Deadwood TV Show - I Am Not the Fine Man You Take Me For - Deadwood Recaps, Deadwood Reviews, Deadwood Episodes | TWoP

By Al Lowe

Al is awake in his bed, looking dangerous even when he's half-asleep. He rolls over, looking puzzled, when he hears a boozy voice in the street. A drunk is staggering around the hustings, taking advantage of the platform to speechify to no one. "I am not the fine man you take me for," he says. Al no doubt agrees as the guy continues, disturbing his attempts to fall back to sleep. His eyes shoot open as the dude goes on, giving his personal testimony of his time in Deadwood. He came there, he says, to sell a string of horses and try his luck at panning. "What I got for the stock," he says, "I lost at the wheel, and the flake I washed up, I drank the fuck away."

Al's face is impassive as he listens. The man says he doesn't know if he'll ever get home. "I sold my boots," he slurs. "I owe nine dollars to a whore..." With this, he passes out and, like a true hoople, manages to kill himself when he falls from the hustings and breaks his neck. What better way to illustrate the lesson Al's been trying to get us to understand for all this time? Democracy leads only to worry and death.

When the sun finally rises, Al goes to join Dan and Johnny who are out in the thoroughfare, pretty much in their underwear, checking out the dead guy. Dan is...barefoot, if you can even imagine it, and shirtless which...was just not necessary. I don't like to think of Dan in such a vulnerable state. W. Earl Brown is just my hero in so many ways. I don't want to see him looking vulnerable.

Johnny, on the other hand, is hanging out in his union suit. Guns drawn, they look over their shoulders, on the lookout for trouble. "It's just a brokeneck hoople, Al," Dan says, shrugging. Al's pissed anyway. No matter that they guy was no threat, he's mad that no one was on watch to protect the interests of the Gem. "Turns on watch, Johnny," Dan says, "'til this goddamned Hearst bidness settles out." Al, still looking rumpled and sleepy, scoffs a little. "Not that we lack options," he says. "Like the sleep from which none awaken." They turn to walk back inside and we see that Johnny is, shall we say, catching a breeze on the backside. "Will you close your flap," Al says, disgusted, "that I don't forgo my boiled eggs?"

In his rooms, Hearst studiously prepares a document, seals it with wax and hands it off to Captain Turner for delivery.

By Al Lowe

At the Bella Union, Joanie has arrived again to see after Cy. All Cy scenes in this episode grate on my nerves. He has been relegated now to a third-string villain of no importance and as well as Powers Boothe does to make him still seem at least personally menacing, all I can ask is: what's the use? These scenes are filler and this one, in particular, has got some convoluted dialogue that doesn't work at all, much like we just saw between Al and Dan. Joanie is queasy as she straightens up around the room. Cy gets preachy on her, waving his Bible, saying it brings him peace and can do the same for her. "I try to believe," she says, before finally breaking down, choking back tears and telling him that she almost shot herself at Shaunnessey's the day before. He says she put the gun to her head because she's removed herself from her rightful and useful occupation. "I don't see you try to kill yourself here," he says, indicating the Bella Union. "All you do here is good for the girls, and me, too." Joanie is desperately miserable. "I don't want to run women no more," she says. Cy: "And that's turnin' from your gift, and your training!" Ugh. Nice one, Cy. Joanie tells him that when he speaks, she feels like it's the devil talking and he squints, no doubt in appreciation. They are interrupted by Con Stapleton (back in his hat) who announces that "fuckin' Lila is in extremis." Joanie goes out to see to the girl and Cy grimaces, foiled again in his attempts to control anyone or anything.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Wiping away tears, Joanie goes out to find Leon on the front stoop with the messed-up Lila. She spits at him to get inside, threatening to shoot him with her own gun, and throws Lila's arm over her shoulder. "Let me die, Joanie," Lila begs, but Joanie is in no mood for whining. "Start walkin', you lousy whore," Joanie says, pushing her forward and away from Cy's place. "Start walkin'."

Jane comes out of the Chez Amie/schoolhouse to find Mose on the porch. "Slept inside in case you wasn't aware," she says, hands on hips. "Miss Stubbs' request. Thought she'd try someone competent keepin' watch." She looks around nervously. "She's off to the Bella Union," Mose says, answering her unasked question, and Jane grabs up a huge watering can in frustration. "I can't worry about her right now," she hollers. "Could you just help me lug in the fuckin' water? I'm, for the day, off the bottle and about to bathe." Lumbering to his feet, Mose makes a good crack: "Camp get up a petition?"

