The Flash "Who Is Harrison Wells?" Review: 'Cause I Really Want to Know

Last week's episode was mostly about getting Caitlin and Cisco on the same page as Barry and Joe, as well as setting up this week's little visit to Starling City. There was a thematic unity to "All Star Team Up," but it was still just an all-around dull episode since it never really figured out how to turn that thematic unity into something that was dramatically interesting or that granted any energy to the villain-of-the-week plot. Brie Larvin ended up feeling like an afterthought, Iris was written into a ridiculous and horrible corner, and Barry's anxiety about Cisco and Caitlin worked as well as it could have given the circumstances.

This week, The Flash managed to put out an episode that more or less mirrored last week's episode but actually delivered a little fun. Each of the plots in "Who Is Harrison Wells?" dealt with lies and the identities we craft around those lies, and we got a villain of the week who, while still lacking much of a personality, created enough problems and hijinks for that recurring complaint of mine to not weigh down the episode. Yes, it was still about getting this quintet—well, a quartet that occasionally features Eddie—all on the same page, except this time around, the characters were catching up to the audience, instead of to each other.

I know that villains of the week aren't always well-received, but so much of their value really hinges on how they're used, not to mention the guest performers and the special effects. The fun of Hannibal Bates a.k.a. Everyman was in the special effects work—even though it was fine and perfectly Mystique-y from the X-Men films—or even in that he seemed very into robbing banks. He was fun because he shape-shifted and took the form of our regular characters, meaning the actors got to perform as Hannibal Bates playing their usual characters. It didn't get as weird and bizarre as I would've personally liked, but I thoroughly enjoyed Grant Gustin playing Hannibal Bates barely pretending to be Barry Allen. Gustin went for a slower delivery and added a rasp to his voice that should've really tipped off anyone around that it wasn't actually Barry. And if that wasn't enough, putting the moves on Caitlin should have made it easy. Even the "Yes. Her" was pretty hilarious since it allowed Gustin to play confused and annoyed since Iris's arrival interfered with Hannibal's kissing of Caitlin, and it also probably gave SnowBarry 'shippers a subtextual voice on screen for once. (The SnowBarry 'shippers also probably appreciated Caitlin leaning into that second kiss as well.)

Hannibal's abilities allowed for other good bits, too—I loved his transformation into a little girl in the backseat of Iris's car and the fight at the airport where "Iris" got to punch Barry—but his shapeshifting and his attempts to pass as other people created a nice glue that held the episode together. It dealt with some characters literally unearthing the body of a person whose identity had been stolen while other characters grappled with the lies they tell others, thus assuming an identity of deception, as it were. Hannibal can't even remember what he looks like now, so he's even been deceiving himself. When villains of the week can be used in this way, and in a way that adds to the episode as opposed to just being an adornment like Brie Larvin was last week, the episodic formula does its job of creating a self-contained and internally satisfying hour that doesn't rely on the serialized elements for a sense of payoff. If the formulaic part of the episode is chugging along, then it's a fair bet the rest of the episode is as well.

This identity-of-deception concept is a nice one for both The Flash and the Arrowcharacters—Quentin and Laurel—who swung by Central City this week. As the characters close in on Eobarrison (I'm trying the name again after I decided to ditch it after two uses in "Tricksters"), not only do they have to pretend that Eobarrison is actually Harrison Wells, they have to face what that means for them. Barry already experienced that when Joe tried to explain his suspicions about Eobarrison and Barry went through the, "But Harrison Wells is a mentor! He's helped me so much! He's a brilliant scientist! And now I have to lie to him?" spiel. Even Cisco sort of did this after he and Joe found the blood in Barry's old house.

It was Caitlin's turn this week, and I found her concerns that everything she's done professionally since joining S.T.A.R. to be the most resonant of the three's reactions to the situation. Caitlin's life, even when Ronnie wasn't a man who could shoot fireballs from his hands, seemed pretty defined by her work. Finding out that everything she did after the particle accelerator exploded was not only in service of a time-traveling supervillain, but also that everything she did before it was too, would be enough to make someone with Caitlin's sense of self go a little haywire. Like Barry, Caitlin also had to reconcile the fact that Eobarrison had helped her, even in times when, in hindsight, it didn't necessarily make sense for him to do so. Unlike Dr. McGee at Mercury Labs, this Harrison Wells is the only one she knows. He's a Harrison Wells who enjoys Ghostbustersand swore to do whatever he could to help Ronnie... and then did it! You can hardly blame her for wanting some hard evidence before she really got on board with this "Harrison Wells is the Reverse-Flash" deal.

