American Gothic (1995) s01e07 – Meet the Beetles

I’m not sure what iteration of “Make Bruce Campbell Happen” his guest appearance on “Gothic” fits in, but I was expecting more of a showcase. Campbell’s a state cop come to town at the behest of his sister (Derin Altay); her husband’s missing, and she’s convinced he’s been running around with Brenda Bakke. When sheriff Gary Cole doesn’t take Altay seriously, she calls in Campbell. Campbell immediately suspects Cole of being jealous over sort of girlfriend Bakke having other male attention and starts investigating him.

The episode opens with Lucas Black and his best friend, Christopher Fennell, traipsing around Black’s old, now burned-down house. They find a skeleton (and Sarah Paulson’s old doll), with the skeleton turning out to be Altay’s missing husband. Except he’s only been gone a couple days, nowhere near enough time for the decomposition.

Pretty quickly, both Turco and Cole realize the skeletal status of the deceased has to do with Beetles. The local, exceptionally creepy natural history museum is basically an excuse for boss Selene Smith and her staff to feed carcasses to the beetles and get shiny bones in return. Smith’s fascination comes off as obsessive, whereas Turco and Campbell both think bugs are gross. Cole doesn’t seem to mind them, though we also don’t get any scenes of him controlling them or anything demonic.

We do more of a look into Cole and Bakke’s relationship. He’s nowhere near as in control of her as previous episodes have suggested; Bakke’s character arc is the show’s second most impressive at this point. Black gets the number one spot (his arc this episode weaves through the police procedural), then Bakke, then probably Nick Searcy (who’s not around this episode at all), then Sarah Paulson (who’s got very little here, but it’s all vital) then incompletes for everyone else so far. While there is an exposition dump between Jake Weber and Turco before the opening titles, Weber disappears at that point. What with a special guest star and an actual mystery, no reason to keep doctor Weber around. Wait, maybe Weber’s there for the autopsy, then disappears. He’s definitely gone once the bugs take off.

Oddly, the episode calls back to that opening conversation between Weber and Turco at the end—she’d had an offer to cover a major story in Charleston, meaning she’d have to leave the show—when it turns out the offer’s somehow a Cole machination. Only there’s no explanation of how or why. Victor Bumbalo and David Chisholm get the writing credit for this episode, and there’s a big swing in quality. Not to mention the icky way dudes talk about Turco and Bakke, which is even worse when you think about how it’s probably sanitized what women would’ve gone through in the nineties South.

Despite the terrible video montages, the episode’s fairly good-looking. Director Michael Nankin does a little better with Bakke’s falsely accused femme fatale arc than Turco’s amateur investigation. Black’s arc fits somewhere in the middle; despite the excellent acting, Black’s treading water this episode.

It’s a real good episode. Probably Turco’s best performance so far, with great work from Cole, Bakke, and Black. And the forty seconds of Paulson.

Real good.

American Gothic (1995) s01e06 – Potato Boy

CBS didn’t air Potato Boy during “American Gothic”’s original run. It started the network shuffling the show order in earnest, presumably to make the show more accessible to new viewers. Since it’s television—network television—they somehow managed to skip a literal onboarding episode. Gary Cole narrates Potato Boy’s first act, clueing the viewers in on the ground situation. The episode deep dives into two and a half characters in addition to the youthful (“Gothic”) adventures of recently orphaned Lucas Black. It’s an awesome done-in-one.

Of course, the network screwed it up.

Michael Nankin gets the writing credit and directs; Nankin’s the best direction on a “Gothic” episode so far. He likes watching the actors, which is essential given the character examination aspect of the episode, but also as a contrast for Cole. Everyone else feels, and we see them feel; Cole’s like a lizard. He’s calm, motionless, then he acts. And he’s trying to pass those lessons on to Black.

Their arc in this episode’s disturbing. Black seems closer to drinking the dark side Kool-Aid than ever; whenever he gets this close to Cole, Sarah Paulson usually shows up, but she’s got an offscreen subplot involving the title character.

