Lower Decks

The following review contains spoilers for Fringe through the current episode, “Power Hungry,” originally broadcast October 14, 2008.

This is only the fifth episode, but by now I’ve grown exceedingly comfortable as a viewer of the series. Fox has picked Fringe up for a complete season, which is little surprise given its proven capability to attract a sizable audience, at least with the second episode. Just like anyone else, I’ve stuck by a Fox genre show given a whole freshmen season, only to have it cancelled before sophomore year can be reached (here I’m thinking not of a popular example like Firefly, but John Doe), so celebration time is fine for now (though cult shows from Alias to Prison Break have managed to stick around for a good number of seasons despite mediocre ratings past the first year). One of the things about reviewing a new show from the start is that everyone knows what I’ve been thinking, the reasons I started watching, what I was comparing it to. And hey, how I started appreciating it for what it is.

Last episode was the moment everything started gelling, from the appearance of the Observer, who represents a part of the puzzle not directly influenced by our central characters but who nonetheless is not a villainous figure like Nina Sharp, a part of the show from the start, to the return of John Scott in Agent Dunham’s life. This week, we find out what exactly that entails, and for most of the episode, it appears he’s just there to guide her along in her investigation of a series of electromagnetic disturbances which culminate in a maglev elevator tragedy. We’ve known since the first episode that Scott, before his death, meant a great deal to Dunham, and that his apparent betrayal wounded but what’s more motivated her to join Broyles’ team which mainly consists of eccentric researcher Walter Bishop, his son Peter, and assistant Astrid Farnsworth (I can pretend that the creators named her after another mad scientist, from Futurama). I’ve been comparing the relationship to Sydney Bristow and her dead boyfriend Danny from the early episodes of Alias, but it has since evolved, especially during the course of this episode, to more like Syd and Michael Vaughn, which makes Olivia Dunham’s particularly tragic, since her soul mate is most definitely dead (even Vaughn couldn’t stay that way).

Of course, her hallucinations of Scott are explained by Walter as a byproduct of the extrasensory link he put her through in the famous campaign images from the pilot (the wet tank), but Dunham knows even if she can’t explain to Walter that she’s experiencing more than just memories of Scott, who still can’t explain that he didn’t betray her as it seemed, though he hints at it. I don’t know, but this relationship has been fascinating from the start. Given that Mark Valley was a fairly name star when he made his appearance in the pilot, I was never surprised that he would be sticking around, and I’m glad that he has, since the character dynamic is like nothing else on TV. I suppose that’s why I appreciate genre programming just a little more than whatever show critics are currently hailing, because it has the ability to push the boundaries of what we’ve experienced before, and Fringe has been establishing a neat little corner of its own. On the one hand, you can see a little of Alias, a little Lost, and even Heroes, but Fringe has become Fringe in less than half a dozen episodes. You can’t even say anymore that someone might be watching it because they miss X-Files, say, because there’s nothing smoky here, no need for belief. The characters are constantly pushing past doubt. They have to, because these incidents they’re investigating aren’t just weird, unexplainable occurrences. More often than not, the team is able to deduce the mystery of the situation, most times thanks to Walter. They’re pushing against a Pattern that they know is there.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned him yet, but another series regular is Kirk Acevedo (I think the fact that my spellchecker didn’t protest in proof enough that I have) as Dunham’s partner Charlie Francis, the link to a normal life she desperately needs, something even Peter Bishop can’t give his father, or Astrid to Walter (not that she actually tries, though, right?). It’s worth noting that he’s been a steady figure on the show to this point, nothing flashy, but enough of a presence to matter. The same can be said for Michael Giacchino’s scoring. You know him from Lost, of course, and a lot of the time, you know the music you hear already. Lost is what put him on the map (they’ve released soundtracks for the first three seasons, and for the fourth season DVD, are including a concert he put on with his work for that show), but he’s got greater range to demonstrate, a fact he shows this episode.

I don’t talk a whole lot in these reviews about the episodic mysteries the team investigates, but that’s another thing worth noting for the record, because the way they’re handled, always in balance with the guest characters and the main cast, it makes for a level presentation. You understand both the situation and the way the team approaches it, and the balance between seeing what’s happening and how they figure it out always seems to be right. The thing is, the characters are always important, which is what helps make the show work, whether they’re serving the story or shining through their own personalities. And don’t assume I’m referring only to Walter here. Most of Astrid’s appeal is that she invariably pierces through the solemnity of the proceedings, not in the way cynical Peter does, but like an aside meant for the audience. The creators know not to keep this stuff too heavy, but when it comes to taking itself seriously, you know that it has since the start, and that’s the mark of a great show.