The fellas at the Gem are in a quandary over Hearst's note. On the page is a diagram looking like some weird game of Hangman. Dan is stressed trying to figure it out and Adams and Johnny can offer no guidance. "I can sniff this all you want, boss," Dan finally admits to a serene Al. "But, I ain't got one fuckin' scintilla of an idea what these marks mean." Al sips his coffee. "What if that's the door of our joint?" he asks, meaning a box drawn at the top of the paper. The boys look closer. Johnny runs his finger along a line on the side, saying that that must then be the bar. "What would that make the Xs?" Adams asks about the four figures placed in front of the line. Al: "Murderers?" They all clench a little, but Al quietly tells Adams to and see to his house deal with Sol. Adams sighs a very put upon sigh, but walks out with no backchat (because he is smart). Johnny seems very proud of himself, as if he alone has figured out and explained the whole situation.

In the backroom of the Chez Amie, Jane lowers her nude self into the bath. This time, we get a look at everything we missed the last time she took one. In the tub, she sighs and loudly practices her speech. "A few fuckin' things history proves," she says with authority to a room full of no one. "You sit still; you fuckin' memorize; you repeat back what you fuckin' learn; or, choosing otherwise, you display your knuckles to be struck fuckin' bloody on the fuckin' desk!" Right on. The children of Deadwood will be singing Pink Floyd songs in no time. Mose, who is lingering on the other side of the slatted door, asks if that's how she's really going to begin her speech to the kids. "Shut the fuck up, Mose!" she yells. "And don't tease me at a crucial fuckin' hour." Shy, he musters himself to ask if he can listen to the story she is going to tell. Jane is surprised and considers it. "From outside," she demands, smirking, "at your post, near the shitter."

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

In the back room of the Grand Central, E.B. delivers the greatest line of all time: "Could you have been born, Richardson," E.B. asks his doting nursemaid, "and not egg-hatched as I've always assumed?" Richardson applies more balm to E.B.'s wounds as his mean old boss goes on. "Did your mother hover over you, snaggle-toothed and doting," he asks, "as you now hover over me?" Sweetly and stupidly, Richardson answers: "I loved my mother." E.B. gets his mean on. William Sanderson is so brilliant in this scene. "Puberty may bring you to understand," he snarks, "that what we take for mother love is really murderous hatred and a desire for revenge." My mother would probably agree. Nobody is better at those things than she is, which is why I love her so very much.

Richardson asks if E.B. will be giving his mayoral speech that night and E.B. takes a swig of whiskey. His injuries at the hands of Bullock have inspired him to a rewrite. "Whatever night I give it, count on me not to mince words," he says, trotting out his new paragraphs: "'Electors of the camp, as to who should serve as mayor, reasonable men may differ. But as to who should be Sheriff, we all ought to speak with one voice. And our words should be, "turn out the maniac Bullock, who set upon the Mayor unprovoked, who beat him with merciless protraction. Bullock should be murdered! We should rise up and murder Bullock! Thank you very much.'" From the haze of dumbness clouding his brain, Richardson understands it all: "My father didn't liked me," he says, with deep sympathy. E.B. has revealed too much. "I'd like to use your ointment," he says to the only person in the world who cares whether he lives or dies, "to suffocate you."

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

In the thoroughfare, Ellsworth is morose as he walks Sophia to school. When he sees the Bullocks leave their house, he asks if it's all right if she walks with them. "My mother's sick," she says, as she joins Mrs. Bullock and the sheriff looks up quickly with fear in his eyes as Ellsworth goes back to his house.

Davey stops a potential Gem patron from entering, announcing tersely that they are closed for the fifteen minutes. Al is at the bar, wiping it down with the ferocity of a tiger. Also at the bar? The two parpers who came in last time to kill that Cornish dude. All is seemingly easy-peasy in the Gem. Dan's having a shave over in Barney's chair. Johnny, in his corner, is trying to look while he glances back and forth between Hearst's diagram and the four men who have arrived in the bar and set up just like it shows in the picture. Al, behind the bar, surveys them all with a look of mock innocence. The head parper orders whiskey and before Al can even reach for it, the second asshole demands beer. Al throws up his hands. "I'm concerned it might be taken as provocation," he says, "me serving his whiskey before you getting your beer, or the very reversal of that." Hell, do they even serve beer at the Gem? I've never seen anyone drink it. It's Coors Light, isn't it? That's probably why.

