Supernatural: Season 2, Episode 7: “The Usual Suspects”

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Directed by Mike Rohl
Written by Cathryn Humphris

There are a couple of reasons why I hold “The Usual Suspects” dear.

One is obvious:

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I love the woman who starred in the movie that practically single-handedly ruined my Catholic childhood. Why wouldn’t I?

The performance is mainly remembered for the horror-movie makeup, and the horrible things the demonic creature says (voice by Mercedes McCambridge), and, of course, the following immortal moment:

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As an adult, I watch the film and worry about Linda Blair, the young girl being asked to tap into/represent all that darkness. (I still worry about kids in horror films.) I had ZERO business watching The Exorcist at age 9, 10, and was so terrified by it it was shattering.

“The Usual Suspects” gives Linda Blair a nice meaty role, with a lot to do. The episode is handed over to her. It’s not a cameo.

The second reason is that the episode is almost entirely from an outsider’s perspective. Sam and Dean are the “objects” of her attention, and it gives us an opportunity to look at them from the outside.

It is different from Gordon entering the action, or even Ellen and Jo, major characters though they are. Any new character helps us see the brothers in different ways; new characters bring out shadings of Sam and Dean that don’t arise when they are operating in isolation with one another. Who Dean is with Ellen is extremely revealing. Who Sam is in the presence of Gordon is extremely revealing.

But here, Sam and Dean have been turned into suspects, creatures kept under lock and key, studied under glass. In that context, seen from the cops’ point of view, they seem uncontrollable, violent, and downright creepy.

Normally, we are in the Winchester Belljar (I talked a little bit about “The Belljar Effect” in the “In My Time of Dying” re-cap). Their rules become our rules, we don’t question them, we don’t even blink when they dig up bodies and set them on fire. We’re like, “Oh. That’s totally normal.” But Supernatural (on occasion) takes the time to remind us what it would look like to a normal civilian (i.e. us). That “outside perspective” is used sparingly, for the most part, and is responsible for one of the funniest moments in the history of the show.

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Part of the outside perspective of “Usual Suspects” is to prioritize Linda Blair’s guest spot, but it’s also because we’ve been “inside” with them, in that claustrophobia, since the beginning. It’s time to let some air in. It’s time to show that their actions have consequences in the real world, and also to have a character come in who sees them as criminals and then … slowly … changes her tune. Watching Linda Blair “get it” over the course of her interrogation of both Sam and Dean, is the main fun of the episode.

A change in Point of View can also be very sexy, and I’m sure there have been dissertations written on the topic. All I know is my own reaction. That’s where voyeur erotica comes from, or voyeuristic fanfic, so you get to be a Peeping Tom and see what goes on behind closed doors. A well-known fictional figure, the star of his own story, is suddenly viewed by a chambermaid hiding behind a curtain in his bedroom, or whatever. That’s what “The Usual Suspects” is all about for me. There’s no sex in it, but I find it one of the sexiest Supernatural episodes, due to that radical Point-of-View shift. I’ll get into that as the re-cap goes along.

Other reasons to love “The Usual Suspects”:

— Dean’s burlesque act monologue to the video monitor
— all of the hand-written notes
— The Aardvark Motel
— References to The X Files, The Great Escape, CHiPs, Matlock, The Rockford Files and The Shining, all in one episode.
— The episode starts out as a clear nod to The Shining, then it becomes Sixth Sense, until finally it becomes Serpico.

The title is a reference to the 1995 movie The Usual Suspects, but of course most people know that that is a reference to Casablanca and its famous final scene.

In Casablanca, Claude Rains plays Renault, a corrupt police inspector, collaborating with the Vichy government as well as Major Strasser, the Nazi commander in Casablanca. Renault is completely untrustworthy and yet is just trying to survive. He will collaborate with whomever is in charge. He sleeps like a baby at night. As Victor Lazslo (Paul Henreid), the wanted revolutionary, escaped from a concentration camp, and Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), his wife, are about to get on the last plane out, Major Strasser arrives at the airfield to stop them. Strasser goes to phone for help and that is when Rick (Humphrey Bogart) shoots him. In the back. A hero shooting someone in the back. That’s Bogart. The police arrive, and all look at Renault for their orders. There’s a tense moment when Rick stares at Renault, wondering if Renault is going to turn him in as the guy who shot Strosser. Instead, Renault barks at the police, “Round up the usual suspects.” This one line allows Victor and Ilsa to fly away unharmed (thereby assuring the freedom of the world, it is assumed), and also shows that Renault, deep down, knows that the Nazis are dicks. Renault allows the good guys to remain free. It’s a political moment. It’s deeply satisfying.

Ilsa and Victor fly off into the foggy night, leaving Rick and Renault alone, and they stroll across the airfield in one of the most famous endings ever put on film.

“Usual Suspects” has a tight and intricate set-up, more typical of crime series than Supernatural, and is also a nod to the 1995 film which had that same structure: open with the arrest, move to the interrogation, see what really happened through flashback. Flying around in time is not Supernatural‘s normal structure, but it fits here: Sam and Dean, living their lives in a horror movie, suddenly find themselves in a police procedural. The entire feeling of the show changes.

Teaser
Baltimore, Maryland

Baltimore will ring bells of doom in the hearts of the Winchesters, just like the city of St. Louis will. These cities represent moments when their exploits reach the attention of real-life law enforcement. I appreciate that Supernatural allowed itself to deal with that messiness: these guys look/act like criminals, and there is no way half of the stuff they do could be explained. It’s an annoyance, a hindrance, a byproduct of the life, and it makes Sam and Dean have to go undercover. Or even more undercover than they normally are.

One of the funniest comments ever left on my site in its 12-year history was from Jessie, in regards to what their life actually must look like from the outside, to a cop tracking them down:

How hilarious it would have been to watch Victor Henricksen travel behind them. “So they went to the library and photocopied twenty pictures out of a book on Appalachian folklore and looked at them for a while. Then they emptied a can of salt onto the carpet of their motel room. Then they walked around the victim’s house and had a D&M with his five-year-old. Then they bought a gong from a hippie shop and went and got drunk on top of a car in a park somewhere. Then they murdered three dudes and desecrated their corpses. Then they had a Dr Sexy MD marathon on pay-per-view and the next day they drove 3000 miles to some podunk town in Florida.”

Sometimes we get a quick glance from an outsider point of view, like the look Amy Acker gives Dean in “Dead In the Water,” or the look the preacher’s daughter suddenly gives Sam in “Hook Man.” In those moments is a sudden realization of what type of person is standing in front of them, a type they have never encountered before, except maybe in heroic movies. Such people exist? But sometimes the outsider point of view is like the one shared by Linda Blair’s character or the marvelous Agent Henricksen: These men are dangerous and must be locked away.

First off: Check out the killer tracking shot that opens the episode. It’s so elegant and graceful that you barely notice it, but it plunges us into the world of the police station, its activity, its bustle, it follows first a prisoner being led down a hall, but then it swoops into an office room, and a cop comes towards the camera, but we’re not interested in her either, we are interested in the other guy coming towards us, a Detective Pete Sheridan (Jason Gedrick), talking in his cell phone and heading over to the Fax machine. I timed it: it’s a 22-second take. Not as long as the 25-second one in “Simon Said,” but it’s up there. I love long takes.

There is almost no color in the entire episode. It’s all blacks and deep blackish-blues, and grayish whites. The only hint of color is the faded pink seen in the motel later. It’s a grim color palette. Appropriate.

Detective Pete is asking what name the suspect registered into the hotel under, and his reply to the unheard answer is, “Ohh, that’s my favorite so far.” It’s our first clue, if we’re paying attention, that it is the Winchesters they’re after. Already the Baltimore police have an M.O. for these guys, and the Faxes coming over the wire bring in more information.

We then fly back and forth between two different events, both of which withhold information from us, similar to the sexy-violent opening of “Skin” from Season 1. There’s a SWAT team moving along the balcony of a cheap motel.

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There’s also an unknown guy sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed hands in the foreground, Detective Pete chatting with him about all the serious charges they have against him: credit card fraud, grave desecration, murder. The detective holds the Fax he just received from St. Louis: “where you’re suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman …But supposedly you died there.”

The SWAT team smashes into a room, and a figure there, whom we can’t see, puts his hands in the air. Linda Blair, holding up her gun, emerges through the suited-up warriors, and she looks beautiful, her hair highlighted from behind. She is tiny, what my friend Caitlin would call “minz,” towered over by her colleagues as well as the suspect, but she looks tough and strong, with adrenaline surging through her features.

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She asks, “Going somewhere, Sam?” And finally, we see Sam, hands raised, cast on one arm, looking frightened and confused.

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Back to the interrogation room now, Detective Pete leaves the room, the camera circling around the back of the suspect, whom we now know will be Dean. The expression on his face is unreadable. Sam’s expression is more immediately understandable. Dean’s? Not so much.

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1st scene
What is great about the opening scene is that Detective Diana Ballard’s point of view is prioritized immediately. Sam and Dean have been separated, and they will remain so for most of the episode. We follow her, for the most part, not them. And so it skews the lens through which we see them, it re-frames it into an outsider’s perspective.

John Winchester and his sons do what they have to do to survive as well as avoid detection from the civilian level, where every purchase you make, every bill you pay, marks your place on the Grid. The Winchesters do their best to stay OFF the grid, and yet, of course, complete invisibility is impossible, as we see here. Even Sam looks alarmed at times at how much she knows about him.

Dean, as we saw in the teaser, was held in a dark windowless room with one-way glass, suggesting a higher level of culpability, whereas Sam has been placed in a regular room, exposed brick, Venetian blinds (of course, because how else will you get those incredible stark shadows), and a big table. The room is not big, and Sam looms in it, seeming too big for the space.

This early on in the episode, in this scene, I remember feeling anxious to “get back to Dean,” like: what is happening in Dean’s interrogation, and then realized what I was doing and started laughing. Separating the brothers causes anxiety in both of them, they have to get back to each other, they need to share information, they are still working a case, locked up though they may be. And that symbiotic relationship (a term I prefer to codependent, although I sometimes cave and use it) had worked on me to such a degree that I felt anxious that they were separated. Ah, Supernatural, you have done your work and you have done it well.

As she reads out the particulars (“whereabouts of father, unknown … your family moved around a lot when you were a kid …”), Sam hangs back, trapped in the corner, all dramatically and starkly lit. There’s his shadow on the wall, competing with other shadows. The shot is completely over-the-top.

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The details paint a pretty sad story, read out like that by a cop in such a room. (If you haven’t seen Werner Herzog’s Into the Abyss, part of his death-row series … I highly recommend it. You hear the bare facts about these people’s lives and you think: “Jesus H. Christ. That’s a bad hand dealt to you at birth.” Not to excuse their monstrous actions. Some people are dealt AS bad a hand and still manage to NOT choose to murder three people in order to joyride around in a stolen Ferrari. But Sam’s “biography”, coming out of Linda Blair’s mouth, sounds sad like that, a chaotic life surrounded by death and poor choices. And IS all that, but it looks very different from inside the Belljar.)

Sam, thrown off at the reference to Jess, thrown off and upset at the casual rattling off of the wreckage of his life, tries to re-frame some of what she’s throwing at him. He tells her he needed some time off, he’s taking a road trip with his brother. They saw the “second largest ball of twine in the continental U.S.,” he tells her. I’ve seen the largest ball of twine. Multiple times, actually. Has anyone else? It’s in Wisconsin. The second largest ball of twine is in Kansas. America is so weird.

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Her vibe with him is friendly, encouraging almost, but there’s a steely spine. Dean is a lost cause. “It’s not your fault Dean’s your brother,” she says kindly. “We can’t pick our family.” That’s Eric Kripke’s entire idea behind the show, its motor. You can see Sam thinking, calculating, taking a sip of coffee. They’re accusing Dean of murdering someone named Karen Giles. They caught Dean at the scene. Detective Ballard is asking Sam to consider Dean “as good as gone.” These comments have huge resonance once you’ve seen the rest of the series. It’s strange, to be talking about Dean so extensively when he’s not there. It really is like he’s as good as a dead man. Sam can still save himself, maybe she can talk to the DA. All she needs is some missing details.

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The thing about having the outsider perspective run the episode is that suddenly we can’t be sure what anyone is thinking. Normally, we can look at Sam and pretty much tell what’s going on. Same with Dean. Here, though, we see them through Detective Ballard’s eyes, and … maybe Sam looks extremely guilty. Or, if not guilty, then incredibly sketchy. His thought process is ON his face. He might as well be speaking his thoughts out loud, they’re so obvious. A detective would pick up on that, and know he had something to hide. But to us, watching … it’s like there’s suddenly a layer between us and him. Like we’re looking at him through the one-way glass in an interrogation room. That’s what is so great about “Usual Suspects,” and both actors have a lot of fun showing us everything but telling us nothing, forcing us to be distant from them, removing us from their inner circle of trust.

A woman named Karen Giles has been murdered. She’s the one Dean was supposed to have killed. Sam informs Detective Ballard that Tony Giles, her husband, was an old buddy of their father. “We’ve known him since we were kids …” Sam’s reminiscent smile seems truthful. I was fooled by it. Hell, how was I supposed to know? The Winchester life remains so mysterious, they could be holding out so much on us! He says they came to Baltimore as soon as they heard about his death.

