Of all the email I've ever received during my tenure here at Television Without Pity, I think my all-time favorite will always be the angry flamemail I got from Mike Binder's little brother, bawling me out for all the mean and nasty things I ever said about that crap-ass show. Now sure, there have been plenty of other highlights, like the crazy lady who sends unsolicited errata and footnotes to the recaps every other week; the director from Oz who said he was scared of me; the former forum regular who routinely invites me to his band's gigs in Chicago, and, of course, the surprisingly large number of women who want to marry me, not to mention the slightly smaller number of men who go to great lengths to insist that their love is merely platonic. The reason I love the Binder email so much, however, is that he actually spent most of it whining about the insanely low letter grades I gave out each week, as if it was really the "F-" I gave to his "Three Stooges Blow-Job" episode that finally broke the cancellation camel's back, and not the combined metric tonnage of an oppressed North American viewing audience being forced to watch helplessly as Mike Binder lovingly filmed his adolescent masturbation fantasies and broadcast them to anyone with a cable box. Goddamn, that show sucked.
But that email was also a sign of things to come, because every single time since then that I've had contact with someone associated with one of the shows I cover, they're invariably more interested in the letter grades than anything else. And because of that trend, I'm now about to make a major confession. In fact, it would seem that Brother Justin's secret power may be even stronger and more far-reaching than we first thought, because what I'm going to reveal today may very well be my greatest sin as a recapper. You see, while I often like to talk a big game about the episode grades (StCVA = 338), in reality, I actually pay almost no attention to them at all. That’s partly because I'm sort of stuck with a fairly narrow range of options when you consider that I just couldn't bear to live in a world where an episode of Carnivàle (or The Sopranos or Six Feet Under) could ever get a lower grade in anything than an episode of The Surreal Life, or The Simple Life, or Sorority Life, or even Time of Your Life (exception that proves the rule: My So-Called Life), and also partly because I keep forgetting to change that damn field in the template because it's small and right to the index page poll (which -- for various reasons too complicated to explain here -- hates me), and then of course there's always another run-on sentence that needs to be fixed before deadline, so I usually end up running out of time.
But all of this has naturally gotten me to thinking about what letter grade I actually would give to this show if I ever really thought about it, and after lengthy consideration and the creation of a few SQL databases, I've finally settled on a nice B+ with a little note in the margin that says, "shows great potential, but has trouble completing assignments on time." Daniel Knauf has said that this season entailed a lot of what he called "laying pipe" to set things up for the future, and while that's all well and good, there's still definitely a reason why HBO has never aired a show about plumbers. Every time I finish an episode of Carnivàle, I'm always left with the sense that there's a truly great and epic story out there that's finally going to get started week. And then week comes, and I'm once again left with the sense that there's a truly great and epic story out there that's finally going to get started the week after that. That's why I can't help thinking that I'd have given this show an A+ if they'd just condensed these twelve episodes down to about a four-hour mini-series and then gone straight into Season Two. Which, incidentally, gives me a perfect excuse to plug the fact that I'll be recapping Battlestar Galactica week. If you're reading this, Ron Moore, don't take the letter grades personally.
But enough about me. Let's talk about you. Fade up on Justin and Iris, enjoying an awkward and presumably post-coital midnight snack at the kitchen table. To be honest, Justin is the only one actually eating, and the only words in the scene come when Iris asks if he'd like more coffee. The answer? No. You know, just in case you care. Incidentally, if you're still on the fence about whether they actually did it, I think the near-constant sound effect of Justin's silverware thumping rhythmically against the plate and the extreme close-up of his long, hard, phallic steak knife spearing the tender, virginal fruits of Iris's metaphorical loins should be enough to put your mind at ease. Or perhaps the exact opposite of ease. "Ewse," I suppose. Clancy Brown weirdly chooses to spend most of the scene with his eyes closed as he savors every last morsel, although I suppose that could just as easily be an allusion to the way men always fall asleep right after a good meal. Either way, there was great acting from both of them in this scene. Amy Madigan is totally the new Nancy Marchand.
Carnieland. Gabe waits in front of his mother's trailer. He'll be doing that a lot tonight. In fact, I've already confessed to forgetfulness once in this recap already, so if every other paragraph doesn't begin with me saying "Gabe waits," you can probably just assume that I forgot to put it in. Eventually, Ben comes tearing back to the carnival in the car he stole last week, and Gabe runs over excitedly to see if his mom has been healed like he was promised. But alas, there is no joy in Mudville -- Mighty Benny has struck out.