The Potato Boy is an urban legend amongst the youth of Trinity proper. Being raised in the country, Black isn’t informed—his pals, Christopher Fennell and Evan Rachel Wood, have to warn him about the mutant child who does nothing but sing hymns from his attic cell. Ghostly sister Paulson visits Black and becomes enchanted with the singing and disappointed in her apathetic brother. Paulson comes back a few times in the episode, but she’s off having the supernatural adventure of the episode, which they haven’t got the budget for.

Black also bonds with reverend John Bennes after legal guardian Tina Lifford takes Black to church for the first time. Bennes figures into Black’s A-plot and Brenda Bakke’s B-plot. Bakke and Searcy alternate the B-plots. The episode does a complex examination of Bakke, subtly and not; it’s a fantastic episode for her, easily her best, but also the best female part on “Gothic” so far. Meanwhile, Searcy’s in therapy, except he can’t talk too much about the details of his working relationship with Cole. Searcy’s phenomenal.

What with covering up Cole murdering Paulson and all.

Then Jake Weber’s got a C-plot, which also ties into Black’s plot and Bennes’s church. Nankin gets some great acting out of Weber too.

Heck of a lot of great performances this episode—Black, Bakke, Searcy, Paulson, Weber, and, of course, Cole (who’s so good narrating even though the narration’s too much and not enough you miss it once it’s gone). “American Gothic”’s a very special show and Potato Boy’s its most successful episode.

Obviously, CBS bumped it.

The Equalizer (2021) s02e13 – D.W.B.

Tory Kittles gets his most significant episode of the season (if not the show), but with several caveats. First, it’s a Black trauma episode. Kittles—with his two sons—is somewhere in not-New York City New York, and a couple sheriffs’ deputies assume he’s a suspect. When he asserts his rights, the senior officer (Lee Tergesen, leaning into his typecasting as a racist piece of shit) attacks him, knocking him unconscious. Once the other, less overtly shitty cop (Brandon Espinoza) confirms Kittles is a cop… they put him in the back of their car and drive him out somewhere to kill him instead of calling an ambulance.

Because all of a sudden, “The Equalizer” really wants to be realistic.

The other big caveat for it being a Kittles-centric episode is it being, one way or another, a major change for the character and potentially the show. We finally meet his ex-wife, Tawny Cypress, who’s initially confused why her sons called Queen Latifah for help before her, and then we get some backstory on Kittles. Including how Cypress always wanted to tell her kids about racist white cops, but cop Kittles wouldn’t let her. The episode speeds through that aspect of the story, letting the detail inform Kittles’s arc but not Cypress’s or the kids’.

The last caveat has to do with Kittles and Latifah’s chemistry. The show leans into it more than ever, but also without there being much weight behind it. Kittles has multiple flashback hallucinations in the episode, including returning guest star dad Danny Johnson either getting CGI de-aged (or de-aging make-up just looks like CGI now) and Kittles occasionally playing himself as a child. It’s kind of an acting showcase for Kittles, really. Just a horrific Black trauma one.

Because even though the show couches the racism a little bit, it’s only a little bit. The small-town cops are sympathetic to being murderers; the only non-overt racist the show introduces in the small-town is Dennis Boutsikaris, who plays a judge. Boutsikaris knows New York D.A. Jennifer Ferrin, who helps Latifah look for Kittles. The New York City cops can’t act because small-town racist sheriff Michael Pemberton tells them everything’s fine, so Ferrin and Latifah have to independently investigate.

While keeping the investigation limited makes it easier for the episode plotting—Adam Goldberg and Liza Lapira don’t get much to do here, and Laya DeLeon Hayes and Lorraine Toussaint don’t even appear–it also comes across like Kittles’s brothers and sisters in blue do not give a shit if Black cops are murdered by white ones.

Again, “Equalizer”’s picking one heck of a story to go for realism on.

Tergesen shows up before the opening titles, but then Boutsikaris and Ron Canada’s names show up, so it’s obviously going to be a big guest star episode. Canada has a great scene; sadly, all Black trauma stuff.

