Boots, halfway through: A Marine-shaped box

The less morbid option for a Marine-shaped box

I’ve watched more of Boots, finishing episode four and just barely starting episode five. The show’s message feels clearer now. My initial curiosity is congealing into grim resignation.

Boots isn’t bad. It’s well crafted. The character portrayals and overt construction of masculinity that piqued my curiosity still remain. I can still enjoy picking through and examining them. I can enjoy stripping them for parts.

The show isn’t bad/wrong, the storytelling isn’t bad/wrong, but I like Boots less now.

Why?

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Have baby, still sick; 11/13/25

I have a piece in the works revisiting Boots, but I’ve been doing extra baby duty this week and I’m well past the point of being sick for a month. You’ll have to wait a little longer.

Instead, please accept this (relevant) link to a video essay by Schnee about recognizing when and how you’re being propagandized. This is kind of a spoiler but I’ll be referring to Schnee’s video in that larger piece on Boots.

Boots (Netflix 2025)

I’ve seen the first episode of Boots, and I have mixed feelings. 

I’m not sure how to engage with the show. It’s the sometimes funny, sometimes awful story of a young gay man named Cameron Cope who joins the Marines (in 1990, when homosexuality in the armed forces was still criminalized) without really knowing what he was getting himself into. Boots is based on the book The Pink Marine by Greg Cope White (no relation to the best of my knowledge), which is apparently a memoir of White’s own time in the Marines.

I’m unsure about Boots because I’m not sure what Boots is trying to say, or what conclusion it’s reaching towards. Does it have a negative message about being in boot camp as a young gay man in 1990? Does it have a positive message about that?

Is it both?

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Rewatching Ted Lasso S1

I feel more complicated about the character of Ted Lasso as I rewatch this show. For one, as Ley says, his vibe is very much Manic Pixie Dream Coach. More importantly, I feel as though early on the show distracts from Ted’s flaws because he means well and is the protagonist… and I feel grumpy about that.

I see more of Ted’s shadow (to borrow from Jung) coming to the fore as I rewatch the show. The first time through, I was just keeping up with the writing and admiring the show’s construction and delivery. This time, I have the chance to pay more attention to what’s going on, and to notice the elements that are clearly laid out and planned for later exploration.

It’s a well-written show. Ted is a well-written character. He’s flawed, though we don’t explore that as much in the beginning of the show. He’s admirable and likable in his attempts to catalyze the personal growth of the members of his team (along with everyone around the team), and to drive their transformation into a mutually supportive whole.

In pursuit of that goal he also transgresses or ignores people’s stated boundaries while ‘trying to make things better.’ His transgressions felt off the first time around. They feel more insufferable on a rewatch.

The first example that springs to mind for me is how Ted explicitly ignores Rebecca Welton’s stated preferences when he promises to show up again the next morning despite her saying that he shouldn’t. It’s a small thing. But this small thing is done with a powerful “aw shucks I’m just trying to do right by everyone” attitude, a real “I’m a nice and earnest guy” vibe… and that attitude plus the show’s narrative focus on Ted as our protagonist blurs Ted’s transgressions into the background. 

Maybe Ted is oblivious to the ways he’s transgressing. I think I could empathize with that Ted more, even though it would still feel painful to see. But I don’t think he’s oblivious, at least not with Rebecca—he responds (in)directly to Rebecca’s request by saying that he won’t honor it. And the show validates his actions.

I know how well things will go for Ted. I know how his efforts will ultimately pay off for himself and those around him. The show might not hide that Ted is doing something disrespectful, but it certainly slides it to you in a shit sandwich with such a smooth delivery that you could blink and miss it. We’re also given a brief glimpse of Ted’s relationship with his wife that strongly implies that this sort of behavior is not exactly surprising from Ted—and yet that moment is used mostly to build emotional depth and vulnerability for Ted, rather than to point out that he might have a pattern of self-sabotage via transgressing boundaries. That makes his other boundary transgressions all the more painful to me.

Maybe I’m more sensitive to this because I know more now about Jason Sudekis’s personal life around the time of making Ted Lasso. There are some painful parallels, complete with separation and custody conflicts as he and Olivia Wilde parted. In some ways, Ted is Sudekis’s chance to tell his version of his story, to portray the best version of his story and make himself a victimized tragic hero. No doubt these parallels help Jason Sudekis play Ted Lasso (his own life mirrors his art, he can bring all those pieces to his portrayal of the character!). But I think he’s too close to the experience and too caught up in it—Sudekis’s portrayal of Ted (specifically in the third season) feels more like a polemic or like self-soothing rather than an empathetic nuanced exploration. Worse, these similarities makes the show’s blurring of Ted’s flaws feel bad in a self-indulgent way.