We fade to the exterior of Adrienne's trailer, where Ben is ordering Gabe to put his mother in bed, draw the shades, and not let anyone inside. "You can't muck this up," Ben snots. "You do, and we ain't friends no more." "Uh, hold on a second," replies Gabe. "You didn't actually think we were friends, did you? Because I seem to recall you breaking my arm, fucking my mother, and screwing up the only goddamn thing you're supposedly good for right when I need you the most." "Don't worry," insists Ben, as oblivious as always. "Just remember, we're Dutch." Hmm. Is that a nicely symmetrical Austin Powers joke to match the one from the premiere? Because there are only two things I hate in this world: people who are intolerant of other people's cultures, and the Dutch. Gabe starts sniffling, and Ben hands over a hanky that probably hasn't been clean since the Hundred Years War. "Yeah, thanks for nothing, ASSHOLE," mutters Gabe, as he wipes the dried mud and mucus off onto his sling.
Over in Lodz's trailer, Lila is beckoning her blind boy toy to bed. He declines to join her, however, claiming that he's waiting up for something. That something turns out to be Ben, who knocks right on cue and asks to speak to Lodz alone. Lila makes a bit of a fuss about that, but Lodz whacks her across the kneecaps and tosses her out into the night like a used up Mach 3. Assuming your razorblades wear silk nightgowns and fluffy pink slippers, that is. Once she's gone, Ben reports that Ruthie is dead, and that for some mysterious reason, he wasn't able to heal her. Lodz feigns innocence, of course, only he doesn't do a very a good job. Which is why it's a good thing that Ben thinks "feigning" is what happens when someone passes out. Ben begs for Lodz's assistance, but after spending nine consecutive episodes insisting that he could easily help if only given the chance, Lodz replies to that request by saying that he can't help. Oops. But he does know someone who can.
Cut to Management's trailer, with Ben entering through the curtains at the front door. He tentatively addresses The Boss (no, not Bruce Springsteen. But wouldn't it be cool if it was?), by saying, "I want...I want to bring her back." Heh. Lodz totally should have quipped, "Um, you do know he's not stupid, right?" Management recaps all the healing rules we all already know about (i.e. "You have to take life to give it"), even though almost every one of those rules will get thrown out the window by the end of the episode. But then he also earns major brownie points with me by chewing Ben out for acting like an idiot. "You must act as a man, not a boy," growls Management. "A boy mends the broken bones of his playmates and resurrects little kittens for his own amusement. This is different. This is a woman's life." He then offers up a fairly big clue to his own identity by adding, "You must choose the life you take. That is the way of our kind." Foreshadowing stomps into the trailer and shoves Lodz directly underneath a key light that nicely illuminates his milky white corneas just as Management says the "choose" line, and he then hurriedly resumes perusing the latest TV Guide so that he can find ways to amuse himself until The Sopranos come back in March.
Ben, of course, reacts to receiving the most exposition he's ever been given in his entire life by getting pissy and doing something stupid. Ahh, Ben. Will you never learn? Probably not. He steps forward to try to see what's behind the curtain, causing Management to snarl, "Another step and I will kill you where you stand." Um, hang on a second. Are you trying to tell me that Management is Glark? Because that would actually make a lot of sense. Ben backs off, but he does spot the flare of a lit cigarette coming from between the curtains. Aw. Management is one of us. Flick...ahh. And why is it that the only non-corporeal character on the show gets all the coolest shots? Management offers to give Ben all the answers he seeks (although not until Season Three at the earliest), and also adds that he's "someone who understands the life [Ben has] led." He then reveals that he knows that Ben has made this choice before, and that he's therefore capable of choosing who should live and who should die. "That ain't my place," insists Ben, being careful not to use words longer than one syllable. "If that is true," wonders Management, "then why is such a choice possible? Why are you not like other men? Why is this night different from all other nights? Why do we recline while watching this show?" Heh. It figures that Ben can't even answer the four simple questions we Jews traditionally assign to the youngest member of the family every Passover, and Management is forced to continue. "The answer is self-evident," he says. Except for the part where Ben can't figure it out, of course. "It is your place, Ben Hawkins. It cannot be escaped. It can only be accepted. Her life for another. It is the only way." Management takes another sweet, refreshing drag off his cigarette, and then closes the curtains and kicks Ben out. If only I could do the same. Oh, wait. I can. Flick...ahh.
Outside, Samson wakes up in his truck. I feel sorta bad for making a minor faux-pas by mocking the lifts in his shoes a few episodes back, so I'm not going to say anything at all about his haircut. I am, however, fairly certain that it's the world's first reverse mullet. I love you, Michael J. Anderson! Don't hate me! You're the best actor on the show! Samson looks out the truck's window just in time to see Ben emerge from his former trailer. It's a very pretty shot, with Ben backlit by the rising sun, so it's easy for me to forgive the fact that every other shot in the scene is obviously from significantly later in the day. Ben (of course) totally fails to see Samson staring at him from six feet away, and Samson just looks kind of annoyed.