The show’s been having a rough time this season with Kittles as a Black cop and somehow decided the best way to resolve it was an exploitation picture from the seventies. Kittles does a great job. The main racist white cops are good too—Tergesen, Pemberton; a weird compliment.

Latifah simultaneously gets a lot to do but also not very much.

It’s a harrowing episode, start to finish.

Wayward Pines (2015) s02e06 – City Upon a Hill

Vincenzo Natali directs this episode. I’ve never seen any of his movies, but he’s far and away the best director of the season so far. He even knows how to do a Toby Jones cameo—as few lines as possible, as short of a scene as possible.

Jones shows up at the beginning for a flashback to before the construction of “Wayward Pines.” He’s in a helicopter gunship, shooting at the monsters in the forest as they frolic and tend to their young. They’re in the way of the wall, and so he has them shot dead.

Can’t imagine why they don’t like the humans.

Natali does a great job with the primordial bliss sequence, but where he really shows off is during the action sequence in the present. The monsters have gotten fire, and they’re burning down the town’s cornfields, so all the able-bodied civilians have to firefight while the soldiers provide cover. There’s a startling thirty-five killed, which ends up just showing how disposable the humans are in the show. Though they don’t even bother to track any of the casualties’ stories.

Well, not if they’re not special guest stars.

This episode has Tim Griffin’s flashbacks pre-season one, when he’s setting up Matt Dillon (and possibly Carla Gugino), so he can get together with Shannyn Sossamon. Sossamon returns for a really lousy final appearance; “Wayward Pines: Season One” had an absolutely disastrous plot outline. In season two, Sossamon ends up with the poopiest end of that stick.

Even worse, Griffin’s got scenes without his glue-on beard, which means it can’t do his acting for him. Instead, he’s got to try to keep up with… well, Hope Davis, sure, but Griffin can’t even successfully stalk Sossamon when he’s inserted into scenes from season one. Real lazy.

However, it’s another “Wayward Pines” where someone on the writing staff heard my dismay from the future and had someone comment on the Nazi uniforms all the bros wear. Unfortunately, it’s Josh Helman making the observation to Christopher Meyer. Helman’s white, Meyer’s Black, and the scene has Meyer defending Nazi uniforms (ignorantly because they wouldn’t have been taught world history or the Nazis being bad). Since “Wayward Pines” is a Fox show… makes you wonder if the News department made some requests.

Also, it turns out Helman is supposed to be playing a scoundrel a la Han Solo, which just makes the whole thing worse. Helman is better than Griffin in this episode. Griffin without his fake beard is worse than Helman; a surprise, but also maybe not. What they really needed was a glue-on beard for Helman.

There are a lot of scenes at the hospital—Hassler and Sossamon are both injured—and Amitai Marmorstein gets some great scenes with Jason Patric. Marmorstein’s such a good twerp, and Patric finally fully engages, leading to some great moments.

Other plot points include Kacey Rohl going a little Lady Macbeth with Tom Stevens, who’s doubting his chosen one status as the world literally burns thanks to his policies (making him more self-aware than, what, ninety-five percent of politicians), and then Davis and Patric doing some tests on the captured female creature. Turns out their brains are big in all the right places.

There’s a soft cliffhanger, but it’s also clear “Pines” is gearing up for the final arc. Everything is very dramatic, very consequential. We’ll see if they do better than last time. Regardless, I hope Natali’s back for more episodes.

Lost in Space (2018) s01e06 – Eulogy

Another episode, another new writer and director. Also, the opening titles are back. It’s also the longest episode so far (I’m pretty sure), clocking in just over an hour. Because a lot happens, and everyone gets something to do. However, the script (credited to Ed McCardie) compensates for its numerous supporting players by sticking Molly Parker in the space-camper for the episode. She’s recovering from injuries last episode, which heal really fast since the previous episode ended with cuts on her face, and they’re dirt this one.

