These "Leftovers" Are Worth Saving

When HBO's "The Leftovers" ended its three-season run last week, I was instantly overwhelmed by a variety of silent, internal reactions. I actually needed time to process what it did or didn't mean, which hasn't happened to me in a long time. It's rare that a TV show can make you think so deeply and feel so intimately about a diverse group of characters in a world not so different from our own. "The Leftovers" gave us television at its profound best, showing that The End can be a new beginning, and sometimes the world does change with a whimper instead of a bang.

"The Leftovers" is based on the 2011 novel by Tom Perrotta, who co-created the show with "Lost" producer Damon Lindelof and also co-wrote several episodes. The series follows the experiences of a small town after a mysterious event known as the Sudden Departure (akin to the biblical Rapture) causes 2% of the world's population, roughly 140 million people, to vanish. Among those left behind, a cop, a preacher, a therapist, a cult member, and a special investigator are trying in vain to comprehend the scope of what happened, both in their lives and in the world around them.

In doing so, we are treated to one of the most nuanced, incisive portraits of human nature that mass media has offered to date. As these characters are tested physically, mentally, emotionally, and yes, spiritually, they prove what they are truly made of. Their choices are never as black-and-white as the path of least resistance or the road less traveled. We're forced to honestly reflect right along with them about what we would do in the same situations.

Thankfully, despite the subject matter, it was never all doom and gloom on "The Leftovers." Brief moments of levity, often landing on the side of dark humor, made the characters' responses to their plight that much more believable. Right up until the very last episode, which found a character writing a preemptive obituary with Mad Libs, the series knew that humanity is always drawn to even the faintest of light when faced with the darkest of times.

The show was also wise to avoid any specific religious alignment or affiliation, making it accessible to the audience and helping them relate within their respective worldviews. Instead, it chose to revel in a caliber of interfaith debate that is seldom featured in the allegedly godless realm of entertainment, presenting every side of the issues at hand but letting the characters (and viewers) find their own truths. Those answers, like the series itself, were a slow-burning miracle to behold.

In its final season, set around a milestone anniversary of the Departure, "The Leftovers" achieved a remarkable feat. Over the concluding eight episodes, each character was provided with genuine closure without watering down its meaning or beating us over the head with symbolism. A deceptively simple score evokes their struggles, alternating between melancholy strings and a few haunting notes on a single piano. These complex, multifaceted people earn their resolutions on their own terms, for better or for worse... which is exactly how life is supposed to play out in the real world, but it never seems to happen that way in the neat little bows of happily-ever-after fictional worlds.

Unlike other shows that incorporate apocalyptic plot devices, "The Leftovers" dispatches its action and suspense in the penultimate episode, dovetailing into the quiet eloquence of its brilliant, challenging finale. Rather than wasting its last installment on a more obvious character -- like Kevin, the heroic (potentially messianic) police officer, played by Justin Theroux -- the closing chapter revolves around key ensemble player Nora, the special investigator who lost her husband and her two children in the Departure.

As expertly portrayed by series MVP Carrie Coon (who unquestionably deserves Emmy recognition this year), Nora was arguably the most skeptical of all the characters; not just about the events surrounding the Departure, but also about people's motives in its wake. Seeing her journey come full-circle, in an electrifying monologue that gave me chills and moved me to tears, was one of the most satisfying dramatic moments in recent broadcast history, cable or otherwise. It's a bravura performance in a beautifully crafted hour of television that does everything you need it to while being nothing that you expected.

As the gospel according to Perrotta and friends, "The Leftovers" reminds us that it doesn't really matter what happens to us or why, but rather who chooses to persevere and how. There is powerful poetry in the show's final shot, reinforcing a message that the series sometimes subtly and sometimes overtly adhered to from day one: hope. It's a redemptive statement that our world -- whether we're living at the beginning, the middle, or the end -- is in dire need of believing right now.

Perry Becomes An Unreliable "Witness"

I have a love-hate relationship with Katy Perry's songs. For every high like the wistful longing of "Teenage Dream," the sweeping grandeur of "Unconditionally," or the righteous anger of "Circle The Drain" (still her career-best track), there are lows like the cloying "Birthday," the grating ode to poor choices in "Last Friday Night," or the Velveeta-worthy cheese of "Waking Up In Vegas." She doesn't have the most durable voice or range, but at least it's unique and distinctive. If nothing else, you can always tell who's singing and occasionally feel compelled to hum along.

It was encouraging to see how involved Perry became in last year's presidential election, helping with voter registration and supporting vital platforms. To me, it showed that she does indeed care about the messages she sends and wants to use her influence to make a difference. I was hoping that same passionate fire would fuel her latest album, "Witness," for which she unveiled a dramatic hair and style makeover reminiscent of early Annie Lennox. Could this be the album that legitimizes Perry as a real artist rather than another generic superstar? Just like the outcome of that election, I was woefully mistaken.

Don't let the striking, avant-garde cover art fool you; "Witness" represents nothing radical among the trappings of mainstream pop. Whatever profound insights that Perry gleaned from her work on the campaign trail are buried by simply rehashing the same musical trends that are suffocating Top 40 as we know it. There's a fine line between catchy and carbon-copy, but nothing here is even remotely contagious.

Along with lead single "Chained To The Rhythm," songs like "Power" and "Hey Hey Hey" are well-intentioned anthems that urge wake-up calls. Unfortunately, as with the majority of the album's tracks, their impact gets lost among heavily processed vocals that scrub what's left of the personality right out of her voice. Add unmemorable sing-songy arrangements and inconsistent genre choices, and you get an auditory recipe for disaster. "Witness" attempts to span a spectrum of styles, but by trying to be a jane of all trades, Perry is a mistress of none.