The two jags go on pretending that they aren't there to provoke, but of course Al is in on the score and reverses the whip on them. "And these others, they friends of yours that come in on your heels?" he asks of the two guys Hearst has sent as backup. "You friends of these boys, fellas? Should I be taking your orders all together?" The parpers are starting to look nervous. They demand their drinks, but Al smoothly goes on with his show. "Was yours the fuckin' beer?" he asks Parper No. 1, squinting. "Mine," the guy answers with hostility, "was the fuckin' whiskey." Al nods. Meanwhile, Dan very subtlely moves Barney's hand out of his way. "Right, then," Al says, walking over with the whiskey. "Right you fuckin' are." And with that, he quickly throws the drink in the guy's face and, from nowhere, whips out a knife, grabs the parper's collar and slits his throat. At the other end, the beer lover is gutted by Dan in the blink of an eye, and Johnny is up with the shotgun, scared to death, but training it on the two backup dudes. Ahhhh. It's been so long since we've seen Al or Dan kill someone...it's like a breath of fresh air. Al, still gripping the dead man's collar, tells Johnny not to shoot. "If these fellas had been sent here to draw," he says, smiling, "I believe they'd have already done it." He tells the guys to go on, announcing to them on their way out that the election speeches, should they be interested, are back on for tonight. The men scramble out, passing Charlie on his way in. He takes in the scene with just a glance. Al's bloody knife, when not even pointed at you, is a pretty good temperance message. "I'll drink...after I've et," Charlie says, turning on his heels. He runs into another patron and crooks his arm, do-si-do-ing him back out the door. "No, uh-uh," he says. "You don't want to go in there. He's not even out the door before Al lets the parper drop with a thud and Dan pulls the knife from No. 2's back. To them, I suppose it's all in a day's work, but what of poor Barney, who has pissed his trousers? I hope he gets a raise.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

At the hardware store, Sol is nauseated. Adams is there to sign over the house deed. "Definitely a prudent investment," Bullock says, looking on as Sol reviews the papers. Adams smirks in that smoking, impossibly hot way he has. "If I could control even one of my vices," he says, "believe me, I'd have kept the house, myself." At this, Charlie walks in and nods to Bullock to come out and talk. Ready to seal the deal, Adams spits in his hand for the traditional Deadwood deal-sealer and offers it to Sol. "Oh, no," the new homeowner says, looking even more queasy and pointing to the deeds. "That's what these are for." He signs on the dotted line.

At the Ellsworth house, Mrs. E is looking wan and beautiful, laid out on her would-be death bed, giving testimony in front of her husband and Trixie, who is serving as a witness. Alma reviews for our benefit the Ellsworth's Old West pre-nup: "My husband and I agreed before marrying that property held by either of us before our union would not be encumbered by our marriage." Oh, if only Britney Spears had had this same foresight. Call me, girl. We all just want to help you. "As to such properties held by me," she continues, "I name my ward, Sophia, inheritor." Trixie makes a sad face and turns to Ellsworth. "I've heard her," she whispers. But Alma goes on. "I wish no amendment as to guardianship or administration of those properties," she says. Trixie looks a little sick, and in a deeper voice, tells the very surprised Ellsworth that she's heard that part, too. Poor ol' Ellsworth, man. He gets browbeaten into marrying this lady, who is pregnant with Bullock's kid, and all he does is take care of her and the little girl who he loves, and now Bullock is going to end up being the daddy anyway? Ugh. I mean, I get it -- Alma knows Bullock will be better able to protect Sophia's interests against Hearst, but...still. It's harsh. Ellsworth swallows it, though, and asks if Bullock shouldn't be there to accept in person. Alma cuts him a look, as if he's getting upset. "This is property before our marriage," she reminds him. "I know what it is," he says, half-grieved. "Don't he need to accept, being steward now to Sophia's interests? Why don't I go fetch him?"

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

At the schoolhouse, Martha leads a timid Jane in front of the kiddies to give her presentation. Don't you wish they had PowerPoint back then? Jane could be all: "slide. Now, here's the horse I rode in on."

The children are all glad to see her, especially Sophia, who can barely contain a smile. "There's a child I know," Jane says, pointing her out. Sophia waves as Jane starts her speech. "I was a scout for Armstrong Custer," she begins, though she is immediately interrupted by a little boy. "George," he corrects. Jane says that's right, but that she used to call him Armstrong sometimes. "Why?" the little boy asks, receiving a quiet rebuke from Martha. "James," she says, in that mom voice. Jane goes on. "I guess I always spoke of him as Armstrong," she says "because he seemed puffed up to me, and Armstrong has a puffed up sound." The kids laugh and she asks if James has any problem with her continuing. "Go ahead," James says, cheerily and, tipping her hat, Jane sits down.