She’s busy trying to decide whether to tell the other survivors the planet they’ve crashed on is going to freakishly burn up like David Marcus used protomatter in his equations. It’ll tie into Parker Posey’s arc, which has Posey trying to convince Sibongile Mlambo to lose her shit about the robot. Parker gets one really good scene; it’s opposite Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa; it’s too bad they don’t have Tagawa do more. He’s the best of the supporting players. Mlambo is the worst. She’s never had so much to do, and she doesn’t do much with it.

Though it’s a rough part—Posey, posing as a therapist, is trying to traumatize Mlambo to… do something. It’s not clear what. The audience knows what’s going to happen, and one presumes Posey has a plan, but when Mlambo gets around to lashing out, it doesn’t seem like Posey knows what’s about to happen.

Toby Stephens and Maxwell Jenkins have the least successful storyline of the episode. Stephens is trying to teach Jenkins how to take responsibility for the robot, having been a bad guy before Jenkins tamed it. They have a very physical and visual arc to show Jenkins is learning, but it’s an internal character development thing, and externalizing it, especially with so much sentimentality, is weird. Though it ties together nicely with the humdinger of a soft cliffhanger.

Mina Sundwell and Ajay Friese are off on a hiking date. It’s good stuff. Like, Sandwell’s a lot better with Friese than her siblings. Unfortunately, their subplot isn’t as much for character development as showing off more of the rapidly deteriorating planet. But they’re sympathetic, and there is one good character development moment.

The main plot has Taylor Russell and Ignacio Serricchio going on an expedition to get some fuel. If they find the fuel, Parker won’t have to tell everyone about the planet burning up, so it solves her problems too. Raza Jaffrey is also along on the plot to add some classism (everyone thinks Serricchio is mercenary, but then they’re leaving him on another dying planet, Earth, while they all go off to paradise). It’s an excellent episode for Serricchio, whose less flirty and more friendly with Russell, and all of a sudden, their character relationship has potential.

While Russell does get some character development towards the start, she ends up just supporting Serricchio’s arc. There’s also some drama regarding their suspicion of Posey, but it’s their secret at this point.

It’s got a very three-act structure, with Stephens starting out trying to sort out what to do about the killer robot and all the excursions getting planned out. Then the third act really echoes the first. The timing’s not great, like Jenkins and Stephens’s responsibility arc probably should’ve come sooner—or that aforementioned humdinger of a finale should’ve come later—but it’s a surprising, compelling episode.

The show seems very confident in its swings. Hopefully, it’s justified.

The Equalizer (2021) s02e01 – Aftermath

“The Equalizer” returns with a whole bunch of problems but still has a reasonable amount of charm to it, just because of Queen Latifah. She gets a really good “mom” monologue when Laya DeLeon Hayes is yelling at her about being a former super-spy now using her very particular set of skills to help those in need. It’s much better written than most of the episode, which credits Terri Edda Miller and Andrew W. Marlowe as the writers. Obviously, there’s a room; obviously, there’s the Guild; obviously, Marlowe’s terrible; I hope Miller wrote the monologue. It works.

It doesn’t really make the episode feel any more realistic because even though Latifah’s hunting a bunch of apparently CIA-trained bank robbers who are targeting families, she’s never worried about Hayes’s safety. Apparently, the bad guys could hack into Adam Goldberg’s super-computer, but they couldn’t put a tail on Latifah. Though whenever Goldberg talks about his super-computing skills, you doubt the veracity of it all. The Internet’s way too easy to hack on CBS.

This season premiere picks up a couple weeks after the finale, with Hayes staying at her dad’s and not wanting to talk to Latifah after the super-spy reveal. Latifah’s still not talking to Chris Noth, and cop Tory Kittles has a new partner, Erica Camarano. In fact, Latifah’s planning on shutting down the whole “Equalizer” thing to focus on repairing her relationship with Hayes.

Until Kittles calls in favor markers for help on a bank robbery case with expertly trained perpetrators who aren’t in any fingerprinting system.

Then there’s another subplot involving Goldberg feeling cooped up in his Lex Luthor from Superman: The Movie hideout—though he’s more Otis—and wanting to go outside. He’s been down there five years, which is a lot less impressive for people who’ve been through Rona lockdown, but Rona still doesn’t exist in “The Equalizer” universe.

