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Tag: Down Cemetery Road

  • Down Cemetery Road Recap: Strangers on a Train

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    Last week was all about the emotional toll killing people, rescuing people, and discovering people-killers has taken on our motley crew. This week is all about action. As we near the finale, tensions are mounting to a fever pitch. We’re entering the part of the story which should compel a reader to read while walking, and the show delivers in creating a viewing experience that replicates that hold on the viewer’s attention. The highlight of the episode — if not of the series as a whole — is the chase sequence on the train to Scotland, when Zoë escapes from Amos’s grip within an inch of her life.

    We left off last week with Amos’s realization that he was being followed; now, he finds out who is following him. As it turns out, Axel’s main passion in life, besides killing people, was journaling. He made sure to include a photo of Zoë in his little red book, with a caption explaining she was Joe’s wife. In brute force, Zoë is no match for Amos — he could probably take her down with a stare. But unfortunately for him, Amos is not as witty or charismatic. Zoë’s ability to connect with people saves her life.

    After making sure his gun is loaded with bullets and a silencer, Amos finds Zoë. He sits across from her just as a PSA advises passengers to alert the authorities if they see something suspicious. Zoë has a better idea: she strikes up a conversation with the chatty American couple sitting next to them. She introduces herself as Julia — Amos picks the alias “Andy” — to Bob and Shelley, and, noticing that Bob is carrying Bananagrams like any self-respecting American looking to have a good time, she asks them to play a game. She takes Bob up on his promise that he can “play all night,” hoping to ward off Amos. But Amos waits patiently until Bob and Shelley decide to go to bed. When Shelley wants to take a picture with them, Amos pushes “Julia” in and offers to be the photographer.

    Zoë follows the couple to their cabin, then begins the hard work of losing Amos. A train is an excellent stage for a chase sequence; from Skyfall to this year’s Highest 2 Lowest, some of the most memorable chasing in cinematic history happens on trains. It’s a great setting because there is only one way to go, and leaving a person’s sight is hard when you’re essentially walking down a long hallway. But Zoë manages to hide behind people, suitcases, and, eventually, inside a staff room. I was worried when she locked herself in, because even though Amos’s shoulder is injured, he looks strong enough to break down a door. If Zoë found herself locked in a room alone with Amos, it’d be game over; the genius of being in Bob and Shelley’s company was that it precluded Amos from acting. But all’s well that ends well. A conductor catches up to Amos and asks if he’s having trouble finding his room. He seems to consider shooting the conductor, too, but gives up. He knows that Zoë is headed to his same destination, after all, and it’d be much more convenient to kill her somewhere private.

    Zoë finds an available empty cabin. She gets a FaceTime call from Morgue-Boy Wayne, who sends along the decrypted video evidence that the British government used chemical weapons on its own troops. Zoë asks him to find out where exactly in Scotland Dr. Wright tested on his guinea pigs. Wayne delivers just in time, telling her to go to Firinn Village. Amos, who knows they are close by, sets off the fire alarm, so the train has to evacuate. He takes off in a stolen taxi, unluckily for Shelley and Bob, who have the misfortune of being his passengers. They try to get him to stop the car, even threaten to call the police, but their questions are too grating for Amos, who shoots them both.

    Genius twisted mind that he has, Amos uses the killings as an opportunity. Though he sees Zoë’s taxi drive by, there is no chance he could’ve seen her inside, given how far he was standing from it and how fast the car was going — yet, when it comes to being a psycho, Amos always knows what to do. In an Oscar-worthy performance, he calls the police, crying to report two dead bodies on the side of the road. He describes a woman he saw running off: spiky short hair, a leather jacket, and big boots. He wipes his fingerprints from the surfaces of the car and heads off — the teddy bear is only a little more than 14 miles away.