Back at the hotel, Richardson is looking through E.B.'s secret peephole (not a euphemism). "Uh oh," he says. E.B. lurches up from his sickbed, annoyed that Richardson stopped there without explaining what the uh-oh was about. And here marks the spot where, for once, I relate, nay, strongly identify with E.B., because my husband is the king of this. THE KING. "Do you only feign stupidity," he rants, "while in fact plotting ways to madden me?!" Richardson turns: "Noooohh," he says, driving E.B. even further around the bend. "WHY did you say it?" he asks. "WHY DID YOU SAY 'UH-OH?" Siiiiiiiigh, E.B. I feel you. Please let this be the last time that ever happens. Finally, Richardson reveals that Bullock has entered the hotel, and Hearst has come down from above.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Hearst acknowledges Charlie and Bullock, who sit across the room from him in the restaurant as he enjoys (probably not) his seafood dinner. "Two of his men cut-throat," Charlie whispers, "and he picks the fuckin' fish." Bullock doesn't have time to get into it, however, as Ellsworth has arrived. "My wife would like to see you," he says, pointedly, and Bullock is up and out without another word.

Jane is still going on about Custer at the school. She's slaying them in the aisles, doing imitations of Custer's vanity and talking about how he didn't listen to anything anybody told him. "So," she says, wrapping it up, "I guess my lesson I got to teach you...listen and you won't get scalped. And don't look at yourself too much in the mirror." The kids contemplate this as Martha walks up to end the talk -- but Jane thinks of another one throws in yet more evidence of Custer's arrogance. "He traveled with a dozen caged animals like you'd see in some zoo in the East," she snarks. "Like we don't have enough wild animals around here, huh?" Good closer, Jane. Martha is very pleased: "Let us all thank Jane for her bravery here today." The children give her the classic unison "thaaaank you, Jaaaaane," and she can hardly contain her smile. "I know another brave person here, too," she says, indicating Sophia. "Several," she continues, nodding at Martha. Sweet, sweet Jane.

Dark business at the Ellsworth's. Doc is setting up his clinic using Trixie as a cervical model. She is on her back with her legs open as Doc has Ellsworth position the mirror just right for the procedure yet to come.

In the room, Bullock stands at the foot of Alma's bed as she goes over the whole thing about how she wants things handled in the event of her death. "If my first husband's family attacks Sophia's title in court," she says, "Mr. Hearst might be approached as a purchaser. I'm sure he could buy the relevant authorities." Bullock, in his first true clench of the season, manages to get out an "all right." She goes on. "Given his history with Hearst," she says, "I'd spare Mr. Ellsworth that indignity." Bullock clenches that he understands. Alma pauses, all picturesque like a consumptive on the pillows. Bullock looks at her with echoes of the old smoldering, minus the intensity. "I regret nothing," she says, answering his unasked question. Apparently, there's nothing left to say, as far as Bullock is concerned, and he swiftly turns and goes out, meeting Ellsworth at the foot of the stairs. They don't speak, and Bullock, noting the medical goings-on being prepared, doesn't linger. Whereas the old Bullock would not have hesitated to go out and kick a few random asses to relieve his emotions, the new Bullock seems pretty okay with everything. Outside, Sol creeps around the window trying to get Trixie's attention. When he catches her eye, he gestures and whispers through the glass that he bought the house. He seems almost happy. "Doesn't mean we have to move in together," he says, assuring her that there is no pressure. Trixie smirks and walks away smiling.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Upstairs, Ellsworth is holding it together as best he can. I know I've said it before, but I think Jim Beaver, who plays Ellsworth, is pretty much a genius of an actor. I read in a bio about him that his wife of many years, Cecily Adams, passed away a few years ago, leaving him a single father to their little girl. People, if you can watch these scenes of him without sobbing, the terrorists have won. Alma reaches out to hold his hand, very sweetly reminding him that the full moon approaches and that the two of them and Sophia will watch it, together. I've seen some previews of future episodes that show them arguing, so I don't know what happens with the Ellsworths, but oh my goodness, his face right now, his eyes full of tears, they say only that he wants her to survive.