2nd scene
As Sam talks, the scene changes, and we are now back in the “memory”. An open newspaper with a strange headline that probably should have been rewritten: “Man’s Throat Slit Without a Trace.” What is “without a trace”? The slit in his throat? Of course, “without a trace” is meant to refer to the killer, but the wording suggests otherwise. We see the picture of the guy, a beaming silver-haired fox. Doesn’t look like he’d be a friend of John Winchester’s, but again, you never know. We pull up from the newspaper and see Sam, holding two cups of coffee, approaching the table. Dean hands the paper over to Sam, and Sam reads it out loud, Dean, sipping his coffee, freckled and fresh-faced, prompting his brother: “Keep reading, it gets better.”

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There’s no pushback from Sam, no “Maybe there’s a rational explanation for what happened”, they’re both ready to go. Dean refers to Sam as “Scully,” and Sam, like a little kid, balks. “I’m Mulder.” “No,” says Dean. “I’m Mulder. You’re Scully.”

Guys. You can BOTH be Mulder.

Or why don’t you take turns?

As long as at some point, I get to see you in this pose, and preferably dressed like this.

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We see the memory. We see that it differs from what Sam tells Detective Ballard. It destabilizes the situation. Back in the interrogation room, Sam is now saying they went to visit Karen. “We just wanted to be there for her, y’know?”

And this is what I love about the episode. Lying to the cops is, in general, not seen as a good thing in our culture. I think we all can agree on that. The Usual Suspects shows how it is necessary sometimes, and also how good Sam and Dean are at it. It prioritizes their wiliness, their cunning, their ESP (they both have the same cover story to tell), their criminal mindset … and it makes it look … cool, smart, necessary. Much of this is helped by Linda Blair’s REACTION to them over the course of the episode. At one point she says, almost to herself, “These two guys …”

She becomes US in that moment. She’s outside the Belljar, looking in, and she has now understood how they operate, and she … she kind of LOVES them for it. But we’ll get to that.

Sam starts to describe going to visit the grieving widow, and suddenly we are in the memory again, and there’s a closeup of a death certificate, hands picking it up. It is Karen Giles, the wife of the silver fox in the newspaper, and in an example of interesting casting that Supernatural (when it’s good and inventive), Keegan Connor Tracy plays Karen.

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Her husband clearly had a good 30 years on her. But she’s not what you would call a trophy wife, or not the cliche. She’s a young serious-looking thing with big glasses, and a big furry sweater. It’s hard to picture her being the wife of the sleek smooth older guy we saw in the paper. But that’s the way life is sometimes, isn’t it? We don’t all come from Central Casting.

She’s a wreck. Dean and Sam are posing as insurance representatives, and the light is moody and glamorous. They both look absolutely beautiful, as they stare at her, Sam acting concerned and sorry, Dean … not at all. The establishing shot comes in the middle of the scene (a stylistic tic of the show – more conventional shows would start with the establishing shot), and we see the three of them sitting at the table, shot from a creepy low angle in the next room.

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Here is what we get from behavior in the scene.

Sam is, as per usual, acting his part as the insurance rep who has a well-honed “act” of being “sorry for your loss, but we need to know what happened.” Dean doesn’t waste time with stuff like that. He operates in an atmosphere of plausible deniability, he doesn’t even worry if he comes off weird, or not right. It happens all the time. Karen, however, is so upset she doesn’t notice, at first, that his “act” isn’t quite … right. But when he asks her if she noticed anything “strange” the night he died, she blinks at him. What? What does he mean? Dean pushes forward, insistent, almost impatient with her, causing Sam to throw a warning glance his brother’s way. But Dean’s pushing pays off, and suddenly Karen reveals that yes, her husband had a nightmare the night before he died.

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It’s fun to see how the brothers differ in their understanding of taking on fake personae. Sam gets into the role. Dean puts on the costume, but doesn’t worry as much about the acting part of it. He knows the people he interviews are usually so self-involved in grief and trauma that they won’t notice his weird-ness. He’s right.

But what is also fun is seeing how in certain situations (especially a couple episodes coming up in Season 2) Dean puts on a costume and immerses himself fully into the pretend world. He is a master chameleon when he wants to be. He becomes a PA. He fits right in in prison.That’s part of Dean’s suggestibility and susceptibility, part of his survivor’s instinct. Throw him in a foreign situation, he picks up the rules with one quick glance, and does what he has to do to become the Alpha Dog on the playground. That even happened for him, briefly, in the boys’ home, his only real glimpse of an alternate life for himself. He soared in that environment. It is his gift, it is his tragedy.

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Karen is confused and almost angry at the turn the questioning has taken. What the hell difference does it matter what her husband dreamt? “Our company is very thorough …” says Dean, half-assedly, and if you weren’t in a state of trauma you might throw him out of your house because his entire behavior is a Red Flag of Wrong. But look what happens. His pushing causes her to tell him that the woman in her husband’s nightmare was pale with red eyes.

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There is then one of those totally satisfying glances-between-the-brothers, of which I never tire. I love it when they communicate with no language. These interrogation scenes are the bread-and-butter of the series (or at least they were at the beginning), plot-driven, information-driven, exposition-heavy, and they all play out using the same playbook. (Karen Giles even says one of my favorite lines said by all of the people they interview: “I already told this to the cops …”) But it is the behavior between the Winchesters, their competence (that word again!) that is so satisfying.

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The scene ends, moving back to Sam lying to Detective Ballard about their visit to console a family friend. “We told her to call us if she needed anything. End of story.”

Watch Linda Blair tap her fingers on the table, restlessly. It is her job to fill in the blanks for us, it is her job to tell us about the investigation thus far, and what led to them busting out the SWAT team and arresting the Winchesters. The backwards chronology only highlights their unreliability as narrators (always a good thing). She knows she is being lied to. She’s a good cop. Sam is not cracking. He is reasonable, quiet, helpful. She’s not buying what he’s selling. She knows they broke into Tony Giles’ office, there are multiple eyewitnesses. Sam isn’t thrown by that. He says yes, they did break in, Karen asked them to go get something for her, the police weren’t letting her through. He’s so reasonable. As he’s saying to her, “Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene — but she gave us the key…” suddenly, we get a closeup of the door lock and one of them picking it like the criminals that they are.

I love that Sam is totally likable AS he lies through his teeth.

There’s a great shot from within the dark office of the two figures ducking under the yellow police tape, wielding flashlights. Nope, nothing strange or off about this at all.

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Sam and Dean skulk around. There’s still blood pooled on the floor. Dean sees something on the desk and hands it to Sam. Sam puzzles over it.

It is a reference to one of the scariest moments in cinema.

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Not scary because of a monster or a ghost or two twin girls in blue dresses at the end of a hallway. But scary because it shows an unhinged mind. Dean finds another piece of paper filled with the repeated words “Danashulps” and cracks up, saying, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Because if you are a movie fan, that is definitely what you would say when confronted with such a piece of paper.

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Dean sometimes gets in a mood. It’s all part of his survival technique. It’s not just about wisecracking, Han Solo style. It’s about making the best of a sucky situation, it’s about enjoying his own awesome-ness (see him cracking jokes in “Asylum”) and trying to lighten the mood. Sometimes it’s about dealing with own crushing boredom. He’s good company to himself (an amazing statement considering where the series ends up going, but at this point, it’s more or less true. He’s finding his equilibrium again, post John’s death, post Gordon’s entrance, post Ellen and Jo. He’s working a case with his brother. It’s all good. Yes, there is blood on the floor over there, but he’s seen worse than that.)

Seen through the glass of the desk, Sam notices smudges.

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In a really fun effect, he breathes along the table, and the ghostly letters show up: “DANA SHULPS.” Sam and Dean exchange looks. Was she the red-eyed woman in Giles’ dream? Time to start looking through Giles’ files.

(The funnest part of all of this is that it is a flashback, but we know that back in real-time, in the interrogation room, Sam is lying. It makes the guys seem even more subversive than usual, because once law-enforcement gets involved, they have to start lying.)

There’s a slight dissolve to show time passing, and Dean is now frustrated. No Dana Shulps. They are digging through files via flashlight and Dean is probably hungry. Wild goose chase. Sam handles frustration better. He’s trying to crack the password on Giles’ computer. Dean, aimless, sits down to wait.

Then follows a small silent-movie pantomime of aimlessness, boredom, and ridiculous noises (made by Dean, just to pass the time – I mean, that’s the only reason. He’s bored, so he decides to contort his mouth and see what sounds come out as a result). I love the bit so much because it has no point except for character-building and comedy. It gives a shading to their relationship, something we haven’t seen all that much, especially because Dean is so often in the leadership “here’s how it’s gonna be” position. It’s always thrilling (for me, anyway) when the tables are turned. Because nobody is Alpha Dog like Sam. Dean, as the older brother, has many skills and strengths. So does Sam. But here, suddenly, in this scene, where Dean has to wait around for no longer than 30 minutes – I mean, that is not a long amount of time – and he is literally unable to do it. It’s hilarious.

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A small beat like this feels very very loose to me, like it came out of rehearsal, and it was something Jensen did, and Jared reacted to it, and they thought, “Yeah. Let’s keep it.” Some of their best bits come out of rehearsal (of which they don’t get much, maybe one table read and that’s it.) My favorite line in the entire series (“Do you have bigger cups?”) was a line Jared threw in during a rehearsal, and the Supernatural team, all credit to them, are so open to stuff like that. This moment feels totally real: Sam, the busy beaver, Dean sitting aimlessly in the chair, like a gangly adolescent, making clucking noises, and then contorting his face to see what fart sound comes out … it’s sheer absurdity, and Sam’s reaction is what helps the whole beat land. He’s tolerated the cluck-cluck-fart noises for as long as he can take (and it’s only about 4 seconds, which makes his explosion even funnier.)

I think my favorite part, though, is after Sam explodes, “DUDE,” Dean doesn’t fight back or protest. It’s like he snaps out of a fugue state, a dream. Up he goes, “Okay, I’m gonna go over to Karen’s …” thanks for snapping me out of that weirdness, brother, I don’t know WHAT that all was about.

Back in the interrogation room, Sam continues his story. Look at her expression.

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Consider the facts that have come over the wire and across her desk. Consider what she must be thinking. How coolly Sam is lying to her, how confidently he tells his “story” … it’s practically breath-taking in its audacity. Most murder suspects give the game away, show at least a little bit more flustered defensive behavior. Not this cool customer with the cast on his arm. She asks him why he didn’t leave with his brother and Sam says he just went back to the motel.

Sam’s vibe will be a direct contrast to what we will see from Dean, later.

Consider what a tight spot they are in. Even in St. Louis, it wasn’t this tight. They have been separated. The cops know everything about them (or at least everything that intersects with the mainstream grid). There wouldn’t have been time to get their stories straight. Their stories have been set up already, drilled into them through years of training and practice, going back to childhood. John probably drilled them on what to say if questioned, and Sam and Dean obviously have talked a lot about what to do in just such a scenario.

But by seeing them through the eyes of Detective Ballard, AND by not giving us the whole story at the get-go, by parsing it out to us piecemeal, it makes Sam and Dean seem even more formidable. Rock stars.

That attitude is reflected in how both of them are filmed throughout. Example.

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They are filmed with a sense of objectivity (or even more so than usual). This shot of Sam feels objective to me, as close as it is. We know he is lying. We know why he is lying, even though we don’t know the full story yet. We are in his experience at the very same time that we are seeing him through Detective Ballard’s piercing eyes. We are getting the full picture, in a way other episodes don’t provide. It’s almost like a case study of Sam.

The “objective” quality of “The Usual Suspects” is brought to us multiple ways: prioritizing her point of view, her character’s journey, seeing Dean through a police-camera monitor (which automatically distances us from him), and pretty much every other shot that exists in the police station, when Sam and Dean are trying to contact one another. We are included, yet excluded at the same time. We are not in there with them. We are Detective Ballard, looking in at them from the outside.

Detective Ballard stops the Good Cop routine and goes in harder, demanding to know why the two of them separated. Dean, apparently, went and killed Karen Giles after making an annoying fart noise in her dead husband’s office. Sam expresses confusion as to how the SWAT team knew where to find him, and Ballard tosses down a matchbook for the motel found in Dean’s pocket when they arrested him. Seems like a slip-up to me on Dean’s part.

And it is during Ballard’s outburst that she now takes over the narrative. Ballard heard Karen Giles’ panicked 911 call, telling police that someone was in her house. The flashback comes underneath Ballard’s words, but it goes further into the event. All Ballard knows is the 911 call, and what they found when they showed up. The episode has a life of its own, the narrative weaving around with truth, lies, all mixed up, told by first this person, then that one … and then the regular omniscient story-teller which shows us everything. It’s disorienting. It’s great.

Karen Giles sits on the couch in her dark living room, crying, pulling out Kleenex. She misses her silver fox! A dark shadow crosses in the foreground (a shot reminiscent of The Sixth Sense), and Karen, startled, stares off into the shadows. She takes off her glasses and the entire room goes blurry. She sort of laughs to herself, relieved, like: “My mind is playing tricks on me.” Any time anyone is relieved in a horror film, you know they are dunzo.

She puts her glasses back on and sees a ghostly female figure staring at her through some French doors. Dana? Is that you?

