Gentle viewers,
Unless you are some twisted soul who enjoys side-splitting comedy, painstakingly visual effects, and frighteningly good acting, I would do my absolute best to avoid watching the upcoming season of Netflix’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, which debuts January 1, 2019. I simply cannot think of a more miserable way to spend this winter. Normally, being trapped inside a living room with loved ones over yet another New Year, starting to watch a television programme together sounds delightful, but not if you have to endure the dulcet bass groans of Patrick Warburton’s narration or the dastardly horrors that Neil Patrick Harris has to depict in the guise of that most dreadful of actors, the vile Count Olaf. After that chilling cliffhanger at the end of last season, Violet (Malina Wasserman) and Klaus (Louis Hynes) will somehow have to pry their innocent baby sister, Sunny (Presley Smith) from Count Olaf’s clutches. I urge you, viewers, not to endure the gruesome screams of laughter that this series inevitably (a word which here means “without fail”) draws from its onlookers. I certainly can’t imagine anyone who has the endurance to suffer a marathon viewing session. Those brave individuals who have persevered the print precedents will recognize the strains of The Slippery Slope, The Grim Grotto, The Penultimate Peril, and The End in the final installment of this particular televised adaption. Such individuals may be inclined to search for some jest in the dialogue and setting of the shows, which is liberally laced with literary lore, but nothing can lessen the tragedy that’s certain befall the Baudelaire orphans at the hands of the notorious V.F.D. View if you dare; as for myself, I must chronicle the Baudelaires’ adventures this season on this bothersome blog.
Yours,
Aaron Heil
Some revolting reading for me to review before January 1. Photo by Aaron Heil