Dan and Johnny stack up the dead parpers as Davey tries to clean up. "Davey's takin' a fuckin' chance," Johnny says, "not lettin' Al do the scrubbin'." Dan: "That's Davey's fuckin' problem." They heave the last parper onto the pile and Dan sees that Johnny, who is holding up the Hearst drawing yet again, still does not really understand what happened that morning. Sighing, Dan tries again, taking the drawing and squatting down like they're on the sidelines at a Knicks game, pointing and trying to explain it to ALL of us dumbasses. This bullshit of Hearst's diagram is more complicated than even some of the Yankton stuff, so let me try to break it down. Dan says that Hearst sent the two extra guys into the bar to make sure the two original parpers wouldn't be too fast to draw their guns. Thus, he guaranteed that Al and Dan would have enough time to murder the two first guys, and he sent the drawing to give Al notice of his intentions. There's a level of complexity here that is not really being fully explained, but let's all agree that it was a power play on Hearst's part and that Al answered it, on defense. Johnny still looks confused when they stand up, but there's no time for further discussion as one of the parpers, in extremis, lets one rip. Only in Deadwood must we endure the farts of the dead. Parp, indeed. Johnny tries to escape the odor: "That'd knock a buzzard off a shit wagon," he says, and he ought to know. They are struck dumb(er) when the ominous Captain Turner enters the bar.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Upstairs, Al is doing what he hates most, mollifying the emotions of one of his employees. Adams is put out that he's been excluded of all this diagramming and murdering business. "I just..." he starts, "I feel shunted aside or the like; not involved as much as ." Al: "Adams, you were busy with Star." Al says he sent Adams off, yes, but thought he'd be back in time for all the killing to go down. "So it wasn't like a decision you made," he asks, "to have the murders while I was signing the papers?" Al rolls his eyes, hard, at all this ridiculousness. Sometimes Al has to wonder, you know, if his are affected by the menstrual cycles of the Gem women, or something. They are about the PMSiest bunch of men I have ever seen. "You've no idea," Al barks, over it, "how fuckin' badly you're boring me." They are interrupted when Dan comes in to tell Al about Turner. He grabs up his teacup and heads for the door, being sure to stop and give Adams a personal invitation. "Won't you see with me what this might portend?" he asks, pretending to show patience. At the bar, Johnny's feeling his oats. "Drink?" he asks the Captain with not a little smartass in his voice. "Or won't you be stayin'?" Turner is, as ever, completely silent. "Ask the fella who made them Xs," Al says, "if he hires out for portraits." Turner hands over the envelope and walks out. Al takes only a moment to open the new letter and give it a glance. He, too, heads straight for the door. "What's Al doin'?" Johnny asks, worried, as he, Johnny and Adams follow along in single file. "Like I fuckin' know," Dan says. Bringing up the rear, Adams sighs. "If he was trailing water," he says, "we might get took for ducklings."

They follow him out to the thoroughfare where he stops to watch some, er, remodeling being done to the upper level of the Grand Central. Hearst is banging a hole though the outer wall. Al watches, handing the note over to Dan. It's an invitation to come watch the speeches with Hearst on his new veranda, which he is apparently building as they speak. From his shop, Merrick rushes up to Al asking what in the world is going on. "And I inquire," he says, more quietly, "about more than that hole." Al squints at him and follows him back into his shop. I like Al and Merrick together. Who knows why Al puts up with him, but he seems to respect the newspaper man above and beyond his usefulness to Al's schemes. Merrick is pissed that no one is explaining anything to him. He knows someone got shot at the Gem yesterday and wants to hear what happened and why the speeches have been delayed. Al gives him the brush, mostly for his own good, and tells him that the speeches are back on for that night.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Bullock stands in the doorway of Charlie's mailhouse. "Will you mind, Charlie," he asks, "not being noted tonight from the hustings?" Charlie doesn't even hesitate: "[It would] be a godsend," he says. Bullock explains that Mrs. Ellsworth is not well. "If, while I'm on that Goddamn platform, you could station outside her place..." he says. Charlie: "Sure I could." Charlie says he's glad to do it, and asks if Doc's seeing to her. Bullock nods. "In good hands then," Charlie says. Bullock gets a sad look. "And Mrs. Bullock," he says, "sees to Sophia." They smile for a moment about Sophia, and how she thrives now that she has started school. "Sweet as before," Charlie says, "though notably more outgoing." Aw. Bullock gets up to leave, telling him that Trixie will come out of the house at some point to give him the pertinent info on Alma's condition. They have a few awkward pauses. Maybe Bullock wants to confide in him about the baby, maybe he wants to break down, maybe he wants to thank him. He can't, of course, do any of that and Charlie knows it, so Charlie just shrugs. "Fuckin' mail, huh?" he says, and gives Bullock his leave.

