I'm sure you've all heard the news: Heroes, the once-successful NBC series, has been cancelled. It appears that the network, after attempting to rehabilitate the crippled horse by injecting it with a sparkly new plot and a dirty old gypsy man, has finally put it to sleep, a move which was met with a collective sigh of relief from the millions of people who cried themselves to sleep after watching Claire be herself. Like that one dog (Old Yeller, or perhaps Balto), the series had run its due course; it was simply time to put it out of its misery. With a musket.
Like a great empire, this series at one time dominated the ratings, and its influence could be felt far and wide. Fans were breathless as they watched each new episode with great rapture and delight. But, as with Rome, cracks and fissures began to imperceptibly open in the inner workings of the system, slowly deepening and widening until the ruined superstructure, covered with vegetation was all that remained.
I for one appreciated the franchise in its inchoate stages: never mind that it was fairly refreshing to see a soap opera in prime-time, or that the producers brainstormed characters directly after finishing the X-Men trilogy; the show presented a beautiful kaleidoscope of narrative development and intrigue. It was a break from the status quo.
But, like any series nowadays (Lost), it spun out of control. It's all right, though, because NBC has replaced this fallen show with a brand-new one: The Cape.
That's right, punks.
The series, starting this year, features a cop. This cop was set up. Now he wants revenge (uncannily similar to Life, a series which held so much promise). And he'll get it, with the help of his FRIGGIN' SPIDER-SILK CAPE.
Shake in your boots, you vile and uncouth instruments of Babylon!
See for yourself:
Enough said. I have high expectations. I hope you can taste the sarcasm enclosed in that statement. No? Okay. Let me help you: when I said "I have high expectations," I was being sarcastic. Sometimes verbal irony in writing can be a little tricky.
I will bite the bullet and not entertain you all with a scathing philippic on the ridiculous resurrecting nature of Sylar and all the bloody irritation his character causes me; it would be alienating.
Today, I saw a man, whose ancient white beard was obviously his pride and joy, wearing a green T-shirt and riding a bicycle. It was the dearest thing I've seen.
So long, and thanks for reading.