Knives Out

Director: Rian Johnson
Starring: Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Ana de Armas, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, Katherine Langford, Jaeden Martell, Christopher Plummer, Frank Oz, K Callan, Noah Segan, M. Emmet Walsh
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**Warning: The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers**

Rian Johnson's Knives Out distinguishes itself from just about any other recent mainstream film by filling a massive void. It actually feels necessary, resurrecting a sub-genre many have probably forgotten even existed. And in the process, he not only improves the formula, but reminds us just how thrilling a good old fashioned murder mystery can be, especially when executed with this much precision and ingenuity. It's easy to believe there are fewer big screen mysteries because the level of difficulty is so high, both in delivering a satisfying, unpredictable script and directing so many different actors sharing the same scenes. Johnson greatly excels at this, and while its closest cinematic relatives would seem to be something like Clue or Deathtrap, you'd have to be careful not to similarly categorize this as a "whodunnit?"

An inaccurate "whodunnit?" hook would immediately set audiences up for a big reveal or ending twist that may or may not work depending upon whether we feel the culprit is suitably surprising. The players in Johnson's game don't feel like chess pieces to merely be moved across the board until we're left with a killer, but multi-dimensional characters whose motivations and actions make them interesting and complex enough to carry a morality tale all of their own. It's also doubles as a scathing, satirical commentary about wealth and privilege, rightfully earning every comparison it's gotten to Best Picture winner, Parasite, with which it would make an intriguing double-feature.

By getting the"who" question out the way by its mid-point, Johnson takes the pressure off, freeing the script up to focus instead on the "how" and "why." And it's there when you become completely absorbed by the story, recognizing that unlike previous ensemble mysteries, we actually have someone worth rooting for. The story's focus never leaves her, from the first frame up until the last, granting audiences one of the strongest protagonists you could hope to find at the center of such insanity.

When wealthy crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead with his throat slit in the family's Massachusetts mansion on his 85th birthday, an anonymous tip sends famed private detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) to the residence suspecting foul play. He's joined by Detective Elliott (Lakeith Stanfield) and Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan), local police who are more than ready to rule it a suicide as they begin questioning the eccentric Thrombeys, many of whom Blanc catches in lies and suspects would have strong motives to murder the ailing patriarch.

Leading up to his death, Harlan had seriously strained relationships with most of the family, mainly due to them freeloading off his fortune. He had just fired youngest son Walt (Michael Shannon) from his publishing company, threatened to expose that son-in-law Richard (Don Johnson) was cheating on daughter Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis) and cut off daughter-in-law and hippie lifestyle guru Joni's (Toni Colette's) allowance, which helps pay for granddaughter Meg's (Katherine Langford) college tuition. On the night of his death, he also had a heated verbal confrontation with black sheep grandson, Ransom (Chris Evans). His only confidante was Harlan's nurse and caregiver, Marta Cabrera (Ana de Armas), who soon becomes Blanc's biggest ally in the investigation when he realizes she often hears and sees everything. But even she has a secret, along with an unfortunate propensity to vomit when lying. But as Blanc gets closer to the truth, the Thrombeys may instead end up tearing each other apart over the contents of Harlan's will.

Supposedly, one of Johnson's biggest inspirations writing this was the classic detective series, Columbo, and you can really see how that would be, as the blueprint does faintly echo the style of mysteries you'd expect to see on that show, one of tv's most underrated crime dramas. In it, a seemingly clueless, schlubby-looking title murder detective (incomparably played by Peter Falk) would brilliantly connect all these dots to eventually come to the conclusion of how exactly the perpetrator committed the crime. That person's identity can often be telegraphed early on, making the details the reveal the main event, heavily favoring character development over a traditional "whodunnit."

That series, and especially its classic Steve Spielberg-helmed episode, "Murder By The Book" couldn't have been far from Johnson's mind when deciding to tackle this. Unlike Columbo, Blanc at least seems superficially competent and smoother, if initially unremarkable, as he observes the local officers question each lying family member. We not only get a glimpse of the detective's low-key shrewdness in these moments, but also the clueless and somewhat hilarious selfishness of this dysfunctional family. It's early into the story when we realize Harlan was justifiably sick of all of them, most of whom just so happen to have convenient alibis of some sort. But while the Thrombeys claim they view his nurse Marta as a member of their family and would do anything to help her, the validity of that promise gets shakier the more information we glean about what they truly value.

The more we discover about Marta, the easier it is to see why Harlan holds her in such high regard. Johnson's device of having the character vomit upon lying is crazily brilliant, adding another layer of tension to each scene she shares with Detective Blanc and eventually Chris Evans' obnoxious character, who eventually reveals himself as both more and less than he appears. When Johnson pulls the rug out from under us far earlier than expected and the narrative shifts to Marta's survival, she tries against her better judgment to hide her horrible mistake and survive in a shark tank full of loony Thrombeys. Of course, Blanc is more than a few steps ahead in recognizing she's the key to him piecing together the remains of the puzzle. And this is exactly the kind of quirky, outside-of-the-box role we've been waiting for Daniel Craig to take in his 007 off time, reminding just how much timing and range he demonstrates in supporting character parts, especially something as quirky and dryly comedic as this. 

