Thursday, October 10, 2013
Better Off Ted: Bye Bye 'Bad' Part III
that STILL has yet to watch Breaking Bad in its entirety, close this story now. If you missed Part I, click here. If you missed Part II, click here.
— Saul Goodman to Mike Ehrmantraut ("Buyout," written by Gennifer Hutchison, directed by Colin Bucksey)
By Edward Copeland
Playing to the back of the room: I love doing it as a writer and appreciate it even more as an audience member. While I understand how its origin in comedy clubs gives it a derogatory meaning, I say phooey in general. Another example of playing to the broadest, widest audience possible. Why not reward those knowledgeable ones who pay close attention? Why cater to the Michele Bachmanns of the world who believe that ignorance is bliss? What they don’t catch can’t hurt them. I know I’ve fought with many an editor about references that they didn’t get or feared would fly over most readers’ heads (and I’ve known other writers who suffered the same problems, including one told by an editor decades younger that she needed to explain further whom she meant when she mentioned Tracy and Hepburn in a review. Being a free-lancer with a real full-time job, she quit on the spot). Breaking Bad certainly didn’t invent the concept, but damn the show did it well — sneaking some past me the first time or two, those clever bastards, not only within dialogue, but visually as well. In that spirit, I don’t plan to explain all the little gems I'll discuss. Consider them chocolate treats for those in the know. Sam, release the falcon!
In a separate discussion on Facebook, I agreed with a friend at taking offense when referring to Breaking Bad as a crime show. In fact, I responded:
“I think Breaking Bad is the greatest dramatic series TV has yet produced, but I agree. Calling it a ‘crime show’ is an example of trying to pin every show or movie into a particular genre hole when, especially in the case of Breaking Bad, it has so many more layers than merely crime. In fact, I don't like the fact that I just referred to it as a drama series because, as disturbing, tragic and horrifying as Breaking Bad could be, it also could be hysterically funny. That humor also came in shapes and sizes across the spectrum of humor. Vince Gilligan's creation amazes me in a new way every time I think about it. I wonder how long I'll still find myself discovering new nuances or aspects to it. I imagine it's going to be like Airplane! — where I still found myself discovering gags I hadn't caught years and countless viewings after my initial one as an 11-year-old in 1980. Truth be told, I can't guarantee I have caught all that ZAZ placed in Airplane! yet even now. Can it be a mere coincidence that both Breaking Bad and Airplane! featured Jonathan Banks? Surely I can't be serious, but if I am, tread lightly.”
— Jonathan Banks as air traffic controller Gunderson in Airplane!
The second season episode “ABQ” (written by Vince Gilligan, directed by Adam Bernstein) introduced us to Banks as Mike and also featured John de Lancie as air traffic controller Donald Margulies, father of the doomed Jane. Listen to the DVD commentary about a previous time that Banks and De Lancie worked together. Speaking of air traffic controllers, if you don’t already know, look up how a real man named Walter White figured in an airline disaster. Remember Wayfarer 515! Saul never did, wearing that ribbon nearly constantly. Most realize the surreal pre-credit scenes that season foretold that ending cataclysm and where six of its second season episode titles, when placed together in the correct order, spell out the news of the disaster. Breaking Bad’s knack for its equivalent of DVD Easter eggs extended to episode titles, which most viewers never knew unless they looked them up. Speaking of Saul Goodman, he provided the voice for a multitude of Breaking Bad’s pop culture references from the moment the show introduced his character in season two’s “Better Call Saul” (written by Peter Gould, directed by Terry McDonough). Once he figures out (and it doesn’t take long) that Walt isn’t really Jesse’s uncle and pays him a visit in his high school classroom, the attorney and his client discuss a more specific role
for the lawyer, with Saul referencing a particularly classic film without mentioning the title. “What are you offering me?” Walt asked, unclear as to Goodman’s suggestion for an expanded role. “What did Tom Hagen do for Vito Corleone?” the criminal attorney responds. “I'm no Vito Corleone,” an offended and shocked White replies. “No shit! Right now you're Fredo!” Saul informs Walt. Now, Walt easily knew what movie Saul summoned as an analogy there and I hope any reader easily can as well. It happens to be the same one referenced visually at the top of this piece when poor Ted Beneke took his fateful trip in season four’s classic “Crawl Space” (written by George Mastras & Sam Catlin, directed by Scott Winant). Gilligan from the beginning repeatedly told of how his original pitch for Breaking Bad was the idea of turning Mr. Chips into Scarface and he referred to Brian De Palma’s version of Scarface often, actually showing Walt and Walt Jr. watching the film together in the final season with the elder White commenting, “Everyone dies in this, don’t they?” — possible foreshadowing for how Breaking Bad would end, though it didn't play out that way. The show achieved homage more openly in casting key
players from the 1983 film itself: Mark Margolis as Tio Hector Escalante and Steven Bauer as Mexican cartel chief Don Eladio. Of course, the entire series implies the reiterated refrain of De Palma’s film “Don’t get high on your own supply” because, while Walter White never used his blue meth literally, it certainly juiced him up and, as he told Skyler in the last episode “Felina” (written and directed by Gilligan), it made him feel alive. Unfortunately, I doubt any surviving cast members of 1939’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips remain with us so Breaking Bad might have cast them in appropriate roles, but many of the 1969 musical version still abound and what a kick it have been to see Peter O’Toole or Petula Clark appear as a character. Apparently, in 2002, a nonmusical British TV remake came about, but they needn’t have dipped that far in the referential well. Blasted remakes. As far as Scarface goes, I still prefer Howard Hawks’ original over De Palma’s anyway.As I admitted, some of the nice touches escaped my notice until pointed out to me later. Two of the most obvious examples occurred in the final eight episodes. One wasn’t so much a reference as a callback to the very first episode that you’d need a sharp eye to spot. It occurs in the episode “Ozymandias” (written by Moira Walley-Beckett, directed by Rian Johnson) and I’d probably never noticed if not for a synched-up commentary track that Johnson did for the episode on The Ones Who Knock weekly podcast on Breaking Bad. He pointed out that as Walt rolls his barrel of $11 million through the desert (itself drawing echoes to Erich von Stroheim’s silent classic Greed and its lead character McTeague — that one I had caught) he passes the pair of pants he lost in the very first episode when they flew through the air as he frantically drove the RV with the presumed dead Krazy-8 and Emilio unconscious in the back. Check the still below, enlarged enough so you don’t miss the long lost trousers.
The other came when psycho Todd decided to give his meth cook prisoner Jesse ice cream as a reward. I wasn’t listening closely enough when he named one of the flavor choices as Ben & Jerry’s Americone Dream, and even if I’d heard the flavor’s name, I would have missed the joke until Stephen Colbert, whose name serves as a possessive prefix for the treat’s flavor, did an entire routine on The Colbert Report about the use of the ice cream named for him giving Jesse the strength to make an escape attempt. One hidden treasure I did not know concerned the appearance of the great Robert Forster as the fabled vacuum salesman who helped give people new identities for a price. Until I read it in a column on the episode “Granite State” (written and directed by Gould), I had no idea that in real life Forster once actually worked as a vacuum salesman.