Solvan Naim’s direction is better than the show needs. Latifah and Kittles still have the right chemistry—even if both seem bored regurgitating A plot exposition after every commercial break—and Hayes, Noth, and Lorraine Toussaint are all still appealing. I feel like if the show were thirty-four minutes instead of forty-two, it’d be an even better watching experience. Probably not a better show, but definitely more fun with less time investment. Or maybe just don’t time suck on Goldberg and Liza Lapira (Lapira’s so scenery she’s furniture this episode).

But a season two renaissance seems very unlikely, but for network procedural fodder, “Equalizer”’s fine. Enough. I mean, you’re watching it because it’s Queen Latifah as a badass super-spy. No one’s pretending there’s any other reason to tune in.

Nobody (2021, Ilya Naishuller)

Wouldn’t it be funny if Bob Odenkirk were an action movie hero? Like a kick-ass one who doesn’t just use machine guns, but also does a lot of hand-to-hand fighting?

If you’re unfamiliar with Odenkirk, let’s just say it’s a “cast against type” situation to the extremis. Only it doesn’t matter because action movie special effects have gotten to the point they can turn anyone—quite easily—into an action movie hero.

Odenkirk is a Nobody, which is both a gimmick line and part of the eventual reveal. It takes an hour—into Nobody’s still very long ninety-seven minutes—to find out just how and why boring suburban dad Odenkirk is an old man action hero. The reveal’s not worth it, but if it had been worth it—especially after the plodding first act (Nobody’s relentlessly tedious)—it would’ve been a miracle given Derek Kolstad’s simultaneously lazy and bad script and director Naishuller’s startling mediocrity. There are some (many?) bad moments in Nobody’s direction, but there’s not a single good one. Never does Naishuller show any ingenuity, imagination, or… well, I’d love to find another i-word but it’s not surprise the film doesn’t have any insight… what would it have insight in? Certainly not any of the characters. Everyone’s either disposable, a stunt cast, or a disposable stunt cast.

Though it’s not not nice to see Christopher Lloyd able to kick it up a bit at eighty-three. And Michael Ironside is better than almost everyone else in the film with just two short scenes (he’s Odenkirk’s boss and father-in-law). But RZA’s not the stunt cast the film pretends, ditto Colin Salmon, though Salmon at least gets a real-ish scene. RZA’s just there for the pyrotechnics and smash cuts.

Evan Schiff and William Yeh’s cutting is incredibly even less imaginative than Naishuller’s direction; their lack of rhythm—along with Kolstad’s lousy writing—is what makes Nobody drag. Everyone’s trying to inflict personality on the picture only no one’s got any.

It’s most unfortunate for Odenkirk, who’s a game protagonist, but since the film’s so bad at turning him into an action hero, it’s never anything but the gimmick. Once it’s clear he can do the gimmick—and it’s clear really early on, sometime during the interminable first act—there’s nothing else to him.

Nobody gets a little energy out of big bad Aleksey Serebryakov—a karaoke-loving Russian mobster—at least until it’s clear Serebryakov isn’t any good. Is it his fault? Or is it Kolstad’s? Or Naishuller’s? Or maybe it’s just Nobody’s fault nobody is any good in Nobody.

The movie’s a middling “Saturday Night Live” sketch stretched out to almost 100 minutes.

It does have a good soundtrack—I mean, it opens with Nina Simone (and also a cute kitty cat), but then it turns out the Nina Simone (and the cute kitty cat) are just a ruse and they’ve got nothing to do with the content. But the soundtrack selections are a solid playlist. Editors Schiff and Yeh don’t cut things well to the songs, because of course they don’t, but at least during those sequences the music’s good. Otherwise, David Buckley’s score is the pits.

Nobody’s a badly written, badly directed, bland, bloody bore.

Life on Mars (2006) s01e02

Lots gets introduced and resolved this episode, particularly with John Simm and Philip Glenister’s different approaches to police work. It’s kind of like “Pilot, Part 2,” where the gimmick has been introduced and now it’s time to determine what the actual show will be like.