Bigger isn't always better, and though it may be too much to ask from the queen of the whipped cream-launching bra, subtlety would be welcome. "Bon Appetit" is borderline embarrassing with its clumsy sex-as-food metaphors as well as lyrics so amateurish that I can't even bring myself to include an example. "Save As Draft" awkwardly inserts technological slang into an otherwise earnest ballad, while "Tsunami" shamelessly recycles overused oceanic wordplay. Even the title track isn't about Perry as a messenger of change, but rather her search for one to help complete herself -- fundamentally undermining the feminist label that she has previously aspired to achieve. With very little to save the album from itself, each of the 15 songs are locked in a tie for last place.

My primary concern with "Witness" (and Perry's career trajectory in general) is that she doesn't know what she wants to do. Is she pop ("Roulette")? R&B ("Pendulum")? Adult contemporary ("Miss You More")? Electronic ("Deja Vu")? Or even gospel ("Bigger Than Me")? Plenty of albums have been musically diverse, but without an individualized core statement to anchor it, this particular collection drifts aimlessly. It's an identity crisis that endangers any hope of her being taken more seriously than just another commercial success story. By actually lowering herself to include the diss track "Swish Swish" (her latest volley in a petty feud with fellow unremarkable siren Taylor Swift), Perry proves she's no better than her contemporaries. 

This misstep wouldn't be such a disappointment if it weren't coming from the same singer who, once upon a time, inspired so many people to "Roar." On "Witness," the best that Perry can hope for is an unenthusiastic hiss. Better luck next time, Katy!

More Heroes Need This Sense Of "Wonder"

Stop the presses! After missing the mark with each new entry since Christopher Nolan's superlative "Dark Knight" trilogy, DC Comics can breathe a sigh of relief. In "Wonder Woman," their extended cinematic universe has finally gotten one right, restoring my faith in what a superhero movie can be and should be.

The visual aesthetic and stylized cinematography are notably similar to the recent DC titles -- for the sake of brand consistency, that likely won't change in any subsequent outings -- but the tone here is nowhere near as bleak or as gritty. "Wonder Woman" puts the brain and the heart back into the genre, reflecting the values of comic books' patriotic and humanitarian roots. The movie itself is something of a wonder. It achieves that elusive but ideal balance of entertainment and edification: action-packed but not repetitive, funny but not corny, and touching but not sappy. By placing its story and its characters ahead of the special effects and the battle sequences (don't worry, there are still plenty of both), this movie succeeds where its DC predecessors and other contemporary franchises have failed. "Wonder Woman" is the unwavering hero (and film) that the world needs right now.

Diana, the princess of the mythical Amazons who is destined to become Wonder Woman, leaves the sanctuary of her peaceful island kingdom when she discovers the horrors of World War I that are raging outside her paradise. This mingling of Greek mythology and historical fiction provides a ripe setting for Diana to flourish as a person of substance as well as a symbol of noble duty. The philosophical core of the film is her struggle to reconcile the nature of good and evil among mankind without sacrificing her message of hope. As Diana, Gal Gadot's fleeting minutes of screen time in "Batman v Superman: Dawn Of Justice" easily stole the show from its titular heroes, thanks to her magnetic confidence and commanding screen presence. "Wonder Woman" is unquestionable proof that she is capable of carrying an entire film.

Gadot infuses Diana with a perfect blend of intelligence, empathy, and courage that transcends her physical prowess. At no point does she become secondary to her male co-star (Chris Pine, finally showing some dramatic range). This is Diana's story through and through, aimed directly at all of the people in the audience -- men and women alike -- who cheered and applauded as she honorably vanquished her foes. Pay attention, Hollywood: viewers are overdue for positive representation of this magnitude. In an industry plagued by sexism, the merits and the success of "Wonder Woman" have the potential to turn the tide in generating more female-oriented mainstream filmmaking.

Thankfully, my biggest fear about the movie ended up being unfounded. Under the watchful eye of competent writer Allan Heinberg and assured director Patty Jenkins, Diana's body and abilities are never exploited or fetishized. The full reveal of the Wonder Woman costume takes its time to arrive, but it isn't a sexualized moment; rather, it's an empowering one that gave me genuine goosebumps. The thematic statement, as she dons this armor to defend her core beliefs on the front lines of a literal war zone, is undeniably profound. You won't find this level of emotional resonance in woman-fronted but ultimately lifeless (pun intended) action series like "Resident Evil" or "Underworld."

With the ensemble opus "Justice League" due in November, I sincerely hope that Wonder Woman doesn't get swept back under the rug among the glut of other characters and subplots. She offers more than enough integrity and inspiration to warrant future standalone adventures. If nothing else, at least she can fall back on her memorable instrumental motif, which was first utilized in "Batman v Superman" and also gets woven into this film's original score. By upgrading from the campy disco fantasia of her '70s TV theme song to a thrilling composition that manages to be both regal and primal, we know this isn't the Wonder Woman of yesteryear... but that's probably for the best. In this epic, big-screen iteration of the character, Diana is more believably poised to triumph over any kind of adversity.


Ironically, some of the film's finest moments involve Diana's introduction to "modern" society and its dated principles. This juxtaposition cleverly mirrors how much our culture still has left to learn, and how much we need heroes like Wonder Woman to teach us.