Ana de Armas is the real discovery here as Marta, managing to remain the film's honest, moral center even when being forced into dishonesty. A shy medical caretaker who just wants to do right, what makes de Armas' performance special is how that quality consistently peaks through in all her actions and mannerisms, no matter how frightened the character seems or how unpredictably insane things get around her. Marta keeps finding these hidden reserves of strength, even as all the other reveal their weaknesses, embarassingly trying to manipulate her. Spoiled, black sheep Ransom tops that list, with Chris Evans relishing in this guy's inadequecies and stealing nearly every scene he's in, uproariously clashing with every member of his family, each of whom hate him a little more than the next. The feeling is more than mutual, leading to his now infamous scene in which he individually singles all of them out with a choice expletive.

Just as you've never seen Craig or Evans like this, Toni Colette similarly surprises as the irresponsible Joni, a flighty Gwyneth Paltrow-like lifestyle guru who owns a GOOP-like company. Her and daughter Meg are clearly set up as the most liberal of the clan, but despite a heated political argument with Don Johnson's ultra-conservative Richard, both reveal themselves as close-minded to Marta's situation as he is. That's most disappointingly true of Meg, whom Katherine Langford plays as her closest confidante, only to quickly turn when Harlan's fortune enters the equation, almost reflexively sucked into the vortex of her self-serving family. It also says a lot that Michael Shannon isn't playing the craziest or most unstable character, but still delivers his fair share of insanity as Harlan's entitled son.

It would almost be too easy if the Thrombeys were all just one-dimensionally terrible people, but they're not, with a few even demonstrating varying degrees of likability. It's that they're priorities are so messed up that make them the story's antagonists and allow us to root for their comeuppance in the end. They're not merely "suspects" and their alleged involvement in the crime, if you could even consider it one, is almost beside the point. This could have been aspect some viewers had problems with, especially those expecting the entire film to revolve around a reveal. We do we get something similar, but better, as Blanc gives a detailed explanation that makes logical sense, while revealing truths about its characters that confirm our investment in them.

The third act helps further establish Marta as the only trustworthy person in Harlan's life, even if no one in the family understands this, as shown by their immediate accusation that she must have been sleeping with him to be left everything in his will. And of course they would think that, given every relationship they've likely had in their lives transactionally revolved around sex or money, rendering them oblivious to how two people could share a connection that doesn't depend on either. Harlan realizes she made a big mistake, but an innocent one that would carry far worse consequences for her illegal immigrant family than a physically incapacitated octogenarian whose relatives treat him like garbage. And the true brilliance in Johnson's screenplay comes to light when we discover it wasn't her mistake at all, and Blanc's unraveling of Ransom's plan comes as a direct result of both her skills as a nurse and genuinely good heart.

When the film's sensational final minutes expose Ransom as the sociopath he is, but the rest are barely any better, as Marta stares down on them from the balcony of her newly bequeathed estate. The Thrombeys are left scrambling in their former driveway, finding themselves for the first time on the outside looking in. Or, exactly where they belong. It's a twist as worthy of Rod Serling as Agatha Christie, and a reminder of the tightrope walk required to successfully pull off socio-political satire. Johnson lets the characters take the reigns, and the rest organically falls into place, as the best genre deconstructions do. The right person is left standing because she's deserving. It's a kick in the gut and a reward for viewers paying attention to all the details. Not so bad for a director still inexplicably being raked over the coals for a certain "controversial" Star Wars entry. But with a razor-sharp script and an eclectic, super-talented cast all being used to their maximum potential, it's impossible to deny this as a far better platform for his talents. Bring on the sequel.  

13 Reasons Why (Season 2)

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring: Dylan Minnette, Katherine Langford, Christian Navarro, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Justin Prentice, Miles Heizer, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Amy Hargreaves, Derek Luke, Kate Walsh, Brian d'Arcy James, Brenda Strong, Jake Weber, Michele Selene Ang, Ajiona Alexus, Sosie Bacon, Steven Weber, Anne Winters, Samantha Logan
Release Date: 2018

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers From the Second Season of Netflix's 13 Reasons Why**

The biggest challenge facing a second season of Netflix's teen suicide drama, 13 Reasons Why was in convincing audiences it's even necessary. That there was more story left to tell when it appeared to have reached a clear, logical conclusion last year with Hannah Baker's suicide. It was a climax we knew was coming, yet the details surrounding it, recorded on 13 tapes that Hanna left behind, provided the structure and substance behind one of the more complex, intelligent depictions of teens in recent series television. And with that came controversy, as the suicide prevention disclaimers that air before and after each episode this season remind us, bookending a brutally honest show that earned its following by not pulling many punches.