    Zoë’s cab driver, who was already annoyed, only becomes more irritated when she tells him to go past the village and towards a disused army base Wayne texts her about. The car takes a right on a fork where Sarah took a left, toward the village. She is walking around because Downey took off in Ella’s car and left her sleeping in the woods. It’s little wonder Downey wanted to shed the deadweight after last week’s performance, but there is a deeper motivation, too: Downey doesn’t want another death on his conscience, particularly not when he and Sarah have developed something resembling friendship. When she asks him, the night before he leaves, if he thinks they are close (to finding Dinah), his first instinct is to interpret that emotionally — like, emotionally close. That’s a long way from the guy who could barely look Sarah in the eye in their hotel room, all that time ago.

    So that’s four of our crew in Scotland and headed to Firinn — we’re only missing Malik, who is put on a chopper by a very disappointed-looking C. He surprises Malik while he is walking his dog, telling him that Amos is very much alive and leading Downey to Dinah. C prepares him for the trip by telling him that if he isn’t able to deal with “whoever or whatever is left,” he won’t be able to keep him around much longer, though it’s unclear whether that means getting fired or killed. Either way, at least C gives Malik a gun, with instructions to take out Amos, Downey, or both, and some parting words of encouragement. He sort of tenderly grabs Malik’s chin and says, “Strike like a cobra.” Right, because Malik is renowned for his stealth.

    C is only human, so he has to deal with his own boss, Talia, who wants his input on a “big important speech” about the budgeting plans we’ve been hearing about. Talia is practicing it, clad in athleisure, when C arrives. She wants C to tell her how she should respond when and if a journalist asks about the British government’s stance on and development of chemical weapons. “The weapons industry is the most regulated in the world,” is his recommendation. “I would suggest we don’t give space to speculation.” A perfect example of how to say absolutely nothing while sounding like you’re saying something — hopefully some attentive journalist will catch it and push back.

    Firinn Village is picturesque and the people are friendly. A shopkeeper tells Sarah that local teenagers are stealing her booze and cigarettes and going to an old army base nearby, the very same one where Zoë is headed. This is the first of a few too-happy coincidences that zip some of this episode’s strength, but at least Sarah is on her way. She sees Ella’s car empty and locked on the side of a road, but there’s no sign of Michael. We don’t see much of him this week, but we do see that he is down to one Histropine pill. It’s all going to hit the fan at the same time.

    Realizing this, Sarah literally runs to the base. The scariest thing that happens there is that she runs into a group of taunting teenage boys, the worst possible thing that could happen to anyone. Sarah follows some clanging sounds, and we cut to Dinah’s holding room, where the two guys, Nev and Ty, play soccer. The ball knocks over a folder of photos of the chemical burns, which they, along with Steph, are just seeing for the first time. This is another detail that doesn’t seem totally earned. After days spent locked away, not being told what they’re waiting for or what’s going on, wouldn’t they have at least snooped around? Anyway, they see a shadow coming through the CCTV. We think it’s going to be Sarah, but it turns out to be the provisioner, who is greeted with two guns pointed at him.

    Sarah herself was preparing to use the foldable knife she took from Paula’s if necessary when she turned a corner to find Zoë. It’s not what she wanted, but it was what she needed. When Sarah slumps on the floor and says she wants to give up and go home, Zoë reminds her that she can’t. One, she’s in way too deep; two, there’s nothing guaranteeing she can make it back to Oxford alive — in fact, all evidence is pointing to the contrary. Zoë shows her the video to galvanize her: They are this close. 

    Zoë and Sarah decide to discreetly find out from the villagers where the experiments were conducted. In a pub, Sarah finds the shopkeeper from earlier doing crosswords with the bartender. They talk about the “army types” that come through the town under Sarah’s guise as a “military nerd.” Meanwhile, on the dock, Zoë overhears the provisioners say something about being paid to keep quiet. Out of all the convenient coincidences in the back half of this episode, I found this one most grating. Zoë’s biggest weapon is her ability to make people tell her things they probably shouldn’t. Why not have her outwit these guys?

