Directed by Charles Beeson
Written by Robert Singer, Jeremy Carver

Welcome to the team, Jeremy Carver. We love you and miss you!

Let’s get right to it:

I wish the sin in “Sin City” was sin-nier.

As it is, Trotter-ville looks like an average Spring Break party town, maybe with a couple of more prostitutes. And yes, okay, a shootout in a bar. The overall mood, though, is less “Sin” than “Party On Garth.” Overall, it’s not a very strong episode. It’s mainly just an excuse for a major information-dump.

Frank Miller’s graphic novel is the obvious influence for the title of the episode, but I also think of AC/DC’s song titled “Sin City.” Once upon a time Dean was more of a Heavy Metal guy than a “Dad’s classic rock” guy, so let’s represent.

The purpose of “Sin City” – a Monster of the Week in name only – is to connect threads introduced in “All Hell Breaks Loose, Part 2”, explain the fallout from killing Azazel (we first learn his name in this episode) and from Sam rejecting the role of Head Honcho. The existence of Lucifer had been hinted at before, but now Casey confirms. “Sin City” picks up another thread, the haunting possibility that the Sam who came back from the dead isn’t quite the same Sam. Something’s “off” with Sam. (I preferred the show when it was steeped in such queasy dilemmas, when the possibility of Sam or Dean losing their humanity scared them. Now, they kill human beings without blinking an eye. I will never forget. Or forgive.)

Fixing the Colt is brought back into play. Ruby returns, to – yet again – dangle the carrot of “helping Dean” in front of Sam’s eyes. No progress is made in that arc from “The Kids Are All Right”: the stand-off is static, with practically the same dialogue. “Sin City” has a “spinning its wheels” aspect to it. We will have to wait a season to understand what Ruby is up to, the depth of her deception, AND how deeply Sam is fooled. We need these little building-blocks to keep the Arc afloat and “Sin City” is part of that. (Only in retrospect, though. First time viewing, I felt only the stasis. Didn’t we just cover this?)

The big set-piece scene of “Sin City” and – in my opinion – the only reason for its existence (it wouldn’t surprise me if the scene was written first, with the episode built around it) – is the long conversation between Dean and Casey in the blocked-off basement. The scene goes on forever, even though the action keeps cutting away from it – it is the anchor of the whole episode.

In reality, much of that scene is information-only, filling in the blanks for the audience, like Lucifer’s monologue to Sam at the end of Season 2. It’s inherently artificial. It’s the writers getting story into the text, so that we, the audience, are brought up to speed. A potential snooze-fest in other words. I am not interested in plot stuff (what Hell is up to, what the Demon Army wants, how they are -or are not – organized). I don’t care. What I DO care about is what it all means for Sam and Dean, how they react, how it impacts their relationship, how it brings them together or separates them.

And that’s why the talky-talk-talk scene between Dean and Casey is one of my favorites in the season – and in the series as a whole. I like it more every time I watch it. I thrill to their acting (Sasha Barrese is phenomenal), but if you watch closely you can see that the scene is NOT about Casey’s information. It’s all about Dean’s reaction to that information, AND finally – finally! – allowing us to see what is happening in Dean’s heart. Dean has hidden his emotions from Sam (and from us) DOGGEDLY thus far. Lisa is the only one who has gotten a glimpse. Dean forbids any other encroachment on his private experience. He can’t show others that he cares about his life, that he is afraid of what’s coming. Instead, he “acts out” sexually, and pushes Sam’s concern away.

In the scene with Casey, there’s some “acting out” (he’s turned on by her. I believe he may very well have fucked her if they were trapped for a longer period. Sam’s not the only one tempted by a demon. Bobby is too.). Amazingly, and it takes some time – he lets her see what is going on with him.

The only thing I really remember from “Sin City,” the main takeaway, is that Dean-Casey scene.

Teaser

The religious iconography that played such a huge part in “Bad Day at Black Rock” opens “Sin City.” There is a church filled with shadows. A nun in a habit (Catholicism in Supernatural is always pre-Vatican II) strolls down the aisle, blending into the shadows. Candles flutter.

A young tormented parishioner commits suicide in the balcony, his head framed by the stained-glass sunburst window behind him. Father Gil (a wonderfully sleazy Robert Curtis Brown) tries to counsel his parishioner, who screams down from the balcony: “GOD’S NOT WITH US.” Consider the role God will play in the series … the seeds planted here … consciously or no … are powerful.

I’ve mentioned before that religious imagery is naturally a huge part of Supernatural, especially early on, although nobody involved seems to have put it together yet that if Hell exists then that must mean that there is a Heaven, too, correct? The arrival of Angels blindsides literally everyone. Nobody saw them coming. Except for “Houses of the Holy” way back when, the notion of “God” having anything to do with anything, does not exist in Supernatural (at this point in the story, anyway). Sam and Dean’s concern is Hell only, and even there, the idea that the Bible (or John Milton) should be taken at its word – that there is an entity called Lucifer (who was, of course, an ANGEL) – has not occurred to anyone in the hunter world, not even Bobby.

Season 3 introduces those possibilities: the first episode features the 7 Deadly Sins, a Christian concept, wacko Kubrick in “Bad Day at Black Rock” with his RV full of Jesus, his belief that he is touched by a divine power. Is HE to be trusted as a source? It’s a false lead. “Sin City” continues the feint. Evil Trotter is a human, corrupt but in a regular old human way.

Casey adds some shadings to the understanding of the demon world, and the inherent skepticism of Supernatural that goodness can maintain itself. As long as human beings are around, the entire world is corruptible.

1st scene

There’s an interesting dynamic in the opening scene. It has to do with Sam. Dean and Bobby sit together working on the Colt, focused, intent. Sam enters the kitchen, talking about omens in Ohio. He’s a blur in the background at first, with Dean in the foreground. By the blocking, by the framing, Sam is separate. Sam is always separate.

What strikes me is the way Bobby looks at Sam. The conversation between Dean and Bobby at the end of the episode is set up here, with no dialogue. It’s just in the way that Jim Beaver looks at Sam. There’s a sharp-ness to the look, a short-ness of temper, an emotional distance. There’s something slightly “uncanny” about Sam, in Bobby’s eyes. The kid was dead for 3 days. Just like Jesus was. And now he’s back. Bobby holds himself separate. Even Sam’s little jokes don’t go over well. It’s ominous.

It’s also SO well played by Beaver. He doesn’t have much to do in this episode, but what he DOES do has its own small Arc. Consider what happens. He creates a secret alliance with Ruby, aligning himself with Sam, even though he doesn’t know it. And then later, when Dean voices his concerns, Bobby reassures Dean, but in this subtle way that makes you know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. Beaver plays the moment the way he does because he’s a brilliant actor who understands Story. It’s terrifying the way Bobby does – and also DOESN’T – reassure Dean. It makes me worried for Sam, even though Season 3 is all about being worried for Dean. This is good and right, because Dean’s “deal” leads Sam down a very dark path.

Dean looks young and vulnerable with the sun on his neck. Soft. Pretty. This is a function of the appearance of filming with natural light. It ISN’T natural light. They’re on a SET. That is NOT sunlight. But look at this lighting. It’s a short scene, but it’s beautifully textured in its atmosphere (Bobby’s house now a legitimate location, details being filled in that weren’t there initially), with sunlight coming through dusty windows.

Dean’s vibe here is pure Burlesque.

