Thursday, March 29, 2012
…I pull you back in
By Edward Copeland
Among film buffs and people coming of mature moviegoing age in the 1970s, the name John Cazale engenders sadness in many of them. Featured in prominent roles in five features between 1972 and 1978, each received a nomination for the best picture Oscar and three of them won. However, by the time The Deer Hunter, the fifth of those films, was nominated along with Cazale's fiancée, Meryl Streep, getting her first supporting actress nomination for that film, Cazale had been dead for almost a year, having lost his battle with cancer on March 12, 1978, at the age of 42, leaving behind one helluva legacy in a short span of time. In addition to The Deer Hunter, Fredo in both parts of The Godfather; Stan, the assistant to eavesdropping expert Harry Caul (Gene Hackman), in another Francis Ford Coppola masterpiece, The Conversation and, Cazale's greatest performance, in my opinion, as Sal, bank robbing partner of Sonny Wortzik (Al Pacino) in Sidney Lumet's magnificent Dog Day Afternoon. This piece concerns The Godfather, so let's talk Fredo.
Cazale does fine as Fredo in The Godfather but, truth be told, his time on screen doesn't add up to a lot. His role increases in Part II, but he actually has less to do in the 1972 film than many of the non-Corleones. Fredo though has acquired a legacy almost removed from the film itself. The name has become synonymous with a ne'er do, usually a ne'er do well brother. I imagine people who can't name John Cazale as the actor who portrayed Fredo recognize what someone means if they refer to someone as a Fredo. The Urban Dictionary includes multiple definitions such as the simple "family's black sheep" to having sex with two waitresses simultaneously as Moe Greene claimed he caught Fredo doing and Vince Vaughn's character reference in Swingers. The truth of the matter just happens to be that Fredo Corleone, the middle son, can't stop fucking up. It's sad, because you see in Cazale's portrayal that Fredo wants to be a good son, but he's messed up so many times that even he understands why his family can't rely on him. His big, heartbreaking scene comes when rival gangsters make their assassination attempt on his father and Fredo bobbles his own gun, unable to shoot back. He ends up sitting on the curb, next to his critically wounded dad, the gun dangling from his hand, weeping like a child.
You'd think that Talia Shire had the easiest path to landing her role as Corleone daughter Connie, given that her brother Francis was directing the film, but Coppola says he almost didn't consider her for the part because he thought his kid sister was "too beautiful." Connie isn't much more than a plot point in The Godfather — a Corleone daughter to get wed, beaten and, finally, to lash out at her brother for killing her no-good husband. Shire and Connie don't get to grow into interesting characters until the sequels, for certain Part II and, reportedly, a re-edited Part III on DVD and Blu-ray that drastically improves that misfire, including her character's motivations. Walter Murch is said to have led the restoration and re-cutting of Part III, which was rushed in 1990 in order to qualify for the Oscars. Reported rumors that the new cut of Part III replaces Sofia Coppola with Andy Serkis have not been verified. The other major female role in The Godfather got more to do but, like Connie, developed even further in Part II. This was Diane Keaton's second feature film after Lovers and Other Strangers co-starring Richard Castellano (Clemenza). While Keaton proved often that she's adept at drama, she's always better in comedies as Woody Allen utilized with great success.
The don's oldest son and his adopted one represent fire and ice, and James Caan and Robert Duvall excel at those elemental levels as Sonny Corleone and Tom Hagen. One moment I noticed this time that I'd never observed before occurs when Sonny, after finding Connie beaten and bruised by Carlo, beats the hell out of his brother-in-law in the street. When Carlo grabs hold of a railing, Sonny actually bites into
Carlo's hands to make him let go (in front of a Thomas Dewey campaign poster no less). Going back to Coppola's concern about guys sitting around talking, you don't get tired of these two doing that, especially in scenes such as debating what actions to take following the attempt on their father's life. When Michael comes home with a swollen jaw courtesy of the crooked police captain, it sets Sonny off again, ready to go to war against Sollozzo. Tom, functioning as the levelheaded consigliere, tries to explain to his adopted brother that even the man upstairs recovering from his bullet wounds would understand that it wasn't personal.TOM: Your father wouldn't want to hear this, Sonny. This is business, not personal.
SONNY: They shoot my father and it's business, my ass!
TOM: Even shooting your father was business not personal, Sonny!
Caan dances through the movie, all energy, sometimes comic, sometimes violent, sometimes sexual. When brother Michael (Al Pacino) decides he doesn't want to be the straight-arrow civilian anymore, Sonny laughs at his kid brother, even using Hagen's words. "Hey,
whaddya gonna do, nice college boy, eh? Didn't want to get mixed up in the family business, huh? Now you wanna gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped ya in the face a little bit? Hah? What do you think this is the Army, where you shoot 'em a mile away? You've gotta get up close like this and — bada-BING! — you blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit. You're taking this very personal. Tom, this is business and this man is taking it very, very personal," Sonny teases. Of course, Duvall's path to success had been forming prior to The Godfather, but this did earn him his first Oscar nomination as supporting actor. Caan, Duvall and Pacino all earned supporting nominations, one of the rare times a single film grabbed three slots in an acting category. The Godfather Part II repeated the feat in the same category. It also had been achieved by On the Waterfront. The movie Tom Jones accomplished it in supporting actress and the 1935 Mutiny on the Bounty did it in best actor (out of four nominees), but this was prior to the creation of the supporting categories.
Which leaves us with the film's two most important characters who also happen to be its most important actors as well. One of the first practitioners of the Method who had set the world on fire and a brash newcomer with a new generation's take on the same style meeting together. The old master Marlon Brando, showing the world that he still had power, while the rising star Al Pacino makes his presence known loudly (back in the days when Pacino did this without being literally loud). Before watching the movie this time, I read someone commenting how as Michael shifts into Vito's role, Pacino subtly transforms physically. That swollen jaw from McCluskey's punch starts to resemble those cotton-stuffed jowls Brando gave Vito. When I did watch it, especially when you really pay attention to that great contribution from Robert Towne, it's as if Vito and Michael undergo a Persona-like transference. I believe the key moment of Michael's switch happens when he protects his father at the hospital, hiding his bed in the stairwell and
clutching his hand, whispering, "I'm with you now, pop." The don, who hasn't regained consciousness since the shooting, does then and gives his son the sweetest smile. It's a touching moment — if you forget the family business. Everyone debates whether Brando has the movie's lead role or if that title really belongs to Pacino. I always swear that I'm gonna add up minutes of screentime, but I can never do it because I get too involved. To me, it feels more or less as if it's an ensemble piece. Brando disappears for awhile after he's shot, but so does Pacino immediately after he flees the country. (It's worth pointing out that even the greatest films ever made have flaws. As I feel the Paris flashbacks in my beloved Casablanca come off as hokey, Michael's Sicily scenes and sudden marriage may be The Godfather's Achilles' heel.) What I know for certain is that both actors deliver great performances. You see very little of the Brando silliness that sometimes pop up with the most obvious example being when singer Johnny Fontane (Al Martino) seeks his help at the wedding at the don unmercifully mocks him as Fontane practically cries acting what he can do to get that movie part. Corleone shakes him vigorously and shouts, "You can act like a man!" He then slaps him and ridicules him further. "What's the matter with you? Is this what you've become, a Hollywood finocchio who cries like a woman?" Then the funny Brando comes out as he does a little girl voice, "'Oh, what do I do? What do I do?' What is that nonsense? Ridiculous!" You spot Tom Hagen laughing in the background, but part of me suspects that really was Duvall trying not to crack up. Other than that, Brando plays things remarkably straight and truthfully as when he calls in the favor the undertaker Bonasera owes him to clean up Sonny for his funeral. "Look how they massacred my boy," he cries.Looking at the young Pacino engenders the same kind of sadness that recent appearances by Robert De Niro do — did their love of the craft give way totally to monetary concerns? Pacino actually hasn't been quite as bad as De Niro, but to see his Michael, when Pacino knew the word subtlety…sigh. My God — I didn't see it, but what in the hell was he doing playing himself opposite Adam Sandler in Jack and Jill? To Pacino's credit, at least I can believe he appears in that kind of shit so he can keep returning to the stage. Michael Corleone's arc allows viewers to see a master class in screen acting over the first two movies. You can accomplish this with the first film alone, watching as he slinks further into the darkness. Another thing I've always loved that I'm grateful I found a YouTube clip to use is the strut Michael develops once he's completed his turn and just watched Carlo ride off to his demise. What an evocative, physical symbol of a man's change.
At the beginning of this post (I apologize that happened so long ago) I promised that I would be discussing things new to me about The Godfather. That time has arrived. In case it's slipped your mind, what I began this piece by saying was that sometimes you know a movie so well that when you actually watch it closely and purposefully, you'll notice things or have ideas that haven't occurred to you before.
