I've been kind of half-watching "Revolution," this NBC series about a post-apocalyptic America: A mysterious blackout permanently shuts down all electricity, all over the world. Fifteen years after the blackout, a megalomaniacal dictator is trying to solidify his control over the population, and an intrepid band of rebels is seeking to thwart him--hence the title. It features Giancarlo Esposito, whom I'll watch in just about anything--well, anything in which he plays a deadeyed killer (sorry "Once Upon a Time"), and that's pretty much the show's saving grace. Otherwise, it's neither great nor awful--solidly "meh."
I do, however, have a pet peeve with this show and, frankly, with any number of TV shows and movies of its ilk. The main male character of "Revolution," Miles Matheson (Billy Burke), is a former general in the dictator's army, who has abandoned his former leader and is now working with the rebels. The very first episode establishes Miles as a virtual combat superhero: He pretty much singlehandedly dispatches about twenty other soldiers using nothing but a sword and his hand-to-hand combat skills. Unrealistic? Sure, but I'm OK with that. I just engage in a bit of time-honored willing suspension of disbelief and accept the fact that Miles Matheson is this unstoppable, kickass killing machine. Only, in subsequent episodes, when the writer or director presumably needs to fill a minute or so, Miles often has trouble fighting off just one enemy. What gives?
If writers expect viewers (or readers) to willingly suspend disbelief, then they have an obligation to be consistent. A superfighter can't fend off a small army one day, only to struggle against a virtual Redshirt the next. The former fight is exciting; the latter is just an insult to our intelligence.