ALIAS' COVER IS BLOWN

I got out of the Navy in September of 2001. I had enough on my plate re-acclimating to America, finding a job, and beginning full-time university work to worry about the fall television season’s hot new shows. And so it was that, although I heard glowing and even gushing reports about ABC’s new darling, Alias, I decided that it was an investment of time I could not spare.

Stupid choice, Brandon.

I now know what I’ve been missing. Season One on DVD was leaked to me by a covert operative and after analyzing it’s data I find that I am hopelessly enmeshed in a celluloid conspiracy beyond my power to resist.

Alias is mesmerizing. Part thriller, part camp, J.J. Abram’s pet project is an astounding cornucopia of unpredictable plot twists and cliff-hangers, exotic locales, sexy women, heart-pounding action and the sort of spy mythology that both borrows from and simultaneously reinvents the universe of James Bond. Inexplicable and impossible, Alias nonetheless somehow transcends its built-in shortcomings and rises to the point of nearly flawless plausibility. Not an easy thing to do in a show like this.

Secret Agent Sydney Bristow’s tragic need to suppress the very truth in her private life that she is searching for in her public life makes for stellar drama. Surrounded by a cast of characters both sympathetically insidious and darkly virtuous, Alias has become a massive cult phenomenon and it is not hard to figure out why.

I realize I am way behind the curve. I also realize Season Four debuts January 5th. Which is why I must sign off for now. Season Two awaits me and I have a lot of catching up to do and a short amount of time to do it in.

This message will self destruct…