Thanks, I hate it.
Alright, American Horror Story, we need to have a talk.
Because it’s clear you’re in a bad place right now. You’re acting out for attention – we’ve all been there, trust me, here, come sit down and have this tea I made for you. I’m worried. We’re all worried. I just want to talk.
“Is it really that bad?” My partner asked me this morning, as I was moaning about having to watch and write about another episode of this season.
“Yes,” I replied emphatically, angrily scratching behind the cat’s ears.
“Worse than Coven?” He replied, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Worse than everything.”
Okay, so in this greatest-hits season, we’re finally getting around to some of the songs I can actually sing along to: in Return to Murder House, Emma Roberts and Billy Porter roll back the clock to season one to figure out what the hell has been going on with Michael Langdon, starting with a visit to his original home, the Murder House from the first season. And I loved this season, I really did, so this should have been a win for me. And yet…
Look. I’m trying with this season, I really am. I’m trying not to let my disdain for Coven get in the way of what could be a fun, goofy season, I’m trying not to let this convoluted mega-plot undercut the episode-by-episode entertainment. But this week’s episode, Boy Wonder, a sequel to last week’s outing, was a genuine slog, and I’m starting to wonder if this greatest-hits season has anything to offer but sheer indulgence.
If there was one word I had to use to describe this season so far, it would be “cavernous”. And that’s not just a reference to the enormous mansion where most of the action of these last two episodes has taken place (kudos to the gorgeous cinematography for conveying that dizzying sense of space, especially in this week’s outing), but because there still feels like a lot of dead space in this story.
Ah, yes, we’re back: another season of TV’s bizzaro sideshow act, American Horror Story. And this is a show that I will always come to with great interest, because, no matter how bad it’s gotten (and it’s been bad), there is always something there to keep me engaged: the camp, the gore, the gleeful evil, the talented actors, the magic direction. I’ve reviewed the last couple of seasons (Roanoke and Cult), and really enjoyed writing about them week to week, because trying to make sense of this screeching mess of a show is just – well, it’s the kind of pointlessly difficult task I like to throw myself into for my own masochistic sense of self-brutality. This season, Apocalypse, brings together seasons one and three, with the promise of a post-apocalyptic nightmare drenched in Ryan Murphy’s inimitable sense of camp horror fun (oh, and since you’re obviously the kind of deviant who would be into that kind of thing if you’re here reading these recaps, check out ALPHA FEMALE, my new femdom erotica series that’s available for download right now!)