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Riverdale, the CW soap opera that doubles as an adaptation of the alternate world Archie comics, recently finished his third season with a characteristic mix of stupidity and bravery. After a sinuous series of 22 episodes that have seen some of the strangest and strongest stories in the series (the cult hit of a role-playing game called Griffins & Gargoyles; Archie's Break) as well as some of his most tedious and inexplicable detours (Archie's boxing gig, Huge Hiram Lodge real estate shenanigans), the season finale ended, as is often the case. series, with a deadly teaser for what could happen.
After the sex reimagination of the series, Archie (KJ Apa), Jughead (Cole Sprouse), Veronica (Camila Mendes) and Betty (Lili Reinhart) survived a potentially fatal final session of their film. Dungeons & Dragons As a substitute, they gather at the local diner to toast the milkshake for their next senior year. They swear to no longer meddle with the murder mysteries of organ harvesting, and the series unfolds in a flash-forward in which Archie, Veronica and Betty burn their bloody clothes (blood and underwear). classic Riverdale!) and Jughead's cap. Jughead is obviously absent. While the quartet today promises to remain friends forever, three of their future futures agree to separate and never speak again.
Based on past seasons of Riverdale, this intriguing development will probably lead to a fourth season with wildly entertaining episodes with a mystery-black hue or mystery-horror, as well as many complicated scenarios that make little sense, little by little, episode after episode. Archie will do or say things that betray little understanding of the basic mechanics of high school. (In the third season, he seemed to think that the first year's program would be mainly direct preparation for the SAT.) Veronica's relationship with her father (does she want to destroy it? Do business with him? Make a truce? ) Will remain frustrating dark. Betty will do a detective job that will be tantamount to approaching suspects and asking them to confess. The faithful Rachel Talalay will direct some episodes with particularly striking use of inclined angles, soft lighting and abundant fog.
The erratic quality of the program can be an asset – greater coherence Riverdale It would probably also be more cautious and generic – but it can also be frustrating, because there is constantly a better show that hums underneath, which is more apt to reconcile the strangest, most daring and gruesome moments with a characterization less arbitrary. For each Cheryl Blossom, to whom actor Madelaine Petsch gives self-determination and panache, even her most extravagant behavior (like the looting of the tomb actually in the finale) seems plausible, there is a Kevin Keller (Casey Cott), who is likely to re-enter the corridors of Riverdale High next year, after siding with this organ-thieving cult and betraying some of his closest friends. The particular way Kevin was written in a corner is the disadvantage of the series. Even on a stylized teen soap opera, it's hard to get involved in characters constantly agitated by an absurd plot.
In fact, a movie that came out just weeks after the Riverdale finale of the season unexpectedly illustrated the difficult balance between increased hazelnut and the actual characterization that Riverdale often fails to hit. Tate Taylor's My is advertised as a stalker horror movie, and that is – to a certain extent. As Keith Phipps noted for The edge, the film is nervous about his racial politics and Taylor does not always maximize his suspense. Some passages in the film, from the comical malaise to the threat, are more shocking than frightening.
But one of the unexpected (and almost certainly unintentional) qualities of the story lies in the fact that its configuration is parallel to the previous one. RiverdaleThe world of The main character of Octavia Spencer, whose real name is Sue Ann, lives in the same small, underpopulated and overpopulated town as many of her former high school classmates. Like the adults in Riverdale, they remained stuck in their hometown and often had their own children. Erica (Juliette Lewis) was an exception, until she was not: the film begins on her reluctant return to town with her teenage daughter Maggie (Diana Silvers).
Maggie quickly joins a group of popular children who ask Sue Ann to buy them alcohol. She accepts and ends up becoming a sort of haven for the group, allowing them to drink and party in her basement, with justifications from a cool mom. (If they're going to drink, she says, they prefer to do it where they will be safe.) But "Ma," as the kids call them, is more lonely and less fit than she is. do not let it appear. As Keith points out, the film plays a bit like a variation of Carrie; Taylor bursts even a dioptric shot of type Brian De Palma at one point. However, even if the film's fiery moments are very amusing, they are more effective because they are counterpoints to the characters who feel inhabited.
In the middle of the film, a small moment sounds particularly well: Maggie talks with her new boyfriend when she hears her mother arrive at home after work. Maggie rushes out of the couch and enters the kitchen to recover by pretending to have a drink while her boyfriend shows up. The trick is half convincing, but as Erica enters the room and takes stock, she quietly but deliberately takes two pillows that were thrown to the ground during the couple's preparatory session and puts them back on the couch. She wants her daughter to see that she has not been fooled, but does not want to make a scene. It's hard to imagine Riverdale manage a similar moment without forcing a confrontation on stilts and nowhere.
All along MyEven in its most chaotic and pulpy passages, such details are reflected in observable stenography rather than awkward exposure. Dialogue between adolescents is credible rather than amplified. Sure RiverdaleVeronica begins each conversation with a series of pop culture references from the '80s and' 90s that are strangely similar to those of a thirty-something television writer.
This referentiality is part of RiverdaleDNA, and it's not a bad thing. The Archie Comics-meet-Twin peaks Logline is irresistible, even though few things on the show are really lynchian. But seeing My recall horror classics (and others Riverdale reference points) as Carrie and Halloween underlines to what extent some of these RiverdaleTributes can be. Riverdale recently broke a live Jawbreaker tribute, a beautifully deep cut that nevertheless felt redundant in a season that also featured a Heathers musical episode. If the show is already all-all one Heather, why take the time to pay tribute to an empty scam like Jawbreaker, except to recall that some people inexplicably consider this film as a cult classic?
Of course, My is just a movie. He only needs to maintain his characters and sense of place for 90 minutes (or about the length of two Riverdale episodes). Nevertheless, seeing a genre film that addresses the class, generational conflicts and quirks of small towns with this clever base makes it more difficult to apologize. RiverdaleThe fragile sense of character. Octavia Spencer does a lot of odd things in his horror car without sacrificing the sad inner logic of his character. Even when My goes into horror mode, the film gives the impression of working with its performance and not against all natural instincts.
On the positive side, the path My overcoming one's own weaknesses to combine the madness of the genre with a plausible characterization provides an unlikely hope for Riverdale. Maybe a wiser and less scattershot version of the series could still emerge from the fog of small towns.
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