Don't get me wrong. The reason I've spent so much space talking about the acting, writing and directing after the setup before I got to the crux of this assessment was meant to reassure those out there that The Godfather remains one of my favorite films of all time before I described a shift in my outlook on it. Back in the previous posts, as I detailed all the chaos endured to get the film made, I mentioned briefly how Paramount pursued some of the top directors at that time but all turned the project down, citing a fear of glamorizing or glorifying the Mafia. That's a criticism that gets hurled at most mob-related entertainments. Some said that about Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas. Even larger numbers lodged that complaint against The Sopranos. Reflexively, I've always responded that those accusations were nothing but a load of crap — and they are when it comes to Goodfellas and The Sopranos, which don't try to hide the fact that these people steal, kill and basically don't contribute to a civil society. Watching The Godfather this time, a light suddenly illuminated its depiction of the Corleones as whitewashed, to say the least. It starts from the very first scene when the undertaker Bonasera asks the don to kill the men who attacked his daughter, but Vito refuses. When Bonasera leaves, Vito even says to Tom Hagen, "We're not murderers, no matter what he thinks." Except mobsters are murderers. That line only marks the first example of the film turning the criminal family into reputable heroes. These photos are just for contrast. At left, we have Corleone family soldier Luca Brasi (Lenny Montana) being strangled in an ambush set up by the "bad gangsters"
Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) and Bruno Tattaglia (Tony Giorgio). In the photo on the right, the star of The Sopranos, James Gandolfini as Tony, personally throttles Fabian Petrulio (Tony Ray Rossi), who used to be a gangster but became a "rat" when he testified for the feds and went into the Witness Protection Program. This took place in "College," the heralded fifth episode of the series. They wasted no time showing that Tony would commit a hands-on murder. Examine Goodfellas in comparison to The Godfather. Goodfellas came from Nicholas Pileggi's well-researched nonfiction book Wiseguys. While Mario Puzo's novel played the guessing game of "Who could this character be based on?", Puzo never asserted it to be anything but a fictionalized portrait and the film version watered down the Corleones even further. Coppola openly admits he wanted to use the story to be less about organized crime but a comment on American capitalism as well as being about a family in the generic sense. While corporate businessmen may not call their mistresses goomahs, they have them. You'd have to watch very closely to notice that a wife exists that Sonny cheats on (You never see a ring on his finger). They show him having a vigorous sex life, but certainly downplay that it's an adulterous one. We get a few brief shots of his spouse and one comment from his dad when Sonny comes into his father's office following a sexual encounter and his dad talks with Fontane. When Vito sees Sonny enter, he asks the singer but looks pointedly at his son, "Are you good to your family?" In Goodfellas, the girlfriends existed as part of the gangster lifestyle with, separate nights set aside for them at the Copacabana. By the era of The Sopranos, the wives know they exist and accept them somewhat as long as they keep the benefits of their lifestyle.I don't know how this could come as such a shock to me now, having seen The Godfather so many times over so many years other than my love for Goodfellas superseding it and subliminally planting seeds in my mind which The Sopranos watered, allowing the realization to blossom. The recent Blu-ray release The Godfather Coppola Restoration includes a special feature in which Sopranos creator David Chase says he intended his series to be about the first generation of gangsters actually influenced by Coppola's film. I'm sure that's true (the characters made lots of references to the trilogy), but their lives more closely resemble those of the real gangsters in Henry Hill's universe in Goodfellas than they do the Corleones, with their huge family compound. Even Paulie (Paul Sorvino), the boss in Goodfellas, lived a
more middle-class-looking lifestyle, at least in terms of appearance. The fictional Tony got to move into upper middle-class suburbs, but those who worked for him lived much more meagerly. Hell, when you compare them, the brief shot in The Godfather of the home where Clemenza lives looks much nicer than the Belleville, N.J. residence of Corrado Soprano (Dominic Chianese). While not a gangster, even Walter White (Bryan Cranston) lived in a much nicer house when his salary came solely from teaching chemistry than Uncle Junior's or most of Tony's crew's places did, but the cost-of-living in Albuquerque probably is a lot less expensive than New Jersey. What's more relevant than the living arrangements of the various fictional and nonfictional criminals comes from my recognition of the unwillingness to show the true nature of the Corleone family unlike Scorsese did with the criminals in Goodfellas, Chase showed with his characters on The Sopranos and Vince Gilligan does on Breaking Bad charting, as he's said often, "Mr. Chips turning into Scarface." In Goodfellas and the TV shows, you see the innocent who pay the price for their crimes. In The Godfather, we don't see a single instance of how the Corleones conduct their criminal enterprises. The Godfather board game that I mentioned having in the first post, "America's first family," explicitly references bookmaking, extortion, bootlegging, loan sharking and hijacking though those activities never cross the lips of the Corleones or anyone who works for them (though it's doubtful that by 1945, bootlegging draws much revenue for the New York-based family). Are we to presume the Corleones actually built the mansion with profits from selling Genco Olive Oil?you got whacked. Everybody knew the rules. But sometimes, even if people didn't get out of line, they got whacked.
I mean, hits just became a habit for some of the guys. Guys would get into arguments over nothing and before you knew it,
one of them was dead. And they were shooting each other all the time. Shooting people was a normal thing. It was no big deal."
— Ray Liotta as Henry Hill in Goodfellas
Where The Godfather goes to the greatest length to make the Corleones "good gangsters" can be viewed by the people they do kill. Every single one of them has wronged them first and/or been shown as someone worthy of elimination. You never see any incident such as in Goodfellas where psycho Tommy (Joe Pesci) kills the waiter Spider (Michael Imperioli) because he told him to "go fuck himself" (since Spider justifiably nurses a grudge after Tommy shot him in the foot before for not serving him a drink fast enough). You don't see
anything like on The Sopranos where a waiter follows Paulie (Tony Sirico) and Christopher (Imperioli again) out to the parking lot to ask why he didn't get a tip and they smash him in the head, causing convulsions and then shoot him to finish him off. Don Vito plays the peacemaker, despite being nearly killed and losing a son. The movie perpetuates the myth that the American Mafia likes to perpetuate that they stayed hands off narcotics trafficking (even Paulie Cicero in Goodfellas, based on the real-life Paulie Vario, peddles that line though, like the fictional Corleone, it isn't so much a moral objection as a fear of losing friends in high positions). It sounds particularly ridiculous since Lucky Luciano and Meyer Lansky already had started dealing heroin in the 1920s, something being depicted in the TV series Boardwalk Empire which may be set prior to the time period of The Godfather but by far pays the most obvious homages to the movie. This sudden realization raises questions in my mind: Does it matter? Should it matter? If The Godfather glamorizes gangsters, does that mean I should consider it a lesser movie? My answer has to be no to all of the above. It doesn't change its artistry and I already loved Goodfellas more anyway (and it only glamorizes their food). How can I really penalize a fictional film for not being more truthful? In the wake of The Godfather, did organized crime grow and get a bunch of new recruits eager to join mob ranks? Hardly. It's just interesting that it took me this long to notice this, but the film hasn't changed, I have.Besides, it's a damn great movie that gets referenced constantly. Chase should make something for the Blu-ray given the amount of times The Sopranos references Coppola's films. They did it so many times, I couldn't even begin to recall them all. I remember my personal favorite: Paulie Walnut's car horn which plays The Godfather theme instead of beeping. As I mentioned, Boardwalk Empire might take place in the 1920s, but it seems to me to pay the most homages even if they can't be specific. Look at the character of Nucky Thompson's brother Eli (Shea Whigham) and tell me he doesn't have Fredo written all over him. In the final episode of the second season, they did an explicit reference with their version of the baptism scene with prosecutor Esther Randolph (Julianne Nicholson) preparing her opening statement as Nucky (Steve Buscemi) and Margaret (Kelly Macdonald) get married and Jimmy and Richard (Michael Pitt, Jack Huston) take care of one of Nucky's enemies.
Most of The Sopranos' references tended to be verbal, but they did do a visual one that I loved in the second episode of the third season "Proshai, Livushka" dealing with the death of the incomparable character of Tony's mom Livia Soprano (the late, great Nancy Marchand). The image below on the left comes from The Godfather when Don Vito and Tom visit Bonasera about fixing up Sonny for his funeral. Below on the right, Tony and his sisters Barbara and Janice (Danielle Di Vecchio, Aida Turturro) go to Coscarelli's to discuss arrangement for Livia, who didn't even want a service.
The fact remains, no matter the dubious way they tried to steer audience sympathy to the Corleones without acknowledging the truth of their dark dealings, The Godfather always will be a damn well-made piece of motion picture art. My philosophy always has been to judge movies on their artistic and entertainment grounds and to try to forego extraneous concerns. I've managed to do that for this long with The Godfather. I'm not changing my mind now, especially since, when it comes to film criticism, I'm about as far from a moralist as you'll find. Besides, we started these posts with that brilliant opening. "I believe in America." You think I wouldn't close with one of the all-time best endings in cinema?
Tweet
Labels: 70s, Boardwalk Empire, Brando, Breaking Bad, Buscemi, Caan, Coppola, De Niro, Diane Keaton, Duvall, Hackman, Liotta, Lumet, Pacino, Pesci, Scorsese, Streep, The Sopranos, Towne, Woody
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Boardwalk Empire No. 24: To the Lost Part I
By Edward Copeland
"I'm not looking for forgiveness." That's what Nucky says before he commits the shocking act toward the end of the second season finale. I've read an interview Hitfix's Alan Sepinwall did with creator/executive producer Terence Winter and, from a storytelling perspective, I can buy Winter's argument for why what happened had to happen, but as good as the past few episodes of Boardwalk Empire have been, they played liked the end to a series instead of the end to a season. A good friend of mine, who always has been very critical of the show, complained that it never seemed to find its voice. I disagreed because what I was watching, I mostly enjoyed. Now, I think he may have been right. Where does it go from here? What mystifies me is how the finale lifted a shroud that must have been cloaking my critical thinking all season long. I've loved most of the show, with far more positive things to say than negative, and the finale followed a run of four episodes where each installment built on the momentum and quality of the one that preceded it. Then in the finale, which was well made — can't argue that it wasn't — Boardwalk Empire rushed to resolve plot strands and did it so haphazardly and with ham-handedness so it could set up its surprise that upends the entire series that it also managed to undermine the season as a whole, revealing cracks and fissures that weren't apparent before. Where does Boardwalk Empire go in season three? What can be one of the most entertaining and enriching hours of television appears after its second season finale, to me at least, to be an unsalvageable mess and part of that feeling stems from that simple line of dialogue: "I'm not looking for forgiveness." This comes with the second week in a row when Nucky tells a character, "Then you never knew me at all." He may have been addressing Margaret and Jimmy onscreen, but he might as well have been speaking to the faithful viewer because the line that he's "not looking for forgiveness" completely contradicts what we've known and seen about Nucky Thompson in the preceding 23 episodes, or at least reveals a completely inconsistent character. That got me thinking about how many of the show's characters behave inconsistently — doing things because the plot requires them to at that moment not because it's in their nature. Last week, I joked that next season's cast could end up having more turnover than Law & Order did in all of its 20 seasons combined, but now that seems neither funny nor out of the realm of possibility. As a result, I feel I need to split this finale recap in half and do a separate season in review just to get these thoughts started out there.
The series’ usually most reliable team handled "To the Lost," with Winter doing the writing and the show's main director and another of its quarter-million executive producers, Tim Van Patten, directing. Things get off to an exciting start as two masked men in a beat-up vehicle who obviously are Jimmy and Richard drive up a country where some Ku Klux Klan members have gathered. When they get out bearing weapons, one of the Klansmen clad in his robes but not his hood (Tim House) asks, “Who are you two jokers?” Jimmy responds by shooting the racist son-of-a-bitch. The other white bigots, if they hadn’t noticed they had visitors, know it now. “Good — we have your attention. Names and addresses of the three men who shot up Chalky White’s warehouse,” Jimmy demands. When none of the organized hatemongers seem forthcoming, Richard steps forward with his shotgun and unloads into another robe-wearing asshole. “Five seconds gentlemen,” Richard croaks. “There’s Herb Crocker — he was one. And Dick Heatherton,” a man wearing normal clothes (Denny Dale Bess) tells them. Behind the line of vehicles, Jimmy and Richard don’t notice someone wearing Klan robes and another man high-tailing it up the road. Jimmy steps closer to the only man talking, keeping his gun aimed straight at his face. “Who else?” A Klansman kneeling on the ground, blood splattered all over his robe, tries to run for it. Jimmy jumps him and the screen goes dark.