Down at Nuttall's, Bullock's rival for office is having a crisis of, well, the bowels. Why are the drunks in Nuttall's more annoying than in any other establishment? I always hate them. I can't tell if this is the same dude I wished ill upon from past seasons, but let's say he is. He's irritating, especially when reminding Harry, who is trying to control his nervous stomach as he prepares for his speech, that he must deliver it in fourteen minutes. "When you was a boy, Rutherford," Harry says, "I bet you was a hand at tying cans to dogs' tails and setting cats ablaze." I wish he had time to stab Rutherford (now I know your name, cocksucker!), but he instead must run for the outhouse. Left alone, Rutherford smirks. "Overturnin' turtles was my specialty."

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

At either the Bella Union or Shaunessey's, I can't tell which, Lila wakes up from her drug haze. "How do you make it through?" she asks Joanie. The older woman doesn't answer. "Go on, girl" she says, though not unkindly. "Get out."

Alma is on the table, steeling herself for the abortion. She looks terrified, but tough. Trixie takes her chin in her hands and looks into her face. "Seven times through, Alma," she says. "And I'm healthy as a fuckin' horse." Rolling up his sleeves, Doc says that he trusts that Trixie won't modify his instructions. "To the letter, Doc," she says, not breaking eye contact with Alma. He tells her to begin, and as she lays the ether cloth over Mrs. E's mouth, Doc checks his hands for steadiness. As she goes under, Doc reminds Trixie to turn her head away from the cloth and breath. She says she's fine, he yells at her, and out of their frustration over this whole sad mess, they snipe all the way through the procedure. "What I'm used to," Trixie says, "this is like smelling fucking posies!" Doc screams that he would just as soon she not fucking pass out. "When you're done with hers, Doc," Trixie screeches back, "why don't you fucking kiss mine?!" Their frustration relieved, they finish the thing in silence.

The crowds are gathering for the speeches. Bullock comes downstairs in his house to find Martha and Sophia rolling out dough for baking. He takes his wife aside. "Mrs. Ellsworth is being seen to by Dr. Cochran," he says in a shaky voice. "And Trixie, I believe, is assisting him." Ah. The old code for: Mrs. Ellsworth, who is pregnant with my baby, is having to have a dangerous abortion. Martha looks at him steadily. "I'll keep care of Sophia while you deliver your speech," she says, adding after a pause, "and we'll both pray for Mrs. Ellsworth." Bullock says nothing else, but surely he is grateful that she is compassionate and not all "yeah, I don't really care what your baby mama is up to, thanks." He goes out to join the crowd.

In his room at the Bella Union, Cy rambles on about Joanie calling him the devil, or whatever, and generally wastes all our time. He clutches his Bible, though it surely burns him, while Leon and Con Stapleton, drugged and drunk, respectively, make idiots of themselves. When Andy Cramed walks in, Stapleton rushes to Cy's room. "Yes, Con?" Cy drones in a pure Boothe-ian tone. Con tells him that Andy is there to see him. "His blade sheathed?" Cy asks. Con says it appears to be. With clear eyes, Cy says to send him in.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Outside, Doc comes out to bring in Ellsworth. Charlie still waits for word of what's going on. He feels someone watching him and looks up to see Joanie in the window of...the Chez Amie? I'm not really understanding where Joanie is in this episode, ever. Sorry. She's...somewhere, looking out the window at Charlie.

Back in Cy's room, ol' Maybelline Tolliver is putting on a performance of a lifetime. Andy is there, and Cy goes through this whole shaking and quivering thing like he's feverish, asking if Andy's an apparition. Andy says he's come to ask forgiveness. I'd like to go through the whole thing, but it just is not important, honestly. Powers Boothe is great, but he's wasted on all this bullshit unless they're really trying to get the point across that Cy's evil is a cartoon compared with Al and Hearst And frankly, if they were going to pull Andy back into things with Cy, I wish they'd leave them as enemies, with Andy being a badass vengeful preacher, gunning for him all the way. Eventually, Cy pulls a gun on Andy, ostensibly to kill him, but this plan is bungled by the entrance of Leon. Andy ends up being way more embarrassed for Cy than afraid of him, and leaves Leon and Con to haul him up to watch the elections.