What Ackles is up to here is similar to what Beaver is up to, playing a subtext (maybe “objective” is the better word) so subtly you might not even catch it – there’s no dialogue to support it, no “underlining” for the audience to make sure we “get it.” Here, Ackles single-handedly continues the ongoing “story” of Dean’s denial of where he’s headed, his unwillingness to ask for help, his “attitude” of “live it up” carelessness. There seems to BE no subtext, and that’s why what happens later – in the huge scene with Casey – works so damn well. This is why Dean is such an endlessly fascinating character, because his own denial goes so deep that he actually appears to believe it himself. He doesn’t let Sam or Bobby see what’s going on, but half the time he doesn’t let US see what’s going on.

It’s brilliant.

2nd scene

What matters in this scene – the only thing – is how gorgeous Sam is.

Oh, and the guy who went postal in the hobby shop is named “Tony Perkins,” an inside joke.

3rd scene

Sometimes I wonder why a certain element is introduced. There’s a reason for everything. I felt that way in the first episode of Season 3, with Isaac and Tamara. I didn’t understand their presence, especially since they would never be seen again. Of course the first time I watched it, I assumed that Tamara would be a new regular, a la Ellen and Jo, merely because of how prominently she is introduced and handled. And then, poof, we never see her again. I feel the same way about Richie (Martin Papazian), a goombah straight out of Donnie Brasco. There’s an explicit nod later to Donnie Brasco in Sam’s exchange with Richie about “Fuggedaboutit”:

We’re only in Season 3, but it’s already been made clear that damaged haunted people become hunters. Why would Richie become a hunter? He doesn’t fit the profile. (Neither does Garth, but Garth is the exception that proves the rule.)

My take on Richie is that in Season 3 – as with Tamara and Isaac – they were experimenting with opening up the hunter’s world. The demise of the roadhouse closed off the possibility for glimpses into the larger hunter universe. Eric Kripke was clear that he hated the beefed-up vision of guys oiling their guns at the bar. So now, in the wake of that, come hunters of a different stripe. A married couple! A wise guy! Get a little diversity into it. Not diversity just as in people of color, but diversity as in different personality types.

These two experiments don’t exactly work. Richie is a glorified plot device, whose womanizing leads him into trouble, which then leads Dean to go find him, which then leads to the Big Kahuna scene with Casey. It all feels a little pre-determined.

I appreciate the attempt though. They would get better at this further down the road, introducing eccentrics like Garth and Charlie, people who added different perspectives and energies but clearly had a deeper purpose, and other things to explore. Richie is flat. He’s one thing only. Comedic relief (sort of). He also doesn’t make sense as a hunter. One good thing about Richie is that it gives a sense of Dean without Sam, the years without Sam, the relationships Dean made, the worlds in which he operated. Dean is a mystery that keeps on giving. Sam can be a know-it-all, especially when it comes to his brother. He thinks he has Dean nailed down. He thinks he knows better how to handle things (consider his badgering Dean about not grieving properly for their father). But then people emerge … like Cassie, like Lisa, like Richie, like – much later – the boys’ home – that makes Sam realize how much he DOESN’T know. It’s a theme.

I must call attention to John Marcynuk’s work as production designer. He did wonderful work in “Bad Day at Black Rock” too, with that crazy thieves’ apartment. Here, he has three main locations to create: The hotel room, the bar, and the cellar. Each one is distinct, detailed, evoking three distinct moods. He gives Serge Ledouceur and Beeson a lot to play with in terms of angles and visual interest. There’s a mirror over the bed in the hotel room, to start.

The hotel in “Sin City” feels like something out of Deadwood, a perfect choice for what is supposed to be a wild and lawless frontier town. It’s not a modern location. The walls are dark, the doors are dark, it looks and feels like a bordello. There’s some kind of psychedelic “painting” on the wall, it’s so random it calls attention to itself.

The scene features a moment I love any time it comes up: Sam and Dean unpacking, loosening their ties.

I can’t take it.

Richie’s appearance, with the floozy across the hall, is our introduction to the “sin” of Sin City. The open-ness of prostitution. Dean does a double-take when he sees the woman, drawn into her availability and revealing outfit … it shows his innocence (as strange as that may seem). Richie is happily corrupt. Dean is a pleasure-hound but somehow innocent about it.

I’ve written many times about Dean’s susceptibility. To experiences, to food, to music, to women. He doesn’t take things in stride, although he tries. Despite all of his experience, there’s some part of him that remains untouched. (Kind of incredible, if you really think about it.) However that may have happened, it’s integral to the character. Perhaps it’s because he was motherless, and so women have this pull and fascination for him, they disarm him. He did not grow up with any woman in his life. They’re mysterious, he looks at them and feels NEED, a need to be mothered, touched, enveloped. He melts a little bit, he gawks, he tries to hide (see his initial reaction to Ellen. He does not have the right protective armor to hide from her. If Ellen were a man, his reaction would have been much different). Dean is not cynical about women. Men who sleep with a lot of women – who have an easy time getting them into bed – tend towards the cynical, but with him it’s the opposite. Women are extremely powerful to him, whether he’s sexually attracted to them or not. He throws around some macho weight, but at the heart of it he has no double-standard. It’s an essential shading of the character, and it’s important to remember that he wasn’t written that way initially. Consider how he leers at Jess. It’s so gross. If the character had continued in that vein, they would have found themselves in a dead end pretty quickly. It was Ackles’ sensitivity – and also, perhaps, the fact that the show was “picked up” – that helped deepen the character of Dean. We saw it immediately in the 2nd episode, “Wendigo,” not a particularly good episode but with an interesting dynamic between Dean and the female character. He is disarmed by her. He is attracted to her but he also identifies with her. He is not used to identifying with women. He is always just a little bit out of control.

This will be very important in the upcoming scene with Casey.

Mirror Moments: A Review

There are two excellent mirror moments in this scene: the opener, shot through the mirror over the bed, and then this moment, with Richie and Dean.

You know by now – or at least you should – that I’m always on the lookout for mirror moments.

That’s just Beeson having fun. Creating something interesting out of a kind of nothing scene, helped along by the detail of Marcynuk’s production design. But I’m always looking for the deeper levels. A mirror to me always means something. I’ve written about this ad nauseum (mainly here, although it’s come up elsewhere too). Any time you see a mirror, a comment is being made (on purpose or no, I don’t care) about identity, persona, self. If a person LOOKS in the mirror, that subtext is even more present. A mirror reflects you back to yourself. However, what you SEE is not reality. It is your perception of reality. If you’re feeling hot, you’ll be pleased with what you see. If you’re feeling shitty, the reflection will look a certain way. If you’re lying to yourself, the mirror will force you to deal with your lies. A “mirror image” is the opposite of exact. It’s purely subjective. Dean and Sam have many many mirror moments throughout the series, and this was true from the jump. Some of the mirror moments are more obvious than others. I’m always on the lookout for them. In this one, Richie and Dean are crowded on top of each other in the mirror, overlapping like a collage. The space between them in the real room has dissolved in the reflection. Their journeys in the episode overlap, they follow the same path. Dean spends a lot of time worrying about Richie. He should worry about himself. (This leads to the scene with Casey. All roads lead to the scene with Casey.)

4th scene

Dean and Sam venture out to do a little recon, all to the strains of “Run Through the Jungle” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. It opens with a sexy moment shot from inside the bar, where we see the Impala pull up, and Sam and Dean get out, blown away by the …….. mildly partying attitude on display. Like I say, I wish it was more sin-ridden. Fights on the street, hookers clustered around the Impala as they try to get out, money changing hands, whatever. I guess the point is – as expressed later by Casey – that “Sin City” isn’t possessed. It’s human nature’s Id run rampant. Give people a nudge, they’ll go hog-wild. But this just looks like a happy hour. Yes, with a sex shop next door, but still. Pretty tame.