In Philadelphia, Manny Horvitz certainly has looked better. He hasn’t shaved, has a cigarette butt dangling from his lips and appears to be in a dark basement somewhere, speaking in a hoarse whisper. “Everyone’s a crook. Little crooks take from who they can. Nobodies stealin’ from nobodies. Then the middle player — how many nobodies does it take to feed him? Seven? Ten? The middle man is always
hungry, always worried. From the middle, it’s always easier to fall down than to climb up. But the big crooks — the macher — the big crooks does nothing," Horvitz rambles on about how the biggest crooks take all the perks while the underlings do all the work and we see that he isn't talking to himself but that his meandering address is being given to Mickey, Nucky and Owen. Manny begins to reminisce about his childhood in Odessa in the Ukraine, telling how sometimes he forgets what's going on and imagines that he's 12 again with his whole life ahead of him. "But then I realize I'm in America — that world is gone. You have to make the best of it," he declares. "I understand. We've both had a rough time of it recently," Nucky says just so another voice can be heard. "I sketched it out for him," Mickey tells Manny while fanning himself with his hat, apparently because the basement isn't particularly cool. I think this every time I see Mickey: How the hell has he survived? This is a major part of the inconsistency in Nucky's "I'm not seeking forgiveness" line. Nucky knows that Doyle was involved in the plot against him (He did have Owen blow up his warehouse after all). Mickey screwed him over before with the D'Alessio brothers, but he let him get away with it. Jimmy means so much more to Nucky than Mickey Doyle ever would and when Jimmy attempts genuine reconciliation, he gets no forgiveness but Mickey, who betrays every person he works with, has turned on Nucky twice (and the D'Alessio plot also involved an
assassination attempt) yet Thompson lets Mickey live but feels his surrogate son must die? "I must stay away from home for the safety of my family. Close my shop. I'm living like a beggar," Manny explains. "Bit of bad luck — happen to anyone," Sleater comments from the corner. "My bad luck has a name — Waxey Gordon," Manny says. "Let me stop you right there. Whatever your problems, Waxey Gordon is a business partner of mine," Nucky informs Horvitz. "Are you sure about this, Mr. Thompson?" Manny asks as he takes another drink. "Do you know something I don't?" Nucky inquires. "The question answers itself," Manny responds cryptically. "Nucky's a busy fellow, Manny," Mickey says when Nucky gives him a look. "And I have nothing better to do?" Horvitz responds. "You're hiding in the basement of a synagogue. Don't waste his time," Mickey tells him. "Your partner Waxey Gordon is in business with James Darmody. Would you say we have something in common?" Manny asks Nucky. "We might," Nucky admits. "Then let us help each other. You give me Waxey, I give you Darmody and we make business together," Horvitz proposes. "You'll give him to me? In all honesty, you don't look to be in a condition to do anything," Nucky says. "Well, if the boychik's wife could still talk, she'd tell you otherwise," Manny drops into the talk as he pours another drink. Realizing that Manny just admitted to killing Angela pushes Nucky back on his heels somewhat — at least it appears to do so. "Maybe we have less in common than you think, Mr. Horvitz," Nucky changes his tune. "You said he was open to discussion," Manny addresses Mickey. "I said I'd broker the meet," Mickey replies. "So you're too big a crook to be seen with the likes of me," Horvitz accuses. "According to the federal prosecutor, yes, but I will consider your proposition" Nucky answers. Nucky leaves, saying that Mickey knows how to get in touch. "He's heading to jail and this is the look he gives me?" Manny growls to Mickey. "He ain't in jail yet," Mickey replies. "He would be nothing in Odessa," Manny declares as he takes another drink.Three of Chalky's men stand armed outside a warehouse as some vehicles approach. One of his workers (Donte Bonner) inside watches through slats in the garage door and tells Chalky and Dunn, "They're here." With absolute calm, Chalky says, "Open it on up." The worker slides open the doors and Jimmy drives his beat-up vehicle inside while Richard stays in another with his gun ready. Purnsley snaps his fingers as Jimmy hands Chalky a bag. "There's twenty thousand in cash. Five thousand for the families of each victim," Jimmy says. "I only asked for three," Chalky replies. "I know you did," Jimmy responds. He then walks around to the back of the flatbed and pulls the canvas
off three bound, gagged and whimpering men. "The three pieces of shit who shot this place up," Jimmy informs Chalky. "You sure about that?" Chalky asks. "Ask them yourself," Jimmy suggests. "That gonna be my pleasure," Purnsley salivates as he toys with a switchblade. "Governor office dropped my case. You can tell your daddy I'll call off the strike," Chalky declares. "I will. You can do something for me — tell Nucky I want to talk," Jimmy says. Chalky nods in the affirmative. Jimmy leaves the warehouse and Chalky turns his attention to the tied-up Klansmen. "Welcome back fellas," Chalky grins. The Klansmen all moan, "No" as they get pulled off the truck and Chalky and his men proceed to beat on them. Jimmy gets in the car with Richard. "Whatever you do to try to change things, you know he'll never forgive you," Richard tells him. "Let's go to Childs. I feel like a steak," Jimmy says. Would there not be the possibility that Chalky will be pissed off when he finds out that Nucky executed Jimmy? He delivered more money to the families than Chalky asked for and after months of Nucky putting him off, Jimmy actually took it upon himself to off some Klansmen and bring the guilty parties to him, something that Thompson would never have done. The businessmen and the deservedly dead Commodore might have mocked him for urging them to settle the strike and be fair to their workers, but he actually was setting out to be a fairer leader. When Mayor Bader said at the meeting that he thought Jimmy had the right idea, he might have been telling the truth if you read up on what the real Edward Bader was like.Lillian and Katy help Emily practice walking by trying to lure her a few steps to get to her doll Beatrice when Nucky and Owen return from Philadelphia. Nucky asks where Margaret is and Lillian tells him she left about 20 minutes ago, but didn't say where she was going. Sleater greets everyone, but gives Katy a noticeably cold shoulder.
Margaret's current location happens to be the Post Office where she's about to speak with Esther Randolph — but she didn't come alone. Father Brennan has accompanied her. "She brings a priest? I'm surprised she doesn't have an infant suckling at her breast," Dick Halsey, the clerk, comments. "Bring me back a shaved cherry ice. I'm boiling," Randolph tells him as she enters and introduces herself. "This is Father Brennan," Margaret says. "I'm here for moral support," the priest tells the prosecutor. "I don't think I'll need it," Randolph replies. "She understood that, Father," Margaret keys Brennan in on Esther's wit when the priest clarifies that he meant he's there to support Mrs. Schroeder. "Mrs. Schroeder has left her children — including her sickly daughter — to be here today," Brennan informs Randolph. "What's wrong with her?" she inquires. "Polio," Margaret answers. "I'm terribly sorry," Esther says. "Mrs. Schroeder is a widow and a devoted mother. She is active in the church and ignorant of any charges in this case," Brennan preaches on Margaret's behalf. "I didn't realize they taught law in the seminary. Perhaps we should let Mrs. Schroeder speak for herself," Randolph suggests. "There's nothing she — " Margaret cuts Brennan off. "I'd like to speak with Miss Randolph alone," she says. "I'm not sure — Margaret shuts the priest down in midsentence again. "Thank you, father," Margaret tells him, giving him the hint to take a hike. "Well, I suppose I'll buy some stamps,"
Father Brennan announces as he leaves. When we first heard mention of Father Brennan, it was in the season's first episode when Sister Bernice informed Margaret that Teddy didn't get expelled over the matches because Brennan was a good friend of Nucky's and intervened. Of late, Nucky hasn't spoken kindly of the priest, but could he have planted him there to keep a watch on what Margaret was saying or is this another example of characters being inconsistent? "Is it difficult to become a lawyer?" Margaret asks Randolph. "Not if you set your mind to it — and don't take no for an answer," she replies. "I doubt it was that simple," Margaret declares. "You're right. I started as a public defender. As you might imagine, my only clients were women," Randolph shares. "What kind of women?" she asks the prosecutor. "The kind who don't have any other choice," Randolph replies. "Are you saying I did?" Margaret asks her. "Why don't you tell me? You cleared the room," Randolph suggests. "My husband beat me. He beat our children. He was a drunkard and a philanderer," Margaret tells her. "And now you've moved up in the world," Randolph states. "Do you hate Mr. Thompson?" Margaret inquires, a curious and lilting tone in her voice. "No, I rather like him. Not that it matters. Do you hate him?" Esther parries. Margaret doesn't answer immediately. "Your feelings are complicated," Randolph guesses. "The truth is complicated as well," Margaret replies. "Then I'd be very interested in hearing what you have to say," Randolph tells her. "Would I have to appear in court?" Margaret inquires. "I'll compel you to testify whether you cooperate with me or not. I can paint you either way on that witness stand. It's really up to you: the helpless widow, unwittingly drawn in by her husband's killer or the shameless gold-digger seduced by money," Randolph lays it out for Margaret. "Does it matter to you that
neither one of those is true?" Margaret asks. "It matters that Enoch Thompson goes to jail," Randolph suddenly shouts. Esther lowers her voice and leans across the desk. "What has he given you besides money?" she wants to know. The camera, already close on Margaret, zooms in tighter. "He's never been cruel to me," she answers. "He's been plenty cruel to others," Esther says, almost in a whisper. "I've never seen it," Margaret responds. "But you know it anyway," Randolph accuses Margaret. "I have children," she offers as a defense for willful blindness. "And does their well-being trump everyone else's? The victims' as well as the criminals'?" Esther raises the questioning, hitting Margaret on her already overactive guilt complex. "If you had your own, you'd never ask," Margaret declares. "If I had my own, I couldn't bear knowing their comfort was bought with the blood of others because sooner or later they'll find out themselves and that won't be a happy day," Randolph responds. "If I did what you ask, what becomes of me?" Margaret inquires. "You'd never have to see him again. Set yourself free, Mrs. Schroeder. You'll be amazed how much better you feel," Randolph pledges. I'm probably alone in this, but this might be favorite scene of this episode for a couple of reasons. First, it's the only time in the show's history that I can recall that they had a scene predominantly between two intelligent women. Second, it's another example of one of my favorite aspects of the show — riveting dialogue scenes they let go on, in this case, for nearly four minutes."How do you order someone to commit murder? It's fucking ludicrous," Nucky says to Fallon as they meet in his home office. "That's my position," Fallon agrees. "If I ordered them to step in front of a train, would they do that too?" Nucky asks rhetorically. "If they would, your troubles would be over," Fallon replies. "Goddammit! Eddie!" Nucky shouts. Kessler marches in. "Why is this bourbon empty?" Nucky asks. "Someone drank it," Eddie replies dryly. "You're cracking wise now?" Nucky responds. "I will refill it immediately," Eddie promises. "We should discuss your brother. If you could talk to him —" Nucky interrupts Fallon's suggestion. "He's in protective custody," Thompson informs his lawyer. "Get word through his lawyer. Make him some kind of offer," Fallon suggests. "Which is swell except we both know he's not the real problem," Nucky replies. "I suppose there is an elephant in the room," he says. "If you're referring to the woman who sleeps in the bed in which I'm no longer welcome, then yes, there certainly is," Nucky growls. "It's her testimony that'll sink ya," Fallon warns. Thompson insists that Margaret doesn't know anything but his attorney tells him that won't matter as far as the jury is concerned — her presence would be enough to corroborate Eli and Halloran's story. "The bottom line: If your lady friend testifies," Fallon doesn't finish his sentence, he just shakes his head. Eddie reappears to inform Nucky that Chalky is on the phone.
