I think that the length of time we saw a CGI bombinent black fly mass whip a man athwart trees and then the ground (“kerosene”) tonight was unusual in several respects. We had witnessed the burial of the dead—I half-expected to see brands arc-light Trixie’s floating pyre—with the white robes. Perhaps it’s a ritual meant to invoke buzzing manitou. There’s also the precognitive Scotsman and the Odin in the monitor. With the “[Skr., = decree, custom.]” aesthetic—the bricolage and pastiche of high, low, and especially middle—I can anticipate what Buffy-veteran staff writers are going to paste together next.
It’s not going to cohere as well as a Jack Kirby plot, and it’s going to have a less obvious (and less effective) soundtrack than the Nip.Tuck episode my wife is watching now. They effectively, these others, worship jotun, which weren’t exactly real at first. Call it something they ate.