Haven’t gotten around to Tuesday night’s latest edition of “Sons of Anarchy” just yet? Well then flex those clutch hands, light up another smoke and get your reflecting faces on so that we can chat all about it here.
After the 800th time it was revealed that Katrina lied to her husband via omission last week, can Ichabod still trust his wife? Have all the her secrets even been revealed? Smart money is on no.
But while Crane deals with his marriage crisis, there are other threads unraveling in “And the Abyss Gazes Back.”
Ichabod Crane has withstood numerous tortures, but yoga is where he draws the line. Inversions might help Abbie clear her mind and work her buns — a word that is somehow offensive to Crane — but her attempts to teach inner peace to her partner fail miserably. On the plus side, Crane looks good in a modern shirt and with his hair down.
But how can Ichabod concentrate on relaxation with Katrina on his mind? Abbie manages to coax a few truths from him: Crane is peeved and hurt by his wife’s actions and would much rather get drunk and forget. Mills acquiesces. To the pub!
Ichabod toasts George Washington and I begin to wonder if the name of our first President is some sort of incantation. If Crane doesn’t say it at least once a day, will the centuries crash down upon his body, causing him to rapidly age and turn to dust? It is the only explanation.
Before our heroes can get nice and sloshed though, a bar fight breaks out and Abbie has to go be a cop. Lame. But it’s not just any bar fight, it’s one started by Joe Corbin. Yes, as in the returning prodigal son of the late Sheriff Corbin. The barkeep tosses out the troublemakers and Abbie follows. But little Joey Corbin is not happy to see her. Maybe Mills shouldn’t have cold opened with “Hey, I (and presumably the rest of the town) heard about your platoon dying and your honorable discharge from the army. So how’s life otherwise?” The young Corbin blows her off with a remark about never forgiving Abbie for getting his dad killed. Well, he ain’t wrong.
Sidenote: We’ve heard plenty about Mrs. Mills being haunted by demons, but nary a peep about Mr. Mills. I wonder what supernatural skeletons are hiding on THAT side of the family tree.
Meanwhile in the woods, a monster with glaucoma and/or vaseline in it’s eyes prepares to murder some rednecks.
Abbie is driving Ichabod home and we get some more background on her relationship with Joe. She used to babysit him and the child was obsessed with Superman. Crane tries to place Supes’ alter-ego but lands on Peter Parker instead of Clark Kent. WHERE IS YOUR PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY NOW, CRANE?
Oh wait, he’s just drunk enough to “win” the breathalyzer test. Fine, he gets a pass. But Crane gets to sober up quick because out of nowhere, a demonic deer! Yep, it totally ate those rednecks. RIP.
But not all of them. Joe survived the encounter. Well, “survived” is relative since he is calling for his dad and ominously repeating “It’s gonna kill us all” over and over while staring at nothing.
The next day, Abbie shows up at the hospital to get a statement, but young Corbin is still hung up on this whole “My dad liked you better than me and you repaid his favoritism with death” thing. Mills points out she’s here as a cop and Joe was the only survivor, but hey don’t let a festering emotional wound get in the way of obstructing a police investigation. Corbin pouts.
Over at Terrytown, War is still gloating over tricking Captain Irving into selling his soul. I still cry foul, but it’s not like there’s a hotline to call to get demons disbarred for not playing fair. Henry tells Irving the only way to get his soul back is to kill another person, a soul for a soul. To me this sounds a lot like a genie deal where Henry is technically telling the truth but you know it’s a trap. You just don’t know how. Irving is equally suspicious but Henry presents an enticing carrot. The drunk that hit Irving’s daughter is also in Terrytown. The good Captain doesn’t have to murder an INNOCENT person.
War, you sneaky shit.
At the Exposition Library, Crane quickly cuts to the heart of the matter. Joe Corbin is obviously the monster. The question is what kind? His evidence seems lacking at first: “Dying men cry for their mothers, not their fathers.” But then he is vindicated when Abbie realizes young Corbin’s platoon was attacked the exact same way. Everyone died but Joe and one of the victims was missing his organs. Either that’s one hell of a coincidence or Joe is eating people.