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Terrified, Karen sneaks through her shadowy house, and then, horror-movie-playbook – heads up the stairs. Instead of out the front door, which is right there. Nope, she goes up the stairs, hides in her bedroom and calls 911. The operator seems to hang up on her. Then the lights (low as they are) start flickering, and then, beautifully, the printer starts up by itself, with that herky-jerky sound home printers make, and it starts printing something, the wheel whirring back, forth, back, forth, back, forth, quickly, frantically. Karen stares over, horrified, and then moves to get a closer look. The paper emerges slowly from the printer:

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Director Mike Rohl really drags this out. She stares, scared, at the repeated words emerging from the printer, all on its own. Her hand hovers by a nearby glass doorknob. She finally opens the door. It’s pitch-black inside. Crying, scared, she goes deeper into the shadows, rummaging through the hanging clothes, before she finds a flashlight, and turns it on. And there, standing right in front of her, is the vision from the window. Karen screams.

3rd scene
Still “in” the flashback, only now it’s told from an omniscient point of view, moving away from Ballard’s version, we see Dean gently lift the door knocker and rap on the Giles’ front door. It’s incredible he would go through that formality at all.

Look at the darkness of this shot.

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It’s classic early Supernatural. This is the hero of the show, remember. He is constantly filmed as though he is a villain. There is barely any light at all on that screen, but there’s just enough. It’s art.

Nobody answers the door and Dean calls out for Karen, suddenly shown from a spooky low-angle, making everything – everything – seem wrong. He looks wrong. The scene looks wrong.

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Everything is dangerous. There’s a dead woman inside, and now we know that Dean is about to be arrested for it. A low angle like that is disorienting, and here, it makes Dean look extremely vulnerable. It’s the angle used to film either a murderer or a victim. Here, Dean is both.

Dean breaks in. The house is shadowy and quiet. He tries the lights. No luck. He wanders around, and you can barely see him half the time. The perspective, again, puts him in the grey area, visually. We know he’s a good guy but he’s filmed like a bad guy. It is all intensified by the mixed-up chronology of the episode and the fact that we are trying to figure out who to believe and what the hell happened. He comes across Karen’s dead body, lying in the middle of her bedroom floor. Dean is visibly upset by it. Maybe he even feels a little bit guilty. His spidey-sense told him something was up with that nightmare her husband had, and then this mysterious Dana Shulps … they should have been watching Karen, they should have tried to get her out of there. He sees the paper lying in the printer tray, and picks it up.

There is another gloriously insane closeup of those creepy words all pushed together filling up the page. Dean’s response when he sees it? “Seriously. What the hell.” I love that the mystery is annoying him, he is OVER it, like he was OVER it in the office. He hates mysteries. He hates being confronted with something he can’t figure out. Dana Shulps can go straight to hell!

He kneels by Karen, and picks up one of her lifeless hands. There are weird bruises on the wrists. At that moment, a voice comes from behind him: “Freeze.” Two cops stand there, holding guns on him. The camera stays on Dean’s face as the cops move forward and grab him, pulling his arms behind him, putting handcuffs on him. There are no cut-aways. And there’s no getting around how freaked out he looks. It is a private moment. Neither cop can see his face. This is Dean communing with Dean. Dean saying to himself, “Ohhhh shit.

It is one of the only times in the episode that we see that inner fear. Everything else is Dean viewed from the outside, viewed by the cops who think he did it. His behavior will be clear to us, but inexplicable to the watching police force, and it ups the mystery and glamour of who he is.

Part of the joy is watching skeptical intelligent Detective Ballard eventually “get it.”

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Killer shot of Dean in the interrogation room being viewed through a one-way mirror by Detective Pete Sheridan.

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Dean is seen looking around, blowing air out of his mouth, placing his hands on the table together, looking down at his hands … he seems completely unconcerned. Maybe even a little bored. Imagine what that looks like to an outsider who believes they have just caught a vicious multiple murderer. It is reminiscent of watching the creepy and totally “off” interrogation video of Jodi Arias, laughing to herself when the cop left the room, doing a handstand, etc. That’s how Dean is looked at by the cops. That is how his behavior “reads.” Disaffected. Unconcerned. Casual.

There’s barely any color on the screen. That is true for almost the entire episode. It’s blacks, greys, off-whites. It’s a sickly nocturnal world.

Detective Ballard comes in to ask Pete if he’s getting anywhere with Dean. Nope. “Just a lot of wise-ass remarks …” Dean is shown through the glass. There is no emotion on his face. He’s in a state of waiting. Both detectives look through at him. They are projecting onto him, they are seeing what they know he’s done, the viciousness of the murder. How can he be so cool? So over it? Ballard tells Pete that Sam and Dean’s stories match, down to the second. Who’s lying? It all seems to depend on Sam turning on his brother, but so far he’s not talking. Ballard is getting concerned, as she tells Pete, once they leave the ante-room and walk down the corridor. The darkest corridor in the history of police stations.

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St. Louis bolsters their case, even though they have no murder weapon and no motive. But Ballard is feeling uneasy. Pete, at one point, touches her face gently, and says, “Do you have reasonable doubt?” The gesture makes us understand that their relationship is not strictly professional.

As they move on, Linda Blair is given the unenviable task of spouting some exposition at us, but she does it well, providing logic and motivation. Tony Giles and Pete were friends, so Pete has a vested interest in cleaning up the mess quick. Ballard understands that, but maybe they need to cast a wider net. “Tony knew a lot of criminal types …” And Pete laughs, saying “He was a defense attorney, of course he knew a lot of criminal types.”

This is how you slip exposition into your dialogue. It is not easy, and it is slightly awkward, but someone has to get that information out.

In retrospect, you can see that Pete is throwing her a snow-job. He’s laughing off her concerns, saying stuff like, “Dean is our guy.” But before you know how it ends, before you know how corrupt Pete is, the scene could conceivably be read as two cops batting around ideas. Two cops who happen to be romantically involved. When he laughs at her “criminal types” comment, she laughs too, and says to herself, and to him, “Okay.” It’s a lovely moment. The whole relationship is in that tiny throw-away moment. It is the moment when I really started liking her character, seeing where she was coming from.

The two stop to chat by a vending machine.

Vending machines are very important in Supernatural. They show up constantly. First of all, they provide a light-source that is organic to the scene. You don’t need to light much else, just let the machine do all of it. Second of all, it’s how Sam and Dean fed themselves, for the most part, when left to their own devices as kids. Motels have vending machines. They’re a part of every landscape, but they feel extremely American, and that’s Supernatural too.

Also, they’re damn pretty.

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Glancing up and down the hallway, the two steal a quick and tender kiss. Her smile, as she looks at him, is intimate and mischievous. This man is important to her. We don’t even need the backstory. Grinning at him, she wipes the lipstick off his lips, and heads off down the dank gloomy hallway by herself. He watches her go, smiling, although once you know the whole story, you see much more ambivalence there.

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We arrive now at the middle section of the episode. It’s a small masterpiece of humor, problem-solving, and editing.

Dean and Sam are separated with no way to communicate. The two of them are still working the case … coming to the same conclusions, almost at the same moment. Separating them highlights their competence, as well as their uncanny connection to one another, to the patterns of thought, the patterns of problem-solving.

Even better is how unconcerned both of them seem about being hauled in for murder. Of course they are not unconcerned at all, but figuring out the Dana Shulps mystery takes priority over worrying over their own hides. Both of them are magnificent under pressure. As I keep mentioning (sorry for the repetition), we know that already, we’ve seen them in tons of stressful situations. But there is a layer here between us and them, we are separated from them, we are looking at them through one-way mirrors. It makes them seem even more strange, even more formidable.

The following scene goes back and forth, between Sam and Dean, as they come to the same conclusion. It’s thrilling. I love seeing people’s brains work.

1. Dean is alone in the interrogation room, hands cuffed. His eyes are closed, and he murmurs to himself over and over again, “Dana Shulps. Dana Shulps.” He tries different emphases to see if something jogs loose. “Dana Shulps.” (Ackles, man. So specific.)

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2. Sam pulls a piece of paper over to him and starts writing on it.

3. Dean, still murmuring to himself like a lunatic, says quietly, “Maybe it’s not a name.” He says it twice. The first time, he’s pondering the idea casually, as though it just floated into his head unbidden. The second time he says it, he zooms in on it with more serious intent. Listen to how Ackles delineates those two line readings. Smart.

4. Sam, staring down at the “name,” murmurs to himself, “Anagram, maybe?” And starts shuffling up the letters.

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5. Dean, who has no piece of paper, has closed his eyes, and his lips are moving, as he shuffles the letters around in his mind.

I am in love with both of them, nerd-balls and word-boys that they suddenly are. It is a certain type. I come from a crossword-puzzle-obsessed family. When we all go on vacation together, four morning papers have to be bought, because there are four adults who need to do the crossword puzzle, and it’s only fair. So now I’m picturing Sam and Dean in some cheesy motel fighting over the other one finishing the crossword puzzle while on the can. “Dammit, I was saving that for later.” “Dude, you didn’t know what the capital of Mongolia was? What is your problem?” And etc.

Dean’s prayer-like attitude is interrupted by a man entering, who introduces himself as a public defender. Perfect casting, he is a shlubby earnest guy with an ineffective smile. He means well, but … you know. (My first boyfriend was a public defender in Philadelphia, so the characterization of PDs is somewhat unfair: these people work so hard, for no money, and they represent the worst of the worst … necessary work, provided for in our Constitution – but still: the stereotype remains and this guy embodies it from the second he walks into the room.)

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Dean glances up, clocks him instantly, wise-cracks, “Thank God. I’m saved” and then immediately asks the guy for a pencil and paper.

Sure, no problem, here you go … says the PD, who spends his days representing people who have clearly done heinous things but tries to treat them in a respectful manner, as part of his job. As he gives Dean the paper and pen, the lawyer starts to talk about the case, how they haven’t found a weapon yet, that gives them wiggle room, and blah blah … but Dean isn’t listening. He’s already hunched over the paper, writing. Mirroring exactly what his brother is doing in the room down the hall.

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The public defender realizes Dean isn’t listening and tries to get his client’s attention. Dean is engrossed, though, tossing an explanation at the lawyer without looking; “I think it’s an anagram.” “What?” “Same letters, different words.” Yeah, Dean, I think he knows. After filling the piece of paper with possibilities, Dean pushes the pad over to the lawyer, asking the lawyer if he recognizes any of those words. The way he does it … it’s a mixture of dismissive and aggressive. Treating the lawyer like his manservant. Extremely confusing if you consider that he’s been arrested for murder. He’s playing word games? “Do you have any idea how serious the charges are against you?” Dean lifts his hand, showing the cuffs. “I’m cuffed to a table. I get it. Humor me.”

The lawyer looks over the piece of paper, and “ASH LAND” jumps out at him. That’s a street, he tells Dean. Dean thinks about it. The lawyer tries to get back to the business at hand, and starts his line of questioning. Dean, however, is busy, again, with his piece of paper. He’s seen in the foreground, looking down.

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He’s not even paying lip service to the “role” he’s supposed to be playing, similar to what we saw in the scene with Karen Giles, when he didn’t even try to seem “realistic.” Okay, fine, he’s incarcerated. He’ll work the case from inside just as hard as he would work it if he were free. He hands the note over, saying, “Thanks for the law review, Matlock. If you want to help me, give this to my brother.”

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So rude! So funny!

Dean has referred to himself as “Matlock” before.. The image of Dean watching every episode of freakin’ Matlock as a child is so pleasing to me. Later in the episode, Sam will also call the guy “Matlock” and it’s hilarious. The shared frame of reference for the brothers, built up over a lifetime of too much television. Their references are rarely current, if you notice. They were watching re-runs, and old TV, old movies on public television. Dean may be more up to date on what’s happening currently but when he needs a reference, he’s usually going back to the 1980s (or earlier, with Clint Eastwood). The stuff we see in our childhood is entwined in our DNA. My cousin Ken can still recite almost every single Brady Bunch episode from memory. He can see a screengrab and tell you instantly what episode it is from. It is 40 years since he watched the show regularly. Longer. Almost 50. It doesn’t matter. He knows that show as well as he knows his own family photo album. So. Matlock. I mean, that show has almost zero cultural weight (despite its long-running status). It’s one of those hit shows that is beloved by its fans, beloved by Andy Griffith fans for sure … but you wouldn’t call it relevant or influential. Yet when Sam and Dean need to jokingly refer to a public defender … out comes “Matlock.” Automatically. It’s heart-warming. It’s part of the dynamic that starts to melt Detective Ballard.

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Steve McQueen comes up a lot in Season 2, as we will see. The first reference was from Jo, describing her father bursting through the door, but there will be many more. Steve McQueen is the ultimate symbol of freedom and staunch American individualism (not to mention sexy badassery and unfair imprisonment -see The Great Escape and Papillon.)

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Detective Ballard sits at her desk, typing a report. It’s amazing she can see anything at all, considering the dungeon-like lighting of the police station. The episode constantly moves away from the Dean/Sam drama to her. Dean and Sam are plot-points/supporting characters in what is going on with HER (not the other way around). It’s a fascinating shift.

As she types, suddenly the computer takes on a life of its own, and the words DANASHULPS start to fill up the screen.

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Her hand isn’t even on the keyboard. She looks shocked, tries to close out, tries to click “Enter,” nothing. There’s a shot of the computer screen, those words unfurling endlessly, creating strange patterns on the screen, and it’s what madness looks like. Just as suddenly, it stops, and disappears. Her report is as she left it. She glances around her, nervously.