At the Gem, Al is having to explain to his team how taking them over to Hearst's wouldn't give the right impression to the big man. (Y'all, my crush on Adams has seriously reached Selleckian proportions. What is it? The stache? The eyes? The natty costuming? I love him.) Dan's the one pouting, now. "Know goddamn well Hearst is gonna have his second there," he says, "that sea-creature-looking cocksucker." Al says that Hearst would have it be known that Captain Turner is but a hefty steward of the household. Hee! Hefty! I wish he'd said "husky," but I'll take it. Dan points out that that steward has more than a dozen pelts on his belt. "Even so, Dan, Hearst's man has pretext for his presence," Al explains, taking a shot of whiskey. "You and the others don't, what with the olive branch I'll be bearing between my teeth." Also nervous, Adams asks if Al minds if they keep an eye on him from the Gem balcony. Al: "Not at all. Moment seems meet, blow me a kiss." He turns to leave but Dan, still reluctant to let him go, blocks him. "Excuse me?" Al says, and Dan begrudgingly stands aside.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Charlie is still at his post, and now Joanie has joined him. "If I could," she says, a catch in her voice, "I'd tear my skin off. If I could, I'd put out my eyes." Charlie doesn't know what to say. "Now, now," he tries, but Joanie goes on, unconsoled. "I hate being sick," she says of her mental state. "Cy knew what I was. He knew to pick me all those years back." She's kind of beside herself, and Charlie sighs. "Miss Stubbs," he asks. "Did you like my friend Bill Hickok?" She says that oh, she just met him the one time but yes, she thought he was a gentleman. "He was," Charlie nods, and tears spring immediately to my eyes. Dayton Callie, I am your fan for life. Joanie says she felt like Bill had a good soul. Charlie nods again. He gives it to her straight. "He did, Miss Stubbs," Charlie says, gravel in his sad voice. "I can say that -- I knew him 20 years. And you know what else? Bill, that we both liked so well -- and most everyone did that knew him, including some he killed -- Bill thought as ill of his own self as you seem to do about you." He shrugs, as if he can't understand it. "So go on and try explaining people to me," he says. "And same as hearing me say what Bill thought of hisself I don't expect brings you to think any less of him," he adds, "maybe you, Miss Stubbs, oughtn't to stand judge and jury and every other job in court on your own personal case." Joanie doesn't quite know how to take this kindness, and still Charlie goes on. "Maybe, coming to verdict," he says, "[you should] credit others' opinion of you like you do what you think of Bill...still." It's so touching, and Joanie is quite moved. Charlie takes her hand and holds it as they wait in the quiet night.

Hearst opens the door to Al and gets down to business. "Do you come to me placated, Mr. Swearengen?" he asks. "Never more so, not even as a tiny tot," Al lies. Hearst invites him to come hear the speeches, and Al is forced to follow him onto the "landing" he has so recently created. Ugh. I don't like seeing Al following anybody. He looks small to Hearst. I wish he would stab him, though...fine, I guess that would change the course of history pretty significantly.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

On the hustings, Merrick talks to an uninterested crowd about de Tocqueville's views on democracy in America, a publication which, obviously, very few of our nation's current leaders have studied. The Deadwoodians care as much about de Tocqueville as an audience of soccer moms. He finishes and invites E.B. up on stage to zero fanfare. "Your bosom must swell with pride," Hearst drones as E.B. begins his anti-Semitic diatribe against Sol. "The swellings and the saggings of the tit," Al counters, all jokey, I lay at the exactions of time." Hardy har, Al. Hearst says he means that Al worked so hard to put together all this election stuff, and that to work without pleasure makes us our destiny's slaves. GET OUT OF THERE, AL. Jump off the roof, whatever! You're making me nervous even being there.

E.B. distracts me with his breathtaking racism. "I'll not question those either who have faith in my rival, or make faith an issue of any sort," he says, whistling and making a gesture of a large nose. Sol and Bullock both clench. "We are long past the time of the Pharaohs," E.B. continues, stupidly. "I cannot decree Mr. Star make exodus."

Hearst continues to needle Al. "Were you whipped, Mr. Swearengen?" he asks, causing Al's eyes to narrow. "And does the lash snap still? Do you wait for the strike after all these years?" Oh, SHUT UP, MAJOR DAD. I can't wait for somebody to stab you. Al tries a comeback. "Would the grip have been the part you were versed with?" he asks. Hearst says that to the contrary, he was born to neither power nor money.

E.B. is finishing up in the most hilarious piece of writing I have seen on TV, ever. "A clear choice for Deadwood!" he shouts. "Farnum, twice measured. Star, once cut. E.B. Farnum! Assayed and proven true! Farnum! Christ knows he's earned it!" All over Washington, notes are feverishly made for the White House tree lighting ceremony this holiday season.