    At the pub, Sarah notices that the map on the Puffin tour pamphlet she took from the bartender is missing an island when compared to the map that hangs on the wall — bingo. Putting her dormant restorationist skills to use, she traces where the island is supposed to be on the pamphlet, and is almost out the door before she hears the bartender pick up a call from Callum, the police officer at the scene of Bob and Shelley’s murder. We saw him a little bit earlier with his colleague, who found the picture of the couple with Zoë in Shelley’s purse. He gives the bartender Zoë’s description and asks her to keep an eye out. Overhearing this conversation — annoyingly written to give Sarah every piece of information she needs — Sarah runs to tell Zoë the police are looking for her because of two dead Americans. Zoë seems to register immediately that it must be Shelley and Bob, which makes her cry. But they have an invisible island to find. All they need now is a boat.

    So, they get one. A captain standing by tells them it’s too windy to go out for a tour, even when they lie that it’s their honeymoon and insist they have strong sea legs. Sarah is at the absolute end of her wits. She shoves the old guy inside the hull, takes his keys, and locks him into his cabin. Zoë gives her a look like, Good for you, girl, which is all Sarah has ever wanted to hear. She takes the helm as they drive forward to try and find the island. Amos has his own menacing black dinghy waiting for him on black-sanded shores. Downey has his own boat, too. Everyone is en route, Malik by chopper, the rest by sea. The question as we head into next week is: Who’s going to get there first? 

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    Rafaela Bassili

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  • On Our Streaming Radar: Down Cemetery Road and The Witcher – Houston Press

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    This week’s streaming has two standouts that I cannot recommend enough. Each show is completely addicting and one is new flavor for you to try whilst the other is a remix of shorts. Two shows. Two totally different worlds. In Down Cemetery Road, Emma Thompson and Ruth Wilson turn a conspiracy thriller into something far richer — darkly funny, deeply human, and crackling with the kind of dialogue that only great writing can deliver.

    Across the streaming multiverse, The Witcher returns for its fourth season, swinging harder than ever as Liam Hemsworth officially takes up the sword from Henry Cavill.

    Emma Thompson and Ruth Wilson light up the screen in Down Cemetery Road, a sharp, witty, and unpredictable new thriller that blends dark mystery with biting humor.

    For both Thompson and Wilson, it all began with the writing. “It is all the writing,” Thompson said. “We were thrilled at the idea of working together, but I wouldn’t have done it if the writing hadn’t been so good that I knew it would support us all the way through.”

    Wilson had a similar reaction when the first script landed in her hands. “You’re excited, you’re surprised—it’s shocking, it’s funny—and you just want to know what’s going to happen next,” she said. “I only got one episode, but I signed on after that. One was enough.”

    Thompson explained that she looks for the truth in how characters speak. “I look for dialogue, accuracy, and originality,” she said. “A lot of scripts come through and everyone sounds the same, but in really good writing, everyone has their own way of talking as they do in real life. The first thing I look for is dialogue and character—can I believe in all of them? Then I look at story, because without a really good story, it doesn’t matter. One of the worst things you can see is when one person’s writing is strong and everyone else’s isn’t.”

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    Wilson, who plays a seemingly ordinary woman caught in an extraordinary situation, was drawn to the show’s energy and tone. “I look at the whole thing and ask, does this feel different? Does it feel unique?” she said. “My character doesn’t really belong in this genre—she’s an everyday person who suddenly finds herself in a conspiracy thriller. That was really interesting to me, to explore how to maintain that relatability in something that’s quite heightened.”

    Both actors were captivated not only by the show’s mystery but by its wit. “I just love the humor in this,” Thompson said. “That’s what makes it work. Any entirely humorless thriller—it’s not much fun. It doesn’t have to be laugh-out-loud funny, but there has to be wit. Otherwise, it becomes flat.”

    Wilson agreed. “The characters themselves are funny—not necessarily because they’re witty, but because of how they deal with situations,” she said. “That’s very human. Mo [the writer] is brilliant at finding the absurdity in people and putting that into a thriller. Every day on set, we were finding the humor in the moment. That was the best part about it.”

    The chemistry between Thompson and Wilson, both onscreen and in conversation, mirrors the show’s balance of gravitas and playfulness. Down Cemetery Road isn’t just a thriller—it’s so much more.

