Episode Report Card Djb: D | 0 USERS: N/A YOU GRADE IT In The Claire
By Djb | Season 4 | Episode 8 | Aired on 2000.08.30
Hill knows everybody gambles. He really, really does.
The Two Least Interesting Death Row Inmates Ever continue, despite my loudest protests to the contrary, to have a life on camera and at all. Miles continues to Bob Vila the place up real pretty, while Moses continues to pick away at the adjoining wall with his pointy instrument of wall destruction. Simply as a method of inducing conversation as a short cut to the identical conversation they shared last week, Miles asks just what on Earth that noise is, and Moses inexplicably explains that he is "digging an escape hatch." Into the neighboring cell? You can practically hear the rain-drenched, cover-of-darkness jubilant wails of, "I'm free! I'm free! I'm -- oh, wait a sec." Glynn and his merry band of law-enforcing Glynnettes (LoPresti and, I don't know, some other guy) try to infuse all this anti-excitement with a jolt of something that looks just like drama when they enter to tell Miles and us that he has to choose a method of execution for his big day, two weeks from Thursday; Moses quickly covers up the hole with a poster. Miles lies on his bed in the fetal position and commences repeatedly screaming, "No!" Glynn sends in a guard to pull Miles out of his cell and "take him down to Psych." But Miles chooses this moment to kick it into gear, and he punches the guard away and makes for one of several locked doors that, even if opened, would continue to lead to a Russian doll's worth of hallway after hallway of impermeable metal bars. And what better way to imbue your average action sequence with a palpable sense of thrills? So said pushed-aside guard secures Miles on the bars right in front of Moses' cell. Moses spits in his face. Drama!
Cut to psychiatric evaluation, where a shackled Miles admits to Sister Pete that he is "scared shitless" about his approaching execution date. He invokes the names of Fun Death Row Inmates Past (whose memories he serves admirably by calling them "Shirley Bellinger" and "that fag kid"), and whispers something inaudible and doubtlessly deranged about not wanting to die. Sister Pete begins her comfort speech, and I wonder why she doesn't just go straight for her ace-in-the-hole "choose God blah blee us" material when she admits that, though opposed to capital punishment, there is precious little she'll be able to accomplish from a lobbyist perspective in the next two weeks. Stupid bureaucrats.