Seeing so many episodes multiple times, the callbacks to previous moments in the series always impressed me. I didn’t recall until AMC held its marathon prior to the finale and I caught the scene where Skyler caught Ted about him cooking his company’s books in season two’s “Mandala” (written by Mastras, directed by Adam Bernstein),
Beneke actually raises his hands and says, “You got me” — words and movements that return in season four’s “Bullet Points” (written by Walley-Beckett, directed by Colin Bucksey) when Hank tells Walt about the late Gale Boetticher and speculates jokingly about whether the W.W. in Gale’s notebook stands for Walter White. In the same episode, Hank discusses his disappointment (since he assumes Gale was Heisenberg) that he never got his Popeye Doyle moment from The French Connection and waved goodbye to Alain Charnier. Walt reminds Hank that Charnier escaped at the end of the movie, but in “Ozymandias,” Hank imitates Gene Hackman's wave anyway when he gets the cuffs on Walt and places him in the SUV. Film references and homages abound throughout the series. I don’t recall any to Oliver Stone off the top of my head (except, of course, that he wrote De Palma's Scarface) and I hope there weren’t given that filmmaker’s recent hypocritical and nonsensical whining about Breaking Bad’s ending where he called it “ridiculous” among other sleights. If that’s not a fool declaring a nugget of gold to be pyrite. (“IT’S A MINERAL, OLIVER!”) I'd also like to commend the nearly subliminal shout-outs to two great HBO series that received premature endings in the episode "Rabid Dog" (written and directed by Catlin). You can see the Deadwood DVD box set on Hank's bookshelf and, though the carpet cleaning company's name might be Xtreme, the way they design their logo on their van sure makes the words Treme stand out to me.I wanted this tribute to be so much grander and better organized, but my physical condition thwarted my ambitions. I doubt seriously my hands shall allow me to complete a fourth installment. (If you did miss Part I or Part II, follow those links.) While I hate ending on a patter list akin to a certain Billy Joel song, (I let you off easy. I almost referenced Jonathan Larson — and I considered narrowing the circle tighter by namedropping Gerome Ragni
& James Rado.) I feel I must to sing my hosannas to the actors, writers, directors and other artists who collaborated to realize the greatest hour-long series in
television history. I wish I had the energy to be more specific about the contributions of these names in detail. In no particular order and with apologies for any omissions: Vince Gilligan, Michelle McLaren, Adam Bernstein, Colin Bucksey, Michael Slovis, Bryan Cranston, Terry McDonough, Johan Renck, Rian Johnson, Scott Winant, Peter Gould, Tricia Brock, Tim Hunter, Jim McKay, Phil Abraham, John Dahl, Félix Enríquez Alcalá, Charles Haid, Peter Medak, John Shiban, David Slade, George Mastras, Thomas Schnauz, Sam Catlin, Moira Walley-Beckett, Gennifer Hutchison, J. Roberts, Patty Lin, Anna Gunn, Aaron Paul, Dean Norris, RJ Mitte, Bob Odenkirk, Steven Michael Quezada, Jonathan Banks, Giancarlo Esposito, (because I have to put them as a unit) Charles Baker and Matt Jones, Jesse Plemons, Christopher Cousins, Laura Fraser, Michael Shamus Wiles, (also need to be a unit) Lavell Crawford and Bill Burr, Ray
Campbell, Krysten Ritter, Ian Posada as the most shit-upon child in television history, Emily Rios, Tina Parker, Mark Margolis, Jeremiah Bitsui, David Costabile, Michael Bowen, Kevin Rankin, (another pair) Daniel and Luis Moncado, Jessica Hecht, Marius Stan, Rodney Rush, Raymond Cruz, Tess Harper, John de Lancie, Jere Burns, Nigel Gibbs, Larry Hankin, Max Arciniega, Michael Bofshever, Adam Godley, Julia Minesci, Danny Trejo, Dale Dickey, David Ury, Jim Beaver, Steven Bauer, DJ Qualls, Robert Forster, Melissa Bernstein, Mark Johnson, Stewart Lyons, Diane Mercer, Andrew Ortner, Karen Moore, Dave Porter, Reynaldo Villalobos, Peter Reniers, Nelson Cragg, Arthur Albert, John Toll, Marshall Adams, Kelley Dixon, Skip MacDonald, Lynne Willingham, Sharon Bialy, Sherry Thomas, Mark S. Freeborn, Robb Wilson King, Bjarne Sletteland, Marisa Frantz, Billy W. Ray, Paula Dal Santo, Michael Flowers, Brenda Meyers-Ballard, Kathleen Detoro, Jennifer L. Bryan, Thomas Golubic, Albuquerque, N.M., AMC Networks, University of Oklahoma Professor Donna Nelson and a list of crew members and departments I’d mention but, unfortunately, my hands aren’t holding out. Look them up because they all deserve kudos as well because Breaking Bad failed to have a weak link, at least from my perspective. 
In fact, the series failed me only twice. No. 1: How can you dump the idea that Gus Fring had a particularly mysterious identity in the episode “Hermanos” and never get back to it? No. 2: That great-looking barrel-shaped box set of the entire series only will be made on Blu-ray. As someone of limited means, it would need to be a Christmas gift anyway and for the same reason, I never made the move to Blu-ray and remain with DVD. Medical bills will do that to you and, even if tempting or plausible, it’s difficult to start a meth business to fund it while bedridden. Despite those two disappointments, it doesn’t change Breaking Bad’s place in my heart as the best TV achievement so far. How do I know this? Because I say so.
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Labels: Breaking Bad, Cranston, D. Zucker, De Palma, Deadwood, Hackman, Hawks, HBO, J. Zucker, Jim Abrahams, K. Hepburn, O'Toole, Oliver Stone, Tracy, Treme, TV Tribute
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Monday, September 30, 2013
What a ride: Bye bye 'Bad' Part I
that STILL has yet to watch Breaking Bad in its entirety, close this story now.
By Edward Copeland
Kept you waiting there too long my love.
All that time without a word
Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget
Or I'd regret the special love I have for you —
My Baby Blue.
Perfection. I don’t intend (and never planned) to spend much of this farewell to Breaking Bad discussing its finale, but it happens too seldom that a movie or a final episode wraps with the absolute spot-on song. The Crying Game did it with Lyle Lovett singing “Stand By Your Man.” The Sopranos often accomplished it with specific episodes such as using The Eurythmics’ “I Saved the World Today” at the end of the second season’s “Knight in White Satin Armor” episode. Breaking Bad killed last night with some Badfinger — and how often do you read words along those lines?
We first met Walter Hartwell White, his family and associates (or, if you prefer, eventual victims/collateral damage) on Jan. 20, 2008. Viewers anyway. As for the time period of the show, the first scene or that first episode, I’d be a fool to venture a definitive guess. I start this piece with that date because it places the series damn close to the beginning of the 2008 calendar year. In the years since Vince Gilligan’s brilliant creation graced our TV screens, five full years of movies opened in the U.S. and ⅔ of a sixth. In that time, some great films crossed my path. Many I anticipate being favorites for the rest of my days: WALL-E, (500) Days of Summer and The Social Network, to name but three. As much as I love those movies and many others released in that time, I say without hyperbole that none equaled the quality or satisfied me as much as the five seasons of Breaking Bad.
For me to make such a declaration might come off as one more person jumping on the "what an amazing time we live in for quality TV" bandwagon. As someone who from a young age loved movies to such a degree that I sometimes attended new ones just to see something, admitting this amazes even me. On some level, early on in this sea change, it felt as if I not only had cheated on my wife but become a serial adulterer as well. In my childhood days of movie love, I also watched way too much TV, but I admittedly held the medium in disdain as a whole, an attitude that, despite the shows I loved and recognized as great, didn’t change until Hill Street Blues arrived. However, I can’t deny the transfer of my affection as to which medium satisfies, engages and gives me that natural high once exclusive to the best of cinema or, in those all-too-brief years I could attend, superb New York theater productions, most consistently now. It’s not that top-notch movies no longer get made, but experiencing sublime new films occurs far less frequently than in years past. (Perhaps a mere coincidence, but the most recent year that I’d cite as overflowing with works reaching higher heights happens to be 1999 — the same year The Sopranos premiered, marking the unofficial start of this era.) Granted, television and other outlets such as Netflix expanded the number of places available for programming exponentially, television as a whole still produces plenty of time-wasting crap. However, on a percentage basis, the total of fictional TV series produced that rank among the greatest in TV history probably hits a higher number than great films reach out of each year's crop of new movies.