Same creative team as last time—Matthew Graham writing, Bharat Nalluri directing. This episode starts realizing the creepy girl with the clown on the TV recurring bit, which last episode set up but this episode turns into an actual horror element. Since the episode’s an hour, there’s plenty of time to change how the show’s going to question Simm’s reality. For a while, there’s nothing he can’t explain away, then there’s definite “you’re in the hospital in a coma” moments.

It gets seconds away from requiring additional suspension of disbelief, like they push it as far as they can with Simm acting confused and then drop it and get back to the actual show. It ranges in effectiveness, with the worst case unfortunately being the last.

There’s not a mystery to solve this episode, which is the point—it opens with the boys arresting stickup man Andrew Tiernan after an amazing, funny chase sequence (set to Live and Let Die, so they’re not cheaping on the music even after they get the Bowie), then the rest of the episode is them trying to figure out how to keep him from committing stickups without evidence.

Simm’s not willing to go with Glenister’s file cabinet worth of evidence to plant, which leads to some dire consequences. Along the way, there’s a fight between Simm and Glenister, a big subplot for Liz White, and a guest star spotlight for Timothy Platt as the star witness. Platt’s character is deaf in 1973 and it’s unclear if the show even realizes how inhumane and cruel the characters are coming off.

We also get some more hints at Simm’s mission in the past—the opening titles have a “Quantum Leap”-esque narration about how he’s going to get home but again, they stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the show itself.

Nalluri directs the heck out of the suspense sequences, which also have great performances from White and Simm. They nimbly pivot from the procedural to the action chase stuff.

Great Glenister too, though he’s a little bit too much support, little bit too much antagonist. Again, very big “Pilot, Part 2” feels.

But the acting’s so good, the directing’s so good, most of the writing’s so good, any such feels end up being good, reassuring feels, like they know what they’re doing with “Life on Mars.” Albeit with a strangely obvious gimmick.

Life on Mars (2006) s01e01

Going back to “Life on Mars,” it hadn’t occurred to me how the “hook” was going to play after not just having seen the series once but also its “way too literal” sequel, “Ashes to Ashes.”

“Mars” is about a modern day—2006 so pre-smartphone and some other things—police detective, John Simm, getting hit by a car and waking up in 1973. He’s still a copper, just not the boss copper anymore, and he soon discovers the murderer he was chasing in the future is active here in the past.

The episode, written by Matthew Graham, plays like a fairly traditional pilot episode. It introduces the cast, it introduces the concept, it even has a big plot element you can just tell they’re going to have to walk back in subsequent episodes. But while there’s the standard TV pilot thing going on, there’s also Bharat Nalluri’s fantastic direction. The episode feels more like a short subject, with Nalluri and cinematographer Adam Suschitzky focusing on the moodiness of the past and how Simm’s experiencing it.

Great performance by Simm. When the episode starts, he’s kind of passive to (pre-“Good Wife”) Archie Panjabi, who’s his estranged girlfriend and subordinate, who has an idea about solving the case and Simm doesn’t want to hear it. Simm even makes not wanting to hear it about Panjabi using their relationship troubles to create a power imbalance in his work place. It’s a really bad, really dated, seemingly completely unawares moment.

But it does not age well.

Luckily, once Panjabi gets kidnapped by the killer Simm didn’t want to hear about, Simm’s reaction is appropriate enough to make him immediately sympathetic. Then boom, a car hits him and he’s back in 1973. So the stakes are Panjabi’s kidnapped and Simm thinks he’s probably in a coma at the hospital but he can’t be sure.

The only person he can trust with the truth is female police officer Liz White. It’s important to mention she’s female because it was back when the ladies were segregated in police work, something Simm didn’t know. The episode’s got big “Back to the Future” type jokes about being in the unknown past (Simm’s character would’ve been four in 1973), then it’s got these little ones where it trips Simm up and into some character development, which Nalluri always makes sure to emphasize.

There’s an excellent arc for Simm and White in the episode, just rock solid character development, great acting from each of them.