Over in the Cooch tent, Pa Pimp is cocking his gun. No, not like that. He really is cocking a gun. He's seated at the foot of the bed, watching his wife sleep, and obviously trying to decide whether or not to pull a Scott Peterson. Or maybe a Kurt Cobain. His thought process gets interrupted, however, when Ma wakes up and observes that he never came to bed that night. She can't see the gun, which is probably why she's smiling, but that smile fades fast when Pa declares that their marriage doesn't seem to be working. "No it ain't," she replies, as she sits up and looks hurt. "And I don't think you want it to." She tempers that a bit by saying that it doesn't matter who's at fault -- only what they choose to do about it. "I got a plan," whispers Pa. "I don't know if I'm ready to take that step, though." Ooh, creepy. Ma tries a different tack, saying that he's "been somewhere else ever since...." She trails off before saying their daughter's name, and Pa shakes off his own thoughts in that direction by announcing that he knows about Ma and Jonesy. "Well, you're the one who put him in my bed," she yells, and then she further points out that unlike Pa and La Coocharaca, at least she didn't put Jonesy in the cooch show. And don't think the Limpies aren't pissed about that, by the way. For some reason, this image causes Pa to crack up laughing, and all the tension is immediately drained out of the scene. He turns serious again long enough to demand that Ma stop seeing Jonesy, and he agrees to stop seeing La Cooch as well. "It's a hell of a marriage we got here," he sighs. Ma: "I wouldn't trade it." Pa: "Wouldn't be any takers." Aaron: "Heh. And also, I'd take Rita Sue in a heartbeat."
Our morning whip-around continues over in Sofie's trailer, where she's packing her things into a suitcase.
Sofie: I don't care, Mother. I've made up my mind. I'm leaving tonight.
Mommatose: Yeah, yeah. That's what you said last time. And where the hell did that white dress come from? Isn't that the one you buried with Dora Mae?
Sofie: You best be careful what you say to me, Momma. I'm not in a very forgiving mood today.
Mommatose: Why? Did you fall off the roof? Is the red tide in? Probably not, seeing as how you're pregnant and all. I guess you're just a natural bitch then, huh?
Gabe waits. Glaciers inch ever-southward. Ben, meanwhile, lets his eyes wander around Carnieland, as he checks out all the potential lives he could take to save Ruthie. Someone close to Nick Stahl really needs to tell the directors on this show that sweat + grime + dust + three days without shaving <> extreme close-up. Ew. I did not need to see 57 inches of that. But I'm willing to tolerate it for the moment, because this scene also gives us a glimpse of the Twins and Gayko, who've both been sorely missed.
Ben's thoughts (such as they are) get interrupted when Jonesy arrives on the scene to ask what he's staring at. Steam pours out of Ben's ears as he tries to remember how to pronounce the word "nothing," but Jonesy has already moved on to bigger and smarter things. Like Pa Pimp, for example, who corners everyone's favorite jiggly gimp for a quick little chat. He then proceeds to demand $50 from Jonesy as payment for all the times he slept with the little wifey. Jonesy pretty much takes this news in stride, and even agrees to shake on it after Pa offers him a friends-only discount and knocks the price down to $40. My problem, however, is that I can't quite decide whether the best part of this scene comes when Tim DeKay hawks a perfectly phlegmilicious loogie into the dust, or when U.S. currency is variously referred to as both "simoleans" and "clams." Yeah. I think I'm gonna go with the spitting.
Sofie, however, seems to have chosen the monetary euphemisms, because she was totally eavesdropping on their entire conversation. She notes that $40 is a lot of money, and wonders aloud if Jonesy might have lost a bet. "Something like that," he mutters. She's all smiley and happy, and even invites him out on a little date for that evening, asking him to meet up with her after the shows are over. Foreshadowing quickly glances up from the laptop he's using to peruse Zap2it.com and reminds us all that Sofie already knows about Jonesy and Ma Cooch at this point. Jonesy, however, is so happy at the thought of getting himself a little demon girl loving later that night that he doesn't even notice Ben eying up Sofie as a potential winner in the Publisher's Death House sweepstakes.