Eddie, meanwhile, was being way too good of a sport about everything. I really appreciated his faith in Barry's ability to clear his name in the shooting of those officers. He's calm, he's collected, and he sees the angles that must played to keep him from looking less guilty than a really damning video already made him look. It made him a nice foil for the much more emotional Barry, and I liked how that brief scene with them outside the police station made sure to tie Eddie's predicament back to Barry's guilt over his dad's imprisonment. While The Flash is quick to always remind us that Barry is looking for his mother's murderer so as to clear his dad's name, seeing that manifest in character moments is always better than a quick bit of exposition delivered just in case, for some reason, some new viewer is wandering in at Episode 19.

More important was that Eddie decided to come partially clean to Iris about why he's been so distant lately. Yeah, he got in a passive-aggressive jab of his own this week, but also quickly apologized for it, too. Iris... not so much with the apologizing for anything. Anyway, Eddie told her that he's been working with the Flash, and that is the truth. It was not all of the truth, but it was enough of the truth to ease Eddie's conscience and to get Iris to stop being really horrible. Either way, it's going to come back and bite him and everyone else in the ass, but at least it's something. Now, maybe, Iris can go back to work?

Quentin Lance is always the last man on Arrow to know anything, and he's been really ticked off about that for a few weeks now. He's been an unwilling recipient of the whole, "We can't tell him because it might put him danger... albeit just medical danger because of his bum ticker, but danger nonetheless" mentality that serves as nice enough a parallel for the whole "We can't tell Iris anything because she'll be in danger!" thread that's been part of The Flash since the start of the show. Quentin's anger has been entirely justified, and Iris's will be, too, once she learns the truth about everything that everyone has been keeping from her.

What's fascinating about the pairing of Joe and Quentin is that Joe got to see the effects of lie-telling and secret-keeping, and he didn't really seem to give a damn. Here was a man in front of him who had suffered through the same thing that Joe was putting his own daughter through; Joe saw the strained relationship between Quentin and Laurel, and then doubled down on the approach to keep Quentin quiet about the body they found. And he did it without blinking. The man is in for a harsh reality check once Iris learns the truth.

---

LEFT IN THE DUST

---

– In other Arrow-related stuff, Cisco made Laurel her own canary cry collar! Very nice of him. Cisco's whole response to meeting Laurel was pretty precious, though, and I appreciated that all he wanted in return was a picture of Laurel in costume, posing next to him like it was a cosplay photo op.

– Yes, Hannibal Bates is a reference to Hannibal Lecter and Norman Bates. See, the Everyman in the comics can only change his appearance after he eats a part of someone's body. While this would've made for an excellent bit of programming synergy with Liv Moore's ability to assume the skills and personalities of the people whose brains she consumes on iZombie, it was for the best that The Flash nixed that particular aspect of the character for its take.

– Best part of the episode? Eddie and Barry on the teeny-tiny couch.

– "Ha! I knew it! Never mind."

– I really think Harrison wanted to tase Iris.

– "For real? Why did you slap me?!"

– They found Eobarrison's future room! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! 

What'd you think of "Who Is Harrison Wells?"?

Mad Men "The Forecast" Review: What Dreams May Come

Mad Men's epilogue continued in "The Forecast" with a parade of more unsatisfied customers and an increasingly desperate-to-believe-in-something Don Draper. Also some uncomfortable May/December romances. Also Sally being the best.

In typical Roger fashion, Roger pawned a bit of work off on Don, asking him to handle a write-up of SC&P's outlook for the future, and Don's fellow partners argued that Don has always been better at painting a picture, talking about the future, rose-tinting the past, and selling everything from cigarettes to cheeseburgers. Unfortunately, Don's nervous-breakdown-in-progress made his usual miracle-working seem... less than marvelous.

Hindsight was everything in "The Forecast"—whether you actually lived through the '70s or just read about them. Regardless of the good time portrayed by Dazed and Confused, the decade experienced its share of suckage: Watergate, the '72 Olympics, gas shortages, recession, the Iran hostages, and, of course, disco. Don brainstormed ideas for his "Gettysburg Address" while fuming that people look toward the future assuming it will be better. He repeated, "It's supposed to get better," as though trying to reassure himself that it still could, or to talk himself out of the state of melancholy that's plagued him for so long.

