The Blacklist wrapped up its network-saving first season last night. The following is a conversation about the show between a dog named Biscuit and a cat named Sir Reginald.
Biscuit: I love The Blacklist!
Sir Reginald: Ugh.
Biscuit: What do you mean “Ugh”? It’s a good show!
Sir Reginald: No, it’s not.
Biscuit: Sure it is! It’s got action, and plot twists, and James Spader stabbing people while wearing a fancy hat! What’s not to like?!
Sir Reginald: Okay, first of all, it’s stupid. Insultingly stupid. Take last night, for example. Spader’s character called Lizzie and told her everyone on the task force was in danger, so she put out the call to find everyone and warn them. CUT TO: Two of the agents walking into a crowded night club while looking for a Russian fugitive, which is fine, except for the thing where is was VERY CLEARLY THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. Shot before: Sunny. Shot after: Sunny. In between: Bumping Washington D.C. discotheque. BECAUSE RUSSIA! And no one mentioned how weird it was.
Biscuit: Oh, come on. You’re clearly overthinking this.
Sir Reginald: Or how about the thing where the agents on the task force are apparently the only people capable of investigating ANYTHING? Like, in one episode they figured out there was a dirty bomb at the docks in Houston so, instead of calling the FBI office in Houston and saving literally HOURS of precious time, they GOT ON A PLANE AND HANDLED IT THEMSELVES. “Come on”? YOU “COME ON.” Everyone on this show is totally incompetent.
Biscuit: What about Lizzie?
Sir Reginald: LIZZIE IS A “GENIUS” FBI AGENT WHO DIDN’T REALIZE SHE WAS LIVING WITH A SPY UNTIL A CRIMINAL SHOWED UP AND TOLD HER. Jesus. And even if you give her the benefit of the doubt on that one, she’s still just a mess. Example: In the season’s penultimate episode, she had a breakthrough in the case and started digging into Reddington’s list, and one of the notes she took — in giant letters on a legal pad — was “INTERPOL. NO RESULTS.” Who does that?! Why do you need to write that down across an entire half sheet of paper?!
Biscuit: I think the problem here is that you’re not willing to suspend disbelief to enjoy th-… HOLD ON.
[Biscuit sees a rabbit in the yard and runs to the window to freak the hell out about it for five full minutes]
Biscuit: Sorry, where were we?
Sir Reginald: [rolls eyes] You were explaining fiction to me.
Biscuit: Oh, right. Yeah, I think you just need to relax and enjoy things more, and not be so nitpicky and cynical. Just sit back and watch the action for an hour!
Sir Reginald: Right. The “action.” You must mean the thing where they repeatedly confuse depictions of graphic violence with an actual plot, like they watched the first few seasons of Game of Thrones and all they took away from it was “Okay, got it. Kill people and show a bunch of mangled appendages.”
Biscuit: You are the least fun person to discuss television with. Not everything has to be The Wire, you know?
Sir Reginald: I’m not saying it does. I’m just saying it’s ridiculous how everyone talks about this show like it’s good, or how great it is that it’s a huge ratings success that propelled NBC to number one, when in reality it’s just every dumb police procedural ever with a little 24 mixed in — “I’m not going to talk to you, FBI agent.” “Oh yes you will, if you know what’s good for you.” “Fine. I will.” — and then watered-down beyond recognition. It’s just the drama version of one of CBS’s crappy sitcoms.
Biscuit: I think you’re overlooking how fun it is to watch Spader chew up scenery every week.
Sir Reginald: Well… yeah. Okay. That is pretty fun. They should make the whole show about him and Dembe robbing art museums or something. Just cut out the whole FBI thing.
Biscuit: Maybe they will! There’s always next season!
Sir Reginald: You’re optimism and thirst for life disgusts me.
Biscuit: Whatever! I’m gonna go run around in the kitchen until our owner gets home!
Sir Reginald: [yawns, lays in sun for an hour, wakes up furious about Lost, again]
Photo credit: Shutterstock/Jagodka
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