I do like how this opening sequence is shot. Dean is a kid in a candy store, Sam tries to keep him on track, culminating in this beloved moment, perfectly filmed: Dean disappearing off-frame, then re-appearing and just standing there gawking – head tilted (for me, it’s the head tilt that makes it) and then Sam’s re-appearance, pulling Dean off, with a polite yet embarrassed nod-smile at the babe in the car.

Fishnet stockings strut by, there’s a lax open-container policy, Trotter’s bar looks like a shit-hole … so there are signs that this is a little bit more than a Ladies Drink Free happy hour. The brothers make their way into the throngs at the bar. I do want to point out that Sam and Dean are first seen via a reflection in the mirrored wall.

Mirrors everywhere. Everyone – the people in Trotter-ville, but also Sam and Dean – are avoiding reality. The mirrored wall is a cool effect, sure, “mirroring” the scene before where Sam and Dean enter the hotel room via mirror reflection. But this is why I say mirrors are important. They are POTENT symbolic objects carrying gigantic emotional/thematic heft. It’s never “just” a mirror.

Beeson has a lot of fun shooting the bar, going hand-held, giving it a “trying to catch up” energy, peeking through the crowd pushing in on all sides. It’s as though the camera itself is overwhelmed – just like Dean and Sam are overwhelmed. Alcohol, cards, a woman throwing back a shot, Dean’s double-takes at every hot woman sidling by with a smile. Richie, resplendent in a new shirt, points out Trotter. Garland Briggs! Blue rose!

Trotter “owns” the town. He “owns” all the people in it. He’s lawless, corrupt, controlling, like a rich guy living on a hill with mining-town tenements in the valley. His name is Trotter. I couldn’t help but think of another bad man who “owned” a town – a man with a similar-sounding name.

Trotter. Potter. Hmm.

Who can blame Dean for zooming in on the bartender? Her shirt is blazing red. Remember Ruby – surrounded by red curtains – squirting ketchup all over her plate. Demons are not subtle. Dean’s going “downstairs.” The screen is spiked with – or overflowing with – red, red light, red clothing, red leather. Dean does not take Richie seriously as a rival, and spouts one of my favorite Dean lecherous lines: “You could fit that ass on a nickel.” Keep your voice down, hounddog!

Father Gil squicks me out. Sharing sexually charged banter with Casey, who gives it right back to him, murmuring “nickel or no nickel” at Sam and Dean as he leaves. He’s extremely gross. It also shows how manipulative his original interview with Sam and Dean really was. He gave no indication that he himself had fallen into “sin.” He positioned himself as a disappointed and concerned observer.

A small moment I love: Casey approaches the trio, and Dean sees her coming before she enters the frame. (You have to look for it. Ackles treats every moment with three-dimensional awareness and attention to detail. He doesn’t wait for his closeup to do the real acting, like a lot of actors do.) As she and Father Gil do their little thing, Dean can’t keep his eyes off of her. Look at the expression on his face.

That’s a “sex” look if ever I saw one. It’s Dean standing on Lisa’s doorstep. He’s alert and ready to flash his baby-greens at her.

But … even better … look at Sam’s face.

I’m dying laughing.

Dean moves in for the kill. He is not shy. He telegraphs “sex” at her and – unlike Lisa greeting Dean at the door – she gives it right back. She not only makes a “mean hurricane,” she IS a hurricane. She looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes, so full of intention that she’s already in bed with him. Now THIS is Dean’s heaven on earth.

Sam laughs in Dean’s face at the blatant come-on he just witnessed, and it’s charming because Dean knows he’s ridiculous and he doesn’t care. Listen, you do what you have to do. This goes along with what I said earlier about Dean not feeling entitled to women. Entitlement would ruin the character. He tosses himself out there, hoping someone will bite. Dear men: that’s the way to do it. Have the balls to make a pass. You may get shot down, you may look ridiculous, your brother may laugh at you, but the woman can just as easily say “Yes” as “No.” But you can’t feel ENTITLED to a “Yes.” You’ve got to take that risk. There’s a nice brotherly vibe in that small teasing moment, the kind of thing that was almost totally lost last season, where the brothers barely interacted. Who on earth thought anyone was interested in anything OTHER than the brothers’ relationship? You can take the show wherever you want. You can include tentacles in space. Nobody will care. But what you CAN’T do is take that central relationship so much for granted that the characters don’t even interact any more. I’m still mad.

5th scene

During the melee at the bar, Richie sneaks off with Casey. She struts towards her sex-dungeon-house, with her boots, her black pants, her red top, her slamming body, and there’s something about the way she walks – hitching her pants up – that is explosive. Intimidating but captivating. She moves with purpose. Her voice is whispery and intense. As with all demons, she talks up a storm. I really feel for the actors playing demons. Ruby. Meg. Casey. They are given the lion’s share of dialogue, it’s all exposition, and it all has to be uttered with life-or-death urgency. Sasha Barrese is in the ZONE. She got her mind around that dialogue and made sense of it for herself. She fills the language with objective, so that it doesn’t feel like it’s “just” information. She relates a personal story about her own “life,” what matters to her, what she knows, how she feels about it. On the page, her language is flat. But the way she DELIVERS it! This is especially true in the two-hander with Dean. She’s extraordinary. He’s even BETTER as an actor when he’s equally matched.

Richie’s death is horrible. I hate neck-breaking deaths. Hate ’em.

6th scene

This scene is your typical “Sam and Dean discuss the case” scene, but Beeson starts off with two curving shots, one showing Dean sitting by himself at the bar checking his phone (surrounded by red light, I might add), and the next showing Sam picking up beers at the bar and heading back. The camera moves in gentle parabolae, always moving to the left, even when the scene switches from Dean to Sam.

Then, when Sam sits down, and they discuss Richie (all as “Bad Seed” by Brimstone Howl plays), there’s all this STUFF in the way. Big blurs on the side of the screen.

I mention this “tic” of the show all the time. It puts barriers in between us and them. It makes it feel like we’re eavesdropping from the next table. It connects the characters somehow. The world infringes on them, blurring out the sides. We’re peeking in at them. Supernatural is cinematic in its visual style. You can’t have FLAT shots in a show where you raise the bar in the way this team did. They wanted to make a movie a week. They figured out a way to do it low-budget. Blurry splotches on the side of the screen don’t cost money but it does require imagination, thought, as well as knowing what you want something to look like. The same thing is true of the beloved Impala scenes, uniformly gorgeous and evocative.

7th scene

An essential scene, shoehorned into the action in Trotter-ville. We need it. Badly.

While it would have been great to see some of the scenes of collaboration (Ruby and Bobby make a very interesting duo onscreen), this is the only time that we see the two interact. Working with a demon goes against everything Bobby believes. Dean too. And Sam. But here, in “Sin City,” each one of them compromises themselves just a little bit in that regard. (Sam’s ahead of the curve.) They each, in their own way, let a demon in. Maybe opening the Devil’s Gate means you can’t be too picky about your allies. Maybe it’s something else. Each situation is unique.

The camera stalks solitary Bobby from afar.