Jimmy sits by an open door in the attic of the beachhouse having a smoke when he hears a car approach. He looks down and spots Nucky's familiar blue Rolls-Royce. Nucky exits the back while Owen, who Jimmy has never met, gets out of the driver's seat and both approach the house. Uncertain of what to expect, Jimmy gets his gun ready and descends the stairs while Nucky and Owen already have entered the dwelling with Nucky calling out, "Hello." Jimmy comes into the dining room where they are and places his gun on the table. "The door was open. This is Owen Sleater," Nucky says. "You could wait outside. It's OK. I used to do your job," Jimmy tells Owen. "You're the reason I'm doin' it now," Sleater replies. Except when facing off against his old Irish foes, Owen always has been portrayed affably, even in fights. Now that they've decided to just toss out the political side of Nucky's life, I guess they decided that Sleater must be portrayed as rough, tough and nasty at all times now, whether he's in a scene with Jimmy or the young maid who was boffing. Of course, last week he still was the old Owen trying to come on to Margaret. Nucky nods to Owen that he can leave and he does. Nucky offers Jimmy his condolences about Angela. "Manny Horvitz. Philadelphia," Jimmy informs Nucky. "Never heard of him," Nucky lies. "He used to work for Waxey Gordon. He came for me. Found her instead," Jimmy explains as he pours drinks. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know," Nucky promises before passing up a drink. Jimmy spills part of the booze onto the floor. "To the lost," he toasts alone. When he finishes the drink, he takes a seat. "My father's dead. I should have killed him the moment he suggested betraying you. I thought about it since I was a kid — killing him. I don't know what stopped me," he confesses to
Nucky. "He was your father, James. Nothing looms larger," Nucky tells him. "Last year when he was sick, I went to see him. He looked — pathetic. He was scared and he was trembling. I put my hand on his chest. I looked into his eyes and he said, 'You're a good son.' Knocked the wind out of me. I know there's nothing I can say, Nuck. Maybe there's something I can do," Jimmy offers. "For me? How about telling the truth?" Nucky suggests, a glimmer of spite showing. "I was angry," Jimmy admits. "About what?" Nucky asks, not hiding his anger anymore. "Who I was. Who you are. What I'd been through — over there. The shooting — I never meant for that to happen," Jimmy admits. "Then why did it?" Nucky demands to know. If you really want to get down to it, it's because your driver/bodyguard was busy killing somebody else and then boinking your common-law wife. Your brother, Capone, Lansky and Luciano liked the idea of capping you. Jimmy resisted. Mickey was there and didn't say yea or nay — but he didn't warn you either. Yet, you think that his involvement in TWO attempts on your life isn't enough to warrant his execution, but Jimmy's reluctant participation in one (which he subliminally warned you about) earned him a death sentence. Explain the consistency there. Jimmy gets up and looks out his favorite window at the beach and the ocean. Nucky tosses his hat on the table. "You said you wanted to talk, James, and suddenly you're very quiet," Nucky says. "It was Eli," he finally answers. "And you had nothing to do with it?" Thompson queries. "Let me make things right or as right as they can be. Just tell me how to help you." Sure, everything develops that Jimmy knows that he's going off to his doom, so why go to the trouble of trying to help Nucky first? Richard even tells him that he'll never forgive him. More unforgivingly, since Jimmy says all his goodbyes (They scripted and shot a final scene between him and Capone that they ended up not using), would he in good conscience not figure out a plan for Tommy that didn't result in leaving his rearing in his mother's hands? Margaret knits a scarf in the kitchen when Nucky asks to speak with her. "We were both raised Catholic, but I suppose it is fair to say that we have fundamental differences in our approach to religion," Nucky says. "You lost your faith," Margaret responds. "If there really is a God, would he have given me this mug? Look, maybe there is some being in the sky who sits in judgment. We'll all find out soon enough.
But my relationship to whatever that is, it doesn't need rules," Nucky explains. "So your version of God asks nothing?" Margaret comments. "It asks that I love my family. That I care for them and protect them. There is more God in the love I feel for you and those children than in all the churches in Rome. I know you're in pain and I know how hard it's been, but it will get better. We just need to stick together. I adore you, Margaret. I adore our family. My entire universe — it's within these walls. The rest can disappear," Nucky tells her. "And if I were to believe all that?" Margaret asks. "I need you to marry me," Nucky says. "Need?" she responds quizzically. "So you won't have to testify," he explains. "I want you to marry me." She looks at him suspiciously. "Then why did you not say that?" Nucky musters as sincere a look as possible. "Because I didn't want to insult you by pretending you wouldn't be saving my life. I've done bad things — horrible things — that I convinced myself were justified. I can see how wrong that was. God or no God — no one is sorrier than I am. I'm afraid, Margaret. I don't want to die or spend the rest of my life in jail. I'd never admit that to anyone but you," Nucky declares. Margaret gets up to turn off the whistling teapot. "You are always surprising. I will grant you that," she tells him before leaving the kitchen. The problem with Margaret and Nucky in a scene like this is that Steve Buscemi and Kelly Macdonald are such damn good actors, your instinct is to believe them, but are Nucky and Margaret as good as actors
as the performers playing them? Based on what's been going on, it's easy to doubt Nucky in this scene. However, earlier in the season when Nucky expressed his feelings for Margaret and her kids, he seemed heartfelt. Was Nucky lying then or is this just the new Nucky? Margaret — poor Margaret. The character somersaults they have put poor Kelly Macdonald through this season. At the beginning, she was played as a savvy co-conspirator for Nucky who could scheme rationally without reacting emotionally. They even set up the idea that she might have a mysterious past. Instead, we get the low point of the season in "Peg of Old" where we waste time with her visiting her siblings in Brooklyn and trying to play the headstrong lass against her stick-in-the-mud brother. The trip affected her so much that she rushes home and has sex with Owen. Then, Emily develops polio and she not only rediscovers her religion, she becomes convinced it's divine retribution and flies over the cuckoo's nest. Then, her guilt over how she and Nucky got together over her evil husband's corpse gets her to consider testifying against him, but instead she willingly weds him, knowing full well it's a ploy and he's lying to her and part of the old scheming Margaret comes back and signs over the deed to all that land that Nucky has tied up most of his money in to the church. I guess it's Margaret that Nucky never knew at all. Now what I want to know is this: If they're determined to turn Nucky into a full-blown badass gangster, if Margaret had refused to marry him and planned to testify instead, would he have had the balls to kill her? When he finds out about her and Owen (and you know that shoe will drop), will only Owen pay the price or would he be willing to kill a woman?Tweet
Labels: Boardwalk Empire, Buscemi, HBO, Law and Order, TV Recap
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Boardwalk Empire No. 22: Georgia Peaches
By Edward Copeland
NOTE TO READERS: This Boardwalk Empire recap will be the final one I'll be able to post as the show finishes airing in the Eastern and Central time zones. Because of fears that spoilers will leak out, HBO isn't sending out advance screeners for the final two episodes of the second season airing Dec. 4 and 11. Because of my physical limitations and the extensive and detailed recaps I do, the recaps for those two episodes won't be completed until at least a day or two after those episodes premiere. Sorry for the inconvenience.
In a way, I'm surprised that they didn't hold back tonight's episode as well because it does have a shocker of an ending. I always put my spoiler warning up top, but I mean it this time. The only hint I'll give you in this introduction is that I've been surprised that we've gone through almost two seasons without a major character being killed (and by that, I mean someone listed in the opening credits). That changes tonight — and I certainly was surprised by who ends up wearing the toe tag, but it definitely promises some big changes for other characters and storylines in the future. Aside from that twist, tonight's episode, with a teleplay by Dave Flebotte, whose previous writing credits have been almost exclusively on comedic series such as Desperate Housewives, Will & Grace, 8 Simple Rules and Ellen as well as one of the weaker episodes of The Sopranos (season 4's "Calling All Cars"), does a great job on his first Boardwalk Empire script, building on the momentum that's been growing in the past two weeks. Though "Georgia Peaches" runs nearly 10 minutes longer than last week's installment, director Jeremy Podeswa moves it along at a pace that makes it seem that it ends even more quickly. Since Podeswa helmed this season's good "The Age of Reason" and last year's "Anastasia," which remains one of the best episodes in the series' history, he may be second only to Tim Van Patten in the show's regular stable of directors that you can depend on turning in a quality effort.
We ended last week's episode at an Irish port while a mournful tune in the style of traditional Irish music played. Tonight, we open at the Port of Hoboken and the song "Strut, Miss Lizzie" provides a much jauntier start to the mini-montage that opens the show. The song originally was recorded in 1920 by The Original Dixieland Jazz Band, but the version on the show is a cover by David Johansen (and my link goes to a 1930 cover of the song). Netting sets many boxes of Feeney's Irish Oats from Belfast onto the docks. Sleater supervises the arrival and checks his watch. Trucks carry the boxes of oats elsewhere where a man in a tux greets their arrival. Workers haul the crates down basement steps and open them — not surprisingly to find bottles of Irish whiskey. Babette smokes on a cigarette and watches. We begin to hear a preacher quoting from the Bible as the song slips into the background and more boxes of "oats" are wheeled into a tavern. "From The Book of Deuteronomy 24:14, Thou shalt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of thy strangers — " The scene switches to the Boardwalk where
the pastor's words can be heard more clearly, though we don't see him yet. A bored operator sits next to his empty rolling chair. "that are in thy land within thy gates," the preacher finishes the verse. We then see Owen carrying a box of those Irish oats. As he walks along, we see that the pastor (Helmar Augustus Cooper) preaches to the striking black workers on the Boardwalk, bearing picket signs that read "ON STRIKE," "UNFAIR" and "HONEST PAY FOR AN HONEST DAY." "Brothers, the Lord knew that fairness was not something to be tossed out by those in power like so many crusts of bread. The Lord knew that decency and fairness were a commitment, a promise to those who serve faithfully that they too will be served in turn. Amen. And the strong and the weak have no color, and they shall know the truth," the preacher continues. Leaning against a bench by the railing next to the beach is Deputy Raymond Halloran and another member of the Sheriff's Department. "The strong are not as mighty as they think and the weak have mercy," his sermon begins to be drowned out by the music and the crowd's chants. Sleater walks through the strikers toward the Ritz Carlton, but two men block his path. The men look to Dunn Purnsley who gives a nod and then they let Owen proceed.Owen carries his box into the dark, empty kitchen of the Ritz where its manager sits by himself. "Are you the man to see?" he asks. "Unless there's someone else in here with his thumb in his ass?" the kitchen manager replies. Sleater tells the morose man that Nucky Thompson sent him. "Thought they hung him up," the manager says. Owen opens the box and shows the man what it really contains. "Is that real?" the manager asks. "Straight from the old girl's tit," Owen tells him. The manager quickly finishes what remains in his coffee cup and then holds it out for Owen to pour a sample of the whiskey into and starts to sip. "Thirty dollars a case — that's less than half the going rate," Owen tells him as he drinks. "Who's going to serve it?" the manager wonders out loud. "Someday this strike will end sir — and so will this deal on this fine — Irish — whiskey," Sleater tells him, stretching out the words. The manager nods in contemplation before agreeing to buy 400 cases.
