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I Want to Believe in Skinwalker Ranch
The weird things that happen at the Utah compound make for great TV. Is it aliens or an impressive hoax?
There are remnants of mining and cattle operations from earlier times; three early-20th century shanty houses that are falling apart, known on the series as Homesteads 1, 2, and 3; a serpentine creek that’s often a dry bed crisscrossed by plank bridges; a stubby mesa roughly a quarter-mile long, ringed by trees and scrub; and assorted creatures. The filmmaking transforms Skinwalker Ranch into a magic island in a sea of dirt, rock, and sand, and turns the Cabal into a band of brothers who bond by shooting off rockets, scrutinizing LiDAR maps, and enhancing video footage to figure out if a blurry speck in the sky is a UAP or a falcon. I am saying that if indeed the series is one of the most fiendishly elaborate ongoing pranks in TV history, it means the writers deserve not just screen credits but development deals, and that the Cabal are natural-born thespian geniuses who could teach a course at Juilliard titled “How to Stay in Character for 6 Years.” And I’m saying that someone needs to sit Fugal down and explain the first rule of showbiz: Never put your own money into a production.
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