Close readers of my movie posts know that when I compile lists of all-time favorite films, as I did last year, I require that a movie be at least 10 years old before it reaches eligibility for inclusion. With that requirement for film, it probably appears inconsistent on my part to declare Breaking Bad the greatest drama to air on television when it just concluded last night. However, I don’t feel like a hypocrite making this proclamation. When I saw any of the 62 episodes of Breaking Bad for the first time, never once did I feel afterward as if it had just been an “OK” episode. Obviously, some soared higher than others, but none ranked as so-so. I can’t say that about any other series. As much as I love The Sopranos, David Chase’s baby churned out some clunkers. The Wire almost matched Breaking Bad's achievement, but HBO prevented this by giving it a truncated fifth season that forced David Simon and gang to rush the ending in a way that made the final year unsatisfying following its brilliant fourth. Deadwood gets an incomplete, once again thanks to HBO, for not allowing David Milch to complete his five season vision. I recently re-read the one time I wrote about Breaking Bad, sometime in the middle of its third season, and though I didn't hail it to the extent I do now, the impending signs show in my protective nature toward the series since this came
when it had a smaller, loyal cadre of fans such as myself who almost wanted to keep it our little secret. As the series moved forward, what amazed me — something that amazes me anytime it happens — was Breaking Bad’s ability to get better and better from season to season. That rarely occurs on any show, no matter how good. Programs might achieve a level of quality and maintain it, but rarely do any continue to top themselves. The Wire did that for its first four seasons but, as I wrote above, that stopped when HBO shorted them by three episodes in its final season. Breaking Bad not only grew better, it continued to experiment with its storytelling techniques right up to its final episodes. In this last batch of eight alone, we had “Rabid Dog” (written and directed by Sam Catlin) that begins with Walt, gun in hand, searching his gasoline-soaked house for an angry Jesse, whose car remains in the driveway while he can't be found. Then, well into the episode, we pick up where the previous episode ended with Jesse dousing the White residence with the flammable liquid and learn that Hank had tailed him and stopped Pinkman in the act and convinced the angry young man that the enemy of his enemy might be his friend. Then, in the episode “Ozymandias” (written by Moira Walley-Beckett, directed by Rian Johnson), the amazing first scene (following the pre-title card teaser scene) at To’hajiilee following the lopsided shootout between Uncle Jack, Todd and their Neo-Nazi gang versus Hank and Gomez, lasts an amazing 13½ riveting minutes. The credits don’t run until after the second commercial break, more than 20 minutes into the episode. Throughout the series, despite being on a commercial network, Breaking Bad never shied away from long scenes (and kudos to AMC for allowing them to do so) such as Skyler and Walt’s rehearsal in season 4’s “Bullet Points” (written by Walley-Beckett, directed by Colin Bucksey) for telling Hank and Marie about Walt’s “gambling problem” and how that gave them the money to buy the car wash. The dramas on pay cable that lack commercials seldom provide scenes of that notable length. Fear of the short attention span. With as many channels as exist, I say fuck those fidgety fools. Cater to those who appreciate these scenes when done as well as Breaking Bad did them. That writing surpassed most everything else on TV most of the time and as usual at the Emmys, where I consider it a fluke if someone or something deserving wins, Breaking Bad received no nominations for writing until the two it earned this year (and lost). On Talking Bad following the finale, Anna Gunn compared each new script’s arrival to Christmas morning — and she also worked on Deadwood with a master wordsmith like David Milch. Looking again at the initial moments of Breaking Bad, now viewed with the knowledge of everything to come, it establishes much about Walter White even though it occurred before Heisenberg made any official appearance. Watch this clip of our introduction to both Walt and Breaking Bad and see what I mean.
From the beginning, all the elements of Walt’s delusions had planted their roots in his head: the denial of criminality, his conviction that his family justified all his actions (which, compared to what events transpire later, seem rather minor moral transgressions now). One thing I wondered: Did Hank hang on to that gas mask somewhere in DEA evidence? It had Walt's fingerprints on it since he flung it away bare-handed. If Jesse told Schrader where they began cooking, hard evidence for a case existed and things might have turned out differently. Oh, well. No use crying over spilled brother-in-laws at this point. Dipping in and out of the AMC marathon preceding the finale and watching and re-watching episodes over the years (because, among the other outstanding attributes of Breaking Bad, the show belongs on the list of the most compulsively re-watchable television series in history), I always look for the exact moment when Heisenberg truly dominated Walter White’s personality because while I’m not in any way excusing Walt’s actions the way the deranged Team Walt types do, obviously this man suffers from a split personality disorder. You spot it in the season 2 episode where they hold the celebration party over Walt's cancer news and he keeps pouring tequila into Walt Jr.'s cup until Hank tries to put a stop to it, prompting a confrontation that mirrors in many ways Hank and Walt's after Hank deduced his alter ego. It also contains dialogue where Walt apologizes in the morning, saying, "I don't know who that was yesterday. It wasn't me." What caused that split, we don’t really know. We know that Walt’s dad died of Huntington’s disease when White was young and Skyler alluded to the way “he was raised” when he resisted accepting the Schwartzes’ help paying for his cancer treatments in the early days and he has no apparent relationship with his mother. Frankly, I praise creator Vince Gilligan for not taking that easy way out and trying to explain the cause of Walter White’s madness. I find it more interesting when creators don’t try to explain what made their monsters. I didn’t need to know that young Hannibal Lecter saw his parents killed by particularly ghoulish Nazis in World War II who ate his parents. Hannibal's character remains more interesting without some traumatic back story to explain what turned him into the serial killer he became. Since I brought up
those Team Walt members, while I can't conceive how anyone still defends him, I understand how people sympathized with Walter White at first and it took different actions and moments in the series for individual viewers to accept the fact that no classification fit Walter White other than that of a monster. In the beginning, the series made it easy to feel for Walt and cheer him on. When he took action on the asshole teens mocking Walt Jr. for his cerebral palsy, who didn't think those punks deserved it? While an excessive act, when he fried the car battery of the asshole who stole his parking space, who hasn't fantasized about getting even on someone like that? Even when Walt's acts got more serious, you sided with him, such as when he bawled, sobbing "I'm sorry" repeatedly as he killed Krazy-8. Even the moment most cite as the breaking point as Walt watches Jane die plays as open to interpretation. He looks like a deer in the headlights, uncertain of what to do as much as someone who sees the advantage of letting this woman in the process of extorting him expire. The credit for that ambiguity belongs to the brilliance of Bryan Cranston's performance. However, once you get to that final season 4 reveal of the Lily of the Valley plant, I don't see how anyone defended Walt after that, if they hadn't stopped already. As Hank said at the end, Walt was the smartest guy he ever met, so why couldn't he devise a way to either save himself or kill Gus that didn't involve poisoning a child?