Johnny, Dan, and Adams nervously watch their boss man in what looks like an innocent conversation with Hearst. It ain't. "When last we spoke," he reminds Al, "you warranted your willingness to interfere with me." Oh my God, Al. PLEASE jump off the roof. You've done it before!

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Sol is up, now, making a little Jew joke himself about parting the creek. He says he will live and stay in Deadwood for as long as God allows him to. "Keep people from shittin' in the creek," one of his constituents calls out, priorities in order. An original member of the Green Party, I see.

Hearst goes on that his intention in making the sacrifice of the parpers today was to show the virtue of consolidating their interests and power. Al ain't buying it. "I'd say that's naming horseshit virtue," he says, putting it out on the table. "Purposes butt up against each other, and the strong call 'consolidating' bending the weak to their will." As Al throws down this gauntlet, Captain Turner steps out onto the roof. "And I'd add," Al says, sensing him, "that whoever's behind me is about to study his guts." Hearst reveals that it is indeed the Captain at three steps removed. "He has heard," Hearst says, "about your knife work close in." He goes on, pointing out that the Captain's pistol is, in fact, pointed at Al's head away from his team's prying eyes on the opposite balcony. "Do you believe yourself enough an adept, Mr. Swearengen," he asks, "to overcome your disadvantage or will you walk with us inside?" Al smirks. "Not throwing my hands up or my skirt over my head," he says, "don't mean I ain't awestruck."

In they go, and as the speeches for democracy ring out below, the real shit goes down upstairs. The gloves are off: Hearst is PISSED. "Accepting your premise, Mr. Swearengen," he says, "I'll not name how you would benefit from the action I wish you to take, saying only instead it's my will. To which I will have you bend." He slams a shot of whiskey between them on the table as Captain Turner, standing behind Al, silently removes something from his pocket. "I suggest you drink that." Al, arms crossed, defiantly says no. Hearst rants on that he wants Alma Ellsworth's gold claim for himself. "I am told," he says, "you could help me bring this about." Before Al can tell him to fuck off, which I would so love to hear him say, Captain Turner whacks him over the head with some instrument. Now, seeing Bullock beat on Al was one thing. That was more or less a fair fight, and Al gave pretty good in it. But, seeing Al get beaned with no warning? No, no. This isn't happening.

Captain Turner drags him up by the neck, holding one of Al's hands firmly down on the table. If he's afraid, he doesn't really show it, and when Hearst insists -- waving a pick axe-type thing in his face -- that Al WILL help him get Alma's claim and asks how he'll do it, Al dryly suggests that he "act averse to nasty language, and partial to fruity teas." Hearst...is not a man for joking. He's not one of those villains who concocts elaborate death scenes and ties people to railroad tracks set with a timer and a burning fuse bomb. No. He's not that guy AT ALL. He proves it by bringing that little pick thing down on Al's hand, hard as you please. He drops the weapon to the floor as Al passes out.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18

By Al Lowe

Harry the bartender is giving his speech to the listening ears of absolutely no one. He actually seems to want to do good stuff for the camp, which is a nice change.

As the crowd disperses, Joanie wanders out on the porch of the Bella Union (where did she come from though?! I swear, Joanie is like a ghost who can walk through walls or something). She takes Lila's hand. "Nothing is over yet," she says, striking a positive note.

Charlie walks up to give Bullock the report that Trixie said things seemed to be OK with Mrs. Ellsworth. Bullock has no time to react to this news, though, when Al appears like an apparition, holding himself as steady as he can, shaking his way through the thoroughfare. Bullock rushes to Al while the Gem boys run down from their balcony. "Aw, God," Dan says. "That's the look on his face he gets when he's fuckin' hurt." From his own balcony, Cy smarms that Al appears to be worse hurt than he is. "Bless his heart," he snarks, and I want to kill him.

Bullock makes it to Al, who is holding his hand inside his jacket. "We watched the speeches together," Al tells him. "Yours was especially swell." More softly, he goes on: "I need to lean on you, but don't you fuckin' look up." Upset, Bullock asks if he should go up now and grab Hearst. Al ignores this, calling happily out to his gang who are now running toward him: "Hey boys, what'd you think of the speeches?" Bullock is fully clenched: "I'll go get the cocksucker now," he says, but Al commands the opposite. "Stay the fuck away from him," he says. "I'm having mine served cold." My God, how it sent chills down my spine. Johnny, Dan and Adams are at his side now, but Al wants no physical comfort: "First one to touch me, I kill," he declares, and with all the strength he can muster, he strides back to the Gem to regroup.

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10
• 11
• 12
• 13
• 14
• 15
• 16
• 17
• 18