7th scene
Huge closeup of Sam reading Dean’s note. I would like to have it framed.

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There’s so much writing in this episode. Dean and Sam, denied computers, denied contact, resort to the written word, passing notes like kids in class. Steve McQueen played a restless and relentless prisoner-of-war in The Great Escape. He was treated as a dangerous flight risk from the get-go (because he was). While the other prisoners, including James Garner, Charles Bronson, Richard Attenborough and others, bond together to create a group escape plan … Steve McQueen (“Hilts”) remains isolated by choice. He’s American. Maybe that’s why. He’s played by Steve McQueen, maybe that’s why (McQueen was one of our most solitary movie stars.) When he does escape, of course it is via motorcycle in a famous (and ridiculous, but who cares) sequence.

Dean’s note. It’s information. “Ashland is a street.” It’s also code. Hilts. McQueen. Great Escape. It’s a message: “Sammy. Make like Hilts and skedaddle.”

The poor defense lawyer who is getting nowhere with these con artists tries to talk to Sam about the case and about Dean, but he is yet again faced with an individual who is blatantly not paying attention to him. Watch Sam’s face as he folds up the note. He looks cunning, manipulative. Detective Ballard might have seen the “plan” being born there, but the lawyer misses it. He says, “I’d like to discuss your case now.”

Sam snaps out of his reverie of riding a motorcycle through Switzerland, and holds out his hand to the chair across the table, saying, “Sure thing, Matlock.”

Dying.

It’s not only the repetition that makes it funny. Sam’s demeanor does not look like the demeanor of someone who is a suspect in a murder case. He acts like he’s an executive greeting a guest for an appointment. In 5 seconds of screen time, we get the fabulous note from Dean, as well as the second “Matlock” reference. This poor lawyer. You can’t help but feel bad for him. Please stop calling me Matlock. Please stop making fun of me.

Detective Ballard peeks her head in and says to the lawyer, “We need you. With the other one.”

Dean and Sam: connected. There’s one, and then there’s “the other one.”

8th scene
“The Usual Suspects” leaves Sam and Dean’s thought processes alone. We are not privy to them. We are on the baffled side of law enforcement, a situation reiterated by the next shot, Dean seen through the one-way mirror again, only this time with a crowd of people looking in at him. A video camera is inside the room with Dean. He is cool and collected and appears to be ready to make a statement.

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The last moment we saw him, he scribbled a note out and gave it to his lawyer. The note told Sam information and also clued Sam to escape. Putting together the timeline, Dean is creating a diversion (as was done repeatedly throughout The Great Escape), Dean is creating a brouhaha, a media frenzy, a swarm, so that Sam will have a chance to fly the coop.

Dean is sacrificing himself. He knows what he is about to say will not be believed. He knows that he very well may be deemed insane. But, whatever, it’ll all work out. Sammy’ll do what needs to be done and come and get Dean and they’ll be on the road again. Dean is able to live at a moment to moment level. That’s why he’s so impressive, that’s why he seems so different, so strange, to those who live a more normal life involving long-term plans. What is he up to? It’s like human beings trying to parse the behavior of animals. In my view, everything an animal does is right. A dog misbehaves not because he’s trying to give you a hard time and he has a malevolent purpose, but because he’s a dog, and there’s a package of hamburger on the counter, and what else am I supposed to do but tear that shit up, I’m a dog. People anthropomorphize animals all the time, it’s irresistible, but there are hidden rules that govern the behavior of animals, and it makes sense to the animal. They do what they need to do. Dean is the same way. Or, at least, he is perceived the same way. Law enforcement is interpreting his behavior through their own playbook. Hence, they miss lots of stuff since they can’t know what he knows. His behavior is so sketchy it screams Guilt.

And here, in this scene, Dean throws himself into the deep end. Like in “Simon Said,” when under mind control, he tells the truth about who he is. Unlike “Simon Said,” Dean is calculating and conniving, cool and collected, unembarrassed and unafraid. He takes center stage as though he was born to be there.

Matlock hustles into the room, advising Dean not to confess, but too late. Pete has set up a camera. It’s showtime.

Dean is first shown in the room through glass. Then we are in the room with him, looking right at him. Then the focus switches so we see him through the video monitor, so that there are two Deans on screen, one a blur in the background, and one blue Dean on the monitor. These multiple points of view separate us from him, split him, giving us both the artifice and the reality, in the same moment.

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Maybe that’s why this scene is so thrilling to me. Because it’s both truthful AND wholly performative (Dean’s natural milieu: at his best, he always walks that line). In other words, he’s taking his Burlesque Act on tour. We know this Dean. The Baltimore police force doesn’t. The fun of the scene is to revel in Dean’s behavior and imagine what it looks like to those who don’t “get it” yet.

Instead of treating the confession seriously (which, why would he, he didn’t do it), he opens with a Match.com-type personality statement. “I like long walks on the beach and frisky women …”

Then he gets down to business. He’s in charge of the investigation. He always was. The cops are too stupid to understand so he’s about to school them. His tone is slightly contemptuous and extremely matter-of-fact. He does not look for approval, or even if anyone is following him. He talks to the camera as though it is a trusted loved one. “Our investigation was interrupted … We think we’re looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.” Ballard expresses skepticism, and the cops through the one-way glass all start cracking up. They’re enjoying the show.What he’s doing here is a bump-and-grind dance with giant feathers in some dusty vaudeville house. He’s enjoying himself. Enjoying The Reveal. It’s entertaining. He knows it. The stakes are high. He’s okay with that. He’s commanding and casual, simultaneously. He has a captive audience.

He’s beautifully shot, too. Freckles visible, darkness surrounding him. It’s a tour de force. You can understand why hardened cops are riveted, thrown off their game, they can’t stop staring at him. They’re caught in his web of charisma (a web he weaves deliberately.) Sam wouldn’t behave like this in similar circumstances. John Winchester wouldn’t either. This is Dean’s gift.

Dean’s pace is relentless. He senses that at any moment they are going to stop his monologue, so he pushes forward, dominating the room, throwing glances up at Ballard and Pete, turning back to the camera, including everyone, even the cheap seats. He brings up “Dana Shulps,” and adds his perspective. The spirit is trying to communicate across the veil. Sometimes things get mixed up. “You remember Redrum,” he says up to Pete and Ballard. It is not a question.

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“At first we thought it was a name. Dana Shulps. But now we think it’s a street. Ashland.”

Ballard starts to look … intrigued. Something about Dean has sparked her own detective mindset. He’s opening up a new pathway. It goes against her instincts. But the clear intelligence on display in front of her is undeniable. She stops seeing him as a psychopath. It’s just a glance, but you can see it happen.

Dean finishes his monologue with a big smile and a gesture, almost like he just finished tap dancing in a grade school talent show. He knows they’ll all think he’s crazy. But his conscience is clear. And hopefully Sam is on his way to Ashland right now. Job done.

Detective Pete is furious at the tone, the smile. “Tony and Karen were good people and you’re making jokes.”

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“I’m not joking, Ponch,” says Dean. Which … come on.

When confronted about the girl murdered in St. Louis, Dean says into the camera, “Oh. That wasn’t me. That was a shape-shifter.” He’s enjoying himself. Attention! Telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but! Pete grabs Dean and throws him up against the wall, pinning him there, ignoring Ballard’s cries to stop. There’s a bit of chaos as Pete leaves the room, cops move in to cuff Dean, and Ballard stands there, watching, flustered by what just happened.

The scene ends with a gorgeous dark closeup of Dean as he is cuffed. The calm cool is ruffled a bit. He’s on a high wire. He could fall. He took a risk.

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That scene launched me far outside of the Belljar, the Belljar of the show, where we are used to how these guys operate. It made me see them with fresh eyes. It forced me to stand outside. It’s thrilling.

9th scene
Pete and Ballard enter the interrogation room where Sam was being held, and of course, Sam is not there anymore. One of the windows is open, the blinds askew. Pete looks out the window. No sign of Sam. Ballard has picked up Dean’s note left on the table. Pete catches the look on her face as she reads it and asks, “What?”

As she hands over the note, she says, almost to herself, “These two guys.”

It’s my favorite line-reading in the episode.

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She is now us.

Pete doesn’t get the references and she fills him in. “Hilts is Steve McQueen’s character in The Great Escape.

10th scene
After seeing her computer overrun by a wildly typing spirit, and after listening to Dean’s monologue, and after witnessing Sam’s great escape, Ballard heads into the ladies’ room. The place is like a medieval dungeon. The lights fizzle. There’s something so loopy about the scene, the way the red-eyed lady is so desperate to make contact that she turns on all the water spigots, pouring hot water and steam into the room. She needs to write on those fogged-up mirrors. It’s the only way! Horrified, Ballard watches as the letters D A N A S H U L P S appear in the fog on the mirror.

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She wipes it off, and standing behind her is the red-eyed dame. Fogged-up mirrors are essential props in any decent horror film. Red-eyed dame’s throat is cut, with blood oozing out. She tries to speak and cannot. Her expression is not malevolent but desperate and frightened. Not as frightened as poor Linda Blair, though!

11th scene
Ballard joins Dean in the interrogation room, still rattled by what happened in the bathroom. Nobody else is there. The crowds have moved on, looking for Sam. Dean is back on top, albeit cuffed, and greets her in a lackadaisical over-it manner. “Can we make this quick. I don’t have all day.” It’s a defense mechanism.

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She’s rattled enough that she needs to admit she doesn’t know what’s going on. Maybe he can tell her more about “that stuff.” He glances up at her cockily and says, “Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

Dean is so Generation X with that reference. (The complete 33-volume set is selling on Amazon for 100 bucks, in case anyone is interested.) The Time-Life series ceased publication in 1991. I mean, it’s ridiculous, because obviously that is not where Dean got his information. I am now picturing Sam and Dean, though, as kids, holed up in some motel room, or maybe coming across the Time-Life series in a library, and poring through it, laughing at the inaccuracies.

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Dean’s behavior is still Burlesque Act. Performative, exterior-driven, self-conscious, self-aware. He’s performing a version of himself for her benefit. He is also doing it to have fun in a bad situation. “Here is my best Steve McQueen imitation, lady. I’m damn good at it, too, right?”

She feels the act coming at her, but she is not thrown. She wants to know what these “things” want. Dean, patiently and somewhat condescendingly, explains that such “things” are “created by violent deaths.” Ballard betrays nervousness, a twitchiness in her body language. These things are capable of killing people? she asks. Dean, still lording it over her like a teacher who hates his students, catches a glimpse of a burn-mark on her wrist, and it is then that everything changes.

His head tilts. His eyes become lasers. “Where did you get that?”

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It reminds me of the wonderful dynamic in “The Benders,” where Dean teams up with a cop. The power dynamic is out of balance, because Dean is in trouble, but they end up needing and helping one another. Up until this moment, Ballard has been just another stupid cop in his way, wasting their time and ruining their investigation by focusing on him. And up until that moment in the bathroom, Dean has been one of creepiest characters she’s ever encountered.

Now they “see” each other. She lets her guard down. So does he. They both have been Burlesquing, if you think about it.

She looks at the marks on her wrists. She doesn’t know where they came from. She’s freaked, and you get the sense that it is difficult to freak this woman out. He says, and it’s like a command to a wild animal (“it’s okay, the coast is clear”), “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

Dean had seen the same bruises on Karen’s wrists. Tony probably had them too. Unnerved, Ballard turns away and faces the mirror, giving us an artsy cinematic moment where there are four people onscreen. If you have a mirror in a room, and you don’t utilize it at some point, even if it’s gratuitous, then you don’t deserve to be called a director!

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As Ballard processes what has happened, Dean takes over again. She needs him. The Burlesque Act is back on. He speaks into her experience, knowing she needs to hear it, but he also addresses what the hell needs to be done, knowing she needs to hear that too. “I know. You think you’re going crazy. But let’s skip that part, shall we?” (This is Dean performing. He doesn’t speak this way normally. He’s speechifying throughout.) “The last two people who saw this thing died pretty soon after. You hear me?”

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She’s scared. It doesn’t diminish her power or her own smarts. He knows that people need a second or two to get used to the idea of the “mysteries of the unknown” becoming “known.” He says to her, gently, “You need to go to Sam. He’ll help.”

Then we get another tiny bit of insight into how the Sam and Dean Winchester Family Business operates. Dean instructs her, “Go to the first motel listed in the Yellow Pages. Look for Jim Rockford. It’s how we find each other.”

I didn’t think it was possible that I could fall in love with them any more. I grew up watching The Rockford Files. My parents loved it and let me watch it. They loved James Garner.

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And, of course, let’s not forget that James Garner was in The Great Escape as well. (Dean gets to live out his fantasy of being both McQueen AND Garner later in Season 2 when he finds himself in prison.) The web of references used by the Winchesters, their own secret code, their own way of doing things … that we are never privy to because when we are in the Belljar with them they don’t need to explain themselves or their process.

Jim Rockford? First motel in the Yellow Pages? Too cool.

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Then we cut to a small sign saying “THE AARDVARK MOTEL”, which may be the funniest and stupidest joke in the Supernatural lexicon. You know, if you set it up that it’s the first motel in the Yellow Pages, then of course you are going to choose a word that starts with a Double-A. Because what’s the point of making a joke if you don’t really make it?