With all that said, Walt, while not redeemed, did rightfully regain some sympathy in the home stretch — surrendering his precious ill-gotten gains in a fruitless plea for Hank’s life, trying to clear Skyler of culpability, ultimately freeing Jesse and, most importantly, admitting that all his evil deeds had nothing to do with providing for his family but were because he enjoyed them, they made him feel alive. Heisenberg probably left that drink unfinished at the New Hampshire bar, but I think the old Walter White returned. The people he harmed deserved it and the scare he put in Elliot and Gretchen Schwartz merely a fake-out to ensure they did what he wanted with the money. He didn’t break good at the end, but he tied up loose ends and then allowed himself to die side by side with his true love — the blue meth he created that rocked the drug-addicted world.
Alas, my physical limitations prevent me from giving the series the farewell I envisioned in a single tribute, so I must break this into parts as much remains to be discussed — I’ve yet to touch upon the magnificent array of acting talent, brilliant direction and tons of other issues so, while Breaking Bad’s story has ended, this one has not. So, regretfully, as I collapse, I must say…
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Labels: Breaking Bad, Cranston, David Chase, David Simon, Deadwood, Hannibal Lecter, HBO, Milch, Netflix, The Sopranos, The Wire, Theater, TV Tribute
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Sunday, June 03, 2012
Finishing the House
Before I finish my list of favorite episodes (we still have the top five to go), I wanted to take this intro space to again mourn the fact that it's highly likely that Hugh Laurie will go the entire run of House without being rewarded with a much-deserved Emmy. The Screen Actors Guild, The Golden Globes and the Television Critics Association each honored Laurie twice; it's only the TV academy that has yet to give him a prize. We can't be certain yet he'll even get a final nomination for the last season. His name has been omitted once, but for six out of the previous seven seasons, his performance made the cut of those in the running for outstanding lead actor in a drama series. I
decided to check the Academy records to see who beat him early on since I know he lost three of those to Bryan Cranston for Breaking Bad and it's hard for me to get upset about that since that series and Cranston exist on an even higher plane of greatness than the best episodes of House. Last year, Cranston wasn't in competition and the Emmy went to Kyle Chandler for Friday Night Lights, a show I never watched. The three years prior to that were the consecutive losses to Cranston (and those four years also made it zero for four for Jon Hamm for Mad Men. Is he heading toward the same fate? We're back to the third season of House now — and he lost to James Spader for Boston Legal, a show that never belonged in the drama category. It also was one of the two out of three eligible years they failed to nominated Ian McShane for Deadwood. Laurie received his snub for the second season, my choice for the best season. What five actors filled those slots? Peter Krause for Six Feet Under, Denis Leary for Rescue Me, Christopher Meloni for Law & Order: SVU, Martin Sheen for The West Wing and Kiefer Sutherland for 24. Give me a fucking break. Sutherland won, as if it matters. In the first season, the only one in which McShane got nominated and Laurie received his first, they both lost to Spader for his first win for Boston Legal, his second consecutive for the same role except the year before the show was called The Practice. House managed to receive Emmy nominations and wins in others categories including one writing win and one directing win and four nominations as outstanding drama but, amazingly, it never received any acting recognition beyond Hugh Laurie. Back to the countdown. 
Few things provoke laughs than getting shot at by a gang member and having the bullet ricochet off your flak jacket and pierce the base of your spine, releasing brain matter — unless you happen to be a neurologist treating the cop who finds it hysterical when the officer’s
condition gets worse. Perhaps I'm cheating by counting both parts of a two-part episode as one slot in my favorites, but you can't really divide one half of "Euphoria" from the other. Matthew V. Lewis wrote the first part while Russel Friend, Garret Lerner and David Shore penned part two. Deran Sarafian directed both halves. "Euphoria" stands out because it presents a medical mystery in which the viewer develops a real stake in the outcome since in involves one of the regular cast members, Foreman (Omar Epps). It doesn't dawn on the team immediately that Foreman's strange behavior indicates he's been infected by the same mystery
ailment that's afflicted the cop (Scott Michael Campbell), something he likely picked up while searching the officer's apartment. The first sign comes when House, seeking to test what a bullet would do to the exact spot it struck the cop, goes to the morgue and fires a gun into a corpse, prompting Eric to grin and giggle. "I think that an appropriate response to watching your boss shoot a corpse is not to grin foolishly," House tells Foreman. "The fact that I've grown bored by your insanity is proof of nothing," Foreman responds. Cuddy, to say the least, isn't pleased with House's use of the morgue. "I can't even imagine the backwards logic you used to rationalize shooting a corpse," she says to him in exasperation. "Well if I'd shot a live person there's a lot more paperwork." As the team runs through various ideas for what's causing the cop's problems, including Legionnaire’s disease, as each approach fails, Foreman gets giddier. With the cop shaking violently and bleeding, Foreman laughs, "He's screwed! We clot his blood he dies. We thin it, he dies!" He draws strange stares from Cameron and Chase. "Am I the only one who thinks this is funny?" Cameron suggests to House that they take Foreman off the case because he doesn't like cops, but House realizes it's more
serious and puts both Foreman and the cop in isolation until they can figure out the cause. When the cop dies, House wants to slice into his brain immediately but Cuddy won't allow it out of fear of what could be exposed to the rest of the hospital if he did, so House tries to talk Foreman into doing it within the isolation chamber. Unfortunately, they then realize
Foreman has lost his eyesight — he's developing all the symptoms the cop had only at a faster rate. Cuddy already has contacted the CDC and they remove his body and keep it under guard to prevent House from getting his hands on it. House doesn't mask his anger at Cuddy — and even Cameron takes her to task. House brings Foreman's father Rodney (Charles S. Dutton) to the hospital to try to manipulate Cuddy, but it doesn't work. House feels so frustrated that he actually performs clinic honors — a rare moment of comic relief in the episode with a mother (Leigh-Allyn Baker) concerned that her daughter Rose (Amber DeMarco) might show signs of epilepsy. House tries some moves and sounds to evoke a seizure prompting Rose to call House "a goof." "Takes one to know one, loser…wait, that means, I'm a loser, scratch that,"
House responds, before telling the mom, "In actuality all your little girl is doing is…saying yoo hoo to the hoo hoo." "She's what?" the mother asks. "Marching the penguin…ya ya-ing the sisterhood…finding Nemo?" Rose giggles on that one. "That was funny." House has to spell it out to mom. "It's called gratification disorder, sort of a misnomer. If one was unable to gratify oneself, that would be a disorder." The mother whispers, "You're saying she's masturbating." House mocks the freaked-out mom by speaking out of the corner of his mouth. "I was trying to be discreet. There's a child in the room." The mother expresses horror, but House reminds her that epilepsy is horrifying, masturbating isn't. She just needs to teach her child about privacy. Cuddy goes to visit Foreman and tries to defend her actions, telling him she had no choice because of the regulations, but he lays into her as well. "And the punishment for violating those regulations? Is it death? Hmm? Because frankly, I'm OK if you get a fine, a suspension…hell, you can spend a couple of years in jail, if it saves my life!" House suits up and decides to check out the cop's apartment again to see if the searches missed anything while Cameron weighs performing a brain biopsy on Foreman. Foreman's upset father talks to his son through the glass and tells him through tears, "I don't want to miss you." The two parts make one of the series' most suspenseful and compelling episodes.