Sigrid rocks and feeds Baby Abigail as Van Alden drinks his morning coffee. He compliments her for how natural she seems to be at her job and she tells him that she’s the oldest of seven children. She also shares the story that her mother told her about when Sigrid was 6-years-old and tried to feed her baby sister from her bosom. Nelson puts his cup in the sink and leaves some money for groceries when he spots a letter addressed to him from Rose. “When did this come? Why didn’t I get this?” he asks. “Yesterday. I leave it for you there,” Sigrid replies. Nelson’s aggravation bursts out. “I am to receive all correspondence from Mrs. Van Alden immediately,” he emphasizes as he rips open the envelope. “Ya. I thought you’d see it,” Sigrid says. The envelope contains a Petition for Divorce from the U.S. District Court of New York, Westchester County. Rose Van Alden vs. Nelson Van Alden. Rose also inserted a handwritten note that reads, "Nelson, Please attend to this as soon as your activities allow. Rose."
Dr. Holt exits Emily's room as Margaret. Nucky and Teddy arrive. Margaret asks Holt how Emily is doing. "She's sleeping — a bit of a rough patch, nausea and such," he tells her. "Why did no one ring me? I would've stayed the night," Margaret says. "I know how hard this is for you, but she's in good hands here. She'll need your love and patience later on," Holt assures Margaret. "Later when?" she inquires. The
doctor gives a half-hearted smile and let's Nucky and Teddy know that they can go in and see Emily if they like. FYI: I couldn't find a direct link to this information, so I typed it. Patients infected with the poliovirus can pass the virus on seven to 10 days before the onset of disease. In addition, they can continue to shed the virus in their stool for three to six weeks. "Come on son — be very quiet. Like cat feet," Nucky instructs Teddy as the two enter Emily's room and leave Margaret to talk to Dr. Holt. "Her lungs are sound, nerves to the heart and upper limbs seem unaffected, but the damage to her legs could be extensive," Holt informs Margaret. "Will she be crippled?" Margaret asks. "At this stage, it's impossible to say. I've seen children worse than her make a complete recovery," Holt answers. "Mr. Thompson is a man of means. If there's anything to be done — " Holt cuts Margaret off so she doesn't think that money will solve the problem. "I wish it were simple as money. There are things that are out of our control, much as I want to tell you otherwise," the doctor says. Margaret looks in Emily's room and watches Nucky speak to her and tenderly pat the girl on the head while Teddy sits in a chair fiddling with his cap in his hands. "I have a little girl — she's 9. She says a prayer for these kids every night. She doesn't know them. I never taught her to do it," Holt shares with Margaret. “You’re meant to ask
God to intercede for others," Margaret says quietly. "We'll get the results from the latest tests by Friday. We'll have an answer then. Go in and see your daughter," he adds. "Good morning, my darling. How are you feelin'?" she asks Emily. "Alright," Emily responds weakly. "We've missed you so much," Nucky tells the girl. "And look what I brought," Margaret announces, holding up a doll. "What happened to Miss Wheatley?" Emily wants to know. Margaret chooses not to tell Emily that Miss Wheatley went up in flames in a pile of her things they burned in the yard. "This is Miss Wheatley's sister. She's here to visit and she insisted on seeing you," she tells Emily. The girl takes the doll and holds her while her mom comments that the doll's hair resembles Emily's and Nucky makes a point of saying Emily's hair is prettier. As the adults tend to Emily, the camera pulls away to look at a sad-looking Teddy, though you can tell he isn't sad about Emily. His expression betrays a combination of boredom and jealousy at the attention Emily is getting. The subtle camera move is very good and since Teddy is played by twins Declan and Rory McTigue, I'm not sure who gets the credit for saying so much without saying a word or whether whichever McTigue brother is in that shot received really good direction to achieve that moment. The size of the warehouse in which Mickey Doyle mixes and bottles his brew has grown since Jimmy became upwardly mobile in Atlantic City, but even with more breathing room the stacks of crates nearly reach the ceiling. Jimmy marches onto the scene with Capone, Lansky and Luciano. "Hi ya, boys. Checkin' up on your investment?" Mickey greets the quartet. "Yeah — try not to lose this batch," Jimmy tells him. Capone places his arm on one of the crates that reads:
MEDICINAL
ALCOHOL
PROPERTY OF THE
U.S. GOVERNMENT
"Property of the U.S. government," Capone cackles. "Not anymore, it ain't," Luciano declares. Lansky dips a ladle into the vat and spoons up some of the brew. "To George Remus," Meyer says before sipping the sample. Jimmy quizzes Mickey for an estimate on when the product will be ready to ship. "We're half-way done. A week round-the-clock'll take care of the rest," Doyle answers. "That's too long," Jimmy tells him. Mickey points out that he only has 10 guys working for him. "Hire fifty," Jimmy orders.
Capone mentions his need to unload his portion and get back to Chicago. "Fuckin' Torrio's on my ass," Al complains. "Rothstein's been sniffin' around too. He knows something's up," Luciano adds. "There's Manny Horvitz too," Mickey tosses into the conversation. "What about him?" Jimmy asks, clearly not caring. "He's running a special on lips and assholes this week — what do you think?" Mickey states. "Fuckin' pay him already," Jimmy orders. "Cash?" Mickey asks, extending his hand for the green. "Booze, whatever. He's Waxey Gordon's problem now, not mine," Jimmy proclaims as he begins to walk off with Al. Lucky calls out to Jimmy to hold up. When he catches up, he removes from his jacket a small envelope containing some white powder. "You can sniff it, smoke it or inject it," Luciano sells with a smile. "Nice Sal, you movin' Chink drugs now?" Capone comments. "It's not hop — it's heroin — and I wouldn't expect a whoremeister to pass judgment," Luciano explains. "Heroin delivers a higher dose of opium to the brain than opium does which makes for a happier customer," Lansky elaborates. "No bottles, no barrels — two million bucks in a suitcase," Lucky plugs the drug. "What's the bank? Who's going to buy it?" Jimmy asks. "You've got your artist types, people uptown," Lucky answers. Jimmy wants numbers. "Their numbers may be very small right now but they're very enthusiastic," Meyer insists. Luciano sticks some envelopes into Jimmy's suit and urges him to get some samples out to the locals. "Great, but before you start squawkin' again, how about gettin' this out to the locals," Jimmy suggests, patting the crates.An exasperated Ginsburg shakes his head. "I don't know what to tell you, Nucky. I'm extremely disappointed," the lawyer admits. "OK, try that again — only this time leave out the part where you sound like my mother," Nucky growls. "Esther Randolph — she's relentless. The trial will be in Camden. I've made calls," Ginsburg says. "You've made calls. Worth every penny. Daugherty?" an increasingly flustered Thompson asks in reference to the President Harding's attorney general, who selected Randolph as the replacement prosecutor when Nucky's old enemy Sen. Walter Edge blackmailed him into picking someone who would try to nail Nucky's balls to the wall. "He says he did what he could and you two were square," Ginsburg relays Daugherty's words. Eddie enters and informs Nucky that his desk is ready for use. During this meeting, Eddie has been supervising the setup of a makeshift office for Nucky at his Margate estate. "My desk — which
used to be in my suite when I ran the fuckin' city — is ready for use," Nucky shouts at Ginsburg. "Will there be anything else?" Eddie asks. "No!" Nucky responds, doing his best not to sound pissed off at Kessler. Ginsburg stands up once Nucky takes his place behind the relocated desk. "So why don't you tell me what you have in mind to keep this trial in Atlantic County where I can work the judge and jury?" Nucky inquires. Ginsburg floats the idea of medical hardship. "You mean this?" Nucky asks, holding up his wounded right hand in an even tone. "This wouldn't even stop me from jacking off!" he yells. "You'll get five years — you'll be out in two," Ginsburg says, for the first time talking as if prison were a certainty. "Eddie, call those two guinea anarchists from Massachusetts — tell them to relax — I've found them a new lawyer," Nucky bellows into another part of the house. "The difference being — with Sacco and Vanzetti, innocence is still a possibility," Ginsburg tells Nucky, with a tone that implies he's had enough of his shit. "Did you want something?" Eddie inquires, rushing into the room because he heard Nucky's joking call. "Get the fuck out," Nucky says, but his voice isn't raised anymore. Eddie makes a hasty retreat. "I was talking to you," Nucky tells Ginsburg. "I realize that," he responds. "Good. You should also realize you're fired," Nucky stands as he proclaims it. Ginsburg just sighs, picks up his briefcase and leaves. Nucky reaches for his cigarette case when the headline on the sports section of the newspaper catches his eye: BLACK SOX TRIAL BEGINS We've dated the series again. The Black Sox trial began on July 18, 1921. Since we're presumably still early in the day and that's not an afternoon newspaper, I'm betting that makes it July 19, 1921. On another note, though I'm surprised he hadn't fired Ginsburg earlier, I'll miss the scenes between Steve Buscemi and Peter Van Wagner. The two actors developed a nice rapport."Three hundred empty rooms, five hundred peaches darker than the help and a tourist season that's slipping through my fingers — and why? Because no one here can get the colored situation under control," an Atlantic City businessman (Scott Robertson) complains at a crowded meeting at the Commodore's about the strike. Attending are three local businessmen, Jimmy, Eli, interim County Treasurer Neary, Leander, Mayor Bader and the Commodore himself. Probably the most uncomfortable man present is Langston, the Commodore's black butler, who must stand and listen to these assholes badmouth his race in case any of them needs something. Noticeably absent, since the gathering isn't in the grand living room, is the Commodore's still unnamed stuffed bear. This scene probably feels longer than it really is, but no matter how many times I revised it, the whole section ate up a tremendous amount of space. So, for this
