All week at Comic-Con, I’ve been trying to provide a post each evening covering the highlights of the day (Day One and Day Two). I’d known all along however, that I would probably fail at trying to complete one Saturday night. I was right.

That being said, now that it is Sunday evening and the con has come to a close, I can take the time to fill you in on the goings on of the last two days. Sunday is always the worst day at Comic-Con, primarily because it marks the end of the experience. It is a little tough knowing that next year’s convention doesn’t start for 360 days.

But enough of me whining; let’s get to the awesomeness of the last couple of days:

• Saturday morning was always going to be one of the best moments of the con, and reality lived up to the hype. Keith and I lucked into – I say “luck” due to the wonkiness of the NerdHQ ticketing process, and the fact that only 250 seats were available – tickets to the Joss Whedon event (part of NerdHQ’s very cool “Conversations for a Cause” series).
• The awesomeness of the Q&A was set right from the beginning. Zach Levi – the leader of all things NerdHQ – came out on stage to “host” the panel … but revealed to the audience via pantomime that he either had no voice left or needed to protect what little he had left for his Broadway gig. No worries; he asked a pal of his to step in, and out walks Nathan Fillion.
• I’d imagine that an hour with Joss would be great enough in and of itself. As you would expect, he is a genuinely funny, insightful and all around swell guy. But throw Fillion on stage with him, and you have struck gold. You can check out the video here.
• Quick Draw! and Cartoon Voices are two Comic-Con staples that most attendees – specifically those only coming for film and TV related content – would probably miss. Both are hilarious, and have truly become can’t-miss panels for me (The table read of Snow White during Cartoon Voices was worth the price of admission alone).
• Next I attended a series of TV panels: Person of Interest, Grimm and Revolution. All were great; I loved the camaraderie the Grimm cast showed, the smart “marketing” by the POI folks to play up the Prism controversy (and the announcement that Amy Acker was joining the cast full-time) and the fact that the folks from Revolution weren’t afraid to actually share some of the details of the upcoming season (Check out my live-tweeting of that and other panels at @CliqueClackTV).
• Saturday night ended with the NBC Party, which is always a good time. This I spent more time catching up with colleagues that write for other outlets than mingling with the talent; it is always good to catch up with friends you only see once or twice year. (We were going to go to the Serenity screening at NerdHQ, but it wound up being much less Fillion&Tudyk-y than we’d hoped)
• Sunday was a nice, quiet affair. Keith got a killer scoop in the Supernatural press room, while Michael and I screened the next episode of Under the Dome with the cast.

So ended another Comic-Con. It was a good trip, marked by doing more of what I would find fun rather than attending events specifically for the site. Each year, I refine that process a little, and will probably try a completely different approach next time around (Just like this year). I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how much fun I had palling around all week with my buddies Michael Noble and Keith McDuffee, as well as seeing a bunch of old friends like Kelly, CJ, Carissa, Alix, Jason and Amrie. Our Comic-Con experience is about so much more than what happens at the Convention Center.

Normally when a show reaches the midway point of its freshman season, it’s already hit its stride. It takes a while to establish the characters and get all of the necessary backstory and exposition out of the way so that the audience understands the direction the overall story is taking. The first few episodes introduce the main players, the antagonistic forces and set up the world these characters inhabit. And, typically, those first few episodes are the weakest of all the episodes of a series’ run because the writers are still finding their voices, the actors haven’t fully embodied the characters they are playing yet, and the show as a whole hasn’t found its audience.

Usually it is around the sixth or seventh episode when things start turning around … the actors are comfortable with their characters, the writers are writing for that character that the actor “created,” and we as the audience know what to expect by the rules of the world that were established in the pilot and preliminary episodes. We no longer need to be spoon fed information because we understand the characters and the stories the writers are trying to tell.

I, like probably most people reading this, am a fan of the shows and films that Joss Whedon creates. Buffy the Vampire Slayer became a cultural phenomenon. I really enjoyed the show because of the characters and clever writing, but I wasn’t an instant fan. The first few episodes were not that good. The characters were thin, the dialogue a little rough, and they introduced the idea of other monsters, not just vampires, which I found confusing given that the title clearly stated “vampire slayer,” not “equal opportunity monster slayer.” Really, who goes back and watches the episode with the giant praying mantis?