And look at the sign and the little logo sitting on Sam’s desk. The aardvark chillin’ on his back. Someone made that. Dumb dumb dumb funny funny funny. And beautiful, because there is stuff about Sam and Dean we don’t know. There is still more to learn.

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And I think, again, of the way Linda Blair says, “These two guys …” That’s the impact of “The Usual Suspects” for me.

Ballard shows up at the door. He looks a little shocked and perturbed to see her there. She is looks almost contrite, staring up at him, in a beautiful shot with the Motel sign blurry and poetic behind her.

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The poetry gets better once she’s inside the room. The wallpaper is swoopy and complicated behind Sam, black and white curving designs behind Sam, and pink/black/white designs behind her. It gives the scene an added level of strangeness, a sort of tipped-over scale. They’re in the same place … but not really. Something’s “off.” This is also just a practical design element, wanting to put some interest up on the screen in what could be a boring scene, with her filling Sam in on what just was expressed in the scene with Dean. The production design team on Supernatural are experts at this kind of stuff, working in concert with the DP and the director. Every space has depth, mood, interest (at its best). This is a good example (especially because, as per usual, we do not get an establishing shot of what the Aardvard Motel room looks like until a couple of lines in. Up until then, it’s just faces and swirly backgrounds.)

So we see Sam, and this is what we get.

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And we see Ballard and this is what we get.

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It’s intriguing. It’s incomplete visual information.

Once we get the establishing shot, we see that her background isn’t wallpaper at all, but one of those wall-dividers that show up so often in Supernatural and bring so much joy to those of us who love the ridiculous motel rooms. I mean, bowling pins, remember?

u61

Look at those silver chests of drawers with the flowery designs. Look at the weird little Flintstone-ish mobile or whatever it is hanging by the window. The setting is deep, bizarre, and awesome. (And, even funnier, none of it has anything to do with aardvarks.)

Ballard has experienced the full-throttle Dean Winchester. And now she’s getting the full-throttle Sam. He towers over her. He’s got a cast on his arm. He sits down to listen to her story. He is practical, in the same way Dean is, but without that added layer of performance-artist-burlesquery.

You can see her succumbing to Sam’s power.

“These two guys” are not … normal.

After hearing the description, Sam goes over to his laptop to show her something, giving those of us who care a better look at the room.

u62

Nothing there makes sense. The swoopy wallpaper, the white padded headboards, the wall divider, the deep-rose and black color scheme … The Aardvark Motel. In Baltimore. The aardvark is Maryland’s state animal. No, just kidding. It’s absurd.

Still struggling with her cop self, Ballard realizes that Sam is about to show her something from a police file. Crime scene photos, booking photos. He has no business having any of that in his possession. Besides, how did he get his hands on them in the first place? And how did he escape? Who IS this tall glass of water?

“You have your job, I have mine,” says Sam, and in his own way he’s as intimidating as Dean. Still, though, she takes the crime scene photos from him, giving him a look. A cop’s look. One booking photo catches her eye. I thought it was Mischa Barton for a second, and considering that there is a lot of Sixth Sense going on “The Usual Suspects,” with spirits needing to communicate through the veil, I would imagine it’s not a coincidence.

It’s a woman named Claire Becker. She was arrested for dealing heroin. She disappeared 9 months ago, last seen walking into some address on Ashland. Sam is already on his feet, putting on his coat. Ballard is two steps behind. Where are we going? Am I actually following a fugitive out to investigate something? He fills her in: “We have to find her body. Salt and burn her bones.”

She nods. “Of course.”

She’s getting the picture now.

13th scene
Partners now, Ballard and Sam make their way through the address on Ashland Street. It’s an abandoned building. There are empty wine bottles scattered on tables and on the floor. Dust lies on every surface. She says to Sam, “What exactly are we looking for?” and he says, and it’s so awesome, “I’ll let you know when we find it.”

u63

He heads up the stairway, leaving her down below, not the smartest move, considering she has the Mark of Doom on her wrists. Ballard moves forward, squinting into the flashlight beam, and she’s freaked enough that her breath is rapid in her chest. Quite a change from the powerful lady who strolled through the SWAT team to confront Sam in the teaser. Once the camera starts circling around her, you know Red-Eyes will be revealed, and there she is. Ballard jolts back, calling out for Sam. Red-Eyes opens her mouth, trying to speak, but only gurgles come out. By the time Sam runs back down, the vision is gone.

Streetlamp-light struggles to come through the dusty panes, but there is a big shelf unit in the way. The two of them shove it out of the way, revealing the letters on the window. “SUPPLIES” has been worn away to “SUP”, and the letters are reflected (wrongly, as nitpickers point out) on the wall behind them.

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I don’t care that they got the reflection wrong, because look at this stunner of a shot. The best shot in the episode.

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I love how his eyes are in shadow. Padalecki has very deep-set eyes, making them challenging to light, and a lot of the time, when we see him, it’s like this. It’s beautiful. The whole thing is beautiful.

Sam busts out the EMF, which starts whirring and buzzing like R2D2. The EMF leads him to the brick wall with the reflected word “ASHLAND SUP” on it. Even with a cast on his arm, he wields a sledgehammer like a construction foreman, or John Henry. As he smashes at the hole the two have the following exchange:

Sam: “This is bothering me.”
Ballard: “Well, you are digging up a corpse.”
Sam: “Not that. This is pretty par for the course, actually.” He laughs.

Outside perspective. It IS par for the course, for Sam and Dean, and for us as viewers. It’s fun to get a reminder that their lifestyle is way way beyond the pale.

Here is where the Sixth Sense comes into play in a more explicit manner, wiping aside the Shining influence. (That will be replaced by Serpico, bringing us back to police corruption -and Captain Renault in Casablanca, so yeah, there’s a lot going on here. Maybe too much to fit into one episode, but moving on …)

Claire has led them to her remains and Sam doesn’t understand why. Something here doesn’t make sense. They pull out a wrapped-up bundle, open it, revealing a pretty nasty deteriorating body. The corpse’s hands are tied, explaining the bruise marks on Ballard’s wrists, Karen’s wrists. Ballard notices the necklace on the corpse and Sam notices Ballard noticing it. “Does that necklace mean something to you?”

All she says is, “I’ve seen it before.”

The case is going to derail her long-delayed (in my opinion) personal life. I’ve made up a whole backstory for Detective Ballard. I am clearly projecting my own issues. I am fine with that. Never married. Focused on her career. Putting off all of the “normal” markers in a woman’s life, marriage, kids. Her job was demanding. Her job requires her to be tough. She is underestimated because she is a woman, and because she is “minz”. She accepts that as part of her reality and has worked hard to rise through her own merits. She has. And now she is of a certain age, and maybe she’d put all that other stuff on the shelf, assuming it was too late for her. Until she was paired up with Pete, working homicide. A romance bloomed, something she had given up waiting for, something she didn’t expect anymore. I believe the romance was real on both sides. She is a middle-aged woman finding love, safety, fun, a rapport with someone who gets her, who doesn’t want her to be anything other than what she is. Linda Blair is playing all of that. She’s also playing that Ballard is a woman who cannot ignore the facts right under her nose. Maybe all along she had a sneaking suspicion that things were somehow not … on the level. Maybe later she will beat herself up for ignoring the signs.

I find it admirable, though, that in the first moment of confrontation with Pete’s treachery, she does not lie. She does not say, “Nah, never seen a necklace like that.” She says, “I’ve seen it before.” That takes guts.

Something in her voice makes Sam look at her closely. She pulls open her collar to reveal the same supposedly rare and custom-made necklace.

u68

All along, Dean and Sam had assumed they were tracking a vengeful spirit. But the necklace information makes it clear to Sam that she is “a death omen.” Sam is almost excited. He’s figured it out. Detective Ballard is now standing, directly in the lit-up letters on the wall. Claire has been trying to warn Ballard. That is why she led them here via those jumbled-up letters.

Ballard does not resist the implications of what she has learned, and we now move into a Serpico-ish police corruption theme, as though Sidney Lumet just took over the director’s chair, and that will lead us to a rather tiresome “here’s why I done what I did” monologue in the final act (one of Supernatural‘s weak spots.)

But I like to focus on Ballard. Ballard is in love with Pete. He probably has some wonderful qualities. He’s just a crooked cop. He was kind to her and the tenderness we saw near the vending machine was real. He’s living a double life. He’s gone dark side. Maybe Ballard thought he was her last shot at some kind of normalcy (and this would loop her in with the Winchesters, and their totally non-mainstream life). She’s as off-the-charts weird as they are, in many ways. Picture her at family gatherings. Picture those who keep asking about when she’s going to settle down, all the rude questions that are asked single people. Those living a conventional life will not understand her. Maybe she thought it would work out with Pete. Maybe she couldn’t believe her luck that she found someone, smack in the middle of her engrossing dangerous job.

However. She is willing to face the ugly truth when it is presented. She’s courageous.

14th scene
Dean is now locked up in a paddy wagon being driven by Pete. Some shit has gone down while Sam and Ballard have been investigating Ashland. Pete keeps his eyes on the road, ignoring the chatter from Dean from the back. Pete has told him that he’s being extradited to St. Louis. In the middle of the night? With no police escort? Pete is going to drive from Baltimore to St. Louis. Dean has a moment to himself, through the bars, that I really like, where he whispers to himself, “This can’t be good.”

u69

After all the bravura burlesque of the rest of the episode, it’s important to see the reality of what’s underneath. Dean had assumed Sam would find a way, at least in time for him to escape, too. Sam’s the one who knows about Serpico, but Dean’s starting to get a similar idea all on his own.

Sam and Ballard barrel along in her squad car, and there’s all kinds of police shenanigans happening now, not all that interesting, but necessary to get the episode to its climax. Nobody can find Pete. Pete took Dean. Dispatch has been looking for Pete. He’s not answering the radio. Ballard is frustrated as well as probably a little bit heartbroken. Sam is alarmed. But even better is Sam’s thought-process, still working at top speed despite the crisis. “Pete took a county vehicle? Then it’s got to have a Lojack, you just have to get it turned on.”

We all should have a Sam Winchester in our lives.

Meanwhile, Pesky Pete has pulled off onto a bumpy side road, leading into the woods. Dean is looking around, trapped in the back, thinking fast. In true Han Solo style, he keeps up the banter, making a joke about Pete needing to get his prostate checked. Being afraid is “par for the course.” Learning not to show it is also essential. It could help you buy some time. Pete gets out of the van, and Dean starts to panic, struggling against the cuffs.

As per usual, Pete would have been better off just opening the back door and shooting Dean then and there. To quote John Belushi, “But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” … Pete had to go and make a big speech, thereby assuring his own doom. Pulling Dean out of the back (Dean unable to break the fall) he starts sneering about what will be done to him in St. Louis. St. Louis is the Nightmare from which Dean cannot escape. Agent Hendriksen will bring that point home loud and clear. Shit’s getting real. Shit is already real. “Besides … you’re not going to St. Louis,” says Pete.

u70

One does wonder how on earth Ballard could have approached without alerting Pete. But never mind. Dean starts to plead his case, but Pete draws his gun. Suddenly, there is Ballard, Sam at her side, holding up her own gleaming gun, calling across the dark space, “I know about Claire.”

u72

In the tense standoff that follows, Pete provides his own backstory, involving Tony and Karen and the money and “it was a mess” … Police procedural 101: let the bad guy get his monologue out before you take him down. Pete pleads with Diana that “this Dean kid is a gift”: they can pin the whole thing on him. He’s “just one more dead scumbag.” Dean has been listening quietly to Pete, but at that comment he balks. He’s offended. Cries out: “Hey!”

Ballard, of course, ends up having to shoot Pete. She’s not swayed by Pete’s “I still love you” although one can imagine she will re-play that moment over in her head later. Dean rolls out of the way of the scuffle, all legs and handcuffs, and Pete, wounded, lies on the ground. And now it is Ballard’s turn to make a speech instead of pouncing on the guy with handcuffs. She stands over him, quivering with hurt and anger, saying, “Why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass …” Pete grabs her ankles, pulling her down. The scene goes hand-held-camera, with Pete standing up, wounded, wildly pointing the gun at everyone, her, Sam, Dean … until, like the cavalry arriving at the last minute, Red-Eyes shows up right behind him. With Pete frozen in his tracks, Ballard finally shoots Pete dead.

15th scene
It’s dawn, and Sam, Dean and Ballard have … what … been hanging around Pete’s dead body for a couple of hours?

Ballard sits on the back of the van, looking down at her dead boyfriend, and Sam and Dean stand off to the side, watching her, in classic Supernatural framing. Tormented mournful profiles, staggered in space.

u73

Sam and Dean are waiting to see what Ballard will do next. Just like in “The Benders,” they have found an ally in a cop. But it’s a tense alliance. It’s fraught. She holds all the cards.

Ballard moves towards them, asking what will happen to Claire now. Sam is filmed slightly from below, almost from Ballard’s eye level. The sky is behind him. He looks massive, which, you could say, is how he will be remembered to Ballard.

u74

She will look back on her 24 hours with Sam and Dean, years later, and will still shake her head, smiling, saying, “Those two guys …”

Dean, uneasy, in a submissive position, extremely uncomfortable for him, asks, “What now, officer?”

She feels confident she can get the case against them dismissed. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That’s another story.”