Since completing this list and tribute took much longer than I expected, it became much easier as the days passed to avoid other choices for the best and favorite House episodes. Some selections probably ended up being pretty obvious and showed up on most of the lists, but I suspect I'm one of the few to single out "Airborne." This installment always has tickled me to no end. House and Cuddy spend most of the episode in the air, returning from a medical conference in Singapore where House gave a short speech and Princeton-Plainsboro earned
World Health Organization accreditation. Cuddy isn't happy with the excessive charges House tallied on his hotel bill, then he didn't enjoy airport security confiscating his cane because it contained a corkscrew so he has insisted on being wheeled at all airports for plane changes. "And the room service thing was just spiteful," Cuddy chastises House. 'I was hungry," House says in his defense. "Three hundred dollars for a bottle of wine," Cuddy continues to tally. "I was thirsty," he replies. "One hundred and twenty dollars for video services!" she exclaims. "I was lonely," House responds with mock sadness. As they board the last leg of their journey home, their conversation keeps being drowned out by an infant child wailing for her blanket. House finally addresses the mother. "Give her 20 milligrams of antihistamine. It could save her life. Because if she doesn't shut up, I'll kill her," House tells the woman. Meanwhile in New Jersey, a fiftysomething woman named Fran (Jenny O'Hara) invites a female prostitute name Robin (Meta Golding) into her home. When Fran gets a good look at Robin's skimpy getup, she faints, bonking on the head. Robin feels she has no choice but to call 911 and accompanies Fran to Princeton-Plainsboro. Wilson notices a motion sickness patch on Fran's neck and suspects that caused her dizziness and she blacked out when she hit her head. They prepare to discharge Fran, but she collapses and begins having a seizure so Wilson admits her and grabs House's team to take on her case. In the skies, a Korean man named Peng (Jamison Yang) doesn't look so hot. Everyone assumes that he's drunk, but then he barfs on his plate of food. The stewardess Keo (Tess
Lina) asks if anyone speaks Korean or happens to be a doctor. House, who took a first class seat while making Cuddy suffer in coach tells the flight attendant he'll get her and walks back and offers to exchange seats with Cuddy out of a sense of chivalry. She soon learns what he was up to and comes back to get him — because she fears that Peng might have meningococcus and all the passengers could be put at risk. Laurie's performance as the sardonic calm at the center of the growing, panicking storm makes "Airborne," written by David Hoselton and directed by Elodie Keene, stand out for me. As he attempts to relax in his new seat while the blonde passenger Joy (Krista Kalmus), seated in front of him, keeps turning around at every scary word she hears to try to plumb info from House. At one point, House finally tells her to look the other way. "Why?" Joy asks. "Because you're going to throw up, and I don't want it on me," he tells her, which she promptly does. Despite his best efforts not to get involved, House soon finds he must when Cuddy exhibits some of the symptoms showing up in the other passengers. Back at the hospital, the team argues incessantly about what course of action to take concerning Fran's case, leading Wilson to sigh, "I think I'm starting to feel sorry for House." High above the ground though, House does miss his team and tries to jerry-rig one on the plane, enlisting a 12-year-old boy (Connor Webb), a man of Middle Eastern origin named Hamid (Pej Vahdat) and a disapproving looking businesswoman as he gets out a marker to write on the plane's movie screen.
HOUSE: Can you say "Crickey Mate"?
BOY: Crickey Mate.
HOUSE: Perfect. Now, no matter what I say, you'll agree with me, OK?
BOY: OK.
HOUSE: Nicely done. You, disagree with everything I say.
HAMID: Sorry, not understand.
HOUSE: Close enough. You get morally outraged by everything I say.
[House writes the symptoms on the movie screen]
WOMAN: That's permanent marker, you know.
HOUSE: Wow, you guys are good.
The 12-year-old turns out to be particularly helpful and curious, even downright excited when House decides they need to operate on Peng. The episode even signals a bit of a new closeness between House and Cuddy as he helps her when she's ailing. At the end of the trip, the flight attendant Keo even makes a special point of thanking House and letting him know she's in New York every Monday. "Are you handicap accessible?" he asks as she wheels him off the plane and Cuddy rolls her eyes.
Placed in the hands of just about any other medical drama, the plot of "Autopsy" concerning a preternaturally brave 9-year-old girl named Andie (well played by Sasha Pieterse, whom, I was shocked to discover, now plays a teen sexpot on a show called Pretty Little Liars) dying of cancer but suddenly facing unrelated hallucinations, would come off as a maudlin, manipulative exercise. Now, you don't think Greg House would let that happen, would you? This episode turns out to be a rare one with sizable clips showing the highlights, so I have no need to spell them out. What's bad about this YouTube montage is that it cuts out the money shots, if you will. It shows Andie telling Chase that she's never kissed a boy, but cuts away before he grants her wish. It leaves out Christina Aguilera's version of "Beautiful" that opens the episode and cuts short the version recorded specifically for the show by Elvis Costello where we see that Andie did affect House after all as he takes a motorcycle for a spin. Of course, the clinic comedy of the do-it-yourself circumcision just flat-out wouldn't work so you don't get to hear House say, "Stop talking. I'm going to get a plastic surgeon. To get the Twinkie back in the wrapper."
AND
WILSON'S HEART
(Season 4,
Episodes 15 and 16)
Though the two episodes that closed out Season 4 bore different titles and aren't billed as your standard two-part episode, one doesn't really work without the other and together the pair created the most powerful ending of any House season. "House's Head" set up the puzzle, "Wilson's Heart" dealt with the aftermath once it was solved. The team of Peter Blake, David Foster, Russel Friend and Garrett Lerner wrote the teleplay for "House's Head" from a story by Doris Egan. Greg Yaitanes' direction won the series its only Emmy ever for direction. "House's Head" starts with a disoriented House receiving a lap dance, but he has a terrible headache and vaguely remembers something about a bus crash, but has no idea how he got there. He leaves the club and finds himself wandering through an emergency scene where a
bus lies on its side and rescue crews frantically work on the injured. House intuitively realizes that he had been on the bus when the accident occurred and someone needs his help but he can't recall who it is. He returns to Princeton-Plainsboro where Cameron and Wilson tend to his injuries but House can't put his preoccupation aside — so much that after seeking out the bus driver (Henry Hayashi) and getting nowhere, House even yells a fake quarantine to keep all the passengers there until he gets a chance to speak to them in hopes of unlocking the mystery. House's colleagues try desperately to get him to calm down and take care of himself, with Cameron recommending that he be admitted overnight to monitor for brain swelling. "How much bigger could it get?" House responds as he continues to harass passengers on the bus for any clue as to who might be in danger. Since the hospital staff gets nowhere in its attempt to calm House down, Chase attempts to mollify him by placing him under hypnosis with Wilson nearby. House recalls himself at a bar where the bartender (played by Fred Durst of the band Limp Bizkit) forces him to turn over his keys to his motorcycle because he's too drunk to drive. Now House knows why he got on the
bus, but Wilson asks why he was drinking alone. Suddenly, Amber inserts herself into House's subconscious. "I can't even have a conversation with you in my subconscious without her tagging along," House says with annoyance. House, still hypnotized, finds himself on the bus again, this time with a mystery woman in black (Ivana Milicevic) but that vision gets interrupted by a Goth punk (Isaac Bright) that House notices picking his nose. He snaps back to consciousness and tries to find him in the ER, convinced that he has a brain tumor, but that diagnosis isn't correct. A commotion occurs as the bus driver complains that he can't move his legs. The team works to diagnose the bus driver, but another
memory flash reminds House of someone drinking coffee. He decides that smell might trigger what he needs. He asks where they've gathered the collected clothes of the passengers, swallows a mouthful of Vicodin and then falls face first into the pile to get a good whiff. "Whoever wore this shirt…hasn't showered since Sunday. Without the Vicodin, I'd have never been able to remember that," House reports, but it's another dead end. House continues to drift in and out of reality so Wilson forces him to have an MRI performed. House can't explain why it's so important to him to figure this out about the crash. The MRI reveals that he sustained longitudinal fracture of the temporal bone. As House goes to the cafeteria, a debilitating headache takes him down so Thirteen places him in an Epsom salt bath to get him in a state similar to sensory deprivation. He starts fantasizing about being on the bus, only Cuddy has joined him — and begins performing a striptease. During her pole dance, Cuddy and House discuss possible ailments that the bus driver could have. When House suggests Parkinson's disease, the woman in black reappears and tells him that she is the answer. He awakes from the bath, promptly pukes on the real Cuddy and passes out. She sends him home with a nurse and a security guard to keep him there while the team continues to try to diagnose the bus driver. When House swipes the nurse's cell phone to tell his team what tests to administer, Cuddy