It harks back to what Pete said last week while fretting about the tragedy of never getting past the beginning of your life. The Don Draper we followed in "The Forecast" is starting over, but he's already started over so many times that he's an expert at it—and with his expertise comes a level of cynicism that Don has never really encountered in himself before. He's reached the part where everything is supposed to get better: the latest career crisis has passed, Megan's been kicked to the curb with a check that should keep her happy for awhile, Dick Whitman is hardly an issue anymore. Don is free to reinvent himself yet again... and it sucks. He can't bring himself to do it, and these days, he doesn't even know where to start.

Don is a dinosaur in the wrong time period, and that's becoming more obvious with each passing episode. Wearing a blue shirt instead of the classic white was a huge step for him at the office, but his hair, the cut of his suits, his attitude—it all feels dated, and Don is starting to notice. His realtor lambasted his attitude about the empty penthouse he casually tossed onto the market: There's no furniture, no decor, no warmth, and the rugs are still filthy. It "reeks of failure," and that failure extends much deeper than Don's ill-fated marriage to Megan.

Throughout the past several weeks, Don has repeatedly been exposed to representations of what he could have had, or once had, in other periods of his life; in those times, when his marriage was crumbling, when his career was a wreck, when Anna Draper died and Lane Pryce died and Don's poor dumb brother died, his general feeling was that this lousy period would pass and the future would be better, even if only through sheer willpower. But Don's performed this routine a few times and it always seems to end in disaster, and now we're barely into this fresh new decade and he's already stuck in the past. He asked Meredith to find the press release about the founding SCDP, back in 1963. 1963 was comfortable. SCDP was a good thing. An accomplishment. A dream.

Don doesn't have dreams anymore, and it's a little heartbreaking. He's desperate to find one, even if it isn't his own. He sought out Peggy and Meredith, Ted, and even Sally's friends (especially Sally's friends), but none of them fit. Compounding his ennui: the theme of the address he was trying to write, the magazines littering every office with articles contemplating what would surely be a bright new future in the 1970s (oh, hindsight), and frequent confrontations with ghosts of his past lives. When Don finally sold his penthouse, it was to a young couple expecting a child, excited to be moving into their dream apartment and starting their lives. Several years ago, they could have been Don and Betty. Several years ago, their dream was Don's dream, but that's not the way things are anymore.

Dreams can—and often do—change, for better or worse. There was a time when all Joan wanted was a child and a husband, but now she resents her son and fantasizes about dashing off to Paris with Bruce Greenwood. Betty once yearned for kids and a posh wardrobe, then for all the trappings of a politician's wife, and now she's returning to college to work on a psych degree. Peggy once had very moderate, sensible aims to be a secretary and find a husband, but now she wants to blaze a trail as the first woman creative director at the firm and, though it's unspoken, she wants the husband too. She wants everything, and yet she still worries it won't be enough, that Don will mock her.

None of the dreams discussed in "The Forecast" caught Don's interest, but that's because dreams are personal; they can't be transferred from one individual to the next. That Don is so broken that he can't find a single tiny thing to nurture within himself says a lot about his precarious mental state right now. I mean, even Lou Avery has Scout's Honor, and for as silly and unremarkable as it may be, at least the man is putting his work out there and trying to make something of it.

"The Forecast" was a definite improvement over last week's less-than-stellar "New Business," though it still struggled at times with awkward storylines and hamfisted symbolism (Bobby Draper's gun, anyone?). With only a few episodes left in the series, Don Draper is going nowhere fast... but then again, that's probably the whole point.

---

PERIOD PIECES

---

– Sally and her sass are <3. From making me choke on her preggo quip to spitting out an exasperated, "I just want to eat dinner" in response to Don's philosophical prodding... I just love her so much.

– I like how we had to have Glen explicitly state that he's 18 now so the Glen/Betty sexual tension wasn't super creepy and uncomfortable... except it was still super creepy and uncomfortable.

– Glen's going to Vietnam. Think he's gonna make it back?

– Playland! Rye Playland! My little amusement-park-nerd heart swelled with joy.

– "The Forecast" took place after the shootings at Kent State, so it's post-May 1970. We're just flying through this year!

– Poor dumb Mathis.

– No Diana the Waitress this week. Did you miss her? Do you think we'll see her again?

– “I’m tired of this,” Peggy said to Don. "I’ve had quite a year.” You go, Peggy!

– "This looks like a place where a sad person lived." Understatement of the century.

What did you think of "The Forecast"?