While "suicide contagion" is real and even directly referenced and discussed during the season, the need for a content warning does seem to be a greater reflection of our current cultural climate of heightened sensitivity than the actual series itself. It's a safe bet we wouldn't have seen it a decade earlier, and after witnessing what occurs in this season's final episode, I'm not sure it's still entirely due to last season's graphic suicide.

"13 Reasons Why is a fictional series that tackles tough, real-world issues, taking a look at sexual assault, substance abuse, suicide, and more. By shedding a light on these difficult topics, we hope our show can helps viewers start a conversation. But if you are struggling with these issues yourself, this series may not be right for you or you may want to watch it with a trusted adult. And if you ever feel you need someone to talk with, reach out to a parent, a friend, a school counselor, or an adult you trust, call a local helpline, or go to 13ReasonsWhy.info. Because the minute you start talking about it, it gets easier."

So, how do you follow a phenomenon that seems entirely self-contained to a single season, setting up and concluding its narrative within its 13 episodes? Luckily, the first season wasn't merely a one-trick pony, successfully mapping out a universe and developing even its most minor characters well enough that's there's still a surprisingly rich well from which to draw, despite now losing most of Jay Asher's YA novel as its guidepost. And after a slow start that makes you wonder whether the producers were more interested in finding ways to shoehorn Golden Globe nominee Katherine Langford back into the show as Hannah, they somehow manage to deliver a sensational, at times jaw-dropping, sophomore season that not only expands the scope of the series, but effectively continues a story many believe had run its course.

By framing the episodes with individual court testimonies, this season provides bigger acting opportunities to a greater number of its hugely impressive cast, still developing into an essential next chapter minus Hannah's tapes or even a particularly sympathetic protagonist. It also benefits from being timelier than its preceding season, tackling more than teen suicide and diving head first into controversial, hot button currently issues facing schools and society as a whole. Everything doesn't work, but with creator Brian Yorkey attempting so much, that was almost inevitable. And while I'm still not sure I'm on board with Netflix's campaign to reframe the completely fictional series as some kind of teaching tool for teens (complete with an accompanying "Beyond The Reasons" special with licensed psychologists), the final result speaks for itself, at least as far as its ability to entertain.

Justin Prentice as serial rapist Bryce Walker

Sometimes just honestly depicting serious issues on screen with raw, believable performances and strong writing is enough. And in the case of this second season, it's more than enough, justifying its existence by confronting rape, suicide, sexual abuse, drug abuse, male privilege, bullying, homophobia, slut shaming, vandalism, racism and school shootings head-on. Is it over-the-top? Maybe, but good luck trying to look away or dismiss the discussions sure to emerge from it.

With Hannah Baker (Langford) now gone and her 13 tapes heard by its intended audience, focus shifts to the court case brought against Liberty High by her grieving, now separated parents Olivia (Kate Walsh) and Andy (Brian d'Arcy James) as well as Clay's (Dylan Minette) attempts to move on following the loss of the best friend he considered the love of his life. But he's not having much luck, talking to hallucinations of Hannah as he reaches his psychological breaking point, consumed with proving popular, privileged baseball captain Bryce Walker (Justin Prentice) raped her and exposing a toxic culture of abuse and faculty negligence at Liberty.

Clay will not only have to battle against a legal defense strategy painting Hannah as a slut and a school staff looking to cover their tracks, but enlist the help of the returning Jessica Davis (Alisha Boe), who herself was raped by Bryce while her boyfriend and Bryce's best bud, Justin Foley (Brandon Flynn) did nothing. Getting her to speak openly about what happened on the stand and tracking down a now homeless, guilt-ridden Justin become Clay's chief objectives, and while good friend Tony (Christian Navarro) tries to help, he's busy struggling with anger management issues of his own.

Alex Standall (Miles Heizer) drowns out the pain

Returning to Liberty with ex-girlfriend Jessica is Alex Standall (Miles Heizer), whose attempted suicide over the pain both caused Hannah has left him physically and emotionally broken, leaning on an unlikely ally for support in kindhearted jock Zach Dempsey (Ross Butler).  One-by-one witnesses take the stand, as new details about Hannah's relationships with each of them that aren't found on the tapes start to surface. As  the true severity of this school's problems are revealed, the battle lines are drawn, with Bryce and his boys willing to do anything to exact revenge on those testifying.

Sick of it all is social outcast, sometimes "peeping tom," Tyler Down (Devin Druid), a bullying target who turns to the rebellious Cyrus (Bryce Cass) for help in striking back. And for guidance counselor Kevin Porter (Derek Luke), the guilt of having routinely dismissed Hannah's cries for help has inspired him to take action like never before, possibly to his own detriment. With tensions reaching their boiling point, it's clear that while Hannah's no longer alive, the underlying causes of her problems are still very prevalent at Liberty.

