200 hours of crime scene investigating

Was catching up a little on CSI: Mothership and finally saw the 200th episode, Mascara.

(And, wow, just occurred to me the faces of CSI have really changed over these 200 episodes. Not the aging-over-nine-seasons change, but that some aren't there anymore, and those that are were offering blue or red pills or being a telempathic mutant way back when it began).

(Also, sudden recall of watching a S1 ep in TV Studies earlier this year. Wow. They really have aged.)

Anyways. Considering it's episode 200, you'd think there would be more fanfare than just unusual opening titles. The episode itself was oddly slow-paced, seeming to take a psuedo-reality-tv feel in its exploration of the lucha libre subculture. Directed by William Friedkin (of omg, The Exorcist.), the show had some cool artistic shots and interesting editing, but it basically lost everything that was interesting about CSI.

(Although props must be given to Laurence Fishburne for excellent acting this ep, and for an overall fitting into and improving the growing-stale dynamism of the cast this season.)

But other than the whole realization of "It's 200 episodes!", this episode itself delivered a severe disappointment. You'd think they'd bring back William Peterson or something instead of some weird artistic thing, but hey, whatevs.

(On a wholly unrelated topic, I am way too hooked on Twitter than is possibly sane or good, but I take heart that I'm in the company of the likes of Neil Gaiman, Stephen Fry, and newly-joined Oprah Winfrey.)