But eventually I was won over once the writers and actors got into their groove and started presenting better stories (and I realized the other monsters were a necessity since watching Buffy just dust vamps each week would get tired). The turning point was after the episodes “The Pack” and “Angel” (coincidentally, episodes 6 and 7), where the characters started feeling more real, they introduced Principal Snyder (an antagonistical force for multiple seasons) and we learn that Angel is, in fact, a vampire (sorry for the spoiler). From this point, the relationships between the characters developed, making them multidimensional, the story-line moved towards the inevitable climax with the Master and the show became much more entertaining. The writers took that time in the first few episodes to flesh out the characters, establish the rules, and set the stage for the remainder of the season and seasons to come.

But here we are at the mid-season finale and Revolution is still floundering around in that murky episode 3 zone. The characters are one dimensional, the dialogue is on-the-nose and the story-lines rarely make logical sense. You can get away with plot holes early on if you take the audience to an interesting place later, but Revolution has taken us from the Midwest all the way to Philadelphia and still managed to underwhelm almost every step of the way.

I mentioned in another post how I felt the writers missed an opportunity when they showed Miles single-handedly taking out a dozen militiamen in the pilot episode. It diffused any sense that Miles would struggle on the group’s quest to rescue Danny … and so far, they have rarely struggled. A key aspect of storytelling is conflict, and time and time again Revolution confuses sword fighting and musket fire with real conflict. Conflict and drama only exist when there’s someone or something stopping the protagonist from reaching their goal. But if the antagonist is easily defeated, then there’s no tension, no question if they’ll achieve their mission and as a result no real conflict. Each weekly “mission” involved Miles warning Charlie how the obstacle-of-the-week was insurmountable, but each week they easily defeat said obstacle and move on to the next one. The barge where they brainwashed children into joining the militia, according to Miles, was a fortress designed to be impenetrable, until they needed to penetrate it and then there were only seven guards running it and they easily kill them all and escape. Then there was Strausser, the sadistic torturer (and implied rapist), sent to track Miles and the gang and get the pendant. Not only does Miles get the upper hand over Strausser (the only reason he doesn’t kill him is because he’s out of bullets and has to flee before reinforcements show up) but later Rachel, using all 110lbs of her strength, overpowers Strausser (in a fist fight!) and stabs him in the chest. And finally the R&D facility where Monroe is building his pendant amplifier which will give him power over all the military weapons he’s been stockpiling – probably the most important aspect of his entire regime – and Miles and Nora are able to sneak in the back door. Plus the guards stationed at the facility are on the inside of the walls, not patrolling outside the perimeter (where they’d see Aaron waiting with pipe bombs) … it makes no logical sense, it’s too easy for the characters, and what it comes down to is lazy writing.

But the biggest issue, I feel, is Revolution’s inability to create a connection between the audience and its characters. We can’t empathize with these characters because there is never a sense that they are in any danger. Even in dire situations the characters never show a hint of panic. When Neville captures Charlie and the gang (sans Miles) at good ole Kip’s place, Charlie smirks and makes some witty retort in response to Neville’s threat. She’s not scared of him, so why should we (the audience) worry about her safety. We know Miles will eventually bust in, swords a-blazing, and save her because that is what the pilot episode taught us … this group is invincible. Compare this to the kidnap and interrogation of Maggie from the final episodes of The Walking Dead. In both scenarios, the writers want to show that these females characters are trying to appear strong despite their situation. But how uneasy did you feel when the Governor ordered Maggie to disrobe as he encircled her in her interrogation? She stood her ground, didn’t cower to his demands to tell him where the others are hiding, but she was definitely scared. Maggie knew at any moment the Governor could snap and kill her. As a result, we were also scared and anxious at what may happen to Maggie and as a result we felt a connection to her.

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Thanks to the Mayans and their inability to create an infinite calendar, our obsession with postulating the “end of the world” has increased over the past few years, exemplified by all the movies and television series exploring that premise. Whether it’s a giant meteor, a zombie-inducing outbreak, or just some nerds with magic necklaces who stop electricity from flowing, Hollywood keeps coming up with ways to thrust humanity into a battle against global extermination. As an audience, we are fascinated watching the portrayal of how these characters adapt to extreme situations while imagining how we would cope after surviving such a massive global change.

While Revolution and The Walking Dead have drastically different premises, they both present a world where society has crumbled and people are forced to rebuild. I’ve voiced my concerns regarding Revolution’s focus on mythology over storytelling, but it wasn’t until I caught up on this season of TWD that I realized why Revolution has bothered me so much — because it can be done well (as TWD has proven), but they just keep following the path of the cliché.