We should probably breathe a sigh of relief that the writers didn't pull out another batch of 13 more tapes in order to artificially continue Hannah's story. Having each of the witnesses take the stand as previously unseen bits and pieces of their relationship with Hannah unfold works really well, as does this shift of narration from her voice to theirs, leaving us constantly wondering just how reliable their accounts are. And since there's more to her life than was heard through the tapes, it doesn't feel cheap or manipulative that we're now privy to information that wasn't previously accessible.

Clay converses with Ghost Hannah

All this new info angers an already tortured Clay, who listens to painful details about Hannah that not only shatter his idealized image of her, but present her actions and choices in a horrible light. Of course, this is the cornerstone of the defense's case, as they attempt to prove it was a reckless lifestyle full of promiscuity that led her to take her own life rather than the school ignoring or dismissing clear warning signs. If she seems to be the one on trial here, that's exactly the point.

A less effective use of Hannah, or rather Clay's memory of her, is as a ghost with whom he has  frequently heated discussions and arguments. That, and his new doomed relationship with tattooed  barista and estranged childhood friend Skye (Sosie Bacon) comprise some early episode lowlights until the season finds its groove shortly thereafter. The former device starts to make more sense as Clay's psyche further unravels under all the stress of the trial while the latter subplot disappears entirely, replaced with an unlikely bromance that proves to be one of the show's biggest rewards. Those creative hiccups and a bewildering subplot involving Olivia's friendship with an anti-bullying advocate (played by Kelli O'Hara) that seems to go nowhere is all that doesn't really work in these otherwise satisfying and ambitious 13 episodes.

What's conveyed exceptionally is just how hard it is for a rape victim to come forward, regardless of the circumstances or how much or little of a support system they have. The idea that the victim is actually raped twice, once by the perpetrator and again by the legal system and court of public opinion is agonizingly depicted as Jessica must return to Liberty and walk the same halls as her assailant, while Hannah, even in death, is continuously stripped of her dignity in a courtroom because she supposedly "wanted it."

Jessica Davis (Alisha Boe) takes the stand

The show would seem to be preaching if it didn't sketch its characters with such depth and so viscerally convey the true extent of complicity that makes any kind of justice for these victims impossible  No one wants to rock the boat and are willing to sweep anything under the rug when the careers and reputations of the school's faculty are on the line. And that's emblematic of this entire season, as kids continue suffering because of either a broken system or apathetic adults determined to maintain the status quo.

The privileged existence of Bryce Walker (who Justin Prentice plays with a terrifying smugness) contaminates everything around him, his popularity and family connections helping to protect a culture of rape and bullying that's become accepted as the norm. And the jocks follow him like sheep, covering his tracks even while we learn just how prevalent and far-reaching his crimes are. It even engulfs his new girlfriend, the almost equally popular Chlöe (Anne Winters), who remains in the dark and eventually in denial about who she's really with. When confronted with indisputable evidence, we're reminded yet again why so many rapists go free, as even those with the strength to come forward always end up sacrificing the most in the process.

One of the season's more cleverly constructed devices involves Bryce's secret "Clubhouse," where damning Polaroid photographs take the place of Hannah's cassette tapes as this season's retro tech smoking gun, providing evidence of his and the team's sexual assaults. Clay and company being able to obtain that evidence and get it into court will prove to be one of their biggest challenges.

Justin Foley (Brandon Flynn) returns to Liberty High

One of Bryce's most loyal followers was troubled childhood friend, Justin, but as his disappearance and subsequent descent into addiction prove, he can no longer bare the burden of having done nothing to help Jessica. Much of the season revolves around Clay bringing Justin back to testify, and the roadblocks preventing it. Justin's emotional instability tops the list, while also leading to one of the more unlikely, genuine friendships of the series with him and polar opposite Clay. And to a lesser extent, even his relationship with the Jensens (Amy Hargreaves and Josh Hamilton) who, along with the rest of the parents, seem more actively involved this time around.

If many of the supporting characters benefit from Hannah and Clay ceding their spotlight within this new storytelling structure, so too do the actors playing them. While Katherine Langford was heralded as the show's breakout star with her turbulent, controversial role, you could easily argue Alisha Boe continues to evolve as the show's strongest acting presence, as Jessica's fight with PTSD is brought to the surface with the pressure to out Bryce as her rapist. One of the season's powerful moments comes when she realizes that if white, girl-next-door Hannah's reputation is being dragged through the mud in court, what could happen to her, as a black girl, if she chooses to come forward?

Brandon Flynn does equally powerful work as Justin, plumbing the depths as a heroine addict with a toxic family life who leaves all traces of his former popularity alongside Bryce behind, determined to do right by Jessica, even if he destroys himself in the process. Physically, Miles Heizer's Alex is in the worst shape of all, having survived his suicide attempt only to discover the broken pieces of himself he's left for both friends and family. Barely able to walk and isolating those closest to him out of pride, his extensive memory loss limits any potentially meaningful contributions he could make in the court case.