I think it’s hilarious that Katie Cassidy has to say “panty-waist.” Such a Victorian word coming out of the mouth of a woman who looks like a beach bunny in leather is very funny. Like I said, hats off to the actresses who have to play these smarty-pants demons. That language is not easy.

The scene ends on a cliffhanger. “Do you want me to help you with that gun or not?” Black-out. We never get the followup. We never see what happens next. It’s implied, and Bobby shows up in the final hour with a properly-working Colt. What did Ruby do to help in the interim? Almost a decade later the Colt returns and the collaboration between Bobby and Ruby comes up again, even though Ruby and Bobby are both long gone. Funny we never heard of it before and that it didn’t come up over all those years when the Colt was still in play. I hate what they did to the Colt last season. Okay, I’ll stop.

8th scene

All you need is a group of lights, a vending machine, and shadows on the wall from Venetian blinds. BOOM. You got mood.

I wrote a little bit about depth of frame in the re-cap for “Bad Day at Black Rock”. If you are going to have everything in focus – from the foreground to the background – then you need set, lighting, props all on point all the way to the back wall (and beyond, if the back wall is a window.) Supernatural works a lot in closeup, of course – it’s one of the distinguishing characteristics of the series. But they also worked a lot with depth of frame, like the shot above – as detailed in the background as it is in the foreground. Depth of frame makes the world three-dimensional. It makes you LOOK.

9th scene

Dean’s been a busy beaver, but we haven’t seen any of it except for the brief slightly tense phone call with Sam.

1. He hacked into Richie’s cell phone GPS.
2. He’s discovered Casey’s sex-murder dungeon.
3. He’s discovered poor dead Richie – which means he now knows Casey is a demon.
4. He’s buried Richie.
5. He drew a Devil’s trap beneath the Oriental rug conveniently placed on the dungeon floor.

No wonder the man needs a drink.

The scene opens with a woman’s hand trailing along the bar. We get no establishing shot. We have no idea where we are.

Julia Benson plays the prostitute, a luscious-looking and heavily made-up woman, clearly turned on by the heroic guy who tackled the dude with the gun. She wants him. Bad. Dean feels her need, and you can see him pull back from it a little. He’s not turned off, exactly, but it’s his whole boundary-less thing in operation. He has no boundaries, and has no idea how to set them for himself. Her come-on is welcome, as most come-ons are, but her open objectification of him (every woman in there wants to “eat him up”) makes him pull back. I don’t want to psychologize this too much because I do believe that a great part of Ackles’ work is his instinct in the moment. He is extremely intuitive. You could throw Dean into any situation and Ackles wouldn’t have to think twice about how Dean would react. But what strikes me is his resistance to her, so slight you couldn’t clock him on it, so slight you almost can’t see it. His boundary-less thing means he doesn’t say, “Hey. You’re standing a little too close, sister.” He’s open to the possibility but something in him pulls back. He’s almost like a woman dealing with an overly aggressive guy. He’s polite, but he tries to keep his outline intact. It’s not easy. When she speaks, he looks away, or listens with his eyes closed. Something is going on that is too aggressive for him, even though we just saw him deal with Casey’s hurricane come-on without a flash of resistance. Over-analysis doesn’t seem appropriate for the subtlety of the behavior I sense. He tries to become master of the moment by playing up his heroic actions, dwelling on them, lingering on them, for her benefit. It’s supposed to be Dean trying to bask in her glow a little bit longer. That’s what’s on the page. But that’s not exactly what Ackles plays. I try to imagine another actor playing it. This is how I zero in on the specificity of what Ackles does. He always adds other layers, and what’s so good about it is that they are layers that even DEAN is not entirely aware of. In other words, Dean is not entirely in control of his affect. This is very important. It’s why he gets into trouble, but it’s also why he succeeds. He is not embattled about his physical needs. He goes after them with no embarrassment. He took one look at Casey and he wanted to fuck her and he did not question it. But here … something else happens, and this is even before he knows she’s a prostitute. I won’t go as far as saying that she talks about him in the same lip-smacking way that monsters talk about him … but it’s in that realm. Dean’s body language recoils, and he tries to keep it in check, but he can’t. Because he’s Dean.

When she whispers in his ear that she’ll cut him a deal, he gets offended. “What do I look like?” She gets offended back. I don’t blame her.

The ensuing scene with Casey looks very different on a re-watch. Dean knows what she is now. He brings up Richie. He moves in for the kill. She’s into it.

You’ll notice that the shot of them walking out is a reflection of the two of them in the mirror behind the bar.

10th scene

Trotter and his goon exit the depth-of-frame office, and Sam scoots on in to look for … signs of demon possession? Like, in Trotter’s day calendar would be the entry: “Meet-up with Satan about happy hour specials”? “10 a.m. Tuesday. Plan for more Evil.” Wouldn’t it be better to just talk to Trotter? No? Okay then. Naturally, Sam doesn’t get very far.

That screengrab is an example of how – in these early seasons – you can freeze-frame almost any random moment, and you get something beautiful.

What’s funny about this minor scene is Sam’s growing sense of horror that he has totally messed things up. Slowly, the amoral nature of his behavior dawns on Sam. He has broken into the office of a regular human being, rifled through his desk, beat up the regular human being’s regular human assistant, wrestled a gun away so he could point it at these regular human beings, and then threw water in both of their faces “just to be sure.” !! This is one of those POV-switch moments the show indulges in from time to time. While we are in the Winchester Belljar(TM), everything the brothers do makes sense. But occasionally they get things wrong and then we see them the way the outside world sees them.

This is how Sam handles the misunderstanding.

I can’t take it.

THE scene, part 1

If Dean removed Richie’s dead body from the sex-murder dungeon, wouldn’t Casey realize someone else had been there during her absence? So many questions.

Dean allows her to kiss him. Everyone’s boundaries are compromised in “Sin City.”

She seems to know he’s “onto her” though. She doesn’t seem surprised when he brings up Richie. Her eyes close for a second, now that she knows the confrontation is on. The only thing that she did not anticipate was the Devil’s Trap. (Maybe demons need to give up having carpets. Just a thought.) Dean is brutal and unforgiving. He calls her a “skank.” Despite her fetching looks, she is a monster.

The transformation of his attitude is what makes the scene the stunner that it is. He goes from relishing the thought of sending her back to Hell to screaming at Sam not to kill her. The scene NEEDS to be as long as it is (the entire second half of the episode is this scene) to get to that point. The silences matter. The sense of time passing matters. Her information is important, I suppose, but what is MOST important is that Dean is given the space to bring up – for the first time – his upcoming trip downstairs. He allows himself to ask questions, to betray fear (even though he says he’s not afraid). I never get sick of watching Ackles navigate that emotional arc: where he starts out, where he ends up. It’s gradual. Much of it happens in the silences, in his body language.

Dean’s exorcism is a bust. Even though she can’t move off of her carpet, she still can … control the weather, apparently, make the floor/ceiling crack, make the walls cave in. What the hell good is a Devil’s Trap then? I love how she goes inward during the sequence. Chaos reigns, the chandelier spins, the papier-mache rocks tumble, and she stands still, eyes closed, smiling, a dark priestess enjoying her power.

If Ruby is party-girl-slash-one-of-the-boys, Casey is self-contained-self-satisfied-A-student. She’s an excellent debater. She cannot be “thrown.” Dean was BORN to be “thrown.”

After he calls her “bitch” she calls him “bitch” right back (a call-back to the brothers’ “bitch/jerk” joke – which honestly wore out its welcome almost immediately, for me. I do not share other fans’ fondness for it). He’s an amateur compared to her. He’s not at all ready.