It will not disappear. Her comment is a set-up for where the series will go with that unfinished plot-line.

She suggests that they walk away. She can report that the two of them escaped. Dean looks relieved. Sam says, “Are you sure? You could lose your job …” Dean snaps, “Yeah, she’s sure, Sam.”

She says she’ll sleep better at night knowing that the two of them are out there, doing what they do. She warns them to be careful, watch their back. They will now be wanted men. The cops will be looking for them.

Similar, again, to the final moment of “The Benders,” Dean asks where his car might be. “It’s at the impound lot …” she says, and then looks at him, realizing that he is actually planning on going back to get it. An impound lot surrounded by cops. Didn’t she just tell them to be careful?? Sam grins and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll improvise. We’re good at that.”

There’s something different in “The Usual Suspects,” because the whole thing presents Sam and Dean through her admiring eyes. Normally, we are closer to them, we are more in the thick of it with them. Here, we get to step back. It’s subtle, but it’s there throughout.

She smiles up at them. She’s beautiful.

u75

Sam and Dean head off down the country lane, and the camera pulls up and back behind them, as they walk away. Dean makes a joke about pea soup. Sam shoves him playfully. “The Benders” ended in a similar manner.

u76

Hmmm … reminds me of another final scene.

casablanca_end

Two figures walking away from us, walking away from chaos, still joking, the bond between them secure, a reassurance that, violent evil notwithstanding, all is right with the world.

Considering the episode in its entirety, the final shot is still from Detective Ballard’s point of view. It’s not micro, it’s macro. They’re out there somewhere. Doing what they do. We all can rest easier.

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68 Responses to Supernatural: Season 2, Episode 7: “The Usual Suspects”

  1. sheila says:

    I will also put up an open thread for tonight’s episode. Hopefully people will enjoy segueing between past episodes and present? Yes?

    I love Usual Suspects and would love to delve into it. Very entertaining.

  2. Helena says:

    Sheila, before I read anything – just WOW that you found time to write this. And thank you – so nice to have this to enjoy.

    Rewatched this ep last night – must have had a premonition!

    • sheila says:

      Ooh! So it’s fresh in your mind!!

      I had a day off yesterday. I took my chance and ran with it! Back to the grindstone!!

      Would love to hear your thoughts. All that handwriting!

  3. Maureen says:

    I had to comment on The Exorcist before I read any further-my MOM took me to this movie because she didn’t want to go alone-I was 12-and I had to leave the theater, I was so freaked out. My mom told me to wait in the lobby, so I sat out there for what seemed like hours, for the movie to end. To this day, I haven’t watched one more minute of the movie-there is no way I could. I still find the thought of it so, so scary and disturbing.

  4. Helena says:

    I’ve never watched The Exorcist and here’s probably why … when the film came out my mum started reading the book before going to sleep (classic error). She said she woke up later that night and had to take the book out of the bedroom, and never finished it.

  5. Maureen says:

    //Ballard starts to look … intrigued. Something about Dean has sparked her own detective mindset.//

    Plus-she just saw those words on her computer screen. I thought she looked kind of freaked out!

    I hadn’t seen this episode in a long time, so I did something different-I watched it scene by scene on Netflix this morning, pausing at the end of each scene and reading your recap of said scene. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it was to do that!! I loved this episode, and you are so right about the glances the brothers give to each other-like at the end when you can see Sam wanting to go for the gun, and Dean gives the quick shake of his head “no” for him not to try it.

    Thank you so much for taking the time to do this!

    • sheila says:

      Maureen –

      // Plus-she just saw those words on her computer screen. //

      Right? Things are getting spooky. She can’t explain what is happening and Dean sort of ends up speaking right into that uncertain space.

      // I watched it scene by scene on Netflix this morning, pausing at the end of each scene and reading your recap of said scene. //

      Ooh! Fun!! :)

      // like at the end when you can see Sam wanting to go for the gun, and Dean gives the quick shake of his head “no” for him not to try it. //

      That’s right!! One of the cool things, I think, about Usual Suspects – is that it removes us from their inner circle, and so their ESP is even more striking.

      Matlock, wearily: “You two really are brothers.”

      Thanks for reading and commenting, Maureen!

  6. sheila says:

    In re: Linda Blair:

    I also appreciate that they gave her a real role. Her appearance is not a gimmick. You know, she wasn’t cast in some exorcism-themed episode, where she shows up as the person doing the exorcist, a sort of wink-wink at the audience. The only person who references The Exorcist is Dean in the pea soup line, and that’s clearly just a A fourth-wall-breaking joke.

    It’s an appearance that is actually worthy of her status in the horror-film world.

  7. Helena says:

    I have nothing to declare except my appreciation for your recap and for this episode. And seriously, this is one beautiful episode … it could have been made in the 19th century, never mind nine years ago: all those sepia toned flashbacks, like old photographs. Season 10 is making strides in the right direction, but back then they had faces, if you know what I mean.

    This is one on my list to watch if I need cheering up. For all the darkness of the material (murder, police corruption, blah blah blah) it sets out to play: the stakes are high, but the characters are let loose in ways we haven’t seen or quite suspected before. It’s standalone but also linked effectively to other, also great episodes, all featuring that incredible sense of danger and jeopardy when the Winchesters collide with law enforcement. And for me this is one of the first truly ‘meta’ episodes – playing with story, structure and casting rather than fandom tropes – which comes from ultra confidence in what the show is about and who the characters are.

    Blair just creates instant sympathy and interest in her character (Confession: I had no idea who she was first time around. Still, I could tell she was ‘someone’.) Canny, grounded, and a very cool head. The Winchesters drive the case forward but she decides how it ends. I also invented a backstory for her – I think you can’t help it – and I ended up wishing I had her career. (Crappy boyfriend aside. She’ll survive.)

    I also didn’t get most of the references first time around – e.g. Matlock, Ponch – but bring Jim Rockford into the picture and I’m in. Also, McQueen – does Dean use that as a verb? And has he forgotten that Hilts actually dies? (The Great Escape is totem film in the UK – the joke was it was shown every Christmas after the Queen’s Speech. We like war stories where we screw up, heroically. Somehow Brits forget that The Great Escape is the story of an utter failure – to us it represents TOTAL TRIUMPH. Your mileage may vary.)

    • sheila says:

      Helena –

      // We like war stories where we screw up, heroically. //

      hahahaha I know – they really only “escape” for a glorious 36-hour period. That final scene. Ugh!! But yes: a glorious failure. The triumph of the human spirit! And etc.

      I totally agree that this is a beautiful-looking episode, one of the most beautiful. The color scheme – it’s like it’s all underwater, or underground. Primary colors banished! Gothic. 19th century, definitely.

      I love to hear the reasons why you love this episode! I hadn’t really thought of it in terms of “meta” – but you’re right. Confidence, that’s exactly it. There’s a hero-worship thing going on, with Sam and Dean, created by that distance … which could be so annoying and self-congratulatory – but instead it’s just a nice commentary on what they have created thus far, and it makes for all this great tension. Also, with all of the emotional opera that the brothers go through, it’s such a relief to see them in an episode where they basically share one brain.

      And yes: Det. Ballard will definitely be okay! She’ll be relieved she dodged that bullet, so to speak!

  8. Helena says:

    //And has he forgotten that Hilts actually dies? //

    Oops, he doesn’t die – my bad!

    • sheila says:

      Right – he’s McQueen! Off into the sunset! While the others? Gunned down en masse. Horrible.

      And the blind-ish guy who is Garner’s responsibility – it’s that death that really affects me. I had been hoping he would make it.

  9. Kim says:

    Slight season 10 spoiler for those not caught up & totally off topic, but since we are Charlie fans – here’s an interview with Robbie Thompson about her character – http://tinyurl.com/Charlies-character

  10. rae says:

    Your recaps are always a delightful invitation to abandon my correcting, prepping, and grad-schooling and embark on a whole different education! I know I don’t always have time to partake in the amazing comment conversations that follow them, but I read them all and I’m so grateful you’ve made this space for it.

    I’ve always loved this episode for the way it showcases how much and how fast the brothers ‘click’ — even when they’re separated for a good portion of it — and how odd their world is. I thought of that moment from the Golem episode, too.

    I had forgotten some of the details — the note referencing the Great Escape, the first motel with Jim Rockford — that we get to see here! Rewatching, those things also brought to mind last season, when Dean tells Crowley that the Winchester safe word is Poughkeepsie (which my brain keeps remembering as Gillespie. I have no explanation). I love that we still get little snippets of their lexicon and tradecraft, as well as their history, even now.

    • sheila says:

      rae – thank you, dear! And good luck in grad school!

      I am so happy to provide an escape through the re-caps – Supernatural is a great escape for me as well, so it’s fun to share that love with people who get it!

    • sheila says:

      // I love that we still get little snippets of their lexicon and tradecraft, as well as their history, even now. //

      Totally!! I love that too. The way they operate, the little codes they set up … it’s so satisfying.

      “Usual Suspects” really brings that home – because Dean and Sam aren’t even in communication – but each one is calling in his training, his instincts … knowing that the other is doing the same. Soooo cool.

  11. Jessie says:

    I finally get some free time and this pops up like a gift, yay!! Such a good read Sheila, thank you. And you pick such gorgeous caps to complement it. What a pretty episode. Welcome to Season 2. This is when it really kicks into top gear and doesn’t let up; Houses of the Holy is the only episode I might consider skipping on a rewatch.

    Except for the blah blah and plot shenanigans of the final scenes this episode is masterfully constructed, shot, written, performed. It’s not in my top ten because there’s nothing particularly compelling going on between Sam and Dean — even the outside POV doesn’t illuminate much here. EXCEPT — and this is a big except — to show their symbiosis/how in sync they are. Many of the best episodes happen when they’re out of sync in one way or another, so this is kind of a breath of fresh air.

    Rohl (he is the father of Kacey Rohl!!!!!) and Humphris are excellent here. I would love them to come back for more Supernatural, they are each responsible for some great episodes. Every scene (except at the end) is always serving multiple plot strands and does character work at the same time. I remember watching the first time and being baffled by the confession scene; why would Dean do this? Only later did I realise it replaces the usual “here’s what the monster could be” scene, begins the connection between Dean and Blair, provides a distraction for Sam to get away, is funny, reveals more of the Dean Show, reveals more of the Sam-Dean symbiosis. Perfect.

    I couldn’t agree more about how sexy Outsider POV is! Very outlaw, grungy, competent (drink!). Nearly everything we might find problematic in their lives is resurrected/reinforced here as attractive. John’s training. The obsessive focus on the mission. The personal risk. The glimpses of fear in Dean’s eyes. Just to be reminded they have NO FIXED ADDRESS. Homelessness is NOT glamorous! (I am reminded of your recent post re: your ex here). But from the outside — the highway romance is strong with these two. Complicit again (drink!).

    And the thing is we WANT them to successfully lie to the cops — the episode is entirely stacked this way. We want Blair to come around and love them like we do — we want the fantasy of their competence — we want the narrative deliciousness of the deceit (I mean, “we just wanted to be there for her” –> “we are Insurance tell us your Trauma in sanguinous detail” is gold).

    We get a similar transformation with Henricksen, in Jus in Bello, which also contains that very sexy, coiled-tension scene where they’re in the cell. They’re dangerous, powerful, smart. Scary just got sexy, ha ha.

    Some favourite moments:

    In Skin and other episodes, jumping around in time is usually a matter of “48 hours earlier” or whatever, to beef up a slow start. Sometimes you feel like they don’t trust you to care if there’s not action immediately. This is far preferable, and like you say it’s a masterpiece of editing and writing. I would have loved to be in the writers’ room when they broke this.

    This is a fabulous episode for Sam. I love him as he starts out trying to play Blair, gets rattled and angry by the details of his life, and then pulls it back together to spin their web of LIIIESSSSS.

    And I love seeing him paired off with these awesome women. He is so steady. He might be a liar but there’s no fronting like there is with Dean. He is just there, in response to their strength. It’s so attractive. And in that interview room he is a TAAAAALLLLL drink of water, hello.

    Meanwhile Dean and Dodgy Pete are a gross pair; Dean gets thrust up against a wall, pushed to his knees in the dirt. Pete’s masculinity is domineering and manipulative and corrupt, he is the worst. Good riddance.

    The casting in this episode is brilliant. Keegan Connor Tracy is great (here, and in her reappearance as the publisher of the Supernatural books). Blair of course, and dodgy Pete with his lovely cheekbones. The public defender is so perfect, just immediately on the back foot the second he hits the room. The death omen is very good too — thanks to the misdirection in the episode I always think of her as Dana (Scully?)

    I LOVE “the other one”. Ties them together, pushes them apart. Who this switches so often during the course of the series depending on whose eyes we are looking through.

    One of my favourite moments is Sam worried she could lose her job and Dean shaking his head, scoffing, trying to play down the risk, knowing he’s failing — impossible to screencap — like why are you bothering to try to mitigate this Dean? Dean is such a good character — you pull out a lot of this in the recap — how can he be simultaneously so good and so bad at fooling people? I think Helena was talking about how rich these internal contradictions were in a comment section ages ago. So fruitful. Such a good performance!

    • sheila says:

      So much to discuss, Jessie!!