Prisoner #34H-666: Benjamin Krohn Hawkins. Convicted February 9th, 1934 of first-degree murder, polluting without a license, and possession of mud with intent to distribute. Sentence: Ten years. Up for parole as soon as the stink fades. Or, you know, something like that. Samson is chatting with a cop, who has shown him a wanted poster featuring a picture of Ben. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether the tiny little Hitler mustache Ben seems to sporting in the picture is an omen for the future, or just another smudge of dirt. Instead, I'll merely point out that Ben's middle name is Krohn, and that Justin's Americanized adoptive name is Crowe. Relevant? Probably. But not until Season Four at the earliest. Samson tells the cop that Ben was with the carnival, but stayed behind when everyone left Babylon. Jonesy wanders by, and cheerfully backs this story to the hilt. The cop, however, doesn't buy a word of it, and asks for permission to look around. He gets it, and Jonesy immediately runs off to warn Ben, telling him to "find a hole and dig down deep." Heh. Dirt is definitely the best camouflage for Ben.
California. Tommy Dolan has come knocking at the Crowe house, only he doesn't actually get to knock, because Iris opens the door just as he was raising his hand. He's all confused, because he claims to have just dropped by on the spur of the moment, but Justin and Iris were obviously expecting him. Iris even has the lemonade ready, although that's probably just to set up the hilarious shot of her and her brother happily taking simultaneous sips. Lemonade is totally the new Kool-Aid! "So I hear you think I burned down my church," offers Brother Justin, by way of a conversation-starter. Tommy backpedals, and insists that he was only concerned that other people might believe that story, and thus try to scapegoat Justin for the fire. "What you need to do is beat them to the punch," he adds. "Get your side of the story out there first. Perhaps we could schedule a recurring radio interview on Monday mornings? What do you say?" "I could use a man like you," replies Justin. "You know how to use that to reach an audience." The "that" in this case is a radio, of course, although it could just as easily be a computer, and now the parallels between me and Tommy are starting to get a little frightening. "Do you need an audience?" wonders Tommy. "What I need will take some time to accomplish," replies Brother Justin. "I'm thinking Season Seven at the earliest. But the first step is getting out my message." Tommy agrees to help, but does say that he wants something in return. "My sister?" inquires Justin. Ha! Iris looks a little embarrassed by this, but Tommy looks as though he's been slapped. He backpedals again, almost all the way to Sacramento this time, and says that all he really wants is an exclusive on Justin's story. "I'm reminded of the phrase 'making a deal with the devil,'" quips Justin, as the two men shake on their arrangement. "Oh, come on," laughs Tommy. "I'm not that bad." "No," replies Justin. "No, you're not." Heh. Best line of the night.
Carnieland. Gabe waits. Human beings evolve to the point where our vestigial pinky toes fall off. Lila is watching him this time, from behind the curtains in Lodz's trailer. She's worried about Adrienne, but Lodz insists that there's nothing to worry about. "You know something, you old fraud," realizes Lila. "Consider the fate of cats and curiosity," remarks Lodz. Lila scoffs, and was no doubt about to deliver a withering reply about teaching old dogs new tricks or why turtles are faster than rabbits, but before she can, the record Lodz has just dropped onto his gramophone goes flying across the room to smash into a wall. The needle drops onto another album, and suddenly the lyric "I want you...I want you...I want you" repeats over and over again. "[Mommatose]," whispers Lodz, with a smile. Heh. Okay, that was cool. And I totally want that power for myself.
Meanwhile, the cop from earlier is out on the midway, making a big show of getting into his car to leave. Samson waits nearby, leaning up against a truck that has Ben hiding inside. Samson narrates the cop's every action, explaining that it's all just a trick to see if Ben will come out of hiding. "I told him you were in Babylon," his sighs. "But he knows you're here someplace." Once the cop drives off, Samson changes the subject and asks about Ben's conversation with Management. "He said he had some answers for me," explains Ben. "Obviously I told him I wasn't interested, because I got bitten by a red answer once when I was a kid, and it really, really hurt. But then he said that him and me...we're alike." "Is that a fact?" wonders Samson. Ben also reveals that Management told him how to help someone, but that there's a price for doing it. "And who's going to pay that price?" Samson wants to know. He walks right up to Ben, and plants the tip of his walking stick squarely in the boy's chest. "Look, I don't know what it is you gotta do, and I don't care," he snarls. "But I do know what kinda games Management plays. He don't care much for people, like pieces moving around on a board. These people around here mean more than that to ME, so whatever you got to do, make sure it happens to somebody else. Someone who won't be missed. Someone more like you." Hell, yeah! Marry me, Samson! "There ain't nothing good happened since you come here," he concludes. "Not for us, and not for you."
Cut to Mommatose's trailer, with Lodz arriving in response to her summons. "So what is it you wanted to tell me?" he asks, as he lays a hand on her forehead.
