I didn't get home from dinner last night until nearly midnight, but I couldn't go to bed until I'd watched the #January29th return of How To Get Away With Murder. I mean come on. I'd been waiting for the show to return since November. Do you think I could sleep? Not a chance!
I didn't want to cancel my plans last night, but it did cross my mind that I could ask my dinner companion if she might want to have dinner at my apartment and watch How To Get Away With Murder with me...live. I know what you're thinking: Who watches live television anymore? Well, watching live television is the old new thing. I mean with live tweeting and live blogging one is setting themselves up to be spoiled if they're not immediately (or shortly thereafter) in the know.
Suffice it to say, I did not cancel or change my dinner plans, but I couldn't even think about going to sleep until I saw how Annalise Keating and the "Keating Five" dealt with the immediate aftermath of Sam's death. I was not disappointed. Viola Davis is marvelously flawed and human leading a cast of characters I still love to watch divide, resolve, dissent, and compromise for their lives.
Last fall How To Get Away With Murder was a roller coaster ride that kept showing us the hill we were going to plunge down even while its initial climb was in the case-of-the-moment present. There was an over arching storyline--those lurches you feel as the chain is pulling you upward--and its murder mystery would eventually consume everyone. It was teased and taunted in flash forward images and dialogue that made one feel the need to watch the episode again because they were certain they'd missed something. I was one of those people. I watched every episode twice and savored every moment as the unravel took us to the November finale episode, which finally put all those flashes and pieces together and showed us exactly #WhoKilledSam.
We were left at the top of that hill last fall, just going over the edge. And now...now we're in the present, free falling at high speed without the bar across our laps. I'm dying to raise my arms in the air, but I'm afraid. I'm screaming and holding my breath. The anxiety, the fear the characters on my television are feeling is present in the lump in the my throat as I sit on my sofa, glued to their every breath, eyebrow arch, and explanation to the police of what they were doing on the night Sam went missing.
Most of the time when you're on a roller coaster that's plunging down the first big hill it's just a straight to the bottom plunge. This hill, while steep, is not straight to the bottom. It's got twists and curves. It's like we're skiing down a mountain avoiding all the trees and boulders in the way, but can't get out of the car and can't stop the dive. You might need to invest in a neck brace for all the I-didn't-see-that-coming whiplash.
There are only 3 episodes left before the first season finale. I don't see the tension letting up, and I doubt the pit of my stomach will feel anything less than sinking as the ground remains elusive during the hour of 10-11pm on Thursday nights.
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