Now about the dungeon space: it’s pretty fake-looking, right? But the team has “distressed” it enough that the fake-ness is masked (unlike, say, the “prison” in Heaven where they keep Metatron which was so cheap it looked like a Gilligans Island set). There are levels and layers in the space, a random shelf unit in the middle of the room (Beeson has fun shooting through it), nooks and crannies where Dean can wander. The camera is rarely still. When it is still, pay attention. There’s a restless quality to the scene, it never “lands” on a particular point of view. Everything is in flux. Consider the challenges presented by the WALL of text. I think they handled it beautifully.

In these opening salvos, Dean attempts to keep the upper hand. He fails. Her calmness pierces the bubble of his belief that he’s on top. It keeps happening. She sees right into him. She sees his flaws, she points them out. She doesn’t have to try too hard. She just stands there, still. Everything she does as an actress is in her eyes and in her voice. (I also love her teeth.) Dean is LOST. Ackles, as we know, revels in the moments when Dean is lost. Something about such moments set him free as an actor. The character is capable, the character is heroic, but he does not have as good a Game Face as he thinks he does. As a matter of fact, he is completely delusional because he has NO game face.

Dean, you’re not fooling her and you’re not fooling me.

She gets under his skin early. She knows more about him than he knows about her. He hadn’t realized how “famous” they were.

The event really starts to change when she throws out the insult that everyone knows Sam is the brains of the duo. He’s been burlesquing. It’s automatic for him in dangerous situations. He’s “playing” himself as a devil-may-care no-worries guy but her bread crumbs of information, tossed at his feet, stop him. He’s almost hurt. “Everyone?” he asks. A slight chip out of his armor.

12th scene

Subtle touches make scenes work.

— Sam noticing the prostitute’s leer and looking behind him because he assumes she can’t be looking at him.

— Sam’s over-it annoyance when the bartender (a very funny Dean Paul Gibson) refers to Dean as a “big hero.” Sam is forced to repeat those words and can barely contain an eyeroll.

— Sam’s dawning realization that whatever information he needs he will have to pay for.

— The bartender refusing to give out the address, but then Sam whips out more money, and the bartender immediately rattles off the address.

Boring scene, given multiple sparks through these minute details.

THE scene, part 2

The first leg of the scene shows Dean and Casey in a standoff. He maintains his burlesque, trying to find a way out, trying to call Sam, throwing what he hopes are wounding wisecracks her way. She, on the other hand, sits on the floor, completely relaxed, in what can only be described as an inviting position.

They cast these demons so brilliantly. She does not over-play. She underplays. She keeps it simple. She knows exactly where she comes from, what she has observed, why she knows they’ll win. She speaks to that part of Dean that DOESN’T know everything. Things have already begun to shift for him, and he’s not even aware of it yet. Every episode up until now has been a small step leading him to this point. (And we still have a way to go before Dean brings his feelings to Sam. But at this point in the show’s development, the writers cared about process. It wasn’t just about dragging out a conflict to make up a season. It’s inevitable that there will be repetitions, and spinning-wheels, etc., but when a real conflict comes up – like Sam having no soul – like Dean coming to terms with the deal he made – the show cared about each step along the way of that situation. They allow things to FESTER. To MORPH.)

Casey’s words … about Trotter … about human beings easily pushed into hell through pleasurable vices … well, he already knows all that, doesn’t he. Doesn’t he already live it? He doesn’t betray surprise so much as you can tell that – almost against his will, almost invisibly – he starts listening to what she has to say.

He’s used to feeling superior to demons. He can’t here. She drives the conversation with one hand tied behind her back. Without breaking a sweat. It takes Dean a while to realize she’s in charge and then – even more radical – succumb to his curiosity. I must mention again that the “form” this demon has taken – poor Casey with the fuzzy bunny slippers – has a lot to do with the instability of the atmosphere she creates for Dean. If it were a big tough guy, Dean would have held out longer. No WAY would he have finally decided to ask the questions he wanted to ask. But a woman? Susceptible.

13th scene

Sam has been led on a wild goose chase to Casey’s apartment. I assume that this is the real woman’s apartment, and that the sex-murder dungeon is the demon’s abode. I am fascinated by the detail of the decor in the apartment. Every time I look I see something new. There’s the coat-rack, with hats and scarves standing in the middle of the living room. There are stuffed animals. Lots of knick-knacks.

Sam steps on fuzzy bunny slippers. He notices a picture of Casey with a guy, and draped over the picture frame is a little cross. These are eloquent and sad character details. Casey was part of the community of “God-fearin’ folk”, as she says to Dean later, and she was sacrificed. If you look on one of the shelves, you see a little religious statue – either of Jesus or Mary I can’t tell – but then underneath that there appears to be ……. a skeleton torso? Am I making that up?

This is a boring dead-end scene. Its sole purpose is to get us from A to B. They could have skipped it and just had Sam come back to the bartender and say “I went to the address you gave me, there’s nobody there.” Instead, what they do in this small nothing scene is give us a little window into the woman Casey used to be. Casey has already mentioned to Dean that she’s attached to Casey’s beautiful body and doesn’t want to wreck it. Sam and Dean both know that demons ruin their hosts (it will come up in the final scene between Sam and Ruby). Maybe it’s easier to decide to ignore that there may be a person still alive in there. Meg will come back to haunt them for this very reason.

THE scene, part 3

When we return to the dungeon, the mood has shifted again. Dean sits. He does not know how to be submissive to a demon. Listening requires submission. It makes him somewhat shy. But his sneer has vanished. He takes in what she says. Maybe it’s because of how she says it. What she says is dreadful but she also sounds … reasonable. She may be a brainwashed demon but she makes a lot of sense.

What happens next is almost … delicate. They have a theological discussion. My first time watching I felt like I held my breath throughout. I couldn’t believe how much time was spent in this scene, how they cut away from it, but kept going back. How with each return, they dug in deeper to ethical/moral elements. Dean sticking up for his “kind.” Casey sticking up for hers. Dean is not an optimistic person. He is more horrified by the crimes of people than monsters. Humans being monsters rattles him, and so Casey’s words about human beings … the evils we have wrought all on our own … the body count in the 20th century alone … it’s hard to argue with. Dean resists, but he’s not dumb. He hears what she’s saying.

They’re both so beautiful it hurts to look at them.

What is maybe most revealing is that he says he’d “like to” believe in God. An amazing confession! The things Dean says to people OTHER than Sam are often truer than what he reveals to his brother. Believing in God requires faith, which is another kind of submission. That Dean would even consider it is already a huge sea-change from the shock he expressed in “Houses of the Holy” at the revelation that Sam prayed. Making that crossroads deal, facing mortality, and not just mortality but hellfire, stepping briefly into an alternate life of domestic happiness with Lisa and Ben … things are changing for Dean. So far, he hasn’t let Sam – or us – in on it. That’s to come, but Season 3, short as it is, takes its damn time. This huge scene with Casey is not just a “glimpse,” it’s an enormous curtain being drawn back. I’ve watched the scene dozens of times and it still strikes me that way.

When Dean rushes to the window – relieved – thinking he hears Sam – an escape (not just from the dungeon but from the pull he feels from this conversation) – she says, “Don’t be hopeful, Dean. You’re not delivered. It’s just the wind.”

Wonderful line.

Even more wonderful, though, is the eloquent crumpling of Dean’s body afterwards. What a silhouette. When Dean crumples, you know things are bad.