Obviously this reminds Crane of his good friend Daniel Boone — insert my indignant eyeroll here — and Boone’s younger brother Squire. Abbie neglects to ask “Who names their kid Squire?” as Ichabod talks about soldiers who were never the same after battle. Some of them just never came back mentally. Mills is like “We call that PTSD now, but please go on with your story about Daniel Boone’s cannibalistic brother.” Turns out Squire tried to kill and eat Daniel Boone because he was traumatized and/or was a Wendigo.
Living in a universe with Horsemen of the Apocalypse and Demons-of-the-Week, our heroes figure this is a legit theory and head to Corbin’s house to confront him. Joe isn’t in but there’s meat on the counter and a video game on pause. Crane is confounded by the modern age’s ideas of relaxation. Mills finds a clue, which cuts Ichabod’s pretentious “Back in my day” rant short. Looks like Joe was reading his dad’s will, in which the elder Corbin left his son in charge of some serious artifacts. Including one hidden right near where the Wendigo attack was last night.
The Scooby gang springs into action! Well, more like they slow crawl into action because it is the middle of the night before Crane and Mills stumble across Joe. Corbin has just unburied in ancient box/urn, but he’s not giving up this prized possession to dumb old Abbie. He bolts and our heroes give chase. It doesn’t take long for Ichabod to cut himself on some barbed wire, and that’s all it takes for Joe to go all Wendigo-y, which honestly looks like the world’s most terrifying Jackalope.
They run. But for an unwieldy, top-heavy demon, Corbin is surprisingly agile. He quickly overtakes Crane and for the umpteenth time Abbie comes to the rescue. This time in the form of tranquilizer darts. Forewarned is forearmed, indeed.
Will it be third time’s the charm for Jim Carrey and “Saturday Night Live”? We shall see as the show returns from its first hiatus this season. When Carrey last hosted in January 2011, only five current cast members were still around. That offers up a lot of new comedic combinations tonight. Plus, as Carrey looks to plug his upcoming film “Dumb And Dumber To,” don’t be surprised to see Jeff Daniels pop by, hopefully in full Will McAvoy mode. (After all, “The Newsroom” is already plenty funny, and sometimes even intentionally so.)
As per usual, I’ll assign grades to each sketch while liveblogging all the action. As per usual, I urge you not to get bent out of shape should these grades not align with your own. If you did, well, that would be super strange and kind of boring. See you at 11:30 pm EST when things kick off properly.
After a series high last week where audiences played at being a Time Lord, complete with all the haunting decisions that stick with you forever, what adventure will our plucky heroes get up to this week? With no real villain* to tie the season together, it’s like getting dressed in the dark as to what theme we’ll be exploring each week is. Will there be ramifications to Clara’s psyche for letting people die on her watch? Will Danny discover her lies? Only time will tell “In the Forest of the Night.”
*Obviously Missy is the Big Bad™ (or the Big Red Herring™) but she’s too mysterious to be properly afraid of. She hasn’t even welcomed anyone to “Heaven” in forever.
“How are we going to get out of this Twilight Zone?”
That’s what we ALL want to know Damon. That’s what we all want to know. And now I suppose we do, thanks to crazy serial killer Kai and his own hellish purgatory that Bonnie and Damon are now stuck in. But seriously, haven’t we all heard enough one-hit wonders from the mid-90s yet?
So you still haven’t watched Tuesday night’s “Sons of Anarchy?” Well you’re going to want to pop your eyes back in their sockets, boot up those tablets and pre-order your copies of “Cocks & Bagels” because it was a doozy. Also, this article contains spoilers, and this is one you’re going to want to see for yourself.
Last week Ichabod and Abbie scored one for the good guys by ending a centuries old family curse and saving a little girl. Meanwhile, Hawley — aka Southern Gentleman Aquaman — scored one for pragmatism by running away from danger because self-preservation is an extremely underutilized skill.
But with Mills and Crane feeling good about “getting the hang” of this Witness thing, what inevitably terrible fate awaits them this week with “The Weeping Lady”?
Oh wow. The seamstress from the Revolutionary War reenactment the other week wasn’t a throw away character! She returns and is given a name. Caroline. Miss Caroline has been busy replenishing Ichabod’s wardrobe of period appropriate clothing. And churning him butter. And making him jam. And oh dear, I think Caroline is hoping Crane with churn HER butter. Because commitment to Colonial ways is apparently an aphrodisiac. Either that or it’s just his accent.