Cut to Sofie, watching Libby rehearsing a vastly improved version of La Coocharaca's matador dance. Now that's one red cape I'd sure like to charge. (Oy. Did I just say that out loud?) Libby finally notices that she's being watched, and gets all embarrassed. Sofie, however, gets all jealous and worried that Libby might like La Cooch more than her, and therefore asks if Libby will still be her drinking partner. "I thought you weren't going to go near the worm again," replies Libby. Oy. Did she just say that out loud? "I wasn't," flirts Sofie. "But I just keeping thinking about it. Truth is, I keep thinking about you." "Me, too," answers Libby, and I'd say that you could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife, but Brother Justin already did that in the opening scene. "I just feel like you're the only one in the whole world I can trust," confesses Sofie. "And I know you would always look out for me, and protect me, and make sure no one ever hurt me." In other words, this is Libby's last chance to spill what she knows about Jonesy and Ma Cooch before Sofie does something really scary. "I would," insists Libby. "Absolutely, if I could." But she doesn't say anything about Jonesy, and so Sofie announces that she has to leave. She turns around in the doorway, however, and asks if Libby wants to get together after the show that night. "Someplace private," she adds. "Yeah," answers Libby, who appears nervous, but nowhere near as nervous as she should be.
And then we cut back to Mommatose, telling Lodz something that apparently shocks him quite a bit.
Lodz: How long have you known?
Mommatose: Oh, I'd say about a trimester-and-a-half.
Lodz: It can't be her. This is madness!
Mommatose: What's so mad about it? Libby is kind of cute, I think. Would you rather she went for Lila?
Lodz: Madness!
Mommatose: Well, in that case, get out. Now.
Lodz complies with that demand, but as soon as he steps outside, the entire carnival is shaken by a booming peal of thunder. Everyone looks up to the heavens to see what is going on (even Gabe, who is still waiting, of course), but no answers are to be found.
Town. It's the same one from last week, and Ben drives up to the saloon where he ran into the tree-covered Tattoo Wearing Adorable Tyke last week. That makes me sad that there's no Creepy Ugly Naked Tattooed Guy in this finale, because I was totally looking forward to a lengthy arboreal battle in Acapulco, or wherever this town is supposed to be. Ben wanders into the bar, and notices a guy with a nasty cough hanging out at one of the tables. Flick...ahh. Ben asks the bartender about Coughing Man (but not the Tattoo Wearing Adorable Tyke or any of the other potentially useful clues he saw last week), and is told that the guy is no one important, and is really just "leftover trash from the fiesta." Well isn't that convenient. How come there's never an anonymous, tuberculotic, murder-worthy homeless guy around when I need one? Ben leads the guy into the same back-alley set where Sofie puked, only now it's been re-dressed with some extra boxes and significantly fewer chickens. We're also mercifully spared the scene where Ben actually had to convince the guy to come with him, because the coughing, the stupidity, and the language barrier would have made it about fourteen hours long. Ben lays Coughing Man (or, as I like to call him, Coughing And Only Capable Of Being Killed Man) down in some garbage, and looks around to make sure that no one is watching. He then grabs the guy's throat, but pulls away before he actually manages to accomplish anything more smearing dirt onto the dude's neck. Ben may be dumb, but he's no killer. This is also where the first of those pesky "But I thought he had to be touching the person to heal them?" questions pops up, but we'll talk more about that later.
Gabe waits. Ruthie decomposes.
Ben walks home. So wait. He just left the car in town? The hell? Did he forget about it? Did he lose the keys? Did he lend it to that Russian Paulie and Christopher tried to kill? Does HBO's prop department have a team that does nothing but recover cars that have fallen into giant plot holes? Because they did at least manage to find Lisa's. At any rate, Ben soon finds himself standing in front of the local cemetery, where the residents have set up all kinds of shrines and candles and altars and whatnot. It's very pretty, but I'd hate to be the groundskeeper in charge of cleaning up all that melted wax in the morning. Ben kneels down in front of a gravestone with the Templar cross on top, and then we slowly fade to black.
California. Father Walton sits alone in his church, studying a book about demonic possession, and scribbling himself a note to move The Exorcist to the top of his Netflix queue. Because he's sneaky like that, Brother Justin suddenly appears in the pew beside him, giving his mentor a fright by smugly asking if he's feeling well. "I'm fine," replies Pa Walton. "How are you?" "I'm a changed man," answers Justin. "And that concerns you. I can't say that I blame you. From your position it must look as if I've gone mad. Or worse." Oh, it's definitely worse. Justin checks out the book on exorcisms, and wonders if Father Walton is actually becoming a "Papist." Right. So I guess he's not Catholic, then. You know what, I'm not even going to try to understand this stuff anymore. Which is okay, because I'm clearly not the only one. In response to my question about the proper sacramental verb, I received almost forty emails, with about ten different answers. Apparently, communions can be given, served, administered, houseled, offered, or dispensed. I'm also giving bonus points to Charles H., who came up with "houseled" and who also points out that "anisomastia" is the correct term for having one breast that's larger than the other. I learn something new everyday on this job. Justin asks Father Walton about seeing the holy water cross turn into blood, and Walton demands that Justin turn away from the demon within him before it's too late. "There is no demon within me," insists Justin. "But there is one within you. All men have sinned against God at least once in their lives. Even you."