A collapse of ego and persona. He can no longer put off what he’s been putting off. He’s suffered his death-date in silence, making a joke out of it, pushing away Sam’s concern, refusing to deal with it. Trapped with Casey, what’s headed for him finally rises to his consciousness. To a place where we can actually SEE it in his collapsed shoulders, his bent vulnerable head.

Interestingly, he isn’t susceptible to Ruby like he’s susceptible to Casey. He keeps telling Sam that Ruby is full of shit. Don’t trust her. She’s a demon. Casey isn’t Ruby. There’s a connection there somehow. Casey’s view of the world is bleak and apocalyptic. It’s not a world worth saving. Maybe, then, neither is he.

After a brief interruption where we see Sam back at the bar trying to figure out where Dean is, we’re back in the dungeon. Dean’s moment of crumpling was brief. He now paces, fighting back. He got sucked in for a second. He may even be saying to himself, “Ignore what she looks like, ignore what she looks like, ignore what she looks like …” He calls her “sweetheart,” a clear tough-guy “stay back, my boundaries are intact” warning.

She responds to this shift by standing up. Meet him on his level. They have a debate but they are not equally matched. She knows too much he doesn’t know. Almost without resistance, he allows her to SEE that what she says hits him. Her comment about some demons being “true believers” is very interesting. I think we can safely say that Ruby is a “true believer” and her ability to HIDE her “true believer” status – from Sam, now from Bobby – makes her a world-class adversary. Casey positions herself differently. The fervent look on her face when she brings up Lucifer, the gleaming of the whites of her eyes, though tells a different story. The mention of a “higher power” stops Dean in his tracks.

She rattles off the story of Lucifer as though it’s a bedtime story she’s told 100 times, but it’s a bedtime story with a magic pull told in her low intense voice, not too much variation in tone. Her energy is intense and single-minded. Self-contained. She doesn’t have to try to reach Dean. She remains self-consumed, even in her most focused moments of communication. It’s riveting. Dean feels it.

Dean regains his equilibrium after the Lucifer revelation. He retreats to what is comfortable, treating her bedtime story like it’s suspect, an amusing variation on Bible-thumpers rattling off about a loving God. This is where the random shelving unit comes into play, with a beautiful exchange, the two of them peeking at one another through the barrier. Even though they are adversaries, what happens between them is an intimate back-and-forth. It’s a QA, with Dean asking questions where he doesn’t know the answer. Dangerous. He struggles to maintain his persona in the face of her words. Ackles’ work is so good here. He shows us the surface and he also shows what the surface covers. He does this without seeming like he’s TRYING to do it. Actors give that game away all the time, telegraphing to an audience: “Do you see what I’m showing you? Do you understand the layers? See all my layers?” Ackles NEVER does this.

Sexy.

In a weird way, the space in the dungeon is a kind of paradise where truth can be told, where questions can be asked, where nobody – at least for the space of the conversation – will be killed. In a weird way, the space created by the two of them over the course of the conversation – even with all its terrifying information – is a safe one. Casey allows him SPACE. (Of course, she’s trapped, so there’s that. But something else emerges as they talk. Dean’s opening up doesn’t happen in a vacuum. She helps create it.) All of this is essential, leading us to his anguished “SAM, WAIT!” when Sam bursts in and points the Colt at her. The candlelit dungeon is Eden. An Eden populated by Dean Winchester and a Demon. Oh Supernatural never change. (Perhaps I should say, Oh Supernatural CHANGE BACK BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.)

She insists demons are not much worse than humans. How are demons evil and humans aren’t, considering the mountains of evidence? Dean’s not on firm ground here. Strangely, he seems almost okay with it. Who’s gonna argue with genocide and two world wars and all the rest? There’s even a small joke about Dick Cheney (“Is he one of yours?” asks Dean) and he laughs at her response. (By the way, my godfather – the guy on the right in this classic photo – punched Dick Cheney back during Cheney’s college years for being drunk and unruly in my grandparents’ house. It’s a great story, which I’ll save for another day.) Dean paces, but not in a threatening way anymore. More like he’s thinking, thinking, listening, trying to put it together, and – crucially – working up to the question he wants to ask. She’s not going anywhere. Now’s the time. Now’s the time. Ask her, ask her …

This next moment is the reason for the scene. Not her information-dump. But an opportunity for us to finally learn where Dean’s head is at. He paces in order to work up to it. Asking such a question is vulnerable. Asking such a question requires submission to her greater knowledge base. Asking such a question goes against every impulse in his body, everything he’s been taught. But they’ve been in that cellar a long time. It’s as though they are the only two creatures left in the world. Who ELSE is he gonna ask?

During the “Dick Cheney” exchange he’s already worked up the question in his mind. Dean is shy about showing concern for himself. He has to choose the right mood and tone, he has to get himself together before asking … and he does this when he disappears behind a column. That moment when he vanishes is when he inhales, preparing for what comes next.

When he emerges on the other side, he’s now all childlike openness.

“What’s it like?”

The burlesque is gone.

The following observation is so granular but I feel I must make it because it is in such details that various emotional states are communicated. We all know this in our own lives from minute body language clues that someone doesn’t like us, is trying to avoid something. People don’t make enormous gestures, in general. They attempt to keep a lid on it, and are not in control of the “leakage.”

Here, when he listens to Casey … and when he speaks … he blinks his eyes slowly, keeping the lids down for a moment longer than necessary. We’ve seen this in Dean before. He just did it in the hallway at Lisa’s when he said he would be proud to be Ben’s dad. This is Dean managing his own intensity of feeling. He has decided to endure the emotions as opposed to laughing them off or ignoring her words. He made the choice to ask the question and to listen to her answer. The vulnerability leaks out in those long eye-blinks. Stress management.

It’s touching. It’s more vulnerable than shedding tears.

14th scene

I’m grossed out by the way Father Gil says “Since she was in pigtails.” Shut up, Padre.

It’s queasy-making to consider that Father Gil was probably the one who killed Casey, the girl he gave communion to, the girl he maybe even baptized. Maybe he even gave her that cross we saw hanging on the little picture in her apartment when she was a lost teenager looking for the right path. And now? He sits at the bar, reveling in her downfall. It’s awful.

Sam’s bumbling shyness at admitting that his brother and Casey left the bar together – tacitly admitting his brother is probably naked as we speak – is absurdly entertaining. I am not a Wincest person, but charming moments like that add fuel to the fire.

THE scene, part 4

The mood has shifted yet again in this epic scene.

The opening shot startles with its expanse of blank space. Nothing’s there at first. The camera then moves to the right, Casey’s profile filling up the side of the screen. It’s striking! Even more striking is the silence that opens the scene. Silence is the connective tissue, not language. Very few television shows understand that. Dean no longer stands. He sits. Whatever it is that has transpired has changed both of them.

Casey likes him. It may be a lie, but I believe there is some truth in it. She still would kill him if she had the chance, but she likes him too. Dean’s game face attempt is gone. He now understands (although he might not be conscious of it) what Sam experiences with Ruby. It’s disorienting. He doesn’t know how to respond when she says she likes him, admires him. It’s even MORE disorienting when the demon is a hot brunette. Hell does not fuck around. Even Ackles’ posture says that Dean is getting tired of his own bullshit, his own facade.