personally goes to his apartment to supervise him. As he falls asleep, Cuddy transforms into the
woman in black again, pointing to her necklace. House awakes in a panic and tells Cuddy that they've diagnosed the wrong person. Someone else remains out there dying. He proposes re-creating where all the passengers were sitting. Cuddy reluctantly agrees and House pops some pills, only it isn't Vicodin, but Alzheimer's medication to accelerate his neurons. The woman in black reappears and asks what her necklace is made of. "Amber," he says. The woman transforms into Amber and House visualizes the wreck in his mind with another vehicle smashing into the bus right where Amber sat. Everyone went flying and he tried to get her to hang on. One of the bus's poles penetrated her leg and House tied a tourniquet around it. When House awakes, Wilson and Cuddy are performing CPR on him. He has had a heart attack. When House comes to, calling out Amber's name. "You almost kill yourself and all we're getting is drug induced fantasies!" Wilson responds. He asks Thirteen if any Jane Does were taken to other hospitals. "Female late 20s. Kidney damage. Does Amber have a birthmark on her right shoulder blade?" Thirteen asks Wilson as she reads from the list of passengers. House, recalling everything. tells him that Amber was on the bus with him. "She's the one who's dying!" ("Wilson's Heart and my choice for No. 1 will be...Labels: Awards, Breaking Bad, Cranston, Deadwood, House, K. Sutherland, Law and Order, Lists, M. Sheen, Mad Men, TV Tribute
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Thursday, February 09, 2012
Gosling stays in right acting lane
By Edward Copeland
When I reviewed The Ides of March about two-and-a-half weeks ago, what impressed me most was the re-emergence of the old Ryan Gosling, the talented actor who captured everyone's attention in the first place before his performances became lost in a torrent of tics that blanketed his characters behind a shroud of phony fog. Now I've caught up with Drive and am pleased to report that The Ides of March wasn't a one-film fluke. I wonder if this means I should give Crazy, Stupid, Love a chance.
Gosling was great in Ides and he's great in a completely different type of role in Drive. I haven't caught up with The Artist yet, but Gosling's character in Drive (known simply as the Driver) is a man of so few words, he could be from a silent film. He's a man of few words, making his living as a movie stunt driver by day, a getaway driver by night.
Driver never carries a gun and Shannon (Bryan Cranston), the crippled body shop owner who sets him up with his daytime and nighttime gigs, provides the cars Driver uses for his getaway work. Shannon also can't give up on dreams — and he's never seen someone who drives as well as Driver — so Shannon envisions him as his ticket to a successful stock car career. All that's missing is the money to fund it. There's good news and bad news on that front. The good news is that Shannon has a longtime friendship with a businessman with deep pockets. The bad news is that he's Bernie Ross (Albert Brooks), a big time mobster in the L.A. area who also has friends such as the shady Nick (Ron Perlman), who uses a pizzeria as a front for his many criminal operations and broke Shannon's body in the first place.
Bernie insists on meeting Driver first, so he gives him a demonstration of his driving skills. He impresses Bernie — not enough to give Shannon all the money he wants, but $300,000. After his display, Shannon introduces Driver to Bernie, who extends his hand. Driver just stands silent, not moving to take it. After an awkward moment or two, Driver says, "My hands are dirty." Ross smiles and replies, "So are mine" and they shake.
Driver's mysterious existence has grown more complicated on a personal level. He has taken a liking to Irene (Carey Mulligan), a woman who lives on the same floor of his apartment building, and her young son, Benicio (Kaden Leos). Driver and Irene inevitably end up involved, though soon her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) gets released from jail and returns home. One thing that's refreshing about Drive, which was written by Hossein Amini and based on a novel by James Sallis, is that it doesn't follow the usual template where the ex-con husband is an abusive ass. Instead, upon Standard's release, he's hassled by hoods who want either his money or his criminal help.
To go much further into the details of the jagged twists that connect all the characters, would ruin much of the the movie's suspenseful fun. Director Nicolas Winding Refn doesn't let Drive sit in idle for long (if ever) from the moment it starts. Some of the violence proves to be quite shocking while Amini's screenplay comes loaded with quite a few laughs (It's also a big change of pace for the writer whose first feature credits were Jude and The Wings of the Dove).
The cast gives Drive the fuel it needs to really power this vehicle, especially from the performers going against type. Cranston already has wowed TV viewers his amazing range when he went from the loopy dad on Malcolm in the Middle to one of dramatic television's all-time acting tours de force as Walter White on Breaking Bad. Shannon allows him the opportunity to create yet another original character in the body shop owner with big dreams and worse luck.
Perlman has a knack of creating scarier roles when he's not wearing any makeup and just playing a world-class asshole such as Nico as he does here. There are a couple scenes that bounce Cranston, Perlman and Albert Brooks off each other that are just hysterical.
Which brings us to Brooks, cast against type as a smooth, intimidating criminal kingpin. When I wrote my 25th anniversary tribute to Lost in America, in describing Brooks' character David's meltdown after his wife loses their savings at roulette:
It might seem an odd comparison, but many critics always made much of the slow burn Joe Pesci can make as an actor, from calm to explosive and in at least one scene here, I'd argue that Albert Brooks is the comic equivalent of that turn-on-a-dime Pesci skill. After the Howards exit Vegas, they head out in the RV, uncertain of where to go or how to make do with a little more than $800 left to their name. Linda keeps apologizing profusely, but David stays eerily calm — until they arrive at the Hoover Dam and Linda suggests they stop and check it out. "Nice dam, huh?" David says. "Do you want to go first, or should I?" The dam doesn't burst, but boy does David, first outside and then inside the Winnebago, when Linda insists the public not watch the fight.
Interestingly enough, as great as Brooks is as Bernie Ross in Drive, that's not exactly how he chooses to play him. Brooks isn't just cast against type, but he plays him in a way that I didn't expect him to either.
The only person who disappointed me to some extent was Carey Mulligan. After her star-making turn in An Education brought her to prominence and her solid followup work in the so-so Never Let Me Go, Irene seemed an underwritten, underdeveloped role for her to take. I haven't seen what she's like in Shame yet.
Gosling though steers Drive from beginning to end. His portrayal of Driver can be downright chilling when that stillness and silence suddenly erupts. I hope Drive and The Ides of March really shows that Gosling has realigned his craft, though I do worry about that new Terrence Malick film in which he's been cast.
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Sunday, September 25, 2011
Boardwalk Empire No. 13: 21, Part II
BLOGGER'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, move along.
By Edward Copeland
"We agreed we were going to put him out of business, but this is fucking madness," Eli exclaims to the Commodore. The shot begins outside the Commodore's living area before the camera moves in and we see Eli sitting on a loveseat while the Commodore stands to his right and Jimmy sits in a chair to his left. They all have drinks in their hands. "They had to shoot a woman?" Jimmy questions. "Did you mollycoddle the enemy in France, Jimmy?" his father asks him. "He cut off a man's finger — they were chompin' at the bit." It's the first meeting of the three men we saw planning the plot against Nucky in the last episode of the first season and it also contains Dabney Coleman's best scene so far in the series when he gets a monologue. It's the beauty of the shows I love, inevitably on cable, when they let actors expound. The main reason I divided this first recap into two parts though is because of a great sequence which I really wanted to devote space to and because the second half of this episode adds new layers to both the public and private sides of Nucky Thompson and Steve Buscemi, as you'd expect, delivers in both cases. If by chance you missed part one of the recap, click here.
