No. Me. Jodan.

I can’t believe it. I was a faithful and loyal fan of the original Knight Rider show, and I was expecting the first chapter of the new series to be at least as good as them, with a new theme, of course, and upgraded, but this is just plain stupid. I hated this first episode.

Let me recap. We start in a consulate. We don’t know who’s country it belongs, but we suppose it is in the United States because everybody speaks in English with American accent and the streets look similar to those of the United States. Cr Canada. Or a lot of other countries where you drive at the right of the road. Then a lot of SFX and you see a young nice lady almost wearing a black dress breaking into a super-duper-mega-computer, and takes a disk that doesn’t look at all like a data disk nor a USB drive or a memory card. Hell, I’d accept a sushi-themed thumb drive, but it just looked like a crystal coin. Of course, it didn’t matter that much because the nice-looking gal proceeded to hide it in her cleavage. Not that there she had a lot of material where to hide a crystal coin, but hey, cleavage is cleavage and it looks better with less fabric, eh? Then our hero tries to contact the gal, but she’s busy keeping herself alive when a paramilitary commando armed to the teeth breaks into the computer room and, oddly enough, instead of trying to get the disk, tries to ask the nice-looking gal where our hero is. Meanwhile, our hero is trying to reach the room, but a couple guards try to invite him to get the fuck off the consulate. Weird, he tries to bargain his way out telling them the ambassador would know about that behavior, but, alas, it’s a consulate and the consul probably would’t give a shit. They enter with our hero, called Michael by his car, to a room, and then a fight starts. Two seconds later, James Bond-style, our hero leaves the room and adjust his tie. Then our hero’s car tells him where he should go to rescue the girl. Because our hero has a car, named KITT, that not only can talk but can hack its way into every single computer system by unknown means, though I’d presume by Wi-Fi –you know, those unsecured open networks are everywhere. Kitt tells Michael he needs to rescue the gal, named Sarah, before the evil commando kills here. And also he needs to intercept a package, very important, they say, but never say why. So our hero decides to go after the gal. I mean, between an ugly package and a nice-looking young woman in her mid-twenties, I’d go for the girl, no doubt. So far so good.

Our heroes manage to escape from the consulate, where a bunch of people with high-caliber rifles starts to shoot at ‘em. They are chased by soldiers, KITT starts to drive around to meet them and pick them up, or something like that, and in order to enjoy the maximum available power, KITT transforms himself from a stock Mustang into a modified, turbo-loaded, all-mighty Shelby Cobra, a change than includes a change of motor, transmission, chassis, doors, interior panel, seats and the logo.

I don’t know you but at that precise moment I said out loud “Oh, come on, give me a fucking break!” But the show would worsen. Sarah, in all her beauty and with those big beautiful gray eyes of her, was also an amazing hacker: she uploaded a program to Kitt that allowed it to turn the Shelby Cobra into a F-150 truck faster than you could say “Bollocks!” Because this new Kitt magically transforms itself from the stock Mustang into a F-150 pickup  and a 1modified Shalby Cobra. Give. Me. A. Fucking. Break!

The original KITT, now that’s a believable car. It had it all, except an MP3 player because those hadn’t been invented yet. It was a god-dammed-ass-kicking-good-looking car, a Pontiac Firebird Trans Am with a shitload of neat gadgets and gizmos, but you could have been able to build one of those in real life, except for the artificial intelligence, of course. But okay, let’s pretend, for our own mental health, that they invented a car that can automagically create more mass to convert itself into a truck. How come it then proceeds to lose that mass to turn itself back into the Shelby Cobra one more time?

But that’s no the worst part of it, no. Our heroes jump into the pickup, and THEN the pickup transforms itself to the Cobra, and they are seated in the front when the camera cuts to KITT’s interior. Just then a helicopter appears from nowhere, allegedly from the Consulate they just had break from, and the helicopter shoots a missile to them.

You can call me an ignorant, but, that wouldn’t count as an act of war against the host country of that consulate? How come they have a FREAKIN’ HELICOPTER in a CONSULATE!? WHY a FREAKIN’ CONSULATE has a FREAKIN’ HELICOPTER that shoots FREAKIN’ MISSILES against a vehicle running in a CITY without any RESPECT for the HOST COUNTRY!?

From this point onwards the series started to stink so bad it became good. The helicopter shoots a missile, a freaking slow missile that took thirty seconds to reach KITT, and the, instead of exploding, it covered it into fire. An unextinguishable fire. Oops, sorry, my mistake: it was an inextinguishable fire. And it became so hot that even with the air conditioning at the maximum, KITT couldn’t prevent the increasing of temperature inside itself, and our heroes had to take desperate measures to remain cool. The most important: get naked. Not too naked, because it’s a family show. Sarah still wears her bra and panties (black, lace, brief, hot) and Michael started to get horny instead of cool. I would too. Then KITT reminded him that unless he took his suit off, he would pass away sooner and die first. On the headquarters, using super-duper-mega-powerful-almighty computers that used the very same operating system in use by MI6 (you know, the one that came from Minority Report computers, but without the transparent screens), decided they needed the files Sarah had stolen and they needed them NOW.