She sits up, alert, single-minded in her focus on him. Somehow, instead of being threatening, this allows space to open up around Dean, a space where he can be, where he can actually acknowledge his own truth. Dean is so charismatic, such a force to be reckoned with, an erotic muse, a burlesque artist, a freckled Adonis, a hero … all the rest … and because of this nobody ever lets him BE. (I think I went into this quite a bit in “Everybody Loves a Clown.” Recap here.) Dean is not a celebrity and yet people gravitate towards his circle of influence because he’s that kind of person. He’s a magnet. He encourages this, he knows this, he works with it and uses it … but then when he’s vulnerable it becomes a trap. He can’t stand people LOOKING at him. Leave him ALONE. Let him BE. Get off his BACK. (I suggest that this is one of the draws with Lisa – outside of Ben. She’s not all OVER him. She’s there for him but she lets him BE. For God’s sake, let him BE.) And so, in a strange way, despite the pressure of his current situation in the basement … something about Casey, how she is and who she is … lets him BE.

As I’ve mentioned before, Supernatural leaves room in its script for pauses. For thought. For silent communication. Even in a scene like this one. The pauses are where the transformations happen, are where things change. Dean has needed space like this. He can’t ask for it from Sam because he’s supposed to be the one doing the protecting of Sam, not the other way around. He can’t ask for it from Bobby because Bobby may very well call him a “panty-waist.” Lisa gave him space, and he let her in a little bit. But Casey … Casey the DEMON … gets it all, including the extraordinary confession that he has found the deal “kind of liberating, actually.”

The WAY he says that line!

There’s that shyness behind it. He’s open but he’s not an open book. Feeling “liberated” knowing that death is coming is the deepest part of him, the part of him that Sam rejects, the part of him that drives Sam – and everyone who loves him – nuts. “Do you really have that low an opinion of yourself?” screams Bobby. If he told Sam he felt “liberated,” Sam would tear him a new asshole. If he told Bobby, Bobby would throw him against a wall. Ellen would scold him so sharply he’d feel the sting of it two days later. But it’s his truth. It deserves to be spoken. (I may be over-identifying. If you’ve ever been suicidal and had thoughts like, “What a relief to have made this decision,” or “I feel so much better now that I’ve accepted how I’m gonna go out …” then you know where Dean is coming from. Nobody wants to hear that shit and if you SAY it people will drive you to the psych ward themselves. And of course they SHOULD do that. But it doesn’t lessen the truth of those sentiments, or how freeing it is when someone says, “Yes. I get it. I get why you feel that way.”)

Because she sees the facade attempting to re-erect itself, she addresses it. She requires him to go beneath the surface. That’s the kind of intimacy they have created. She asks him if he’s scared.

Beeson then does a pretty dramatic push-in to Dean’s face as he manages his reaction to that question. He doesn’t manage it all that well, and the camera move highlights the vulnerability, the way Dean clings to his persona with tight fists. He canNOT admit he is scared. If he admits he’s scared, he’ll just give up, crumple, lose his entire self. What Ackles does during that push-in to his face is fascinating and I never get tired of it. There’s a flash in his eyes – panic – the training drilled into him since he was 4 – to never show weakness or fear or vulnerability … it’s always too late for that because who is more vulnerable than Dean, and yet his persona is often at war with his most essential qualities. And that’s what you see in him during that camera move towards his face. A war.

Great work.

15th scene

Father Gil grooms Sam as they drive to the sex dungeon. It’s tremendously creepy. He speaks to the part of Sam that resents his life circumstances, that resents Dean for roping him into it. Father Gil thinks Sam should be out “in front of the pack” …. leading a Demon Army, presumably. Gil plays the scene with a gentle and realistic smile on his face but it’s very emotionally manipulative. Sam has weaknesses. We all do. Sam has those tender spots where he’s not happy, where he’s pissed at Dean … normal human flaws. Gil looks to capitalize on them, manipulate them. Sam resists. Maybe he’s got a spidey-sense that something’s “off” here. Father Gil has only spoken to him for 10 minutes. Where does all this “insight” into what Sam should be doing come from? Father Gil looks to flatter Sam, highlight his special-ness.

Sam doesn’t bite. An interesting aspect to the scene is Gil taking on a fatherly role, giving advice, complimenting Sam, supporting him … and Sam’s suspicion of that. Sam only knew one father. A father who never complimented, or encouraged, treated Sam’s uniqueness as annoying rebellion, etc. Maybe Father Gil assumes that someone like Sam would be hungry for a father figure, would melt like butter at the concern of an older man. Father Gil misreads Sam. Many do.

Red light.

THE scene, part 5

Time has passed. After the intensity of the God/Lucifer/Deal conversation, silence has descended. Casey – as much of an exhibitionist as Dean is – lies back on the carpet, arms above her head. Resting. But presenting herself as an object, letting him feast his eyes. Another kind of space opens up. Tremulous. Desire has entered the room. Well, it was always there. It’s a different kind of desire than the rough-hate-filled- fucking thing that exists between Sam and Ruby (whether they have sex or not). Dean doesn’t experience sex like that. It’s not his thing. He’s gentle. Casey, I’m sure, senses that, senses his softness, his pleasure-hound languorous thing, and oozes herself into his fantasy girl. She lets him look …

and then playfully busts him on it. He has gone off into a daze looking at her body. He’s not even embarrassed by her mentioning it, calling him out. He knows what she’s doing. He’s done it himself. She WANTS him to look at her. He has obliged her. His mind has already gone in that direction and perhaps the most startling thing is that he hasn’t caught himself, or corrected his course (“Wait … she’s a DEMON. Screwing her is FORBIDDEN.”). All he’s present to is his own vulnerability in the moment, his availability, her availability, plus her cleavage.

My favorite exchange – one it is impossible to imagine occurring at the beginning of the scene – is her sighing, “That would be one way to pass the time, but I don’t think you would respect me in the morning.” Dean says, “That’s okay. Hey, I barely respect you now.” She laughs. And he laughs. It’s so real! How do they DO it? Getting to an exchange like that, and having it work, requires everyone – director, writer, actors, everyone – to be on the same page, to know the arc, to have the arc within them, to work to it, step by step by step. It feels organic, but that’s the key. It is so NOT organic. The scene is filmed in little chunks, they film one moment at a time, they take breaks for lunch, they come back … the process is completely technical. And yet … magic has occurred, in the spaces, the silences, the lingering quality of the individual moments, the connection that has been built between these two phenomenal actors.

The final information-dump comes following this erotic moment. He feels close to her. He decides to ask another question. What now? What’s the end-game? This is where Azazel is named. This is where she confirms Azazel’s story at the end of Season 2. Sam is “the one” and Sam let them all down. Now it’s chaos. She was ready to follow Sam, and her eyes gleam with the intensity of a true believer. Dean is freaked. Talking about Sam this way … the knowledge that demons are out there wanting Sam’s blood … it’s more than any of them bargained for. They were just hunter-grunts. They weren’t important. They weren’t KNOWN by monsters. They were just guys showing up and doing a job. Suddenly becoming famous to the denizens of Hell … known by name … being called to play parts in their Grand Guignol … this is above the Winchester pay-grade, and Dean’s uncertainty shows in his face, in his faint attempt at a joke (“Thank God for that!”).

Also think of what the two of them have just been talking about.

Dean is set to die in a year. He will no longer be around to protect Sam. Sam will be alone.

16th scene

The location of her secret hideaway is beautiful. It’s this weird vine-covered house, with old-fashioned cars parked off to the side. Eventually, we’ll see more of it: the misty walkways, with tilting statues of gargoyles and other creepy creatures, looming in the background or foreground of every shot. When Sam pounds on the door of the house, there’s a twisted-up statue taking up the right-hand side of the screen. You can’t even see what it is but it makes an uncomfortable impression.