Mr. Porter threatens Bryce

The only adult who senses the full gravity of the situation and is actively attempting to make a difference in these teens' lives is embattled guidance counselor Kevin Porter, who's torn apart by the guilt he could have done more to help Hannah when she came to his office. Derek Luke really nails the role, infusing one of last season's more frustrating, one-dimensional characters with a renewed moral compass, wrestling with the realization he's on the wrong end of this case, defending a school system that didn't do enough.

Realizing his days at Liberty are numbered and determined to clean up the school with his own form of vigilante heroics, it's clear he stopped caring about consequences a while ago, pissing off the apathetic principal and doing everything he can to take down the Bryce and his cronies. It's kind of thrilling to watch, especially his big moment of truth on the stand, which reveals what happened to Hannah was as much the school's responsibility as his, failing to provide the tools and training necessary for him to effectively do his job.

From the very start, you can almost sense these episodes heading in an ugly direction that will elicit more debate and controversy. You can argue it started at the end of last season when Devin Druid's Tyler revealed a chest full of automatic weaponry and ammunition that uncomfortably invoked everyone's worst recollections of Columbine's Harris and Klebold. We eventually see the chest again, but it's the inciting series of events surrounding Tyler throughout the season that makes its reappearance so terrifying. While the yearbook photographer was established as an eccentric loner from the series' start, harboring an unhealthy, potentially stalkerish obsession with Hannah, a dangerous combination of chronic insecurity and mistreatment soon lead Tyler down an even darker path.

Tyler Down (Devin Druid) hits rock-bottom

The Emmy-worthy Druid might have the toughest role of any actor in the cast since it isn't often we're unknowingly given a 26-episode glimpse into what both makes up and creates a school shooter. He gives us clues both subtle and obvious, until the subtlety ends and we're just left with a bathroom assault scene that rivals Hannah's suicide for sheer emotional terror.

It isn't the scene's violence that gets to to us as much as Tyler's desperation, attempting and failing to utilize the tools he was told would help him improve as a person. It seems that every time he comes close to a breakthrough, he sabotages himself. This time he didn't and actually tried to do the right thing, only to receive the worst, most humiliating punishment imaginable for his efforts. And that's what sends him over the edge.

It's natural to understand critics' and audiences' discomfort with the season-closing arc, which pushes us to feel empathy for someone we suspect is about to commit an unthinkably evil act. But there's no denying that the writers and Druid's performance attach a very specific, slow burning "how," "why," "where" "when" to it, which is far more than can be said for most depictions of senseless violence on screen. That it never gets that far only seemed to increase the criticisms, with many accusing the show of using a potential school shooting situation as cliffhanger bait. But that's missing the point.

That it's Clay, still traumatized from his inability to prevent Hannah from taking her own life, who ends up talking down Tyler makes a lot of sense since they always seemed cut from a similar cloth in how they handle perceived injustices. And anyone who thinks the show's endorsing the idea of confronting active shooter probably shouldn't be watching. This isn't a school safety training video. It's a drama that's only obligation is to its story and characters. That Netflix hasn't buckled under the pressure of politically correct resistance has served the series well, continually keeping its emotions grounded in reality, regardless of how heightened the circumstances become. 

Clay speaks at Hannah's memorial

The Hannah Baker suicide is undoubtedly put to bed in the final, powerful episode of the season, as it should be. While it's inaccurate to say that the single inciting event that most impacted and shaped all these characters and their stories could ever truly go away, it was admittedly a little awkward to have Hannah's (or rather Katherine Langford's) physical presence still occupying such a huge chunk of the series. If Clay is to continue being the show's anchor, she has to be completely gone, especially since so many of the supporting players have been developed to the point that this now revolves around them. Plus, her story's over, as Clay clearly found his own type of painful closure both at the school dance and her memorial service.

While this season wasn't as clearly defined as it's last and even a little messier, the 13 Reasons is in no need of any type of creative rehabilitation and calls for a return to first season form are not only needlessly premature, but sort of ridiculous when you consider how many more moving parts it now has. If the series has supposedly stirred up all this outrage, it's brought to the forefront just as many necessary conversations, whether people are ready to have them or not. For a show everyone claims to hate, it's sure giving us a lot to consider.

13 Reasons Why

Creator: Brian Yorkey
Starring: Dylan Minnette, Katherine Langford, Christian Navarro, Alisha Boe, Brandon Flynn, Justin Prentice, Miles Heizer, Ross Butler, Devin Druid, Amy Hargreaves, Derek Luke, Kate Walsh, Brian d'Arcy James, Josh Hamilton, Michele Selene Ang, Steven Silver, Ajiona Alexus, Tommy Dorfman, Brandon Larracuente, Steven Weber, Mark Pellegrino
Original Airdate: 2017

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

In a recent interview, actress Molly Ringwald stated that if they were going to remake The Breakfast Club today, it would just be two hours of texting in detention. While she brings up a reasonable point, I'd like to have more faith that the creative forces would never let it come to that. And now there's a reason to believe it won't. Actually, thirteen of them. Netflix's much buzzed about, controversial 13 Reasons Why (based upon Jay Asher's 2007 best-selling YA novel) shares little in common with that seminal 1985 film, and yet her seemingly throwaway comment stayed with me long after its conclusion. High school is so often about labels and hierarchy and that movie was really the first to openly acknowledge it, for better or worse.

TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY

Jock, princess, nerd, rebel. It's so simple and true that many forms of entertainment have been reflecting it back at us ever since, some dumbing the formula down while others have been admirably attempting to refine and improve upon it. At first, it appears that 13 Ways will present yet another exhaustive variation on this, as its literary roots and Selena Gomez producing credit don't exactly inspire confidence from the start. I could feel my eyes starting to roll at the prospect of such a series in 2017 wrestling with timely issues such as school bullying and teen suicide through a rose-colored "young adult" glasses.

In just the first few episodes I cringed at the implication that the doomed girl at this story's center could even have the wheels set in motion for her eventual suicide by winning "nicest ass" and having what most would consider a pretty commonplace, if admittedly hurtful, start to her sophomore year. And that was the last trace of skepticism I remember having for the remainder of the episodes, which comprise an absolute thrill ride full of twists, turns and storytelling mastery not seen in this genre since the first season of Veronica Mars, from which this undoubtedly finds some of its inspiration.

Character by character, the layers start to peel away to reveal a situation darker and more morally complex than originally perceived. And no, there isn't anyone staring at their phones since the electronic device of choice is a SONY Walkman, used by our put-upon protagonist to begrudgingly listen to the thirteen cassette tapes he's now in possession of, detailing the series of events that led to a terrible tragedy. Or, if you're counting, multiple ones.

Katherine Langford as Hannah Baker

The characters we meet on these tapes most definitely can't be summed up in a single sentence or a one word description. Trampling over tropes and bucking convention, most are relatively popular and various shades of awful, with some slightly more redeemable than others. And all are vividly and brilliantly brought to life by a cast you can now collectively refer to as Netflix's Class of '17. And when the time comes for creator and showrunner Brian Yorkey to seriously tackle important issues like rape and murder, he does it, diving in head first without cutting any creative corners in seeing this saga to its thrilling but logical conclusion.

Shy, introspective loner Clay Jensen (Dylan Minnette) comes home from school to find a mysterious box on his porch. In it are seven double-sided cassette tapes recorded by his best friend and unrequited crush, Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford), who killed herself two weeks earlier. The tapes serve as sort of an audio diary detailing the reasons for her taking her own life, implicating each of the thirteen people at school who will receive the box as a reason for her eventual suicide. After listening to the tapes they must pass the box on to the next person or risk breaking the chain, causing a separate set of tapes to be released to the public.

Of the recipients, Clay was closest to Hannah and is most shaken by the revelations found on these cassettes, his mind set on punishing those she singled out on them. It also puts him in the crosshairs of his considerably more popular classmates, all of whom have devastating secrets they'd rather keep buried, despite an impending lawsuit from Hannah's grieving, financially struggling parents, Olivia and Andy (Kate Walsh and Brian d'Arcy James) With no knowledge of the tapes that could potentially be the smoking gun in their case against California's Liberty High, the Bakers angrily demand answers from administrators such as Principal Gary Bolan (Steven Weber) and school counselor Mr. Porter (Derek Luke), both of whom are put in the awkward position of legally placating them while protecting the school's academic reputation and its students in the face of unimaginable circumstances. And that's the problem. It should have been very imaginable from the start.

"Tape 1, Side A"

Star student athletes Justin (Brandon Flynn), Bryce (Justin Prentice), Zach (Ross Butler) and Marcus (Steven Silver), along with wild child Jessica (Alisha Boe), quiet, intense new kid Alex (Miles Heizer), goody two shoes Courtney (Michele Selene Ang), perky cheerleader Sheri (Ajiona Alexus) and creepy school photographer Tyler (Devin Druid) and poet/journalist Jeff (Brandon Larracuente) all have something to lose if the tapes get out. And they've all made Clay public enemy number one, knowing his closeness to Hannah and thirst for justice make him most likely to come forward to the police or her despondent parents.

Plagued by the guilt that he could have done something more and under constant threat by his classmates, Clay reluctantly listens to the tapes at the urging of his friend Tony (Christian Navarro), who may know a lot more than he's letting on. When he ejects that last tape Clay will have his answers, but it's what he chooses to do with it that could have a lasting impact on all their lives.

The series makes a strangely bold choice early on, not depicting Hannah as a "good girl" or immediately attempting to solicit audience sympathy for her. She also wouldn't seem to be anyone's top candidate for bullying, which is precisely the point. She eventually gets there on all fronts, but does so organically as small events and tiny moments start to add up, magnifying in size and scope with every episode. She's a good person, but not an instantly likable one because of the poor decisions she often makes, frequently stemming from her desire to just be liked and accepted. At times, this borders on desperation despite her best efforts to cooly play it off. It's only when she's hanging out with Clay or they're working together at the Crestmont movie theater that we're exposed to a different side.