But it’s not even the A plot. Well, it’s the initial A plot, but once Simm gets to work in the police station in 1973 there’s the new A plot. And that new A plot is the boss cop played by Philip Glenister. Glenister’s the immediate show-stealer, the break-away star, the whatever. He plays the seventies tough guy cop caricature but in a way to make it reasonable. He’s also the boss, which means he can’t be the rogue cop, which makes “by the numbers” Simm the outsider. “Mars” has a really good understanding of how television narratives work, especially with genre.

Though it does make you wonder if they’re intentionally avoiding “Quantum Leap” references because it comes so close a few times it’d be better if they were making a reference.

Anyway.

Other tough guy male cops of import include Dean Andrews as the dumb, stoic, big one, and Marshall Lancaster as the dumb, amiable, little one. Lancaster gets to be great from go, while Andrews is a lot more reserved. Lancaster becomes Simm’s flunky while Andrews sticks with Glenister.

The other big introduction is the local bartender, Tony Marshall, who seems to have a soulful connection to the world and maybe what’s going on with Simm.

It’s a fantastic hour, fantastic pilot. Graham’s script is compelling for the characters’ sake, not just the gimmick’s, and the three leads are outstanding. Plus the excellent Nalluri direction. It’s great.

The Equalizer (2021) s01e03 – Judgment Day

Well, this episode establishes a couple things “The Equalizer” certainly didn’t need established. First, Chris Noth is not a regular cast member no matter what the titles say; he’s nowhere to be seen this episode. Second, turns out Andrew W. Marlowe’s not going to be the worst writer on it. I was upbeat when I saw Erica Shelton getting the writing credit because anyone has to be better than Hollow Man Marlowe, right?

Nope. Shelton is much, much worse. Her ear for dialogue is on par with a bad Saturday morning cartoon, so it’s good she doesn’t have any real conversation in the episode, just endless snippets of exposition.

Also–and since Shelton’s so bad I’m not giving up—Adam Goldberg’s journey to being less annoying stalls this episode and there’s nothing for Liza Lapira in that department either. Shelton writes them as a cloyingly cute couple with absolutely no chemistry or timing.

But before it even becomes clear Noth’s not showing up, Goldberg and Lapira are going to be offensively bland, and all of Shelton’s writing is going to be bad, the episode also reveals they haven’t got a guest star budget. There are some great—albeit poorly written but what can you do—guest star spots in the episode and “The Equalizer” doesn’t get anyone of note for them. There’s the New York District Attorney, Jennifer Ferrin, who’s better than, say, judge Amy Hohn, but not as good as defense attorney and Queen Latifah’s client-by-proxy, Danny Mastrogiorgio. Mastrogiorgio gives the closet thing to a good guest star spot, but it’s not easy with the dialogue. Hohn’s terrible. Ferrin’s… well, Ferrin comes through enough not to be terrible anyway.

The worst casting is the real client, Joe Perrino, an escaped con who didn’t commit the murder Hohn put him in prison for and Latifah’s going to find out the truth. Whether Perrino wants her to investigate or not, which leads to an almost good scene for Goldberg, only for Lapira (but really Shelton) to flush it down the drain.

Latifah’s got a subplot with daughter Laya DeLeon Hayes not wanting to hang out with her “Fake Woke” former friend (presumably, since the friend is a Black girl, she’s a fake Black Lives Matter protester, which isn’t explicit but odds are on it). Hayes thinks fake protesting is stupid and Latifah tries to talk to her about it but Shelton’s writing’s bad and the episode’s got no ambition for actual relevance (still no Rona), much less sincere character development. Lorraine Toussaint’s in it so little I thought she’d left the show.

Tory Kittles goes from pursuing Latifah to being her erstwhile partner, which leads to her self-identifying as “The Equalizer” at one point. Kittles isn’t great but he’s likable enough and he and Latifah have more chemistry than anyone else has in the show.

Enthusiastic direction from Solvan Naim helps a lot. It’s hard to imagine being enthusiastic about directing, say, Perrino or Shelton’s teleplay, but Naim manages it.