This, of course, leads us straight into Brother Justin's patented Sin-O-Vision, where everything goes black and we're mysteriously transported to a darkened country road. The transition effect was quite nice, although the billowing fog behind the approaching horse-drawn carriage was a little too Bram Stoker's Dracula for my tastes. Justin and Old Father Walton watch silently as Young Pa Walton emerges from the carriage to investigate two little kids hiding by the side of the road. "John Boy?" he calls. "Mary Ellen? Is that you?" Nope. It's Alexei and Irina. "Are you a man of God?" asks Irina. Young Pa Walton introduces himself as a minister, and Irina runs to him, begging for help. Alexei just watches this in a cold silence.
And then we're back to the present, with Father Walton floored by what he's just seen. "My greatest evil?" he wonders. "Saving your life? Giving you refuge? Protecting and nurturing you?" Well, yeah. He's eeeeeeeevil. Or have you not figured that out yet? Justin is equally appalled, insisting that this just isn't possible. "By your own words!" bellows Father Walton. "The sin I must embrace, the evil that I have brought into this world is..." "Is me!" finishes Justin, as he doubles over in agony on the altar. Father Walton tries to convince his pupil to pray to God to get the demon within him to leave. "There is no demon in me," gasps Justin. "The demon IS me." Dun dun DUH! Justin struggles to his feet, and grabs a hefty candelabra off the altar. He passes it to Father Walton, whispering, "Do the thing you must do." Pa is torn, but Justin's continued begging finally convinces him. He raises the candelabra over his head, allowing the back-light from the window behind him to flow over the scene as he recites the 23rd Psalm, but then at the last moment his nerve falters, and he drops the candlestick and runs straight out of the church. Justin looks up to watch him go, and his eyes go black as he shouts in anger. Whew. That scene was great, but it was seriously a bitch to recap.
Back at the cemetery, Ben is struggling to remember what Management told him earlier that same morning. "It was something about taking a give, or living a take, or something like that. I think," he thinks. Okay, not really. We actually just get a voice-over of Management reminding us that you have to take life to give it, the better to explain why Ben has just pulled out a knife and slit his own throat. Woohoo! Best finale ever! Ben topples to the ground, shuddering as the blood flows from the wound and immediately congeals into a healing mud poultice. But then Scudder appears, saying, "It doesn't work that way. You're meant for greater things." He lays a hand on Ben's forehead, adding, "This is who you are." We get a sepia-toned flashback to Ben's greatest healing hits, which include the stopped storm from "Black Blizzard," the kitten, Gabe's arm, and frequent shots of the word "Tavatara." Then Scudder moves his hand to cover Ben's neck wound (See! You do have to touch to heal!), and Ben suddenly jerks to his feet. "You must make a choice," explains Scudder, who may or may not have symbolically chosen to wear his black tuxedo (as opposed to the white one) for this encounter. "I'm sorry," he concludes, before vanishing when he realizes that Ben isn't going to ask him for any further details. Ben, of course, just stands there for a minute or two, looking stupid and wondering why his neck isn't bleeding any more. Then he leans over and uses the blood that has already spilled to spell out "Tavatar" on a nearby headstone. After a moment's thought, he crosses out the initial "T," leaving just the word "Avatar." He still doesn't know what it means, though.
So, yeah. A lot of people have been asking why I hate Nick Stahl so much, and the truth is that I really don't. I hate Ben, not Nick, and the reason I hate him is that his plot arc this season has required him to be incredibly stupid and passive, solely to preserve suspense for big reveals in future episodes. He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't pursue leads, he ignores blatantly obvious clues, and he basically had nothing to do all season. Plus he's all dirty and stinky, and he gets to make out with Adrienne Barbeau and I don't. That's why I said I thought Nick was wrong for the part, although I suppose it's weirdly of to his credit that he can't portray "idiotic" very well. If Ben had more to do, Nick would totally be fine. Otherwise they should have cast Jake Gyllenhaal or Joey Lawrence and just been done with it. Whoa!
