachronistic American pop music I thought was a bit much.

It took a while for "1899" to win me over, and will require some patience from genre fans.  It's far more of a historical drama initially than an action/adventure series or a thriller.  However, the extra time spent with the characters pays off nicely.  This was supposed to be a three season story, and we're left with an infuriating cliffhanger since the show was cancelled. However, enough answers are offered that I still found the trip worthwhile.    

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