Revolution gets flack for its ridiculous abuse of science and/or common sense; and I am right there with the critics <cough — magic necklace — cough>. But, how realistic is a zombie apocalypse? Why don’t people complain about the science of TWD? Because we are too wrapped up in those characters’ journeys to care how or why people have turned into “walkers”; we just want to watch Rick and the group fight for survival.

TWD develops its characters very well. Sure, it started with the typical search for a lost wife and son, which is a clichéd way to create empathy for Rick, but it quickly reunited the family-creating drama while fleshing out his character as well as Shane and Laurie. Revolution started in much the same way, with Charlie on a rescue mission for her brother. But the drive and desperation which compelled Rick to track his family seems watered down for Charlie. Her determination to find Danny appears to surface only when there’s a lull in the other subplots. And Charlie’s side journeys, while intended to make her a more dimensional character, keep hitting the same morality, one-dimensional note.

What it comes down to is believability. Does the characters’ behavior make sense given the circumstances they are put in, regardless of the plausibility of those situations? TWD fleshes out its characters and makes the audience want to suspend their disbelief; we are willing to believe zombies could exist because we want to see how these characters adapt to this new world. Now, some complained about the slow pace of season two of TWD and that the show focused too much on the characters instead of the zombie attacks that made the first season so engrossing. While I agree that some of the episodes felt longer than others, I would argue that they should have had more character development in the beginning of the season, especially with the relationship between Sophia and Carl, in order for the reveal at the end to have more impact. So much time (and so little action) took place between the time Sophia went missing and when they ultimately discovered her fate, that it took me a moment to realize the gravity of that scene (and recognize the character).

And while I feel that they slightly missed the mark on that aspect of season two, they hit it out of the park in regards to character development. The slow and inevitable decline of Shane into madness mirrored brilliantly with Rick’s transformation from idealistic believer into realistic survivor could not have been done in only one or two episodes. People don’t change instantly, they adapt over time. You still recognize the Rick from season one even now in the prison, but he’s not the same man. The choices he’s made, the actions he’s taken, have pushed him in a different direction.

Revolution tries to show this depth, but they keep rushing these realizations instead of letting them play out over time. With another LOST-esque flashback, we discover that Neville, before the blackouts, was weak and timid. But we learn this in such an over-the-top, cartoony way it was like they came up with every example of weakness and decided to use them all: menial job, domineering younger boss who fires him, and an insolent neighbor blaring music throughout the night, all of which shows how disrespected Neville feels. The next flashback is six weeks after the blackout when Neville’s brazen neighbor breaks in to raid their home. Six weeks of absolute chaos, but Neville still timidly tries to reason with the neighbor, and there is no hint that the past few weeks have toughened him up. It’s only when the neighbor strikes, pummeling him in front of his son, that Neville channels the strength of George McFly and fights back. He destroys the neighbor and rises up into a ridiculous Orsen Wells/Touch of Evil upward angle shot, displaying his instant transformation from weakling to conqueror. I almost expected him to pull his John Lennon circle sunglasses off the now crippled neighbor so that the audience in the cheap seats could really see that was the moment weak Tommy became Neville. But it’s too quick. You don’t get in one fight and instantly become a badass. As was stated in Giancarlo’s far better series, Breaking Bad, “just because you shot Jesse James, doesn’t make you Jesse James.” Revolution needs to slow down and let their characters adapt rather than completely change directions.

No scene better exemplifies the success of character development than the opening sequence of season three of TWD. There is no exposition, no dialogue, just ten people storming a house looking for a safe haven. The scene is brilliant. It tells the story of the last seven months without saying a word, and they could not have pulled that off if they hadn’t fully developed the characters in the previous two seasons.  It doesn’t hurt that the actors on TWD are all amazing and believable, but without the strong writing leading up to that scene I don’t think it would have resonated with audiences the way it did.

Revolution has the potential to break out of its clichéd funk and build a world with strong characters. I hope that they do, because I want to watch scripted series like it, instead of 23 different singing competitions. But character is the key, so if they can develop the core characters, there may be a time when even I am willing to believe in magic necklaces … maybe.