California. Justin is in his bedroom, staring into his whip box like it's the suitcase from Pulp Fiction or something. Iris enters behind him, announcing that people are already gathering, although we don't yet know what they're gathering for. "The Bible tells us we are all born in sin. Each of us damned at birth," Justin whispers. Yep, that pretty much sums up my life. "The Bible also tells us redemption is possible," answers his sister, as she strokes his hair. "We can all be reborn again, with God's love. And if his isn't available, you can have mine anytime you want it, little brother." "Perhaps God has other plans for some of us," Justin concludes. And with that, he gets up to leave the room, having finally accepted his purpose in life. Iris totally fails to smell the whip one last time, but I suppose we can't have everything.
Carnieland. It's night, and the shows are coming to an end. In Management's trailer, The Boss is congratulating Lodz on a job well done. "Such loyal service should be rewarded," he growls, before ordering Lodz to come closer. Lodz complies with that demand, and the light flashing off his sunglasses is a pretty good clue as to what the reward will be.
Over in the Cooch tent, meanwhile, Pa Pimp is counting up the night's take, and looking pretty happy about it. He also describes the money as "something to feed the kitty," and I've decided to take the "kitty" and "clam" euphemisms for money as a shout-out to my obscure vaginal acronyms. I'm sorry, did I just use the phrase "obscure vaginal acronyms" in a sentence? Yeah. I've been doing this job for way too long. Pa also mentions that a couple of "gentleman callers" said they'd be interested in getting their scars licked by Ma, but Rita Sue pointedly lays the little red pig out on the table and announces that she's all booked up. Aww. See? What a lovely family. But then Libby comes through the tent, all dressed up in a fancy black dress, and her father has to ask if she's seeing a "Johnny" he doesn't know about. Oy. I bet Dan Quayle just loves this show. Libby claims that she's just meeting a friend, and then gives lie to that statement by spraying about twelve gallons of perfume onto herself. She leaves, and her parents are way too horny to care whom their daughter is sleeping with.
Libby crosses the carnival to find Sofie hanging out by a tent, and they both kick off their date by lighting cigarettes. Flick...ahh. Then they stare deep into each other's eyes and kiss. I think it's kind of sad that I'm watching this on TV, and it's still the best date I've ever been on. It's also officially surpassed Schillinger and Keller as my all-time favorite televised same-sex kiss. Not that I actually keep track of these things.
Fade to Jonesy, arriving for his own date with Sofie. Of course, when he gets there, he finds her and Libby making out in the back of a truck. Now that's more like the sort of dates I usually go on. He's shocked and appalled, and even Libby looks more than a little embarrassed. Sofie, however, just coldly stares him down. "This is what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you love," she tells him. "You fucked [Ma Cooch], and you knew," she adds, looking over at Libby. Then she pulls up her stockings (no granny-panties this week), and stomps back to her trailer. Ooh, burn. Except the burn part actually comes later.
Gabe waits. The light from a star that went supernova fifty million light-years away arrives just in time to bask this scene in an eerie glow. Ben is inside Adrienne's trailer, staring silently at her body. He gently touches her face, but nothing happens. I guess we're supposed to believe that's the touch he used to heal her. Or maybe not. He steps outside, and apologizes to Gabriel for not being able to help. Gabe, of course, goes right back to his waiting. Slowly, inexorably, I move closer to the top of the Steelers' twenty-year season ticket wait-list.
Sofie's trailer. She sits in her chair, thinking silently.
California. Justin has assembled all of his followers in a darkened church, and he's preparing to deliver his first official radio address. He snaps his fingers a few times (which is as close as we'll ever get to seeing that pendulum clock from Ben's dream sequences), and then begins the sermon: "The clock is ticking, my friends," he intones. "Counting down to Armageddon."
Back to Sofie. She grabs her suitcase and prepares to leave, but gets stopped short when Mommatose actually whispers her name. Heh. One line in thirteen episodes. I guess it's not bad work if you can get it. As Sofie crosses to stand beside her mother, Justin continues to preach in a subtextually relevant voice-over: "The worm reveals himself in many guises across this once great land. From the intellectual elite cruelly indoctrinating our children with the savage blasphemy of Darwin [how can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?] to the craven Hollywood pagans corrupting them in the darkness of the local bijou [I've seen the Matrix sequels. No argument here]. From the false prophets cowering behind our nation's pulpits [that's not all they're doing back there], to the vile parasites in our banks and boardrooms [shout-out?], and the Godless politicians growing fat on the misery of their constituents [hmm. I'd have pegged Brother Justin as Bush man. So to speak]. The signs of the end times are all around us, etched in fire and blood [and foreshadowing] by the left hand of God!"