      // Many of the best episodes happen when they’re out of sync in one way or another, so this is kind of a breath of fresh air. //

      That’s so true. And if you think about it, showing them out of sync wouldn’t be as effective if we didn’t get the occasional glimpses of how crazily in sync they really are. So it works both ways.

      “Sure thing, Matlock.” Never get sick of it.

      and yes: The Rohl Family Dynasty! So cool!

      // Every scene (except at the end) is always serving multiple plot strands and does character work at the same time. //

      So difficult to pull off and for the most part it really really works here. Dean’s noise-making boredom … that’s the kind of stuff that gets cut in less confident shows, shows that would look at that as unnecessary or maybe entertaining but not particularly useful … But here, it’s ALL useful. Sam and Dean’s jokes, the pop culture references, the way they operate … all of that is then seen under glass by the police force … so it all ties together beautifully. Nobody in that police department will forget Dean’s confession any time soon. They’ll be doing imitations of it at happy hour a couple weeks later.

      // Nearly everything we might find problematic in their lives is resurrected/reinforced here as attractive. John’s training. The obsessive focus on the mission. The personal risk. //

      Right! And it’s glamorous. Outlaw – love that. Sam’s reaction to hearing the facts read out tells the other side of the story … but still. Sam with the cast on his arm. Tough as hell. Life of hard knocks. No self-pity.

      // I mean, “we just wanted to be there for her” –> “we are Insurance tell us your Trauma in sanguinous detail” is gold). //

      hahahahahahahahahaha

      // We get a similar transformation with Henricksen, in Jus in Bello, which also contains that very sexy, coiled-tension scene where they’re in the cell. They’re dangerous, powerful, smart. Scary just got sexy, ha ha. //

      Yeah, there’s something about their intersections with real-life law enforcement … awesome tension, sooo frustrating … and sexy too because it puts Sam and Dean in the position of being smarter than everyone else in the room … and they have to eventually PROVE that. Seeing others “get it”, eventually, is hugely pleasurable. (Also it makes us, the audience, feel smart – we’re in on the joke, we’re insiders.)

      // And I love seeing him paired off with these awesome women. He is so steady. He might be a liar but there’s no fronting like there is with Dean. He is just there, in response to their strength. It’s so attractive. And in that interview room he is a TAAAAALLLLL drink of water, hello. //

      This is just an awesome Sam episode. As always, Dean is the dazzler, the show-stopper … but Sam is equally as impressive. And you’re right. His reactions to women, especially a woman like her … he comes to her without all the strange-ness of Dean’s particular brand of performance-art. He’s just there.

      Missed the “Dana” Scully connection. My bad!!

      It’s interesting your words on Pete – and makes me think I missed some subtleties here. Dean’s confession is a work of bravura, showing his dominance, but also using his charisma – in the way that movie stars do. He knows he’s riveting. Pete, confronted with that performance-art piece, has no choice (in his mind) but to throw Dean around. There’s that accessible quality in Dean – even though he is filled with secrets – there’s something kiss-able and punch-able about his face (if you look at him through the lens of someone who doesn’t get it). Pete refuses to be dominated, swayed. He can’t be submissive. He refuses. So there’s a sneering pleasure in taking Dean down. There’s all kinds of masculine/feminine stuff going on in their interactions. Pete is reacting in a knee-jerk way, and Dean knows exactly what he is doing. He’s used to men reacting to him in the way Pete does. It’s almost routine for Dean. Kind of fascinating.

      // Dean is such a good character — you pull out a lot of this in the recap — how can he be simultaneously so good and so bad at fooling people? //

      I know. He’s just riveting. That’s all Ackles, bringing out those internal contradictions any time he can. It’s automatic to him as an actor. Every moment also contains its opposite. He’s brilliant.

    • sheila says:

      and yes: “the other one.”

      That Humphris knows how to write a script!

    • sheila says:

      Oh and yes – Keegan is wonderful in Monster at the End of This Book. A COMPLETELY different character. She’s a chameleon.

  12. Jessie says:

    I never found The Exorcist very scary — caught it too late in my teens probably. My mum was terrified by it. That, and It, scared the hell out of her and her sister.

    Sheila —
    I also appreciate that they gave her a real role. Her appearance is not a gimmick.
    Yes — a real role that means something to the episode. It’s awesome. Cf Robert Englund as Dr Robert in S6’s great episode Appointment in Samarra, which really is just a cameo (albeit a delightful one).

    I wonder if JA or JP will ever turn up in later generations of TV and movies in similar homages? (as part of their, of course, very successful careers). Despite the omnipresent Supernatural Creep we all feel after being introduced to the show, I feel like it just hasn’t reached the cultural penetration/status of other cult shows like Buffy or Battlestar Galactica or even Vampire Diaries.

    Rae —
    Poughkeepsie is a hell of a safe word! ha ha ha ha ha

    • sheila says:

      I love Dr. Robert! That whole scene …

      Will be extremely interesting to see what happens post-Supernatural. I agree that the cultural cache the show has doesn’t reach Buffy levels. I think if it had aired in the 90s, or 80s, it would have dominated in a much more obvious way.

      There are just so many networks now, soooo many shows – fans holed up in their own fandom – not as much crossover, unfortunately.

  13. bainer says:

    From Jessie: How hilarious it would have been to watch Victor Henricksen travel behind them. “So they went to the library and photocopied twenty pictures out of a book on Appalachian folklore and looked at them for a while. Then they emptied a can of salt onto the carpet of their motel room. Then they walked around the victim’s house and had a D&M with his five-year-old. Then they bought a gong from a hippie shop and went and got drunk on top of a car in a park somewhere. Then they murdered three dudes and desecrated their corpses. Then they had a Dr Sexy MD marathon on pay-per-view and the next day they drove 3000 miles to some podunk town in Florida.”

    And that’s when they came up with Poughkeepsie as a safe word. . .

  14. mutecypher says:

    Helena –

    // (The Great Escape is totem film in the UK – the joke was it was shown every Christmas after the Queen’s Speech. We like war stories where we screw up, heroically. Somehow Brits forget that The Great Escape is the story of an utter failure – to us it represents TOTAL TRIUMPH. Your mileage may vary.)//

    I would have said that it means being British is paramount, above winning or losing. Maybe I’m just an Anglophile Yank.

    Watching The Great Escape at Christmas… we watch The Ten Commandments at Easter. Not sure if one should draw any conclusions.

  15. sheila says:

    Also, all of this Winchester-code stuff makes it that much more devastating when Frank Devereux tells them they have to give it all up. That whole sub-plot, of them having to go even more undercover, was SUCH a bummer – for me, as a fan, I mean – but again, it was necessary and realistic. The cops (and the Leviathans) know the Winchester patterns – and it’s almost like Sam and Dean are broadcasting where they are and who they are, every time they check into a hotel under the name Jim Rockford.

  16. Helena says:

    //Dean is such a good character — you pull out a lot of this in the recap — how can he be simultaneously so good and so bad at fooling people//

    This comes up again in the next episode in Dean’s scene with the crossroads demon which is another masterclass in Ackles’s brand of burlesque, and full of surprises. I’m still trying to figure out how much of that Dean has planned in advance (a lot) and how much he has to make up on the spot. That line, ‘Will you … throw in a set of steak knives?’ always gets me.

    • sheila says:

      That is SUCH a good scene. One of the best in Season 2. Burlesque to the max!

    • sheila says:

      and right, you can’t clock him in the planning phase. He thinks so quickly, on his feet. But there has to be an underlying plan (which he is then willing to throw away, depending on what goes down.)

      It’s sooo fun to watch him operate in those situations.

  17. Helena says:

    //That is SUCH a good scene. One of the best in Season 2. Burlesque to the max!//

    Really, one of the best. That look he gives the demon when she appears? And such a great set up/contrast with the final ep of the season.

    Looking forward to discussing this more in the next recap – honestly, I’d never connected the two before reading this recap, but they are two sides of the same coin.

  18. Jessie says:

    I love Dr. Robert! That whole scene …
    and that they called him Dr Robert! He helps us to understand…

    showing them out of sync wouldn’t be as effective
    Absolutely, this stuff is essential; similarly with demonstrating their competence in face of continuous plot-necessitated mishap. And not just being good and punching things in the face, although that’s great to watch. But good at strategy, tactics, lateral thinking, intuitiveness, etc.

    Similarly —
    they have to eventually PROVE that. Seeing others “get it”, eventually, is hugely pleasurable.
    The show puts a lot of effort into generating characters that knock them down a peg — mock or belittle them, misunderstand them, treat them as objects or pawns; or are too close, like Cas or Charlie — to see someone on the outside actually see them, come around and admire them/be impressed by them, that never fails to delight. I’m not entirely sure why. It’s a relief!

    Sam with the cast on his arm. Tough as hell.
    Knocking in a brick wall with his elbow. What the hell? I think I just realised why he needs that brace now!

    He’s used to men reacting to him in the way Pete does. It’s almost routine for Dean. Kind of fascinating.
    I definitely get that sense from the way that confession ends up — and Dean has to be pretty passive there, he can’t fight back.

    Every moment also contains its opposite.
    Great description. It’s mesmerising.

    • sheila says:

      // And not just being good and punching things in the face, although that’s great to watch. But good at strategy, tactics, lateral thinking, intuitiveness, etc. //

      That’s it, exactly, right? This is the whole let’s-go-do-research-in-the-public-library thing that I clicked into very early on in my first watching of Season 1. They’re both so big and imposing and sexy as hell – but so much of the show has them wearing heavy flannel shirts huddled over books. J’adore.

      I don’t know – it may very well be my favorite thing about the show, if I had to pick. I’m not sure I would have clicked with it so hard without that aspect. If it were all brawn – no matter how beautifully filmed – meh, seen it before.

      And yes, you’re right – it is such a relief when you see someone come around. Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes it never happens (phone call for Gordon- and those Campbell cousins with Dean.) There’s so much suspicion and isolation in the SPN universe – and Sam and Dean seem to accept that and all of the surrounding hostility – but yes, I’m with you. When someone finally “gets” it, I feel this huge sigh of relief.

      Interesting in re: Dean’s passivity. So then he has to pull out the big guns, meaning the Burlesque Act of his personality beyond the wise-cracks. I just love that video-confession scene so much. It’s totally mesmerizing, he’s doing about 8 different things at any given moment.

    • sheila says:

      and seriously, in re: Sam bashing in the wall with his hard cast arm.

      They’re both just so impressive. And Linda Blair is impressive herself – you get the sense that character is not easily impressed.

  19. Helena says:

    //He’s used to men reacting to him in the way Pete does. It’s almost routine for Dean. Kind of fascinating.//

    I get the sense Dean has made a private bet with himself about how far he can provoke Pete, and wins it.

    • sheila says:

      Helena – wow, I think you’re right. That’s the “unreadable” thing on Dean’s face in that first shot of him. That’s exactly what is going on.

  20. sheila says:

    And I am super impressed, Jessie, that you were not that scared by Exorcist. Seriously. Hats off.

    What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?

  21. Jessie says:

    Well it depends on what kind of frightened you mean! In terms of sustained dread, hands down The Shining and Night of the Hunter. In terms of terrifying or supremely discomforting sequences, the diner scene in Mulholland Dr, the Ligeti scenes in 2001:ASO, a few moments in Snowtown. The Strangers had some of the scariest traditional “move the camera around our protags, but who is in the background?” scenes of recent memory. While I’m not immune to the old jump scare I just don’t tend to scared scared by horror movies in any lingering way.

    • sheila says:

      Night of the Hunter! “Chiiiiiiiiiillllldren ….” Bone-chilling. And the dueling hymn scene … with him out in the front yard. Shivers.

      And Mulholland Drive. Yes!!

  22. Helena says:

    //Night of the Hunter//

    Oooh, now you’re talking.

  23. Jessie says:

    I realise rereading that list that it’s the soundtrack that’s fixed a lot of those scenes in my memory as scary. I didn’t find most of MD scary but that whole diner sequence going to outside, with the music underneath it….gives me chills just remembering. I first saw it late at night, in my office, on a laptop, with the lights on, and it still freaked me the hell out.

    NOTH, yes. The water scene…singing on the river. Deeply unsettling.

    I get the sense Dean has made a private bet with himself about how far he can provoke Pete, and wins it.
    Perhaps he even sensed that rattling Pete would be key to a) the case or b) discrediting his handling by the police. He definitely was able to become the exact thing that would rile Pete up the most.

    phone call for Gordon- and those Campbell cousins with Dean.
    I am so bummed that Gwen never got a chance to come around! I liked her.

    • sheila says:

      The diner scene was terrifying – Lynch certainly has a way of creating a MOOD. Lost Highway had some moments that were also so scary I got totally FREAKED the first time I saw it. Long long moments when the screen is completely black, because someone’s walking down a black hallway – it’s just extremely creepy and you can’t even point to what exactly is so scary.

      I’ve been re-watching Twin Peaks (in all my spare time. Ha.) It’s amazing – haven’t seen it in a long long time, and it’s all coming back to me, totally intact.

      Back to SPN:

      Yes – loved Gwen. She had possibilities.

      // He definitely was able to become the exact thing that would rile Pete up the most. //

      Right. It’s totally deliberate on Dean’s part, “who he is” throughout that whole interrogation – it’s not just a wisecrack through the tension thing – it’s a conscious choice to basically drive Pete crazy. I like the layers of it – there’s a lot going on in JA’s performance, way more than just being cool under pressure.

