I’m back, baby. *cringes at self*
Well, I’m back. You can blame mock exams and an infected laptop for my protracted absence (I kid you not, I had to write eight essays on Wednesday). But I have a great many feelings about The Devil In The Details, and most of them are nice, so buckle in.
I’ve made no secret of my love for the new season. Season Ten started to recover the ‘atmosphere’ that the show lost when it switched to digital in Season Seven and suddenly became awash in colour; Season Eleven is the darkest and most mysterious the show’s been in years. And it’s getting into the nitty-gritty of the boys’ lives- Baby was an eccentric, poignant examination of their actual processes, of how they interact. Just My Imagination was lovely and funny and wistful. O Brother Where Art Thou was practically an epic poem, and Our Little World uneasily decadent. And I…
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