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What would happen if today’s world was suddenly thrown back to the hardships of the Industrial Revolution? The premise of NBC’s new series, Revolution, poses an intriguing question about mankind’s ability to adapt to sudden change. The latest LOST clone develops and then wastes that high concept idea, hoping rather to draw viewers in with a confusing mythology involving magical USB necklaces and apparently un-aging, post-apocalyptic survivors.

We can’t blame LOST for the recent surge of high concept, low execution series to premiere (and get cancelled) on prime time television. LOST started strong, establishing its characters and developing the central question of what would happen if you crashed on a deserted island. But people don’t remember that first, amazing season of LOST that focused more on the mystery of the plane crash survivors and only peppered in the mystery of the island. They remember the DHARMA initiative, pushing the button, that Richard Alpert never ages (and then later try to forget the donkey wheel, time travel, and a pointless final season flash sideways). It’s the “mythology” that LOST is remembered for, and that mythology is often associated with the show’s success. But the show’s initial focus on character created mystery without mythology. It was only after those core characters were established and viewers were drawn in and connected to them that they threw in every possible reference to literature, Greek mythology, and string theory to keep people asking questions the following morning at the water cooler. TV executives see LOST and think that a grandiose mythology was the key to its success, so they develop ideas around a mythology instead of focusing on the basics of storytelling.

This is where Revolution (and FlashForward, The Event, etc.) ultimately fails. The show is so enamored with the mythology that it forgets to develop the characters that populate its world. It mistakenly thinks that if the mythology is mysterious enough, that people will watch. But, if you don’t care about the characters, then you spend the time you would be empathizing with their situation questioning all the problems with the show. And this show needs a lot of belief suspension to really enjoy it. Why has it taken 15 years to harness steam power? Why are all the militia people wearing civil war uniforms and speaking in bad southern accents? How do computers, powered locally by magical necklaces, send messages between one another if the magic necklace has a limited range?

We should care that Charlie’s father is murdered and her brother kidnapped, but these characters are so thinly painted that it’s hard to feel sympathy for her situation. Charlie suffers from the Hunger Games conundrum (and not just because of the crossbow). Charlie is a girl who grew up in a post-apocalyptic world surrounded by death, danger and desperation, but regardless of the hard life she inevitably faced, somehow she still acts like a naïve schoolgirl when the plot requires it. Her brother, Danny, is clever enough to continually escape his captors, but too slow to make a clean getaway and is immediately re-captured (and is so forgettable that even the search party trying to rescue him gets continually sidetracked). This exemplifies a bigger issue with the show’s overall storytelling style or lack thereof: they don’t know how to build suspense. As soon as Danny gets away, the militia finds him … there’s no question of whether or not he’ll get away, will they hunt him down, what happens if Charlie shows up and Danny isn’t with the militia; it just ends up being a way to fill screen time. Danny runs away, commercial break, Neville catches him, cut back to Charlie whining.

This lack of suspense is even worse in regards to Uncle Miles. In the pilot episode, the show builds up Miles as a killing machine, but what would be great, story-wise, would be to initially downplay that aspect of his character. Show him talking his way out of problems while oozing with confidence because he knows he could easily get the upper hand.  Instead, they introduce him with the most ridiculous fight scene in which Civil War Jack Bauer — I mean Miles — takes out a dozen militia soldiers single-handedly with just a sword. Well, there’s no tension anymore and no reason to worry about this guy’s safety (or Charlie’s) … he cannot be killed or captured; he is basically invincible. Luckily the show cast Billy Burke, so Miles is at least a fun character to watch, especially when he calls out Charlie for her inexplicable behavior.

And the poor execution continues. Charlie convinces Miles not to kill a murderous bounty hunter, C. Thomas Howell, and before the audience can worry about the repercussions of Miles’ mercy, Howell has captured Charlie and threatens Miles (I think it’s literally the next scene after being tied up that Howell returns to get the drop on them). They obviously brought in Howell to be a main antagonist, so this will be an ongoing battle for the rest of the … no wait … Miles breaks free and immediately kills Howell (hopefully his Amazing Spider-Man residuals are good). They even kill off one of the main search party characters, but she was so underused — and her relationships to the other characters so superficially developed — that the audience had no connection with her, resulting in a meaningless death scene. Oh, and Charlie’s dead mother is still alive and being held captive by Monroe.  That should be a great reveal, but it happened so quickly and awkwardly that it created no real tension. There is a difference between posing a question and creating genuine curiosity.

