'iZombie' Is Back, And Ravi Is Naked. You're Welcome
iZombie returned with its fourth season premiere Monday night, and I’ve spent the past two days trying to find a hook. Because, shockingly, sometimes TV isn’t the font of think pieces you’d hope it would be. So here’s what it boils down to:
— Liv was super into the Seahawks.
— Major is a zombie, is not dating Liv (because I think everyone forgot about why exactly they can’t be together at this point), and is back in the role of mentoring at-risk youth
— Blaine’s dad is back. He’s the worst.
— Blaine is just angsting all over the goddamn place. His many businesses, with Logan Echolls, over the well in which his dad had been previously imprisoned.
— Clive is also back. He’s mostly the best.
Basically, the whole episode was a quickly dismissed case of the week, laying the foundation for season-long plotlines, and overall atmosphere building. Meaning that it was fine, but it didn’t blow anyone away.
See, as you may remember, Ravi has been experimenting with a zombie vaccine, and asked Liv to scratch him at the end of last season. The immunization has been mostly successful, except that every few weeks his hair turns white, and he has an unmistakable craving for brains.
Which actually led to quite a distinguished-looking gray streak.
Oh, and nudity.
Just a shitton of nudity.
Because that brain that the good doctor was munching on up there? Belonged to a local college professor, who also happened to be a
nudist naturalist. He was in touch with nature. Could this be a thin attempt to let Rahul Kohli in on the zombie brain fun? Probably. Did it have any impact on the show other than the fact that it put Ravi in a slightly awkward, yet still fun to look at situation? Absolutely not. Did we ever even figure out who killed the professor? Wait, he was murdered?
The point is, I don’t care. What I do care about is the fact that Ravi seems to have gotten over his recent bout of assholity (not that kind), and seems to have returned to form. And if he can forget about his troubles, I’m happy to put it behind us and enjoy his snarky, British charm again. Provided, of course, he remembers the queso.