Sofie sits beside her mother, shocked to hear her speak. Mommatose telepathically slams the trailer door shut, and then reaches out her hand to grab Sofie's arm. A lamp explodes, sending burning kerosene across the floor, and Sofie genuinely begins to panic when she can't break free of Mommatose's grip. "The Antichrist, the Child of Lies, the Son of Darkness walks among us," continues Justin, as the shots change from Sofie to Ben, arriving in Management's trailer. "Does the Lord not weep at the degradation? Does he not tremble with righteous fury? And shall he not seek retribution?"
While the voice-over goes on, we cut outside to the midway, where the Twins have arrived for their farewell performance. After twelve episodes, they finally get something useful to do: spotting the fire and warning all the other carnies. Bye, Twins! You were always my secret favorites!
Inside, Sofie continues her struggle, and Ben takes this time to tell off Management. "I ain't like you," he gripes. "I ain't one of your kind, and I can't do it. God takes what's his, and man don't take it back." "That is where you are wrong," replies Management. "Well, one of the places you're wrong, at least. You see, God had nothing to do with Ruthie's fate. It was Professor Lodz who murdered your friend. In the cathedral. With a candlestick." Lodz reacts to this like a mobster who's just been accused of wearing a wire, but his protestations of innocence do have a faintly staged air about them. It's entirely possible that this entire scene was cooked up by Lodz and Management for reasons that won't be explained until Season Fourteen at the earliest, but for now all that matters is that Ben reacts by staring down Lodz. "Look into his eyes," suggests Management, and Ben slaps away Lodz's glasses to reveal a perfectly normal pair of corneas. Then he grabs Lodz by the throat, and starts choking him. Boo! Worst finale ever!
Justin's voice-over resumes as the fire grows and all the carnies gather round to watch as rousties throw water on the trailer in vain. "I open my eyes and I see a blood sky that tears apart and screams with a voice that is thunder, 'Rise up! Rise up, brothers and sisters, and take your place at my side! There'll be incest and Kool-Aid for everyone!'" Just as he finishes that sentence, Jonesy finally arrives at the burning trailer, shouting Sofie's name. He grabs a bucket of water and douses himself, and then he grabs another bucket and does it again. Pa Pimp and Ma Cooch call out for him to stop, but he dashes straight into the burning trailer anyway. "For you shall be my side, and your fate shall shine like a thousand suns," screams Brother Justin.
Management's trailer. Ben chokes the last bit of life out of Lodz, saying, "Take a good look, you son of a bitch. You take a good look!" And then Lodz dies, and we all get to see more of Patrick Bachau's tongue than I really needed. "It appears we are of like nature after all," snarks Management.
The fire rages. So does Justin. "Together brothers and sisters, together we shall build a shining temple," he concludes. "A kingdom that will last for thousands and thousands of years." Yeah. Dan Knauf should be so lucky. Fade to black.
And then suddenly, Adrienne Barbeau sits up in bed and gasps for air. She's alive! Alive, I say! Fade to black, and then to the credits.
Well, that's it, kids. Maybe for good, but probably not. It'd be a shame if this show doesn't get a second season, because like I said at the beginning, I still really feel like there's a great story here, just waiting to get started. If this was the prologue, I'm totally ready for chapter one. I'd also like to add, by the way, that the bit with Jonesy dousing himself in water just has to be a shout-out to all of us. I think it's pretty clear that the PTB on this show pay a lot of attention the internet, because they've graciously toned down the dirt, sped up the storylines, and given us all the jiggle we can handle here in the second half of the season. Hell, even Clancy Brown admitted that sending Jonesy into the trailer like that was probably based on his massive fan support. His theory was that HBO just wanted some leverage in case Tim DeKay points to the Limpies and asks to renegotiate his contract in the off-season. But even with this episode's potentially massive body count, I still wouldn't get too worried about all your favorite characters. I mean, it's not like anyone ever stays dead for long on this show. (Which, incidentally, gives me a perfect excuse to plug the fact that I'll also be recapping Tru Calling this week. And those guys should DEFINITLY take their letter grades personally.) After all, Justin jumped off a bridge and came back, Ruthie got bit by a snake and came back, Dora Mae's got a whole town full of horny zombie miners, and God only knows what's up with Scudder. Hell, even kittens have nine lives on this show (which only proves my "Ben is stupid" theory even more, because curiosity kills cats, and Ben resurrects them). So I'm sure everyone will be back for season, only Mommatose's spirit will have been seared into the record player so she can only communicate through song selection, and Jonesy will probably have an adamantium leg brace or something. My bet? Sofie's in a coma, and she gives birth just like her mamma did. I'll see you all back here in 2005 to find out for sure. Now let's go shake some dust.