As one character puts it, Hannah's "drama" and the writers' willingness to embrace that she's put some of this on herself, while still acknowledging she's done nothing to warrants or deserve what eventually happens, only deepens the narrative. You can almost literally catch yourself yelling through the screen for her to just stop. Who cares what people think?! And then you remember it's high school and that's flat-out impossible.

What Could Have Been: Hannah and Clay

Whether it's her family's financial struggles, the transfer of her best friend to another school, or her own insecurity weighing her down, she's most "herself" around Clay, or maybe, like him, that's just what we want to believe. Through flashbacks that run through the entirety of these 13 episodes, we start to see the growth of a friendship he wishes were more if only he had the fortitude to make it happen.

Essentially the prototypical teen, Clay is neither popular or unpopular and we get the impression that his possession of the tapes in the wake of Hannah's suicide is probably the most attention he's ever received. It's tough to depict a teen romance, or even tease the idea of one without sappiness, but this one is done just right. By refusing to put a halo on her or suit him up in armor and then denying them anything close to a happy ending, we can just sit back and appreciate how their time together is handled, lifting the simplest of "boy meets girl" stories into this doomed tragedy.

We're left with the impression that even if Hannah had lived, there's simply no way she'd end up with Clay, or even someone like him considering the head space she's at. The point of no return in the series comes when even she starts to acknowledge her issues, realizing she needs help. And it's when she reaches out to her classmates that they instead pounce like animals. Australian actress Katherine Langford's performance as Hannah starts with this wide-eyed optimism we can't imagine shifting gears until it slowly does, as she's put through the wringer in a series of events that allow us to eventually see that life and future slowly drain from her eyes with each traumatic encounter.

Gone, but far from forgotten

Langford's complimented perfectly by Dylan Minnette, projecting this stoicism and internal sadness that slowly builds into a simmering rage when he listens to the tapes and discovers just how many people could have done more to prevent this tragedy or share some degree of responsibility in it. The list becomes endless and his problems coping infiltrate every aspect of his life, leading to one of the series' most memorable visuals, as Clay hallucinates a blood drenched Hannah lying lifeless on the hardwood floor during a school basketball game.   

Whatever flaws Hannah may seem to have become minor in the broad scheme of things when we meet the subjects of those tapes and learn that her classmates, some of whom she'd call "friends" at one point, are ten times worse because they project their issues onto everyone else. Some do it consciously, others by accident, but all share culpability in how they treated her. While Clay claims that getting revenge on those who are on the tapes is all for Hannah, as his journey progresses a good enough case can be made that he's really doing this to absolve his own guilt over not telling her how he felt when she was alive. In fact, everyone's preoccupation with the drama surrounding the tapes often causes them to miss things that are right in front of their faces, this time hurting each other in many of the same ways that drove Hannah to end her own life.

It's around the fourth episode or so that the series starts settling in and finding its groove, as the format of dedicating each tape to a person who somehow qualifies as a reason for Hannah's tragic act starts ingeniously paying off. You start to realize that the first couple of inciting events set into motion a series of incidents that lead to much bigger, damaging ones that spiral out of control, a "butterfly effect" of sorts that's directly referenced by Hannah in her narration, but may as well also apply to the show as a whole. Only adding to the intrigue and mystery surrounding her death is the fact that nearly all these actors are unknowns, creating a freshness and unpredictability that may have otherwise been absent with a cast full of major stars bringing baggage and preconceived notions to their roles.

Alex (Miles Heizer) goes for a swim

Other than lead Dylan Minette (who played young Jack Sheperd on Lost) and Miles Hiezer (a former Parenthood supporting player who's unrecognizable here with a nose ring and bleached hair), it's a good bet you haven't seen any of these performers before, or if you have, wouldn't remember. We meet them as Hannah does for the first time, and as the universe of the show expands, it becomes as much about them as her.

While it would be impossible to get into all the intricate backstories and motivations behind these characters without spoiling the show's surprises, the two that most stand out aside from the co-protagonists are the reckless Jessica Davis played by unquestionable future star Alisha Boe and Hiezer's dark, moody Alex Standall. Where they start when Hannah initially meets and befriends them compared to where the material ends of taking them is kind of staggering, with both actors proving themselves more than up to the task.

While all the acting has been widely and justifiably praised, when you think of the heart and soul of the show and the possibilities of it continuing past the immediate aftermath of Hannah's death, it's Jessica and Alex who immediately come to mind as having already gone to the most challenging places, but still having story left. Of the supporting cast, Boe and Heizer's performances may just travel the furthest in helping anchor the series as something that far transcends the genre constraints it breaks free from.