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    After three seasons of monster slaying, mysticism, and soul-searching, The Witcher is back for its highly anticipated fourth season — and this time, a new White Wolf prowls the Continent.
    With Henry Cavill passing the sword to Liam Hemsworth, Season 4 marks both a new chapter and a bold reinvention for Netflix’s dark fantasy juggernaut. Under returning showrunner Lauren Hissrich Schmidt, the series continues to balance its sprawling mythology with intimate, character-driven storytelling.

    “Things explode at the beginning of the season — in every way possible,” says Hissrich Schmidt. “We have a new Geralt, and for the first time, our three main characters — Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri — are on separate paths. Everyone’s story evolves independently. What I love is that each of them gets to fully become who they’re meant to be, not defined by the others but by their own journeys.”

    That independence gives Season 4 a new rhythm — a slower burn that lets each storyline breathe before the fates inevitably intertwine again. “It’s one of the most exciting things about this season,” Hissrich Schmidt adds. “You’re watching these people evolve into the purest versions of themselves.”

    For Freya Allan, who plays Ciri, isolation became the heart of her performance. She embraced it — and even welcomed the distance. “I’m living as the character, so I don’t need to know what anyone else is doing,” Allan explains. “Ciri doesn’t know what’s happening in everyone else’s story, and neither should I. It’s actually helpful not to know — it keeps you grounded in your own truth.”

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    Anya Chalotra, returning as Yennefer, approaches it from another angle. “Yen’s world is so layered,” she says. “I do like to know what’s happening around me, but mostly when I need it. Because you’re in it — eight months a year, your thoughts are spinning — and sometimes you need to step back and ask Lauren, ‘What are you seeing? How do you feel about this moment?’ Those conversations help guide me back to my instincts.”

    That collaboration between cast and creator is the show’s secret weapon. “They live inside these characters in a way I don’t,” says Hissrich Schmidt. “When we talk about a specific scene, it’s so informative to hear what they’re experiencing on set. They bring emotional layers, moments, and lines that make the story deeper. It’s the essence of collaboration.”

    Allan agrees. “It’s exciting when you feel like you have a real say,” she says. “Lauren is always open to hearing our ideas — even the constant thoughts flying out of our actor brains. It makes you feel trusted.”

    Hissrich Schmidt continues. “It really is about trust. Sometimes they bring things that completely change a scene, and other times it’s about grounding everyone back to the core of what we’re doing. But that back-and-forth, that honesty, is what makes this team feel like a family.”

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    That sense of unity carries over to the other side of the Continent, where Hemsworth joins Lawrence Fishburne and Joey Batey (the ever-chaotic Jaskier). The chemistry between the trio is undeniable — a mix of wit, warmth, and occasional absurdity that mirrors The Witcher’s tonal balance of grim and goofy.

    “There’s a campfire scene this season where someone says, ‘If he’s lost his love, he shouldn’t be the same,’” I mention to Hemsworth — a line that, even when not spoken by Geralt, feels like it belongs to him. Hemsworth grins. “Geralt says ‘f***’ a lot,” he laughs. “But it always feels right. It comes from a deep place.”

    “You’re actually closer to the book Geralt than you think,” Fishburne tells Hemsworth. “You’ve got the look, the weight — it works.”

    For Hemsworth, stepping into a role immortalized by another actor was daunting, but he found his own rhythm by focusing inward. “I looked over the broader storylines, sure,” he says, “but I didn’t want to be too aware of what Ciri or Yennefer were doing. I wanted Geralt’s perspective to stay singular — because he is isolated. That’s his world.”

    Batey agrees. “We rely on the writers to hold the map,” he says. “There’s so much happening — the realms, the timelines, the braiding of stories — we just stay aware that our piece is part of something larger. Credit goes to the writers for keeping all of that straight.”

    Season 4 feels like both a return and a rebirth. With new faces, shifting alliances, and that unmistakable Witcher humor cutting through the darkness, it’s clear the Continent isn’t done with its legends yet.

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    Brad Gilmore

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