Despite looking like a budget Katrina, Ichabod demures by saying he is married. Through a series of comical misunderstandings involving Abbie picking that exact moment to return with takeout, Caroline is under the impression Abbie is Mrs. Crane.
I mean, it’s a logical conclusion. Ichabbie shippers everywhere rejoice at the nod, despite Crane adamantly saying Mills is his partner but not his LIFE partner. Miss Caroline is suffering from deafness brought on my acute embarrassment though and doesn’t hear, quickly escaping while making apologies to “Mrs. Crane.”
Speak of the devil, we cut over to the real Mrs. Crane who is finally getting her witchy ways on. Yeah, girl! You mix that potion. You murmur that spell. You…write that love letter? Okay, I guess she’s still hanging around to “spy” on War and Death. But she sends a raven off to find Ichabod and deliver a message. Abraham almost catches her, but she distracts him with her winning personality and new clothes.
Seriously, does no one in Sleepy Hollow wonder why the demand for period accurate Revolutionary clothing is through the roof?
Headless warns Katrina that he wants her to join him willingly, but he’s not gonna wait for permission forever…so yep, the Horseman of Death is still a douchebag. Abraham then goes to have a Skype call…I mean a mirror conversation…with War to bitch about Katrina getting around the anti-magic wards. Well at least that explains why she hasn’t burned everything to ash by now. Henry offers to help and Headless basically tells him to go back and play with his tiny town and leave the corruption of Katrina to him.
Henry is not amused. DISSENSION IN THE RANKS!
War isn’t about to let that prissy alpha male tell him what he can and can’t do, so he dives into Katrina’s personal effects to find something on which a sin might reside. Upon discovering her copy of “Gulliver’s Travels,” Henry smiles…and not in the nice way.
Meanwhile, random teens are making out in a secluded spot, so obviously they are about to die. Especially since they’re talking about whether or not to have sex. But suddenly, a ghostly witch slams into their windshield, inadvertently saving them. Everyone knows the horror monster can’t kill you until AFTER you’ve started banging, so really that ghost is a hero.
Across town, Abbie is trying to convince Ichabod that it’s totally socially acceptable to send Caroline an apology via phone or text, but his sense of propriety will not stand for it. He’s going to apologize for the mix-up in person. Right now. After dark when most people are probably in their pajamas and not expecting sudden company.
But Miss Caroline is not a normal person and is happy to see her unrequited crush on her doorstep instead of mortified. Crane says he hopes they can remain friends since he has so very few…and even less who share his affinity for 18th century American history. Caroline — in an astonishing feat — accepts this elaborate “It’s not you, it’s me” apology and agrees.
So of course she is now slated for death. In the darkness of her house, Caroline senses something is amiss. I also sense something is amiss. How the hell does a twenty-something own a house this big? Oh wait, dark water and creepy crying and a silhouette sitting in a rocking chair. Girl, you about to die.
The sad ghost lady goes feral and Caroline shrieks. Well, good luck to the realtor saddled with selling this house now.
Sometime the next morning, Abbie is identifying Caroline’s dead body on the riverbank. Crane is flipping out because they won’t let him cross the police line until Mills clears him. How many cops does Sleepy Hollow have that there are still officers who don’t know Crane is ALWAYS going to be cleared to cross when Abbie is involved?
No one can figure out what happened to Caroline. Her car was still at her house and there’s no sign of a struggle. “Who would do this?” asks Ichabod Crane, apparently in all seriousness. Oh I don’t know, genius. It’s not like you have a list of arch-enemies as long as your arm. Abbie knows the best way to stave off grief is to be useful, so she suggests they look up-river. Perhaps Caroline washed down shore and clues will be found elsewhere.
Approximately twenty seconds later, Ichabod finds Caroline’s coffee mug from the night before in the sand. Nearby there are car skid marks but no footprints. So probably those lucky non-dead teenagers. Is Abbie not going to point out that Ichabod probably shouldn’t put his fingerprints all over the possession of a murder victim? No? Oh, okay.
Have fun in prison, Crane.
Being genre savvy, Abbie figures it was definitely teenagers because this a popular place to make-out. Ichabod is delightfully naive about what happens at a modern day “lover’s lane” and it’s adorable. But he’s not so naive as to not appreciate the “spirit” of the local high school cheerleading squad when they go to question the Queen Bees about who was necking under the bridge last night.
