My Blacklist

It’s bizarre how caught-up I often feel; absolutely up-to-date on the latest in viewing entertainment. Able to chat at smart dinner parties about the newest Netflix or cable offerings with ease and eloquence.  Because, let’s face it, the days of “there’s nothing good on television” are long, long gone and the landscape abounds with so much in the way of astonishing acting, directing and pure great stroytelling.  Then, one day, I actually have a chance to scroll through the Netflix menu and I realize that I haven’t even scratched the surface of what’s out there.  Example: The Blacklist.  My God, who knew?  Everyone but me, that’s who.  No matter how many times I’ve seen Spader’s face plastered on the side of a bus or on a billboard, I’d never considered it.  And today, it just popped out at me and three hours later, I had my new fave rave.  My new cake.  James Spader is so eminently watchable, so seemingly completely comfortable in his own skin that his characters, in his adult career, are just like walking bean-bags: you could sit in them for hours.  The rest of the cast…I suppose I could look them all up for names, but I’m tired, I want to get back to it and this is my post so whatevs…are lovely; real folks, nothing dolled up with polish and shine.  Although, unless I am so completely off the mark, I knew from minute one what the relationship twist is between Red and Liz and that particular plot point is glaring like neon, the faculty of the cast with the story lines and the dialogue is what makes this show such a binger’s delight.  And James Spader can seriously do no wrong.