All Dean has to say to Sam is, “Sammy, be careful” and Sam knows. I LOVE that. No elaboration necessary. He doesn’t say “Be careful about Father Gil, Sammy” … he doesn’t have to. Sam heads back around the house, drawing the knife. He already felt something was “off” in that red-lit car. Somewhere, he already knew.

It’s these moments of wordless communication – of shared competence – that thrill me, that thrill about this relationship, this pairing, in general. If you can say it without words … DO SO.

Look at that tilting statue. It’s something from out of a fever-dream.

The Father split in two, revealing his true double nature. There’s his “human” face, Father Gil, the kindly priest. But then, tilting out behind him, is his real face. Totally hidden in shadow.

Bobby … and Ruby … are the real cavalry in this scenario, not Gil or Sam. However, Bobby somehow MISSES in his first shot (come on), the precious Colt bullet exploding the head of another creepy statue right behind Gil. Then, after being flung through the air, Bobby collapses on a walkway right beneath a winged crouching gargoyle statue. They’re really laying it on thick, and I love it.

Sam, too, is dispatched onto the windshield of Father Gil’s gas-guzzling green monstrosity. Ruby emerges from the shadows.

So we’ve got two demon babes, two hot brothers. Too bad Casey bites the dust. The four could have gone on a double date.

As Father Gil forces his way through the rubble into the basement, Casey and Dean exchange glances. It’s a fascinating moment. Neither of them knows who is making all that noise, Gil or Sam. But the glance exchanged is not, “I wonder who that is, yours or mine?” What I see in that glance is a hurried and silent good-bye. A good-bye to their shared quiet Eden.

When this show is good, it’s very VERY good.

There are three God-POV shots in this final sequence: Gil pulling back the rug, Gil and Casey kissing, Gil and Casey dead. If you don’t overdo your use of God’s-Eye shots, they’re far more effective. Gil and Casey are given the God’s-Eye treatment, nobody else, highlighting their supernatural status. Watch for the camera move during Gil and Casey’s passionate makeout session: It starts directly above their heads …

… and then moves down onto their level in one swoop, and as the camera gets into position, the two actors break apart, revealing Dean staggering to his feet like comic relief (as indeed he is: watch what Ackles does with his body when he stands up. He doesn’t just get to his feet. He sort of rolls into an upright position. Ackles knows what’s funny in his bones. He’s a ham.)

Best of all: he’s surprised and jealous. Hurt, almost. It’s THE. BEST.

This is not a good episode but that scene, man, that SCENE.

When Gil threatens Dean, Casey stops him: “Leave him be.” When Gil strangles Dean, she pleads, “Let’s just go.”

Later, when Sam busts in … Dean has a similar protective attitude towards her.

I think about this scene all the time, its length, the twists and turns that make sense and yet still surprise, the space allowed for human transformation, nothing manipulated or pre-determined. The scene gets out the information they need to get out. But what the scene DOES is far more important. What really matters is deepening our understanding of the characters. Every scene should reveal something, no matter how small. (Think of Sam rustling around in Casey’s apartment. A nothing scene but they took the time – they cared enough – to set-design the SHIT out of that space so we could get a feeling for who Casey as a human woman was.) Every scene provides that opportunity. Supernatural used to know that, it used to be its driving principle, and it makes me really sad to use the past tense, but I tell it like I see it.

Sam does NOT miss when he shoots at Gil with the mythical Colt. Nor does he miss when he shoots Casey, ignoring Dean’s panicked cry.

To my eyes, Sam does not look as “cold” here as he did when he killed Jake. He looks like a guy doing a necessary job, the job Dean would do if he were in that position. When Dean speaks to Bobby later about it, expressing his concerns about how “cold” it was, I admit that I don’t see what Dean saw. They resurrect that Arc, just to keep it afloat, but didn’t really do what was necessary in the way they filmed Sam killing Casey. Thoughts: If he had shot her in the face. If he had shot her a couple more times, even though she was dead. If he had gone into some sort of ZONE, ignoring Dean as Dean kept pleading with him … THEN I could see Dean needing to express his concerns.

On the flip side, perhaps Casey’s warning about Sam … how much Hell is into Sam … has destabilized Dean, brought up those worries from the Jake-killing moment. It still doesn’t work for me.

17th scene

Nothing has changed in Trotter-ville. Girls walk by holding martini glasses. There are more women than men (because, of course, the fantasy is a male one. What about a Magic Mike XXL-inspired town? I’d move there. Okay, okay, this is Kripke’s world, we’re just livin’ in it.) Dean and Bobby stand on the sidewalk and talk, going over everything. They’re filmed from across the street, immersed in the busy world. It’s morning, the sun is bright, but the party has not stopped. Dean opens up about what he saw when Sam killed “that hot girl.” “It was cold.” If you say so, Dean.

What I do care about … which I mentioned back in that “Everybody Loves a Clown” re-cap … is how much I love it when they shoot in broad daylight. Something else happens. The light is still controlled. There’s no glare. But it almost single-handedly creates vulnerability. Because you see everything. Freckles, skin, the eyelash-shadows, his eyes picking up the light …

It’s perfect that this difficult scene would happen in broad daylight. Surrounded by people.

It’s not what you expect, but it’s perfect once you think about it.

Even more perfect, and more disturbing, is Beaver’s work in this small section. Dean brings up his concerns and asks “Is something wrong with my brother?” His voice thick with barely controlled emotion. Bobby’s response is

1. not automatic. There’s a devastating pause before he speaks
2. not convincing.

When Bobby says, “Demons lie,” Beaver does it in such a way that you know BOBBY is lying.

He has worried about the same thing. He has kept his distance from Sam. We saw it in that opening scene. And now, consider, that he knows that Sam has been secretly in cahoots with Ruby. Bobby got on that gravy-train too but it doesn’t erase the fact that Sam has been holding out on them, and consorting with the enemy. Beaver telegraphs that Bobby is lying, and Bobby normally is a pretty good liar so that should tell you how extreme and personal the situation is.

Brilliant work from Beaver. Disturbing. No comfort for Dean, no comfort for us.

18th scene

Dovetail: The final scene starts with the ceiling mirror reflection.

Through the looking glass.

Both Dean and Sam have been shown in reflection multiple times throughout “Sin City.” That’s not a coincidence.

This is yet another great scene, albeit a total repeat of the final scene in “The Kids Are All Right.” Sam is a cooler operator than Dean. Maybe he feels the criticism of Dean, Dean’s skepticism, even in his private moments with Ruby. Dean is more susceptible, his blessing and his curse. But Sam has his own susceptibility.

What is so great about the Ruby arc, as repetitive as it often is, is that it leads up to a huge payoff – the final-hour realization of what her game has been all along – and just how susceptible Sam was. We trust Sam. Because of that, we feel he knows what he’s doing, or at least that the risks he takes may be worth it. This is a fatal error on Sam’s part, and on ours.

It’s like the final “sting” in The Sting, where the film stings the audience. Ruby’s arc is so well planned and it’s fun to track that journey, scene by scene in various re-watches. Katie Cassidy probably didn’t even know what the hell she was playing. Even she didn’t know what the end-game was. But that makes the “game” even more believable. You can’t clock her lying.

I recognize those lamps from another motel room.

And on that deeply thought-provoking note, I will stop.

Supernatural Re-Caps
Season 1
Season 2
Season 3