scene, I'm hitting the highlights on tossing out the rest, which means eliminating a lot of the dialogue I'd usually include. Here are the main points: 1. The three businessmen we've never met before (the other seated one who Bader actually calls Dan at one point is played by Craig Bockhorn; the one who stands is played by Jimmy Palumbo) all want the strike settled and suggest using the Klan again. 2. Eli opposes this idea and Jimmy reminds them that got them into this mess and suggests settling, saying a small raise would be cheaper. 3. The Commodore starts thumping on the floor with his cane and making noises, so they send the businessmen home. 4. Eli suggests 50 men with billy clubs and Neary reminisces about a 1909 incident where they threw black protesters off a pier, but Jimmy fears riots. 5. Neary tells Eli that Deputy Halloran was talking to Esther Randolph and Eli doesn't like it. While overall this is a very good episode, I'm beginning to wonder if there's a curse on long scenes with multiple characters at the Commodore's mansion. They used to be quite good but lately, they just drag on and on. Why didn't they have a character we know such as Leander summarize the business community's thoughts and get to the debate over what to do? They would get to the Halloran plot point and the scene's climax (still to come) a lot faster, which I will play out now. Trying to steer things back to the subject at hand, Leander asks Jimmy if he intends to follow this strategy. "Which one? The billy clubs or throwing them off the pier? I can't choose," Jimmy replies sarcastically. "Your predecessor knew how to keep the coloreds happy," Whitlock reminds him. Jimmy stands up. "Alright, I'm not Nucky, OK. Now that we've got that part out of the way, let's figure out how to end this peacefully — " The Commodore interrupts again. "Why don't you just show them your cunt?" he manages to say fairly coherently. The room seems mostly shocked by his words except for Jimmy, who looks hurt. The room really gets bowled over when the Commodore, using his thought-to-be paralyzed right side, manages to lift himself to a standing position and take a couple of steps. "You heard me. Why don't you lift up your dress and let yourself get fucked?" the old man asks his son. Leander Whitlock has a hard time suppressing a smile at the sight of his old friend's signs of recovery. Needless to say, Jimmy doesn't take the abuse well, drooping his head and staying silent. The Commodore turns to Neary. “You. Get me a fuckin' drink,” he orders. "Yes sir, Commodore," Neary complies. Eli looks deep in thought. Teddy's bedtime recital of the prayer "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" begins while we still watch Eli contemplating his many problems at the Commodore's. When Teddy reaches the line "If I should die before I wake," we see him in his bed with Margaret at his side as he says the prayer. "You should say a special prayer for Emily," his mother tells him. Teddy looks less than enthused, but closes his eyes, puts his hands together and says, "Will you please make my sister Emily get better?" anyway. Margaret smiles and kisses Teddy on the forehead. "Good
night, sweet prince," she tells him. As Margaret walks toward the door, Teddy calls, "Mama." She turns back around. "Yes dear, what is it?" she asks. "I can't move my legs," Teddy declares without an ounce of panic. Margaret, however, does, rushing back and pulling back his covers. She presses on his legs. "Can you feel that?" she asks. "No, he replies. Margaret again starts testing his feet and apparently hits a ticklish spot, making her devilish little son laugh. When she takes her hands away, Teddy continues laughing. Margaret slaps the little brat hard across the face and Teddy stops laughing and begins crying, A puzzled Nucky wanders in to see what's going on. "You were just praying?" he says. Margaret dashes past Nucky and into her bedroom. "God help me, but he's got his father's cruelty," she tells Nucky when he goes to her. "He just wants attention," Nucky explains. "His sister is lying crippled in a hospital. He knows that," Margaret says. "Not the same as understanding," Nucky tells her. "What am I to do — abandon my sick baby girl to attend to my healthy son?" Margaret asks. "Before anything else, you're to stop running yourself ragged," Nucky declares. Nucky informs her that he has to be in New York the next day just for the day and suggests that he take Teddy with him to let Margaret rest. She asks him why he's going and he tells her he's hiring a new lawyer. "You can't leave him alone," Margaret warns. "I won't," Nucky promises. "Make sure to keep his fingers from his nose — it's a revolting habit," Margaret says. The striking workers sing "There Is a Balm in Gilead" as picketing continues on the Boardwalk. We join the protesters in the middle of the spiritual. "But then the Holy Spirit/Revives my soul again," they sing. While the chorus raises their voice in song, another group — pissed-off looking white guys — round the corner raising something else — namely bats and pieces of wood. "There is a balm in Gilead/To make the wounded whole/There is a balm in Gilead/To heal the sin-sick soul — " The hymn gets interrupted when Purnsley, spotting the intruders, shouts, "Hold the line!" A melee ensues as the whites beat and punch the strikers, though the strikers get some blows in. The two members of the Sheriff's Department watching the violence with Deputy Halloran quietly slip away, leaving Halloran by himself. Two of the white men strike the deputy from behind and proceed to pummel him without mercy. It almost looks as if Halloran receives a more severe beating than any of the strikers do.
In New York, Nucky (with Teddy tagging along and Arnold Rothstein following behind) enters the office of infamous criminal defense attorney Bill Fallon (David Aaron Baker), the man who helped Rothstein escape charges in the Black Sox scandal. "Mr. Thompson, I've heard only good things," Fallon says as he greets Nucky and shakes his hand. "Not from me, of course," Rothstein jokes. "That certainly narrows down the list of suspects," Nucky replies. Teddy wanders to the corner of Fallon's desk where a baseball sits in prominent display. "You like
baseball?" Fallon asks the boy, noticing his interest. "Yes," Teddy answers. "Ty Cobb signed this — now it's yours," Fallon tells Teddy as he gives the ball to him. "What do you say, Teddy?" Nucky inquires, trying to coax gratitude from the boy. "Ty Cobb was a bad man," Hans Schroeder's son answers. "He doesn't like to be crossed, that's for sure, but if your team's down, he's the one you want at bat," Nucky tells him before sending him out of the office with Fallon's secretary. Fallon opens a desk drawer where three baseballs rest and places one of them in the spot where the Ty Cobb-signed-ball used to rest. "So your case. Arnold tells me you'd like to go in a new direction," Fallon addresses Nucky. "Preferably away from jail," Nucky replies. "This Ginsburg you had defending you — Is law his main focus or just something he does when he’s not shoeing horses?" Fallon asks sarcastically. "I hope the meter's not running. I'd hate to think I'm paying you to hear what a fool I am," Nucky says. "That part's on the house," Fallon offers. "Once you get past Mr. Fallon's charm, I think you'll find him quite effective," Rothstein counsels Nucky. "Can you get the venue changed back to Atlantic City?" Nucky inquires as he takes a seat with his drink. "Probably not," Fallon admits, "but if there's a seed of doubt to be sown on your behalf, I am quite effective with juries." "And all this farming will set me back what?" Thompson seeks the dollar amount. "Eighty dollars per hour, which also buys my uncanny ability to make friends with judges," Fallon adds it up for Nucky. Nucky doesn't look happy and you can tell he's running the figures in his head. "And if I told you I had no money for bribes," Nucky posits. "Then you'd be relying solely on my legal acumen," Fallon says. "What would you do, Arnold?" Nucky asks Rothstein, who has been staring out the window, sipping his milk. "No one likes a long shot more than a gambler," Rothstein smiles.We're in a room we've not been in before and there's a knock at the door. A muffled voice says, "Come in." Eli opens the door and we see lying in bed, looking like hell, Deputy Halloran. Bandages wrap his head from the top of his skull to the bottom of his chin. His right arm dangles in a sling and his jaw appears to be wired. "Fresh peas — from June's garden," Eli tells him as he holds up a paper bag. "What do I do with 'em?" Halloran asks, given that he can barely open his mouth to speak. Eli suggests he have his landlady boil the peas for him. Then the sheriff gets around to asking his deputy how he's feeling, as if the sight of him didn't already answer that question. "How do ya zink?" Halloran says. "What happened out there?" Eli inquires as if he didn't already know the answer. "Two of 'em came up behind me,"
Halloran replies. "Sons-a-bitches," Eli curses. "I was standin' off by the railings," Halloran tells his boss. "You know what we're gonna do — when you're back on your feet? We drive around the Northside — you point out these black bastards," Eli pledges. Halloran informs Eli that the black protesters weren't responsible. "They were the breakers. Normal white men," Eli's deputy scowls. "Really?" Eli says, not even pretending to act surprised. "I couldn't believe it," Halloran declares. "They think you were someone else?" Eli suggests. "Who else would I be — I'm wearing the brown," Halloran responds. "Well there's a puzzlement," Eli replies without an ounce of emotion. "Look at me — I can hardly fucking talk," Halloran moans. "Well, it isn't like there's anything else you want to say, is there?" Eli makes it painfully clear even to a dimwit like Halloran what he's talking about now and why he's in the physical state he's in. "I think Ray, when things go wrong, 'What did I do? Why do I deserve this?'" Eli tells him. "I don't deserve it," Halloran insists. "My philosophy — it goes in here," Eli points to his gut, "it comes out somewhere else. God, fate — I don't know what you call it — 'What did I do? What should I make sure I never, ever do again'" Eli has crossed the room to Halloran's bedside to make his not-so-veiled threat. Halloran stares at him, vacantly and frightened at the same time. "Good time to reflect about it," Eli proposes as he hands him the bag of peas. "Butter, salt — delicious." Deputy Raymond Halloran doesn't need much time to reflect because as soon as Eli has left, he fights his pain to get to the phone on his bedside table. "Give me the Post Office over on Illinois," he speaks into the mouthpiece.Father Brennan comes upon Margaret in kneeling in prayer in one of the pews of his otherwise empty church. "Is something wrong?" he asks. "My youngest, Emily, she has polio," she informs the priest. "I'm sorry," Brennan says. "She's frightened, Father. It's killin' me," Margaret admits. Brennan sits in the pew in front of Margaret and leans on its back. "God is with her, my child," he insists. Podewsa films that line of Brennan's in a far shot from the back of the sanctuary, essentially turning Margaret and the priest into specks. He moves back around to the front of two so we can see Margaret, "As he was when he let it happen," Margaret replies with a tone of bitterness toward her deity. Podewsa moves the camera slightly again so we see Michael Cumpsty's face straight on while Kelly MacDonald is in profile. "There are things I tell children, Mrs. Schroeder, because that's all they can grasp. You're an adult and you came here in your need," Brennan tells her. "I've nowhere else to turn," Margaret says, looking straight ahead as if she's in a state of shock or has just gone numb. "You confessed something to me not long ago — about temptation. Is that still a burden?" Brennan inquires. "I'd rather not discuss that," she replies. "Don't you see the problem? You ask of God, but what do you offer in return?" the priest asks. "My devotion," Margaret answers. Father Brennan explains to her that devotion is an act, something you demonstrate. Margaret doesn't understand how she can display that devotion. "That's for you to decide," Father Brennan tells her.