Eli remains unsettled. "Ten thousand coloreds are up in arms now. What am I supposed to tell Nucky?" The Commodore approaches the sheriff, drink in hand, then paces. "Nucky Thompson was weaned on my teat. I know him backward and forward. Governor Edwards — he hates the bastard more than I do." It's good to see Coleman getting to do more this season as well. The Commodore was mostly a mystery last season and, of course, as he was being poisoned and grew sicker and sicker, it's not like he was given much meaty material to chow down on. That has changed in season two. As in this scene, where he's given a nice little monologue that's coming up. "They're ready? His people?" Eli asks, referring to Gov. Edward Edwards who, despite the Commodore and Eli both being part of the Republican machine, was elected New
Jersey governor as a Democrat in 1920. "I need to know what's going on, Lou." The Commodore tells the anxious sheriff that the less he knows the better. "Worry about yourself, Eli. I'll take care of Nucky," he tells Eli, who says he has to go and leaves, passing Gillian in the entryway, tending to flowers and pretending not to eavesdrop. "Some men — give them a badge and a gun or a county treasurership, they think have power," the Commodore informs Jimmy. "Pretty soon, you'll know what true power is." Jimmy asks his father how soon. The Commodore wants Jimmy to start cultivating relationships — with the governor as well as people in New York and Philadelphia. "Alcohol is the key," he insists. "What about here?" Jimmy inquires. Having Chalky out of the game is a good start, his father responds, because his warehouse is there for the taking. He recognizes concern in his son's face. "Jimmy, don't worry about Nucky," the Commodore says. "I'm not," Jimmy insists. "Look around boy," the Commodore
declares, rising from his chair and pointing to all the animals mounted on the wall. "These animals, beasts — anyone of them could have torn me to pieces, but they didn't. This fucker," he points at the large stuffed grizzly, "this giant — 600 pounds, over seven feet tall. I tracked him for three hours, finally cornered him in a ravine. He smelled me, started coming closer. Son of a bitch got cocky, thought I was scared, reared up on me and puffed up his chest and let out a roar. Blasted him right in the gut. Bled out, looking up at me, like he couldn't believe it." These are the moments that can make great television and almost exclusively reside on cable. Those great David Milch soliloquies for Ian McShane on Deadwood, when David Simon lets it rip on Treme or back on The Wire, just last week with Bryan Cranston's long scene of emotional truth with his son on Breaking Bad or the many in the Mildred Pierce miniseries. The same is true of theatrical films such as Network where Paddy Chayefsky wrote a screenplay that was monologue after monologue. In addition to being such a great looking show, the love of language could end up being Boardwalk Empire's greatest strength — and that's a gift for talented actors and directors and the upcoming sequence shows the power of great collaboration with its fusion of acting, story and direction (or misdirection). Enough with short-attention-span theater. Pop some Ritalin, kids. As the Commodore tells Jimmy to end the scene, "You will be judged by what you succeed at boy, not by what you attempt."That sequence I referred to follows the Commodore's bear-hunting tale directly and may be the greatest sequence in terms of execution in the short history of Boardwalk Empire. It's a triumph of direction for Tim Van Patten, writing for Terence Winter, editing for Kate Sanford and acting for Steve Buscemi and further delineates the wily skills that Nucky Thompson has with all citizens that has kept him in his powerful position for so long. Nucky sets out to do his best to calm the rising racial tensions in the community that have erupted. He goes with Eli to a church with a large black congregation and takes to the pulpit. Chalky sits in the audience, particularly unmoved unlike his fellow congregants who applaud Nucky's words.
"Last night, four fine young boys were murdered by men claiming to represent the race of white American Christians. I will not speak the name of this so-called organization within this place of God, but I can assure you as treasurer of Atlantic County and, more personally, as someone who has always considered members of our colored community as his friends and his equals that neither I nor Sheriff Thompson nor any of his men will rest until these hooded cowards are brought to justice and the message is sent loud and clear that no one need fear for their safety, the safety of their wives, their children…"
The production team handles the switch so subtly and flawlessly that you might not immediately notice that the setting has changed for it plays as is if Nucky's speech has continued uninterrupted with no indication he's finishing a sermon of a different color, so to speak.
"…or property in the face of the obstreperous negro. These coloreds need to learn a lesson and we are going to teach it with, dare I say it in these sacred confines, an iron fist."
As the much larger white congregation gives Nucky a rousing round of applause, a man comes sprinting down the church's aisle announcing that he has returned from St. Mark's and that Herman Dacus has died from his wound. The crowd erupts in anger. Nucky leans down from the podium and tells Eli to go arrest Chalky immediately — for his own safety — and then returns to the pulpit to try to calm the bloodlust.
The Van Aldens sit to dine at Preston's restaurant. Knowing it is a special occasion, the eatery's manager (John Bolton) actually takes the couple's order himself and asks Nelson what he and his wife are celebrating. Nelson tells him that it is their 13th wedding anniversary. The manager congratulates them and tries to make a joke about Lucky 13 that flies over Nelson's head. Nelson orders lamb chops for Rose and steak for himself with turtle soup as a starter. After he gives the man the food orders, the manager asks if they will be imbibing, saying they can handle most requests. Both Van Aldens know what isn't being spoken out loud, but Nelson simply says that Rose will have coffee and he'll have buttermilk. After the manager has left, Rose tells Nelson that he was offering them alcohol and the agent informs his wife that he was well aware of what the manager was offering. Rose wants to know why he didn't arrest him, since that is Nelson's job. "We're here to have dinner," Nelson responds. Rose says she knows that, but doesn't seem to accept that as a reasonable excuse. Van Alden puts her off, asking her to excuse him a moment — he needs to wash up, "Public places."
Unhappily, Nucky puts in an appearance at the funeral for the dead schoolteacher/Ku Klux Klan member Herman Dacus, who lies in his casket decked out in full hatemonger regalia as are many of the attendees paying their last respects. Nucky tells Mrs. Dacus that her husband was a pillar of the community and he's sorry for her loss then finds himself surprised to see Jimmy coming through the door. He asks
him what he's doing there — paying respects is Nucky's job. Jimmy tells him that Dacus was one of his high school teachers. Nucky asks him what happened at Chalky's and grills him about whether he saw anything suspicious, but Jimmy asks to let him get this out of the way first. A few moments later, Darmody joins Nucky on the porch for a smoke. "An awful waste of a lot of good tablecloths," Jimmy says. "And the laundry bills," Nucky adds. Jimmy asks about Chalky. "He's alive — that's the important thing," Nucky replies. Thompson then asks Jimmy about him sneaking away "like a thief in the night" and getting married without telling anyone. "You sound like my mother," Jimmy tells him. "You used to ask my advice on things," Nucky says. Jimmy insists it was time — his son is almost old enough to shave. He shares taking Tommy shooting and fishing at Oyster Creek like they used to do and how much he enjoyed that. "Do you have anything to tell me?" Nucky asks. Jimmy plays dumb and acts like he doesn't know what Nucky means. "Your father is a very duplicitous man," Nucky declares. "You've been told." Jimmy tells him that he promised his mom he'd drop by and then he returns inside to the funeral where he speaks with a new character we know nothing about except his name — Leander Cephas Whitlock — and he's played by Dominic Chianese, better known as Uncle Junior on The Sopranos. 