  24. Lyrie says:

    Great recap, as usual! I love this episode. I love the whole second season so, so much.

    // “Maybe it’s not a name.” He says it twice. The first time, he’s pondering the idea casually, as though it just floated into his head unbidden. The second time he says it, he zooms in on it with more serious intent. Listen to how Ackles delineates those two line readings. Smart.//

    This is the kind of details I never would have noticed, and I love that you point it out. I was fascinated by Jensen Ackles’ acting even before reading your recaps – that just means I have eyes and a heart – but your insights make me want to understand even more what goes into the acting process. I would love to know how he prepares for some things, I would love to see rehearsals, I would like to be in his head.

    // there’s something kiss-able and punch-able about his face (if you look at him through the lens of someone who doesn’t get it)//

    Sheila, you just described perfectly why I almost missed Supernatural. Someone showed me the pilot years ago, and I remember thinking: guys being tough looking for their tough dad, while blonde women burn on the ceiling? No thank you. The tall one is bitchy and I want to break the pretty one’s face. Dean made the “smurfs” comment, and I hated him instantly, with his fucking pretty face. I mean, really. He was cocky, and his beauty annoyed me. Jensen Ackles is honestly the type of guy I almost never find attractive, that didn’t help.

    I started watching the show this summer for “bad” reasons – I don’t really think there are bad reasons to start watching a show, but it wasn’t for the horror, nor for the brother’s relationship. I was curious, so I tried again. I yawned until Dead In The Water. By Faith, I was madly in love. With the show. With Dean. With the brothers’ relationship, with the car, the music, America, everything. (There was also that moment in Skin that made me go “Oh, Supernatural, I saw what you did there, OK, maybe I was wrong about the pretty boy and why he’s here”)

    But whenever they cross path with someone like that cop, I understand perfectly what he’s feeling. I was that guy. When I think about it now, it really makes me laugh.

    • sheila says:

      Lyrie –

      // but your insights make me want to understand even more what goes into the acting process. //

      Thanks!

      I know they don’t get a ton of rehearsal time, and I know JA comes to the set totally prepared. He does a lot of homework. But you don’t SEE the “work” onscreen. That’s the best part of it. It all looks spontaneous!

      Something like the repeat of “Maybe it’s not a name” is one of those details that helps make a performance seem real. You have probably had an identical moment like that in your life – I know I have – where you’re trying to figure something out, or you’re faced with a puzzle, and you’re trying to unscramble it. The moment is wonderful because it’s familiar.

      Bad acting relies on cliches and stock gestures. It’s “on the nose.” Angry scene? Play it angrily. Sad scene? Cry. Etc.

      JA always has a mix of everything in his scenes. He seems unpredictable in a way that feels real. Good acting looks like life. I see a moment like that one (“Maybe it’s not a name” repeated twice) and although I can’t think immediately of a similar moment in my own life – I know it’s there. Maybe if you emphasize different words, maybe if you say something differently … you’ll find a new “way in” to whatever it is.

      I love that whole sequence anyway – back and forth between Sam and Dean, scribbling out anagrams.

  25. Bernanos says:

    Hey,

    Thanks for posting another review! I really love reading them. I learn so much.

    I’d love to hear more about what you think about Dean and the costume/acting theme. I have not looked into this exhaustively, but my general impression of Dean and costumes/roles is he doesn’t get into it too much if it’s just part of the job, but if he gets to be part of some sort of world or community, he’s totally down. I think it stems from Dean really valuing family–he really likes being on a team. When he was an inmate he got the information and won the cigarettes and befriended Tiny, and when he was a P.A. he talked on the radio and banged the actress. And in later seasons he was a town sheriff, and a buddy cop with Ness, and commanded a group of LARPers.

    • sheila says:

      Bernanos – Thanks so much! I have so much fun doing them!

      Yes, I’ve talked a lot about the costume thing before – I can’t remember where. It’s such a fun element of his character. It hasn’t been shown in a full-blown way yet and won’t, until Hollywood Babylon. In Season 1, he bitches about having to wear a suit, or put on the coveralls. “Me and Dad never wore costumes …” wah, wah, whiner whiner. When he’s investigating a case, he doesn’t bother to “act” at all (him as a priest popping hot dogs into his mouth. Nope, Dean. Nope.) Sam is more concerned about not just wearing the costume but inhabiting the “role” in at least somewhat of a realistic way.

      But when thrust into a pretend situation, Dean completely disappears into it. And he becomes “The Best” at whatever role he is playing. It’s one of the funnest parts of his character!

  26. Helena says:

    //Detective Pete is asking what name the suspect registered into the hotel under, and his reply to the unheard answer is, “Ohh, that’s my favorite so far.” //

    Any guesses as to what the name would be? I’ll throw in the pot:

    Inigo Montoya
    David St Hubbins
    Sir Keith Richards (and Anita Pallenberg)

  27. Helena says:

    Yngwie Malmsteen. (Just my favourite name ever.)
    F. Flintstone
    Fender McStratocaster

  28. Jessie says:

    R. Racoon

  29. Helena says:

    We were talking last week about mapping the bunker, but maybe we should get this guy to do it? He seems to love libraries. And laboratories.

  30. Jessie says:

    Wow, Helena! I feel like I’m rewatching The Life Aquatic! Also Fender McStratocaster, lol.

    Lost Highway confused and bored me more than scared me! I haven’t seen Inland Empire yet but I am guessing that will be terrifying.

    back and forth between Sam and Dean, scribbling out anagrams.
    And the thing is, Dean doesn’t even have to tell Sam that it’s an anagram in his note. He’s already assumed Sam has figured this out. He just needs to tell him that Ashland is key. These guys!

    • sheila says:

      // He’s already assumed Sam has figured this out. He just needs to tell him that Ashland is key. These guys! //

      RIGHT.

      So attractive. So smart. Love all of the assumptions going on between them. Shorthand. No need to go on and on … it’s all understood.

  31. Helena says:

    LH somehow really spooked me and I had nightmares about getting lost in dark corridors afterwards.

    Also, Queen of Obvious here, but there is a such a delicious contrast between the S’n’D conversations in this week’s S10 ep and what’s going on here.

    • sheila says:

      Mulholland Drive felt like the perfection/elaboration of the stuff that interested him in Lost Highway – the whole “persona swap” thing. Re-watching Twin Peaks, and watching Donna suddenly try to be Laura Palmer … Lynch loves that persona swap!!

      Robert Blake freaked me OUT in Lost Highway.

      // Also, Queen of Obvious here, but there is a such a delicious contrast between the S’n’D conversations in this week’s S10 ep and what’s going on here. //

      I was thinking the same thing! That’s one of the additional cool things about doing re-caps of early seasons in conjunction with the current one. You can see the consistency – but you can also see how much has changed!

  32. Heather says:

    Sheila,
    Thank you for a wonderful recap. You are absolutely right about the sexiness of the outside perspective and also how important that is to the show. It is so much fun to watch them manoeuvre around the rules and world we take so seriously. Sexy, endearing, hero-affirming, glamourous (great word you used).. love it.

    Regarding Dean’s performance and provocation of Pete, in some ways Dean is such a femme fatale in how strong people’s reactions are to him. Really, how often do you see a man push into another man and gaze at his lips the way Pete does to Dean? Amazing. I got so used to this response to Dean and I kind of miss it. I get why it isn’t happening to the current Dean as he is way too scary now. But I miss it. I also got the sense in this episode that Dean was using the whole wisecracking punk routine as a way to lessen expectations of him. He doesn’t come off as the careful thinker/planner to the cops that we know he is. It helps him if they take for granted their superiority over him.

    • sheila says:

      Heather –

      // I also got the sense in this episode that Dean was using the whole wisecracking punk routine as a way to lessen expectations of him. He doesn’t come off as the careful thinker/planner to the cops that we know he is. It helps him if they take for granted their superiority over him. //

      Yes! That’s a subtlety I missed. But you’re right! Dean knows how he is perceived, knows he is under-estimated, uses it to his advantage.

      // Dean is such a femme fatale in how strong people’s reactions are to him. Really, how often do you see a man push into another man and gaze at his lips the way Pete does to Dean? Amazing. //

      I know!! There’s a sexually aggressive thing going on there that is somehow different than just a regular fight between two guys. Dean has been pouring out the charisma and sex appeal into that video monitor – and Pete somehow feels threatened by it – or disturbed – something is going on he can’t quite understand – he’s being made fun of somehow but he can’t figure out how. Dean so expects this. You could picture, too, that even John W. would have had that reaction to Dean on occasion. It’s all twisted up. Dark.

      // I get why it isn’t happening to the current Dean as he is way too scary now. But I miss it. //

      I know what you mean.

      People still respond to Dean’s charisma – Crowley, for example – but he’s not throwing himself out there like that anymore. Demon Dean was more extroverted, but in a way he was more protected, coiled up, not “out” – the way he is in that confession scene in Usual Suspects. So people seem to give him a wide berth.

  33. Patsyann says:

    My favorite aspect of this episode is Dean’s interactions with the cops. He just doesn’t care. Neither does Sam, but he can fake it better. For Dean, they’re just so far outside of his world that they’re practically meaningless. Him using that poor hapless DA as a messenger boy is just hilarious to watch. (That poor guy reminds me of the character at the beginning of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” who comes to tell Arthur Dent his house is being torn down, and ends up being talked into laying in the mud in front of his own bulldozer. I can’t remember the exact line but there’s something in there about how being handed inexplicable humiliations by strange men is just part of his lot in life. I imagine more than a few people have come away from an interaction with Dean the way that gentleman did from Ford Prefect.)

    Dean’s worried, maybe – but considering what he manages to accomplish while chained to a table he might be forgiven for being cocky, heh. He’s got that entire police department dancing to his tune. It doesn’t strike me that he’s really scared until Pete is hauling him off in the police van, because that’s when the situation is shifting back to Dean’s “normal” dynamic of hunter vs. prey – only this time, he’s the prey, and he knows it. And he doesn’t know what’s going on with Sam, doesn’t know the real story with the spirit, he doesn’t even really know what Pete’s deal is, but somehow it’s become personal.

    He does the same thing when Henrickson confronts him, too – despite the horrendous situation in the bank, it’s Henrickson and his targeting of Sam and Dean that ultimately scares Dean (“We are so screwed”).

    Thank you for another great recap!

    • sheila says:

      // I can’t remember the exact line but there’s something in there about how being handed inexplicable humiliations by strange men is just part of his lot in life. I imagine more than a few people have come away from an interaction with Dean the way that gentleman did from Ford Prefect.) //

      Ha!! Great connection! I love your observation here, Patsyann!

      // It doesn’t strike me that he’s really scared until Pete is hauling him off in the police van, because that’s when the situation is shifting back to Dean’s “normal” dynamic of hunter vs. prey – only this time, he’s the prey, and he knows it. //

      Right. I see that too. That’s the first crack in Dean’s armor – or at least the first one we’re allowed to see. And I think Dean is so much in performing-mode in the episode, that the surface IS the reality.

      You definitely get the sense that Dean is enjoying himself. Of being smarter than the cops, and having a chance to make them all look stupid, or at least make them feel insecure.

      He takes that moment.

      That ” we are so screwed” moment at the end of the bank-robber episode is fantastic. Another one of those necessary moments when you see the humanity of the guys – recognizable emotions like fear or uncertainty – they aren’t just impenetrable heroes. They know they’re “screwed.” The dynamic just works so well –

      Because they are filmed in a way where it is clear they are heroes. But they also get to have those moments. It’s a great “hook” for the characters.

      And I love Henricksen – he’s amazing.

  34. Lyrie says:

    // I know JA comes to the set totally prepared. He does a lot of homework. //
    I’ve heard the same thing about him as a director. That, I understand. But how do you prepare for a character you already know, what do you plan, how does it work? Acting is so mysterious for non-actors, even more when the result is so fascinating.

  35. sheila says:

    Hey all – thought I would share my friend Kim’s beautiful essay about The Exorcist and her experience interviewing director William Friedkin. She has some interesting thoughts about The Exorcist, i.e. girls’ bodies. Maybe seeing it on the cusp of adolescence is why it was so harrowing for me – not sure – but Kim always has a way of making me think.

    Enjoy:

    http://sunsetgun.typepad.com/sunsetgun/2014/10/early-in-my-writing-career-when-i-was-a-film-critic-for-the-oregonian-i-interviewed-william-friedkin-while-he-was-making-the-1.html

  36. Jessie says:

    Thanks for the link, Sheila. Good read. Maybe the reason I never responded so viscerally to The Exorcist is that I sailed through puberty rather obliviously. My troubles came later and they were embodied but it was never really about “what is happening to me, and why am I out of my own control?” And I never really yelled at my mother either…. yelling just sucks up valuable Lord of the Rings rereading time. ha!

  37. Lyrie says:

    Re : Jensen Ackles, and more generally acting. This conversation has made me a little obsessed. I’ve started reading and watching everything I find on acting, acting techniques, etc. I never thought one day I would want to understand how “it” works. I feel like I’ve stumbled down into a rabbit whole – I’m not sure it’ll help me understand anything I see, but I’m fascinated.
    Yesterday I watched a video of John Strasberg, and for some reason I started crying – it was not even what he was saying, but something in his voice, the way he talks.

    I feel like I really should stop commenting here, I’m afraid of becoming The Thread Killer.
    Sorry.

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