That could pose a problem. Because Kitt was using all his power to keep Michael and Sarah cool, transmitting the friggin’ files would mean it had to reduce it’s coolness efficiency almost by half. By the time they reached the one hundred Celcius degrees (all right, you Americans, 292 Fahrenheit degrees, but it will be the last time I use your bad measuring system) they would boil in their own juices and cook soft and tender. The answer to their dilemma was simple: they had to accelerate to speeds of over 600 kilometres per hour. In the street. With traffic. Give me a break, I beg you!

But they wouldn’t give me a break, no: they had to rise the bet. Top speed wouldn’t turn the fire off, because it was some kind of molecular reaction. So our heroes where directed to the headquarters, whom themselves where supposed to be some kind of black-ops offices disguised as Knight Industries, because inside there were CIA agents, FBI agents, Secret Service agents, and I think even real estate agents. They came, they where vacuumed, they where saved, they were not saved because there was not oxygen in the vacuum, and they had to cross a friggin’ door that wouldn’t open until you almost hit it because they couldn’t override the security codes. Okay, I’m all yours, do with me what you want. How about travelling to another city, let’s say, Washington, and jumping off a Hercules flying at ground level, aboard Kitt, and then accelerate at top speed while the plane elevates again? They did that? Great, now I need an aspirin.

Because then they had to rise the bet one more time. It turns out the the Package is a man, whose DNA is the key to The Answer, or something like that. And it’s not 42, but the coded password of a super-duper-mega-strong cypher algorithm. Why he would do such an stupid thing? Nobody knows, but at least Michael figures it was a stupid thing to do. The guy gets abducted by a hot Latin girl driving a bad-ass car, and spares Michael’s life to pay a debt. Then she drives as fast as she can with the Package, who turns out to shave every single hair (and he trims himself everything, even the eyelashes, every four hours) so they can’t get even a single sample. Of course out hot-blooded Latin girl wouldn’t stop for such a triviality, when you could get a sample from a lot of places, say, a sample of salive, a little of dead skin, a bit of blood, an entire thumb… wait, what?

Yes, she cut the Package’s thumb, an action that was broadcasted in full and glorious colour thanks to a god-dammed good spy satellite, and even with sound! How neat is that? Eat that, Gil Grissom! The hot Latin girl threw the Package to the road and it was Michael’s and Kitt time to pick him up. Luckily, Kitt had a first aid kit in the glove compartment. It seals the wound and put a metallic cover around it, and then suggested that the Package should find professional medical help before 24 hours. Meanwhile, Kitt is very busy trying to find who the hot Latin girl is. It finds a video where Michael and she were… let’s say, having a linguistic exchange in Beirut. Problem is Michael swears he’s never been in Beirut before. The worst part was that everybody in the heaquarters were watching it. Michael asks for a private line and calls Sarah, and they have an interesting idea exchange: now we know that Michael asked her hand and she offered her as a whole, the very same day Michael was supposed to be in Beirut with the hot Latin girl. Then the FBI agent in the headquarters discovers that Michael have been part of a black-ops operative called Secure Freedom or Freedom Fries or some shit name like that (you know, Bush was in the White House and all that) and Kitt finds the hot Latin girl is at the subway. Michael transforms Kitt into the truck one more time and drives through the subway lines  to chase the hot Latin girl and her blonde stereotypical spy companion. It’s also very odd it’s a subway, because it on the air, like Chicago’s or Vancouver’s. Let’s call it rail transit from now on. So, Michael shows up at the station, jumps out the pickup, chase  the hot Latin girl, then the FBI agent shows up and she shoots Michael in the chest, the hot Latin girl escapes but yay! they recover the thumb. How come the FBI agent that previously was in the headquarters showed up before Michael or a train arrives? I don’t know, he’s on third and I don’t give a damn!

Michael, however, is not dead, merely confused, and wakes up on a plane. Well, I am and nobody had to shoot me in the chest to get into that mental state, but that’s a different story. It turns out that the FBI agent had to shoot him in order to get him into Witness Reallocation. Wait, what? Yes! Because his past was somehow interfering with his present and compromising his future, he has to sever all his connection with his former life and the world must believe he is dead. He had to choose a new name, they would give him a new identity, and all that shit. He chooses Michael Knight, just like his father. Wait, what? Yeah! Michael Traceur’s father was Michael Long, whom in turn was a member of the Foundation for Law and Government known as Michael Knight.  And then the best part comes: the big brain boss tells the Latin guy that one day Michael will remember everything, and then the Latin guy says that when that happen, Michael will come after him, and then the big brain boss (whom in turn happens to be Sarah’s father) says he’ll do all he can to prevent that from happening. However, Kitt is listening and starts looking into Michael’s muy very mucho top secret files. And then it comes your “love me tender, love me true” moment of the night. Michaels goes to Sarah’s room and ask her to have a drink with her, and then he introduces himself as Michael Knight. She agrees and they decide to star their relationship from ground zero.

Dear good lord, my beloved and almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster, why hast thou abandoned us?

They took a nice show, they added spy elements, lots of bad science, tons of SFX, and a bunch of typing monkeys to write this crap. They took the spirit of a show based upon the idea of having the Lone Rider in a car, and turn it into bullshit. Shame on you, NBC, shame on you!

I don’t want to watch this show again, but I would just to see how deep they can get. But it could be worse. It could be Fringe.

See you next week.

Dijo.