As the Van Aldens finish their dinner, Nelson asks his wife if she might like a dessert, but she insists she's too full. Her husband surprises her by saying he bought something for her. Rose says she thought Nelson opposed gifts, but he tells her he saw this and thought of her and she opens the case to see a cameo, which pleases
her greatly. He then calls the manager over and asks him about what he said before and, since this is a special occasion, if they might be able to get some champagne or whiskey. "Nelson!" Rose exclaims as the manager says, "Of course." Van Alden rises and lays out the manager with a punch as other agents come streaming through the restaurant's front door. "This is a raid," Van Alden announces, telling the customers the restaurant is being closed for violating the Volstead Act. He orders all employees on the ground and to have the money seized from the cash register and marked on a receipt. Van Alden sends Sawicki to break down a door. The agent returns to report there must be 200 cases of brandy, wine and whiskey back there. "Mark it, catalog it and destroy it," Nelson shouts. He grabs the manager and asks his name. "Carl Switzer," he gulps. "Mr. Switzer, you are under arrest for violation of the Volstead Act." Rose can't hide the glow from seeing her man in action. The scene leads to one of the series' best sight gags as we see a bed bouncing vigorously, its headboard slamming against the wall. When the shot widens, we see that Nelson is merely testing the bed, finding the springs that have bothered his back. Rose suggests going to his boardinghouse, but he says it's cramped and for men only. Mrs. Van Alden still shows that Nelson's raid has aroused her and soon the husband and wife have gone horizontal on the bed, turning off the lights of course.
Margaret brushes her hair at her bedroom table when Nucky arrives home, but she can tell something is bothering him. "You're being awfully quiet," she says. "I saw Jimmy," he responds, almost mournfully. She asks how the newlyweds are doing. "Fine, I suppose. He was alone," he answers. She tells him they need to send the couple something, but he assures her that's already been handled. "What is it?" she asks him. "He's holding something back. When he was a kid, he used to tell me everything," Nucky sighs. Margaret asks where Jimmy's father was back then. "He was there, but disinterested. The Commodore likes to be in control. Ten-year-old boy — there's no controlling that. Now of course, he's around," he says. "You're jealous," Margaret suggests. "No, I'm angry," Nucky insists. "He's got something up his sleeve. I was father and mother to that kid with Gillian out all hours. I nursed him through malaria, took him on camping trips, gave him the run of that goddamn Boardwalk." Margaret tells him that there is a little boy down the hall who could use some guidance and fills him in on Teddy being caught with matches. "I fear he's developed a fascination with fire," she says. "What's that all about?" Nucky asks.
After her weekend exposure to the sin of Atlantic City, Rose agrees with Van Alden that it's probably best that she not relocate there, but they look forward to her visit next month as he bids her farewell at the train station.
Richard joins the Darmodys for breakfast at their house. Angela tells him that he doesn't have to feel embarrassed to eat in front of them. Jimmy arrives and notices a box on the dining table and asks what it is. Angela informs him it is a wedding gift from Nucky. Jimmy ignores it, though he tells Richard to feel free to take some of the biscuits Angela made for breakfast home with him to have later, which Harrow wraps in a napkin.
Nucky steps into Teddy's room and asks if he can have a talk with the boy. Teddy starts removing his coat and suspenders and Nucky asks him what he is doing. "Getting ready for the belt," the boy replies. Nucky tells the boy to relax. He isn't going to hit him. "You need to mind your mother and the sisters at school," Nucky says. "No more misbehaving or playing with matches." Teddy stays quiet through most of Nucky's talk which is so calm it doesn't remotely resemble a lecture let alone a scolding. It's also clear that it has been a long time since he was serving as "father and mother" to Jimmy, because he really only knows one way to deal with people now, no matter what age they are and pulls a pile of bills out of his pocket. He hands some toward Teddy, who is obviously confused by the gesture until Nucky says, "Take it. Go buy some sweets. And be a good boy." Teddy takes the money and Nucky gives the lad a reassuring pat on the head.
The many bulletholes remain visible on the walls of Chalky's warehouse as a crowbar pries open the doors and man comes in. In the background, we can see Richard standing guard with a shotgun.
Van Alden enters a house and hangs up his coat and hat on a rack by the door. He takes his suitcase down the hall to a bedroom and sets it down. He stands at a dresser and starts counting out $20 bills. In the reflection of the mirror above the dresser, we see Lucy Danziger (Paz de la Huerta) beginning to stir in bed. She asks what time it is. "Nearly 4 p.m. I have your money," Van Alden tells her. She climbs out of bed, the advancement of her pregnancy very much in evidence. "Could you lie with me?" she requests as she rubs on the agent. "You need to sleep in your own room," Nelson replies as he beats a hasty exit out of the bedroom.
Jimmy and Richard lead just part of the bustle happening at Chalky's warehouse as crates move in. Mickey Doyle nee Cusick (Paul Sparks) asks Jimmy, "Should I be concerned that there's blood on some of these crates?" "Not unless it's yours," Jimmy responds, eliciting that unmistakable Mickey giggle.
Nucky reads the paper when the phone rings. It's Eddie on the other end informing his boss that there's a man from the state's attorney office who wants to speak with him immediately. "Well put him on," Nucky says. There's an awkward pause from Eddie who comes back on and says the official insists on speaking to Nucky in person as soon as possible. Nucky tells him that he's on his way. Margaret asks if anything's wrong, but Nucky says no, it's just that he promised Teddy that he would take them all to see the new Chaplin at The Royal. Nucky suggests that Margaret and the kids go along and he'll meet them after he stops by the office.
As the 1915 hit "Is There Still Room for Me 'Neath the Old Apple Tree" recorded by Henry Burr & Albert Campbell and written by Maurice Abrahams, Lew Brown and Edgar Leslie plays on the radio, Dick cuts photos and illustrations out of magazines and books and pastes them into some sort of album he's creating. Harrow seems particularly pleased with a color drawing he's found of a happy family seated around a dinner table.
Nucky marches off the elevator and into his office to the sight of an unfamiliar man and state troopers as well as a worried-looking Eddie. "May I help you gentlemen?" Nucky offers. "Enoch Thompson?" the man in the suit asks. "What the hell is going on?" Nucky demands to know. "I'm Solomon Bishop, a deputy with the state attorney's office," the man (Bill Sage) says. At this point, one of the troopers crosses behind Thompson and places handcuffs on him. "Mister Thompson, you are under arrest for election fraud."
At The Royal, Margaret has Emily sitting in her lap and there's an empty seat saved between her and Teddy as both the boy and his mother occasionally take their eyes off the screen where Charlie Chaplin and Jackie Coogan star in The Kid to look at the theater doors each time they swing open to see if they might be heralding Nucky's arrival.
Jimmy comes home to a darkened house — presumably Angela and Tommy have turned in for the night. He goes to the table where Nucky's unopened gift remains and finally opens it. At the top is an envelope full of cash which Jimmy disdainfully tosses aside. Below that is a sculpture which seems to be of a father and son on a hunting-and-fishing trip. Jimmy examines it a moment before going to a closet, turning on the light and clearing some space. He places the sculpture on the high shelf, turns off the light and shuts the door.
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Labels: Boardwalk Empire, Breaking Bad, Buscemi, Chaplin, Chayefsky, Cranston, Dabney Coleman, David Simon, Deadwood, HBO, Milch, The Sopranos, The Wire, Treme, TV Recap
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