I settled down to watch The Strain‘s Season 3 premiere last night, hoping to see Angel, my favorite vampire-fighting former luchador.
^ (not him specifically, just a general luchador)
When Angel didn’t appear, I couldn’t remember if he was dead. This is double-embarrassing because I’ve also read the books.
I can never remember who’s dead on a TV show between seasons.
If a show has more than, say, 10 characters, I can’t keep track of them. I require very concise recaps before the credits every time, if possible.
Back to the Season 3 opener of The Strain, a show I mostly like because the vampires are not sparkly or sexy. During transformation, their noses and genitalia literally fall off. Their hair falls out. They develop giant attacking throat-tongues. In the books, a huge deal is made of the fact that they pee and poop from the same hole, and it smells like ammonia.
Oh, and the Nazis‘ Holocaust was their trial run for human-farming methods.
This show is so gross. Every time it comes on, I’m surprised anew at that FX will put this content on TV.
Every scene is sprinkled with viscera. Every character is flawed to the point of being hateful. The vampires are heinous. The child-acting is a disaster.
Which brings us back to Angel (who was not in this episode). He is an old Latino guy with a limp who can use his old, buff body to rip those genderless uni-pooping bodies to shreds. I don’t think he’s dead. I hope he isn’t. He my shimmering favorite in a world of sadness.
If you want to immerse yourself in The Strain‘s horrific, virulent misery, it’s on Hulu.