Our hapless teen lovers confess they hauled ass out of there after the Weeping Lady cracked the windshield and a short drive later Abbie is pulling up information on a local legend at the library. The Weeping Lady is a standard soggy ghost: dripping wet, glowing green eyes, always crying, probably a restless spirit who died due to and/or at the hands of her unfaithful lover. But to be sure, Mills and Crane need the source material. It is really hard to make “searching the Dewey Decimal System” action-packed, so the show compensates in three ways:
One, Katrina’s messenger bird finds Ichabod. She lets him know she is well, if annoyed at her limited witchery due to the wards.
Two, and most appreciated, a wild Southern Gentleman Aquaman appears! Hawley runs into Abbie and confesses he’s researching apocalypse stuff because forewarned is forearmed in his — correct — opinion. Abbie tries to give him shit about running away from the last demon and Hawley is like “It was a demon!” Turns out you don’t have to be a believer of the occult to sell it. “Do all people who sell Christmas tress believe in Santa Claus?” asks Hawley, modern day philosopher. He also offers to help free of charge next time Abbie needs it, which is probably the biggest sign of respect SGA is capable of giving.
Three, the Weeping Woman is also visiting the library. But she’s not here to check out a book on how to deal with grief. She’s here to murder Abbie, who of course takes the bait. Sure, Abbie unholsters her gun but LIKE THAT’S GONNA DO ANY GOOD. The Weeping Lady makes her play and lo and behold, bullets do nothing.
When we last left the Doctor and Clara, the former had shown his willingness to sacrifice the one to save the majority while the latter had proved the Doctor isn’t the only one who lies. Determined to keep up her double life, Clara’s playing a dangerous game with both Twelve and Danny.
But who was behind the computerized voice of Gus? Or does it even matter? Will “Flatline” continue the trend of the Monster-Of-The-Week (MOTW) or will the threads of this season start to coalesce? Time to find out!
Either we’re in the 1970s or this balding hipster hasn’t updated his decor since then. He’s whispering into a corded wall phone — truly an archaic device — to the police. He knows who did “it” and they’re everywhere. Whoever “they” are prove the hipster’s paranoid delusions are true by instantly murdering him.
Godspeed, sir. You make delightfully eccentric wallpaper.
In the TARDIS, Clara is haphazardly throwing her stuff into a bag. Ostensibly because Danny doesn’t like her leaving things behind, but in reality because Danny can’t find out she didn’t break up with the Doctor. Twelve is suspicious of a boyfriend being cool with time and space travel, but not with Clara leaving her toothbrush around. However, he doesn’t pick up on Clara being adamant in making sure they’ve returned to the EXACT same time and place they left from earlier.
Unrelated to anything, Clara’s jacket is amazing.
Ms. Oswald lies straight to Twelve’s face and turns to leave. But there is a problem. The TARDIS door is significantly smaller than it should be. It’s never done this before so of course the Doctor is intrigued. They both squeeze through (which is a hilarious visual) and OH MY GLOB. Sexy is so cute and adorable! But also, this probably spells certain doom, or at least a Scooby-Doo mystery to solve.
The Doctor is excited. Clara is pissed because they definitely didn’t land back in her apartment. “Let me enjoy this moment of not knowing something. It happens so rarely,” Twelve opines. Quite frankly, it’s refreshing to see this return to a Doctor who revels in not knowing instead of bluffing that he knows everything. Clara agrees with Twelve and wanders off to see if anything strange is in the area while the Doctor tries to figure out why the TARDIS is suddenly way, way smaller on the outside.
Nearby, graffiti artist Rigsy is suffering the indignity of doing community service…by painting over his own work. His supervisor is the instantly deplorable Fenton, a man who exhibits the kind of casual cruelty that makes you instantly hope he’s slated for death by monster.
A quick cut back to inside the TARDIS, where the Doctor is doing science with steampunk googles — hell yea! — when Sexy starts shaking like a Polaroid picture. That can’t be good.
Wandering around near the Bristol train station, Clara stumbles upon a memorial of some sort. Photos and candles and teddy bears are gathered against a wall. Further off underneath the bridge are murals of people, all with their backs facing the viewer.
