by
Kristin Battestella
Netflix
just kept insisting I continue watching the 2014 second year of
Lifetime's Witches of East End. Against
my better judgment, I tuned in for the thirteen episode season –
which unfortunately doesn't rectify the errors of the series' tepid
debut.
Witches
of East End opens with a memory
loss reset from the end of the first season in “A Moveable Beast”
and a jarring trying to be sexy whilst also trying to be dark and
dangerous tone. Good or bad histories are dropped to introduce
a long lost Beauchamp family member in “The Son Also Rises,”
making it tough to take the Asgard war yada yada yada seriously in
“The Old Man and the Key.” There are already too many plots at
once with fast editing and faster, talking on top of each other
conversations, and Witches of East End throws
everything at the screen – including twincest – while poor
torture scenes and sociopath Asgard enemies in “The Brothers
Grimoire” waste time. Pieces of plots can be good, but the quality
is mixed with so many hate worthy, hammy teen moments ruining
potential developments. While the women look the same in “Boogie
Knights,” the men look ridiculous, and this disco flashback is an
obvious excuse for Jenna Dewan Tatum to dance. The intercut weekly
plots and interwoven season arcs are poorly combined, disregarding
what is happening in another time or in someone's head as if all the
action were linear acts. Neat magic that would be fun to see is
talked about rather than shown in favor of would be scandalous or
juicy attempts, but it's tough to care about romance when everyone's
allegiances seem to change from week to week just because soap opera
styled plots say they should. Repetitive dialogue is often found in
the same scene, where more time is spent arguing than doing
something, and flak continues to divert the increasingly high stakes
or imminent death crises in “When a Mandragora Loves a Woman.”
I'm not against romance, but forced steamy retcons from episode to
episode as needed illume the hollow threats and empty fodder. Uneven
A, B, C structured storylines on Witches of East End counteract
each other's trying to be heavy impact. Significant or not,
characters disappear in “Art of Darkness” while others said to
have been around suddenly appear, and the saucy language and partial
nudity of “Sex, Lies, and Birthday Cake” is yawn worthy when once
again, more interesting character developments take a backseat to
round and round romance.
Kills,
family history, and magic discovery are set aside in increasingly
poorly shot and directed plots – Witches of East End moves
fast to cover the weak acting of the younger cast when even
three intercut sex scenes don't help. More absurd sex rituals and
unsexy bondage compromise the escalating spells and counter magic in
“Smells Like King Spirit.” Action and rivalry fall prey to
convenient deaths and a love spell that results in absent anger,
grief, and compassion. One or two overall story arcs would have
sufficed yet there is little emotion in the thin cliffhangers of “The
Fall of the House of Beauchamp.” We know resets and easy fixes are
coming thanks to past life excuses and little consequences with music
montages undermining what should be heavy moments and voodoo
sidetracking unrelated to the Asgard plots. Witches of East End is
very poorly paced and tosses an ambiguous FBI agent into this
late mix because each episode must outdo itself every week.
Fortunately, the 1840 brothel snooping flashback in “Poe Way Out”
is good fun. There's still too much exposition and instant happenings
amid not just A, B, and C but even D plots – far too much for a
forty minute runtime – and another flashback is told within the
past time rather than shown on its own. Witches of East End could
have had Asgardians hiding in period with agents chasing them through
the timelines all season long! I'm glad almost all of the subsequent
“Box to the Future” continues the past Poe possibilities, against
the clock races, possessions, and lets the spooky séance mood run
with the period melodrama. One overall story should have been done
all along, and while I admit much of the try hard paranormal romance
light isn't my cup of tea, the rampant structural flaws on Witches
of East End can't be ignored.
Quality elements are squeezed in too late, and obnoxious
people, plans, or objects change for good or ill from scene to scene
– interrupting any compelling tricks and forward momentum in “For
Whom the Spell Tolls.” Off-camera torture, pregnancy bombs, and
convenient magic resolve nothing in this Witches of East End
finale where there was
apparently no consideration of cancellation. Easy resolution,
Romeo and Juliet cheats, body swaps, and underworld surprises prove
nothing was learned from the first season's ups and downs. Witches
of East End backpedaled when its
time was running out only to peak with an unresolved ending.
Shit.