The next scene begins with a man's hand lifting his suit jacket to give him quicker access to the gun sticking out of his pants. The camera goes wide and we realize that the gun belongs to Jimmy who is meeting with Chalky inside the same church where Chalky held his community meeting following his release from jail. Jimmy has brought Richard along with him, Chalky's backup is Dunn Purnsley. Two other black men stand quietly in separate corners. "Mr. White," Jimmy greets Chalky, "Young James," Chalky replies as the two shake hands. "How's that new set of shoes be fittin' these days?" Chalky asks Jimmy. "A little tighter than I expected," Jimmy admits. "Needs some breakin' in, that all," Chalky tells him. "So what can I do for y'all?" Chalky asks as he and Jimmy sit. "The strike — it needs to end. I came here to work somethin' out," Jimmy says. "Oh — now y'all come. What ya think about that, Mr. Purnsley?" Chalky asks Dunn who stands behind him. "I think that ball team he sent around swingin' those bats struck out," Purnsley declares. "That wasn't my idea, Chalky," Jimmy tells him. "Klan boys shootin' up my warehouse," Chalky reminds him. "Wasn't my idea either," Jimmy adds. "Jesus boy — ain't you got any notion at all?" Chalky quizzes Jimmy. "Yeah," Jimmy says, leaning forward on his chair. "I plan to make your murder charge go away," Chalky lets out a little cough and looks to the side. "How you gonna do that?" Chalky wants to know. Jimmy announces his plan to talk with Gov. Edwards. Chalky spins in his chair to look at Purnsley, then turns back to Jimmy. "What else you got?" he asks. "What else you want?" Jimmy inquires. "Justice," Chalky replies, which when he elaborates breaks down to $3,000 to each of the families of the men killed in the Klan raid. "OK," Jimmy agrees. "And those three hooded crackers who did the shootin' — I want them delivered to me personally," Chalky demands, Jimmy shakes his head and looks at Richard. "It's not gonna happen, Chalky," Darmody tells him. Chalky smirks, then stands. "Well buck, that's the deal. There'll always be next tourist season," Chalky says with a wink as he and Purnsley leave.
In the Manhattan hotel room with Nucky, Teddy talks to his mom on the phone. We only hear his side of the conversation which consists of many promises to do things and the news about the signed baseball, though Margaret has no idea who Ty Cobb is. "OK champ, time to say goodnight," Nucky tells him. Teddy does what he's told and hands the phone off to Nucky who says they'll see her tomorrow and explains that Cobb is "a very famous ball player." "Your mom sounded in good spirits, eh," Nucky declares, but Teddy just shrugs. Nucky sits down on his bed with a drink. "You know, I had a kid sister. Her name was Susan. She was sick too — consumption — and my mother,
just like your mother with Emily, spent every waking moment taking care of her. My brother and I, we'd get pretty jealous," Nucky admits to Teddy. "You did?" Teddy acts surprised, as if his reaction is unusual. "Sure — who wouldn't want all that attention? Still, we knew our mother loved us just the same," Nucky illustrates for the kid. Buscemi always excels in these scenes illuminating Nucky's past, even when played at different tones and for different purposes. Once again, I must give kudos to whichever McTigue kid plays Teddy here or if it were particularly fine direction that got this performance out of him in this episode. It also illustrates how good Nucky must have been with Jimmy when he was a kid and how he really misses the chance he didn't have with his own child who died so young. "How about your dad?" Teddy asks, nearly causing Thompson to do a spit take with his drink, "Sure, of course, he loved us too," he lies to the boy. Doing that took enough out of Nucky to cause him to fix himself another drink. As he prepares it, Teddy asks him if he's in trouble. "No. Well, a little. Some people say I did something wrong, but it's not true," Nucky speaks more or less truthfully to Teddy. "That you burned your dad's house down," Teddy says. Now it's out — the source of Teddy's fascination with fire finally becomes clear to Nucky. "What? No. What makes you thinks that?" Nucky wants to know. "I saw you," Teddy tells him. "No Teddy. What you saw — that was an accident," Nucky insists. "Don't worry, Dad — I won't tell," Teddy promises.The young would-be bootleggers have gathered together at the warehouse again — and the trio of out-of state partner aren't happy with what they're finding. "How'd you do?" Lucky asks Al when he comes in. "I couldn't sell a drop. The whole city's fucking drenched," Capone reports. "Irish whiskey," Luciano says. "But they're cheaper than what we're selling," Mickey adds. "Way cheaper," Lucky complains. "Who's behind it then? Al wants to know. "Nucky," Jimmy declares. "You know that?" Meyer asks. "In my bones," Jimmy replies. "So much for
steppin' down," Mickey comments. "There's a reason you cut a snake's head clean off," Capone asserts. "Well, whose fault is that, Al?" Jimmy asks. "This whiskey — where's it from? You said you had the Coast Guard in your pocket," Lansky inquires. "Nucky's man — he's from Ireland. They import it," Richard speaks up. Capone gets in Harrow's face. "So let's pop the fuckin' mick," Capone yells. "Yeah, that's great for tomorrow. What do we do for today?" Jimmy seeks suggestions from his partners. "I thought you were runnin' this town," Luciano yells at Darmody as he approaches him. "Yeah, that's right," Jimmy confirms. "I thought you were supposed to be givin' us the answers," Lucky replies. Capone complains that first came the black workers' strike, now this. Mickey tells everyone there are more strikers out there now than before. "So this stuff could be sittin' here for months," Capone speculates. "I said I would take care of it, goddammit!" Jimmy shouts in Al's face. "You should put that to fuckin' music," Luciano suggests. "Fuck you Sal or Charlie whatever the fuck your name is," Jimmy yells. "It's Charlie," Luciano answers quietly. "Is that the issue? There's a fortune at stake, gentlemen, This alcohol needs to be sold," Lansky interjects, attempting to be the voice of reason as always. "Thanks, genius. Where?" Al asks. Meyer proposes splitting up and selling it in their respective towns. "This is my town," Jimmy sighs. Luciano suggest that Jimmy go to Philadelphia, but Mickey warns him to stay away from there because of Manny. "Alright, you take Philly," Jimmy tells Mickey, "I'll head north." Then he kicks over a crate in frustration. "Look — let's just sell this shit," Jimmy says. 
The camera begins the next scene tight on the face of Nelson Van Alden in the middle of a sentence. "…at which point Enoch Thompson left the premises with Mr. White," Van Alden says. "Albert White, known as Chalky," we hear Esther Randolph's voice clarify off screen. "That's correct," Nelson confirms. "Please tell the jury what happened next," Randolph's voice instructs. "Presumably, they completed the deal for the alcohol — " "Objection," this time it's Lathrop's voice we hear doing the interrupting and the shot widens so we see that they're rehearsing Van Alden's future trial testimony in their office. "Your presumptions, scintillating though they be, do not help us. You're testifying as to direct knowledge of Thompson's bootlegging," Esther tells him. Nelson apologizes and Lathrop advises him to stick to what he knows. "Agent Van Alden, what can you tell us about a Hans Schroeder?" Randolph asks. "I beg your pardon," Nelson replies. "Hans Schroeder — his name is mentioned in your file quite extensively as is his widow's," Randolph repeats. From the look on Van Alden's face, you might forget that he's testifying for the prosecution. "Are you baiting me, Miss Randolph?" Van Alden accuses. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. In your file, it says that Nucky Thompson ordered Schroeder murdered," she responds as he crosses in front of him. "I have no direct proof of that," Van Alden admits. "Well you certainly spent enough time on it," Esther comments. "It was a theory. I was told by my supervisor to focus on alcohol as you've directed yourself in regard to my testimony," he tells her. Randolph sidles up to Nelson. "Off the record? Do you think he did it? Thompson — order Schroeder's murder," she queries. "I have no doubt whatsoever," Van Alden declares. Randolph suggest that they break for lunch and Nelson walks briskly out of the office. "What do you think? Have we got enough?" Lathrop asks Randolph. "Let's bring him in," she says. Lathrop and Halsey grab their hats and head off.
Someone knocks on the door to Manny Horvitz's home. Manny must be playing it safe after the attempt on his life because he treads carefully inside, dressed in only a T-shirt and suspenders, using a handgun to part the curtains to look outside. He sees that it's Mickey Doyle on his doorstep, so Horvitz feels secure enough to let him inside (but not enough to do so without giving Mickey a patdown for
weapons). "Better safe than sorry," Manny tells him. Mickey starts to sit a particular chair, but Horvitz stops him. "Not there — my wife'll kill ya," he says. Whether that's true or not, Mickey takes a seat across from Manny. "So — the two of us — the walking wounded, courtesy of Mr. Darmody," Manny comments, referencing his shoulder and Mickey's neck. "I don't follow," Mickey, unable to turn his head, says. "My shoulder, your neck," Horvitz spells it out for him. "Jimmy ain't have nothin' to do with that," Mickey claims. Granted, you can't believe a word that comes out of Mickey's mouth, but I wonder if he was aware that Jimmy did set that botched hit up through his talk with Waxey. He heard his comment earlier in this episode about Manny being Waxey's problem now and warned Jimmy not to go to Philadelphia, so he probably suspects, but given that rat's survival instincts, he probably figures that what he doesn't know can't hurt him. "You landed at my feet," Manny reminds him. "Your shoulder I mean. That was Waxey all the way," Doyle insists. Horvitz removes the bandage from his shoulder and reveals the ugly, bloody wound. "What have you brought me?" he asks. Mickey makes a pleasant humming sound and removes a bottle from a paper bag and hands it Manny. "I give you five grand worth to settle Jimmy's debt," Mickey says. Manny questions whether it's from Jimmy and Mickey confirms it again. Manny stares at the bottle. "Yet he doesn't bring it himself," Horvitz notes as he opens it. "He's busy, Munya," Mickey tells him. "Yes. He’s a macher now who sends you to do his bidding," Manny says as he takes a drink. Horvitz puts the bottle down on the table beside him and picks something small up. He removes a toothpick from it (and then viewers know what it is) and tosses the box to Mickey. "Somethin' in my teeth?" Doyle asks. "I took it from the man who tried to kill me. Heilig's Chop House," Manny informs Mickey as he takes a toothpick and starts scraping at his shoulder wound. "So?" Mickey says.
Whatever Horvitz was trying to clean out of his wound, he transferred into a bowl and looks as if it brought him some kind of relief. "Atlantic City — Mr. Darmody's town. He tries to kill me and fails. Now he sends five thousand dollars worth of piss for a ticket out of it," Manny sneers. "He's payin' his debt is all," Mickey insists. "He who dies pays all his debts," Manny proclaims. "The Bible, right? Lot of wisdom there. Look — you're still in business, ain't ya? And you don't have to deal with him — ever. Just me," Mickey responds, trying to cool Horvitz down. I wonder if it was luck of the draw or planning that assigned Jeremy Podewsa to direct the two episodes this season (this and "The Age of Reason") loaded with the most religious and biblical references, except in this case Mickey is an idiot and confuses The Bible and Shakespeare. Manny stands, looking like the gregarious butcher we first met, almost as if he's about to hug Mickey. "Ah, I take the payback," Manny proclaims. "My old pal, Munya," Mickey smiles and starts to get up, but Horvitz pushes him back down and places his hand under Mickey's chin. "Then you tell me where I find Mr. Darmody — for a quiet chat," Manny demands in a whisper. "We're partners, me and him. I've got an investment to protect," Mickey replies nervously. Horvitz shoves Mickey against further into his chair, both of his hands gripping Doyle's neck brace and slamming the back of his head into the windowsill. "What the hell are you doing?" Mickey pleads. "Changing your mind," Manny growls. 