Now, none of this makes the show bad. I still love Ted Lasso. I still think it’s extremely well-written and well-executed. My love for it from four years ago remains. If anything, I’m more impressed by the ways in which the story’s foundations were laid so long in advance. And I’m also finding the ways that it lands differently as I rewatch it.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End (Netflix 2025)

I’ve finished Netflix’s season 1 (28 episodes) of Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End. I finished it a while ago, actually, but for baby-related reasons I haven’t had the brains to finish this post. Better late than never, right?

Melancholy, meditative, meandering… Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End has won a spot in my heart. It is a fantasy adventure that cares more about the everyday personhood of its heroes than about epic plots or dramatic achievements. It made me cry, and laugh, and I love how it manages to be bittersweet and yet feel like one of the most forward-looking and optimistic shows I’ve watched in a while. 

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Strange New Worlds season 3

I recall seeing some negative reviews of Strange New Worlds’ third season, reviews complaining about tonal whiplash. I think those reviewers didn’t understand the premise of episodic television.

I admit, the first two episodes of season three were VERY different from each other in tone. The first episode was the conclusion to a two-part episode cliffhanger that has had me on tenterhooks for over a year. The second episode was more like SNW getting back into the swing of things.

I was even glad that I watched the episodes a week apart instead of back to back (as they were released). But I’m not going to insist that a show I love for being episodic only release tonally similar episodes when they air two on the same day. Instead, I am glad to be gifted with more Star Trek to enjoy. I could use more hopeful sci-fi these days.

Vicarious Squirmy Awfulness

I used to think I loved adventure stories because I’d grown up on them. The truth, I’ve realized, is a bit stranger. I’d rather watch bloody violence and explosions than sit through those gut-wrenching nail-biting moments of social awkwardness that fill so many romances, dramas, and comedies. Those moments fill me with a vicarious squirmy awfulness—the characters may experience emotional or social anguish, but my response is visceral, often literally painful. 

When I last reflected on this in my review of Trying

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Dandadan (2024)

Dandadan is a lot. Episode one made me nervous. It also caught my attention. I stuck with the show, and now episode seven has made me cry big, heartfelt tears.

This show is not what I expected. It frequently has an extremely middle school-ish feel, yet it has also sent me on an emotional rollercoaster. It’s goofy and weird, with an upbeat and sometimes jarring energy. While it is written about (and presumably for) young teens, it feels less siloed in its gender appeal than many other shows I’ve seen aimed at a similar age range.

This show is definitely not for everyone, but… I really like it. Let me tell you why.

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Star Trek: Prodigy follow-up

I finished the first season.

Wow.

I know I just wrote about Prodigy last week, but I have to weigh in again.

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Star Trek: Prodigy, season one

This is for season two, but you get the idea.

As someone who grew up on Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Prodigy didn’t quite feel like a Star Trek show until episode six. That might be a good thing. As much as I love TNG’s broad focus on an ensemble cast with highly episodic story telling, Prodigy’s early adventure-focused plots with clear continuity from one episode to another gives us a narrative throughline that TNG sometimes lacks.

That narrative throughline and dramatic adventure feels a little like Star Trek: Discovery. Discovery felt a little off to me in its first couple seasons, due to its fixation on a single overarching narrative and its exploration of Michael Burnham’s character to the detriment of the broader ensemble cast. It wore the trappings of Star Trek, but felt more like a Star Trek movie turned into a miniseries instead of a Trek TV show. Unlike Discovery, Prodigy bridges the gap from overarching-narrative to interspersed episodic and big-narrative episodes and makes a smooth landing in that Star Trek sweet spot with episodes six and seven. It starts without the Star Trek trappings, but ultimately feels more Trek to me than the first season of Discovery ever did.

Admittedly, I haven’t yet watched much further (I think I’m on episode twelve of season one). I’m not sure that matters. Even with continued exploration of the slightly-more-main characters, the show would have to veer sharply into main-character-ism to lose what it has already established. I think the tonal shift happened at the right time too. The dramatic narrative of the show’s opening episodes feels right for a space adventure, and the transformation into a Star Trek show happens as the crew finally gels and discovers that—despite their disparate backgrounds and disagreements—they share a moral core that is increasingly influenced by the ideals of Starfleet and the Federation.

That transformation feels deeply satisfying. The crew’s growing recognition of their shared moral core feels deeply satisfying too. There’s something funny about that to me; when I started watching Prodigy I wasn’t sure I’d be able to love the show. The first couple episodes felt so strongly like a kids’ show—without the idealistic themes I love and identify with Star Trek—that I feared I’d be stuck enjoying it on only one level as decent children’s fiction. The show’s growth as it moved beyond the opening episodes proved those fears wrong.

If you appreciate good children’s literature (yes, I’m using that to describe a TV show), or if you love Star Trek, then you should do yourself a favor and watch this show. My friends who recommended it to me were totally right. Prodigy takes a couple episodes to really get into gear, but it’s a delight.