In
this era where there aren't many roles for strong, older women,
Witches of East End could
have been a great, empowering series for its stars. Unfortunately,
the flip flopping script is quite unfair to Julia Ormond as
family matriarch Joanna Beauchamp. I totally forgot she was an art
teacher, and we don't get to see Joanna do any real magic until near
the end of the season – because she must now do the very thing she
has been trying to prevent all season and we're supposed to just go
with it. Apparently, Joanna was also a wild seventies witch who
dabbled in interracial lady love, but rather than being treated as
something mature, the lesbian leanings come off as trying to shock
alongside character growths that reset each episode. Joanna was an
opium hooker and had a femme romance yet all we ever see her do is
spout some Latin? Pity. In and of herself, Mädchen Amick as feline
sister Wendy is really the only character on Witches of East End
about whom I have no complaints. However, Wendy is continually
screwed in the romance department, as if her only role in the series
is to have one fatal affair
after another to prove how much a good woman can withstand man crap.
Likewise, Rachel Boston as good librarian turned bad girl daughter
Ingrid is continually defined by her male relationships – be it
flirting with some otherworldly bestiality, warlocks, or an
unplanned pregnancy. She keeps telling everyone she is an expert on
witchcraft but is perhaps the most messy of all the ladies with the
most magic misuses. Adding to this back and forth wishy washy is the
newly through the Asgardian portal brother Christian Cooke (Where
the Heart Is) as Frederick Beauchamp. Whether it is a miscasting
or bad writing or both I don't care, but Witches of East End never
should have added another family member to its already crowded
storytelling.
Jenna
Dewan Tatum's moon eyed Freya and Daniel Di Tomasso as fighting women
off left and right Killian also go one round too many at the romance
circus. Grief sex in the back of the bar when the bodies of so-called
loved ones aren't even cold? Had they both disappeared in the
pointless Santo Domingo storyline, Witches of East End might
have been better for it. I never though I would be against so
many shirtless guys, but the lack of substance hiding behind the man
candy is insulting. There is some
potential to Eric Winter's Dash being caught between the euphoria of
doing bad magic and its healing power, but the magic versus his
doctoring and science falls prey to dumb blackmail schemes and
sibling rivalry. Fortunately, James Marsters (Buffy) adds
much needed suave as the seemingly nonchalant businessman and evil
Asgardian henchman Tarkoff. He's been in pursuit through history and
is down with some torture love! Instead of pining for Joanna, Witches
of East End could have paired
down its characters and plots by having Tarkoff be Wendy's ex, saving
time and money while strengthening what is available in house. Rather
than ruining another interracial romance and derailing with voodoo
stereotypes, fellow Buffy alum
Bianca Lawson could have been Tarkoff's fellow antagonist instead of
the Fredrick and company drivel. But alas, Marsters is stuck
doing same thing every episode with no resolution, and the
cliché, sacrificial gay best friend exit given to Tom Lenk is
inexcusable. Witches of East End is
downright embarrassing when all the gay or ethnic characters are
simply there to die! Fine guests such as Ignacio Serricchio
(Bones) and Steven
Berkoff (Octopussy) go
underutilized while a serious love triangle between Joel Gretsch as
Joanna's husband Victor and Michelle Hurd (Law and Order:
Special Victims Unit) as her
past witch love Alex is a story that somehow was deemed unworthy
compared to the other derivative, forced, ad nauseam steamy.
In
addition to the rushed storytelling, Witches of East End
sacrifices any bewitching mood
with very poor scene setting CGI, CGI cats, CGI smoke, kinky
tentacles, and one forest set for everything. Brief flashbacks
to mystical portals and unseen Asgard wars dress our players in hokey
Roman goddess Halloween costumes with toy centurion armor for the
boys, shining the spotlight on obvious budget cuts. Witches of
East End should not have been expanded to thirteen episodes, and
padded action scenes try too hard amid dated fashions consisting of
nothing but hoochie looks and slutty bra tops assuring the huge boobs
show. Although for some that's not the worst of the show's problems,
granted, and the magic effects and witchy whooshes do get better by
the series' end. Perhaps viewers
angry at what could have been will have a tough time appreciating the
camp value here, for Lifetime feels just a little too late on the
horror light bandwagon. Rather than being a show by and for women,
Witches of East End plays
into too many chick needing a man same old with standard weekly
television flaws and phoned in copycat paranormal. There are
other more fun, less marred spooky shows available, and while
completists or fans of the cast can marathon Witches of East End,
it's lacking in fillin the
so-called hot, supposedly next big thing witch niche.
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