Hannah with mom Olivia (Kate Walsh)

It's easy to initially be perplexed Hannah's parents' obsessive quest to point fingers at the school without the audio evidence Clay is privy to, but the more we learn of the tape's contents and how the faculty handled the info they did have, her behavior can be viewed in an entirely different different light. Kate Walsh does gut-wrenching work as Olivia, a devastated mother tired and dissheveled enough to have been to hell and back, but with an unwavering sense of justice for her deceased daughter who she just knows in her gut was wronged. As Hannah's dad, Andy, Brian d'Arcy James is more measured and logical but even he can't deny the mounting evidence and growing suspicions, as much frustrated that their inability to financially make ends meet as a family may have somehow contributed to her sadness and stress.

The adults on the series are occupying an entirely different plane of reality than the teens, frequently oblivious to what's going on in their kids' lives. It's especially true of Clay's parents, Lainie and Matt (played by Amy Hargreaves and Josh Hamilton), frustrated by their son's uncharacteristic behavior that consists of coming home at odd times beaten, bloody or drunk, skipping school, getting suspended and having random visitors over. It's possible that for no one else at Lincoln High or any real or fictional high school this would raise as many red flags as it does for the straightlaced Clay, and they know this. They just haven't figured out the cause and how it relates to Hannah's suicide, or their relationship, which they know nothing of. Lainie's leading the charge while her more laid back husband smothers him with kindness, but her complicated link to the school and its faculty may soon make for an uncomfortable conflict of interest.

All this serves to further build anticipation for when Clay arrives at his own tape, while continuing to cast suspicions on Tony, the one person who seems to know everything about them, acting as an eyes and ears for the audience and a guardian angel to Clay. Played by Christian Navarro (who should remind some of a more likable Wilmer Valderamma), his scenes opposite Minnette are some of the best, with his character only growing in impact and importance as we head down the final stretch.  

Clay and Tony have a talk

Like a great puzzle box, all the pieces start coming together at the end, and when they do, there's a renewed appreciation for what came before and the creativity it must have taken to arrive there. And in that thirteenth episode there's an physically and emotionally brutal scene that's not only difficult to watch and more than warrants its pre-show title card warning, but proves the creators were serious and sincere in their intentions. Getting to know these characters and being taken on this journey can only lead to one place, but whatever knowledge we have going into the inevitable suicide still can't fully prepare us for it.

The direction, editing and acting from those involved in the suicide sequence truly make it a nauseating, disturbing moment that feels like it lasts for hours, as it should. That I could barely watch tells me they did their job. If this is "controversial," then we can only hope that all shows are capable of courting controversy in such a brutally honest way. It's one thing to show someone killing themselves on screen, it's quite another properly handle everything that comes along with it. We're left not thinking about Hannah Baker's suicide, but instead how achingly close she came to not going through with it if only this or that happened differently.

I don't know how we get another season without Langford or the central mystery element that drove these thirteen episodes, but we will, and its impossible to not remain curious as to how. While there are many lingering threads and questions, you can't help but again be reminded of the Veronica Mars comparisons and worry given how that series never recovered once their mystery wrapped. As a standalone project it's so impressive that you'd just hate to see something this special limp on for multiple seasons to become "just another show." The question will be whether enough was done here to expand the universe and give the numerous remaining characters enough to move forward and work off of. Then comes the bigger question: Now that we have gone through all 13 thirteen tapes, will we see or hear from Hannah again?

Hannah reaches her breaking point

That 13 Reasons was executive produced and even partially directed by Tom McCarthy, the primarily indie filmmaker behind 2015's Best Picture-winning Spotlight, comes only as a surprise in so far as our perceptions of the material's possibilities going in. He shatters them, leaving all the results right there on the screen. The editing, direction, casting, performances, music choices and every seemingly minor, but eventually crucial detail like the cars the characters drive contribute to a fully immersive experience, surpassing anything that previously carried the perceived stench of "YA." He and directors Jessica Wu, Gregg Araki, Carl Franklin, Helen Shaver and Kyle Patrick Alvarez invest this with a depth and adult sophistication that also stands as a snapshot of our times, regardless of the ages of the characters involved.

If recording and distributing audio cassette tapes seemed far off when Yorkey's novel was written a decade ago, that time has added another layer aside from its now cool, nostalgic, old school appeal. It builds this bridge between the past and the present, giving the story a comfort and universality that speaks to everyone, reminding us that for all the complaints about cyber technology and social media ruining lives, at the end of the day we still bare the ultimate responsibility for how we treat each other, in seemingly even the smallest moments.

Netflix somehow does it again, producing a season of TV every bit as worthy of entering the cultural lexicon as Stranger Things and House of Cards before it. But what's more noteworthy is the steeper climb this had due to the added pressure of being taken seriously in a genre that rarely is. It's avoided here by not making a teen show at all, but a compelling adult drama with universal themes that happens to revolve around younger characters. Of course, that's easier said than done. As for the controversy? All it reveals is that this hit a chord by not holding back and daring to ask the tough, ugly questions no one's interested in going near. Those who find that morally reprehensible or disturbing would probably be better off not watching 13 Reasons. But those who do should be warned that once they start, it'll be impossible to stop.