One of the community service guys cat calls her and Rigsy is like “Dude, what the hell? It’s a MEMORIAL,” and abandons his civic duty to perform the sacred right of spewing exposition at a main character. He tells her about all the people who have gone missing, including the most recent person. I assume he’s talking about poor Balding Hipster. Finally, a clue!
Clara quickly returns to where she left the TARDIS but it’s nowhere in sight…until she looks down. Sexy is now a Teacup TARDIS. The Doctor explains something is leeching the external dimensions but he’s still the same size. Then he proves it by sticking his hand out of the tiny door and my brain is not happy about what it’s looking at but I have no words to describe this emotion.
Twelve instructs Clara to put the TARDIS in her bag, explaining he futzed with the weight and pointing out if the TARDIS didn’t displace her weight all the time, her true size would fracture the surface of the Earth. Huh, never really thought about that.
Before getting into her purse, the Doctor hands Clara the tools she’ll need to defeat whatever is out there. The psychic paper, the sonic screwdriver, and a nanotech optic nerve implant so Twelve can see what she sees.
Our artist Rigsy catches back up and asks Clara who she is. With an evil grin, Clara declares herself to be the Doctor. “Doctor Oswald,” to be precise. Inside the TARDIS, Twelve bristles, so of course she twists the knife by adding she’s not really a Doctor, she just picked the title because it makes her sound important.
With her local guide in tow, Rigsy and Doctor Oswald head to the latest crime scene. And it’s definitely not Balding Hipster’s house. Rigsy says when the victim disappeared, there was no sign of a struggle. The spookiest thing though? The doors were locked…from the inside. Great. We’re inside a fireside ghost story.
Side note: I assume that cracked desertscape one the wall is important, since the camera lingers on it.
Talking to the Doctor, who Rigsy can’t see or hear, Clara is coming off as slightly bonkers. Her declaration that perhaps the victim fell prey to a shrink ray, before getting down to start looking under furniture, is the last straw. Doctor or not, Rigsy can smell crazy and he is out of here. In a moment of desperation to keep her local guide, Clara busts out the Teacup TARDIS and introduces him to the Doctor.
Somehow this soothes Rigsy and he is back on board. A tiny person in a miniature police box is cool, I guess? Maybe Rigsy was a fan of “The Indian in the Cupboard” as a child.
But opening the TARDIS doors has let whatever was leeching the external dimensions steal the INTERNAL dimensions! I don’t know what that means but sounds bad! Clara agrees and closes the door while the Doctor paces near the chalkboard which is still housing the unknown equation that been around all season. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
To the next crime scene! Okay, THIS is definitely Balding Hipster’s house. His commitment to the decorating schemes of the 1970s is admirably, if misguided. Clara has convinced a local police officer — via psychic paper — that she’s here to take over. At Twelve’s direction, she starts sledgehammering the walls. Sadly, there are no wolves inside them.
While Rigsy pumps Clara for information about how she got her “job,” the police officer steps into another room to talk to her superior on the phone. Which means it’s time for her to die. Oh look, the walls are melting! Either that’s the monster or we’ve all got a contact high from being in this house.
By the way, cool suspended egg chair.
Nope, it was the monster and definitely NOT drugs. The officer dies screaming as whatever it is sucks her right into the ground. By the time Clara and Rigsy arrive, there’s nothing left but her flashlight. Looking through Clara’s eyes, the Doctor finally realizes what is going on. The mural on the wall isn’t a spooky forest, but a flattened nervous system. The cracked desert was human skin. Whatever the MOTW is, it’s from a universe with only two dimensions.
And it’s vivisecting humans to try and figure out the third one.
If you’ve been holding off on Tuesday night’s “Sons of Anarchy,” you should probably grab your cuts, brush up on your dog code and put on your Cosby sweater before you’re spoiled by this review.
After Reyes effectively put an end to all occult shenanigans last week, Jenny and Crane are out of the police sidekick game, and Captain Irving is wrestling with the truth bomb that his lawyer is the Horseman of War.
On the plus side, Abbie made a new friend in Hawley, aka Southern Gentleman Aquaman.
What adventures await our plucky heroes this week? Will Katrina finally remember witches are good at things like WITCHCRAFT and ground her wayward son? Probably not, but one can hope.