The camera pans slowly from the hall of jail cells to look through the bars of a particular cell where we see Eli sitting on the lower bunk smoking a cigarette. Esther Randolph comes walking by and stops to say, "Sheriff Thompson, good morning." Eli's gaze could burn holes through Randolph. "I asked for a lawyer," he tells her. "I am a lawyer — just not yours," she replies. Randolph introduces and identifies herself to Eli. "At my house, you come arrest me," Eli growls in disbelief. "Sorry Sheriff but my professional courtesy does not extend to murder suspects," Randolph explains with a "that's-the-breaks" nod of her head. Again, this show makes me conflicted over the vast expansion of its cast this season. It ends up slighting some of its regulars and some additions prove needless, but then you get someone such as Julianne Nicholson playing Esther Randolph and you're grateful almost every time you get to see her at work. "You're graspin' at straws, lady," Eli declares. "Actually, I think I've got one. Your deputy — Raymond Halloran. He's got a lot to say about you and a man named Hans Schroeder. If you have anything to say — about your brother, for instance — please have your lawyer get in touch. I'm sure he'll be along any minute," Randolph smiles, nods and walks away. What I love about this show — which I've mentioned many times — its long-term memory. When this season started, we knew that a coup was planned and in the first episode, it seemed to revolve around Nucky's election chicanery. Who could have predicted then that the tangled legal mess eventually would ensnare some of the coup plotters themselves and lead back to the murder of Margaret's husband in the very first episode of the series?
As Franz Liszt's "Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2" plays on the soundtrack, Margaret removes all the contents of her jewelry box — the jewels as well as the envelope of cash hidden in the secret compartment. She places all of it in her handbag and leaves. At Father Brennan's residence, the priest relaxes, listening to that same piece of music on his phonograph player. His housekeeper (Connie Watkins) knocks and enters. "Sorry to bother you, Father. A Mrs. Schroeder is here to see you," she tells him. "What does she want?" Brennan asks. "She didn't say. Should I let her in?" the housekeeper inquires. Brennan hides his glass of wine, adjusts his collar and says to show her in. He turns off the record as Margaret comes in. "I'm disturbing you," Margaret says as she sees Brennan place the record back on the shelf. "Not at all. They can very easily get out of order and there's no finding them," Brennan explains. "How is your little one?" he asks. "The doctor's reluctant to make any prediction," Margaret replies. "He doesn't wish to give you false hope," the priest says. "Would that be so bad? It would at least be something for now," Margaret admits. "Wouldn't you rather believe in something real?" Brennan challenges her. Believe in something real — what kind of talk is that coming from a priest? "I want to believe she'll recover," Margaret declares. "Are you looking for a miracle?" he inquires. "Yes, I am. I want my daughter to be made whole. I want her to live and grow. I want her to run in the grass and swim in the sea and not suffer for this — for no reason," Margaret comes close to blaming her indiscretion with Owen as the reason for Emily's polio, but she stops herself. "Do you recall what we discussed earlier?" Brennan asks. "An act of devotion," Margaret answers as she reaches into her purse and places the money and jewelry upon the table. "What is this?" he questions. "For the church — a donation," she replies. "I'm not usually handed cash directly, let alone jewels," Father Brennan admits. "Then tell me the proper method," Margaret requests. "Why are you doing this, Mrs. Schroeder?" he asks. "There's a weight on me, Father, on my soul. I want to be free of it and show that I'm willing." Father Brennan picks up the envelopes and looks at the pile of bills. "Shall we pray?"
Jimmy drinks a cup of coffee and looks at his home's magnificent view, noting one particular sunbather, an overweight man of indeterminate age with his back to the ocean. "What's so fascinating?" Angela asks as she comes in and sees her husband gazing. "That fella," Jimmy replies and his wife joins him at the window. "Not a care in the world," he says. "Certainly doesn't care what he looks like," Angela comments. In a way, Jimmy is dressed here like Manny was earlier — wearing a T-shirt with suspenders over them holding up his
pants. In the background, you can hear playing "The Whippoorwill Dance," a ragtime composition by Joe Jordan, performed here by pianist Rick Benjamin and the Paragon Ragtime Orchestra on their salute to Jordan called From Barrelhouse to Broadway: The Musical Odyssey of Joe Jordan. Tellingly, the same version of this music was used in the season one episode "Family Limitation" as Jimmy sat alone mourning Pearl's suicide. Angela returns to what she was doing and places some flowers in a vase when Jimmy asks about Tommy's whereabouts. She tells him that he's with Gillian. "I have to leave town for a few days," Jimmy informs her, then asks why she doesn't ask him why. "If you want me to know, you'll tell me. I trust you," Angela replies. "You don't mean that," Jimmy says. "That's not fair," Angela responds, barely completing the word fair. "Well, then try to," Jimmy requests. He puts down his coffee cup and walks closer to her. "I know you're not happy, Angela. I know there are things you think about me that you're afraid to say. I'm gonna make it up to you, get everything settled, once and for all. You'll see, I can be the person you want me to be," Jimmy pledges. Angela smiles. "I heard a joke today. A man goes into a hotel and he says, 'I'd like a room with a bath.' The clerk says, 'I can give you a room but you'll have to take the bath yourself,'" she laughs. "Did I tell it wrong?" she asks since Jimmy didn't laugh. "No, it's funny," he assures her, then repeats the punchline and laughs. Angela wraps her arms around his neck and they kiss. "You sure you have to leave right away?" she asks. "I'm not sure of anything." They kiss again and she leads him away, presumably to their bedroom.When Nucky and Margaret meet with Dr. Holt to hear the latest test results, the report isn't promising. "Unfortunately, we didn't get the results we'd hoped for. It's spinal polio. The virus invades nerve cells causing damage to the muscles and the limbs. The cells are completely destroyed and, as in Emily's case, the paralysis will most likely be permanent. You understand what I'm saying?" Holt asks Margaret who just stares into space. Nucky takes her hand and calls her name. "Did your daughter pray?" Margaret inquires of Holt. "I'm sorry," he replies. "Last night, you said she prays for all the rest of us," Margaret says. "I'm sure she did," Holt tells her. "Then bless her soul," Margaret declares. "What do we know?" Nucky asks. "Measure Emily for braces. You'll take her home. When she's ready, we'll try therapy and hope for the best," Holt explains. "I'd say that's good advice," Nucky concurs. Margaret turns to Nucky and looks helpless. Kelly Macdonald, as always, is great, but I wonder if Margaret is sliding off the rails into cuckoo land. Will this be particularly bad timing should Esther Randolph bring anyone, let alone Nucky, up on murder charges in Hans' death?
Back at the Margate Estate that the Schroeders share with Nucky, Teddy sits on the floor by the foot of his bed going through a box. In it, he finds an old photo of Hans and Margaret when he was younger and Emily was a baby. He looks closely at his dead father's face for a moment before putting the photo back in the box and adding the Ty Cobb-autographed baseball to its contents.
You can hear the waves at the Darmody beachhouse as Angela sleeps. A shadow wearing a hat passes by the curtains of her bedroom. Manny Horvitz opens the front door, his gun already drawn, dressed in suit and tie. Honestly, if you're sneaking into someone's house at night to kill them, why on earth would you get dressed up for the occasion? Was there a dress code for murder in the 1920s?
As Manny stalks around the house, he finally finds the bedroom where Angela sleeps and hears the shower running in the adjacent bathroom. Horvitz goes to the bed and places his hand over Angela's mouth. She wakes up and tries to scream, but can't. Manny drags her to her feet, holding her up with one hand still over her mouth and the other still holding the gun waiting for the shower to end.
The knob squeaks as the water stops inside the bathroom. Angela keeps trying to make a noise loud enough to serve as a warning. Manny sees a person's shape in the distorted glass on the bathroom door, aims and fires as soon as it opens. Both Louise and the towel covering her nakedness fall to the floor. "What the fuck?" Manny says as a naked woman's body falls dead to the floor instead of that of his anticipated victim, James Darmody.
The surprise shocks Horvitz enough that Angela escapes his grasp and runs to Louise, who already is dead. Angela cries over her body as Manny approaches, gun still drawn. "Where's Darmody?" he asks. "He isn't here," Angela sobs. "You're his wife?" Manny seeks confirmation.
"Please. I have a child. Please. Do you want money? He can get it. Lots of it. I can make him," Angela pleads through her tears. "The most important thing in life, darling — your health. Your husband did this to you," Manny tells Angela before shooting her in the head.
Horvitz puts an extra bullet in each of the women, just for good measure, then leaves the scene, actually looking sad. In fact, in an odd way, his facial expression reminds me of the clown Emmett Kelly. Meanwhile, unaware that he has just become a widower, Jimmy drives
a load of booze on a back road and is about to enter Princeton, home of the college Nucky got him into but that he opted not to attend, choosing the war instead. REMINDER: I won't see the final two episodes of the season early, so my recaps won't come any earlier than the Tuesday after the episode airs. This is an interesting twist though, isn't it? We now have two single fathers on the show in Jimmy and Van Alden. It also sets up, depending how long Jimmy hangs on to power, which path he takes as the town's
boss. Will he follow that of the Commodore, who said he was too busy running the city to raise his own child? Or will he learn from Nucky, who took Jimmy on as a surrogate son and then ran the town as well? By the way, in case readers aren't familiar with the famous clown Emmett Kelly, I though I'd put up a painting of his face and a closeup of Manny's expression in that last scene so you could compare. I don't think it was intentional, but interesting nonetheless. Killing Angela was planned well to surprise the audience by setting up the new girlfriend storyline as a red herring at the same time they put in subtle clues in her scenes with Jimmy that doom was near. The sad part was that those final scenes with Jimmy finally gave Aleksa Palladino some good scenes to play and now she won't get any more. I wonder how long Jimmy will play the field of if by season three, he already will have a new serious partner. Playing the same music that followed Pearl's death in Chicago in Jimmy and Angela's final scene together was very clever. I only caught that by accident when doublechecking that the musical piece was the one it was supposed to be and a Google search led to the HBO site listing it as being played in that particular first season episode. I played it on HBO GO and compared them and, sure enough, it was the same piece. Sneaky. Tweet
Labels: Boardwalk Empire, Buscemi, HBO, Shakespeare, The Sopranos, TV Recap
TO READ ON, CLICK HERE
