SVU has been woefully uneven in the last several seasons and the show reaches something of a nadir here in a pathetically predictable presentation.
SVU finds a man with his genitals sliced off in a hotel; he is identified as Jason Karr and three women seen in the hotel or its vicinity the night of the assault are tracked down; their evasiveness about their whereabouts makes them suspects and when SVU checks further Olivia Benson and company find the three women were schoolmates who were part of a poetry class under Karr. And it gets worse; Karr's own evasiveness gives away he knows why he was castrated, and when the three women are busted for Obstruction they come forth saying they were sexually violated as students by Karr. The one twist - an ironic term here - comes when the ringleader tells of being penetrated when Karr put himself atop her armed with a corkscrew and threatening violence should she resist; what sinks Karr is when his youthful wife - subjected to the same pick-up lines the three women received - shows a poem in a student magazine authored by the primary victim.
The guilt of Karr is telegraphed almost by the end of the first act, and it's been an increasing problem with the series, the poor quality of the writing and resultant pathetic predictability of the plots. The show established itself (notably during the 285-episode Ted Kotcheff era) not only by the strength of the cast (as one reviewer notes the absence of Christopher Meloni and retirement of Dann Florek and to a lesser extent Richard Belzer has hurt the show's casting quality; Peter Scanavino really doesn't cut it and Kelli Giddish is decent but unspectacular) but also with the wildly creative writing with twists and complications akin to The Twilight Zone Meets The French Connection; the good episodes of recent such as the Season 19 opener are solid but don't capture the engagement of the show's apex, and the increasing number of inferior episodes drag the series down more and more. One reviewer scathingly notes the insulting preachiness of episodes since star Mariska Hargitay assumed more of an executive producer role (here it shows in Raul Esparza's childish rant of a closing argument, the kind of whiny delivery made by someone knowing he's lost the argument), and that definitely needs to stop.
The only thing that salvages an episode otherwise unwatchable is the debut of series semi-regular Brooke Shields and the return of Peter Hermann as attorney Trevor Langan. The on-screen interaction of the real-life husband-wife tandem of Peter and Mariska is always enjoyable to see and here they face the potential crisis that Olivia's adopted son Noah has a grandmother who'd covered her tracks for years but now is in town - and appears at Olivia's very door. Though her scene is brief, Shields manages to convey a striking balance of ladylike, motherly innocence with the malice akin to classic TV villain Fred Johnson, haunting the life of the series protagonist even when unseen.
Olivia naturally is taken aback by this development, to where she lapses into a surprising burst of accusatory anger at Trevor that makes her disturbingly unsympathetic; Olivia should know better than this and Trevor apologetically makes sure any action against Noah will be resisted.
This subplot will drive the series for the time being, but it still needs to clean up its weaknesses of poor storytelling.
SVU finds a man with his genitals sliced off in a hotel; he is identified as Jason Karr and three women seen in the hotel or its vicinity the night of the assault are tracked down; their evasiveness about their whereabouts makes them suspects and when SVU checks further Olivia Benson and company find the three women were schoolmates who were part of a poetry class under Karr. And it gets worse; Karr's own evasiveness gives away he knows why he was castrated, and when the three women are busted for Obstruction they come forth saying they were sexually violated as students by Karr. The one twist - an ironic term here - comes when the ringleader tells of being penetrated when Karr put himself atop her armed with a corkscrew and threatening violence should she resist; what sinks Karr is when his youthful wife - subjected to the same pick-up lines the three women received - shows a poem in a student magazine authored by the primary victim.
The guilt of Karr is telegraphed almost by the end of the first act, and it's been an increasing problem with the series, the poor quality of the writing and resultant pathetic predictability of the plots. The show established itself (notably during the 285-episode Ted Kotcheff era) not only by the strength of the cast (as one reviewer notes the absence of Christopher Meloni and retirement of Dann Florek and to a lesser extent Richard Belzer has hurt the show's casting quality; Peter Scanavino really doesn't cut it and Kelli Giddish is decent but unspectacular) but also with the wildly creative writing with twists and complications akin to The Twilight Zone Meets The French Connection; the good episodes of recent such as the Season 19 opener are solid but don't capture the engagement of the show's apex, and the increasing number of inferior episodes drag the series down more and more. One reviewer scathingly notes the insulting preachiness of episodes since star Mariska Hargitay assumed more of an executive producer role (here it shows in Raul Esparza's childish rant of a closing argument, the kind of whiny delivery made by someone knowing he's lost the argument), and that definitely needs to stop.
The only thing that salvages an episode otherwise unwatchable is the debut of series semi-regular Brooke Shields and the return of Peter Hermann as attorney Trevor Langan. The on-screen interaction of the real-life husband-wife tandem of Peter and Mariska is always enjoyable to see and here they face the potential crisis that Olivia's adopted son Noah has a grandmother who'd covered her tracks for years but now is in town - and appears at Olivia's very door. Though her scene is brief, Shields manages to convey a striking balance of ladylike, motherly innocence with the malice akin to classic TV villain Fred Johnson, haunting the life of the series protagonist even when unseen.
Olivia naturally is taken aback by this development, to where she lapses into a surprising burst of accusatory anger at Trevor that makes her disturbingly unsympathetic; Olivia should know better than this and Trevor apologetically makes sure any action against Noah will be resisted.
This subplot will drive the series for the time being, but it still needs to clean up its weaknesses of poor storytelling.