Revolution fails to create that curiosity. Hopefully now that the show has been renewed for a second season (Edit: Earlier news sources have retracted that news from NBC), the writers will feel confident enough to let their stories develop naturally, build suspense and dimensionalize their characters. Unless the blackout prevented that as well.

Last July, I was at the NBC party during Comic-Con in San Diego.

Keith and Ivey were with me, getting their picture taken with a famous monkey. I had on a kicking little outfit. Cast members from the show Community were being interviewed by a video crew in a corner. The food and drinks were flowing. I got a free beverage from the helpful barstaff and decided to stroll around.

The crowd was thick and someone bumped me, lurching me into the guy behind me. It was  Silas Weir Mitchell, making an appearance for his show Grimm. He kindly righted me on my feet, shook my hand and asked how I was doing. By the time I murmured that I was fine and thanked him, he had already disappeared into the throng.

Silas wasn’t a hard actor to recognize. If you watch Grimm, you know he’s a unique looking person. Usually I’m pretty good at spotting actors. At this particular party, they stood out like snow flurries in the California night, placed there by their network to talk with press and fans alike.

I stopped to watch David Guintoli (Nick Burkhardt), who was being swarmed by women. I chuckled to myself that these chicks (who were by no means fat) had at least thirty pounds and three inches of height on David, who’s a teeny little guy with a huge Cyclops head. I’m now convinced, watching the new season of Grimm, that the director shoots David from that upwards camera angle to add some proportion to him and make him seem a bit stronger.

Sorry, David. No offense.

Anyway, right about now I was craving a cigarette. (Yeah, yeah. Take your lecture somewhere else for the purpose of my story, please.) The only problem being that with my cute little outfit, the only option was to carry a clutch bag.

I know you girls are with me, but for those of you of the male type persuasion let me just say? You can’t fit much into these things.

I had my ID (in case I got murdered in this foreign city) my press pass, some cash and that’s it.

So I had to look around the balcony of the Hard Rock and find myself someone generous.

There he was. Standing relatively in the middle of the crowd minding his own business. He was tall and I placed him at a few years older than me, and he was exceedingly swarthy looking. He was puffing away and checking out the crowd with an amused expression on his face. Not a sassy look exactly. He seemed approachable.

I’ve run through my share of those when I was pursuing acting, and when I was in college. But sometimes jonesing for something is more important than your emotional comfort. So I went you to him and asked if he’d mind lending me a smoke I’d never return.

He smiled and pulled one out of his pack. He apologized that they were menthol. I said that beggars can’t be choosers and thanked him. We stood and looked around the party.  I started some small talk. I’m waaay good at small talk.

We agreed the San Diego night was pretty. We agreed the food was fine. And at sometime around this point, we started getting interrupted by people who pulled this man aside and said things I could barely make out.

Who am I kidding? I pretended I wasn’t listening, but I was.

And I heard things like, “I love you, you’re the best. I’m so glad you took a moment to talk. Good luck.”

When he turned back to me, I said to him, “Hmm, you’re obviously an actor. But I’m sorry to say I don’t know from where.”

He laughed and replied that it didn’t matter. We started trading acting stories — talking about how difficult and gut-wrenching auditions are, and what a thick skin you need to have to handle the rejections. I mentioned I had all but left the business because of that very fact, that for me writing about it seemed a lot safer.

And here’s the part I thought you’d like to know: I asked him if he minded being interrupted during private conversations like we were having right then.

He said not at all. He told me that he had a new show starting soon and that he relished the idea of getting feedback from the audience. After being an actor for so long, he felt he’d finally hit it, and he went on to say he was going to enjoy the ride for all it was worth. Because he never knew when he might be out of work again.

We wrapped things up after that. More and more people were wanting his attention. But as I walked away I remember wishing good things for him. It’s not often you meet an actor that humble, grateful and honest.

Ivey told me later that the guy I had met was Billy Burke, from the then-upcoming fall show Revolution, on NBC among other things. (If you are currently squealing and wetting your pants in frustration at me — sorry. I’m not a fan of the Twilight movies.)

I guess I’m not so good at spotting actors.

Since then, I’ve checked out Billy’s show. It’s not the kind of thing I’d normally watch if I hadn’t have met him. It’s an interesting premise, though, and Billy does a respectable job in his role.

I’ve found myself hoping the show does well and sticks around for awhile.

If for no other reason?

Than Billy.

Who’s a nice guy.

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