RECREATIONAL USE
The opening shot is one of the most beautiful in this series to date. It begins with a shot of sparkling bronze water, then zooms out to reveal a shot of New York with the rays of the sun kind of following us like a laser and peeking out through a bridge as if on cue. The whole shot is sepia, which I think is down to the way it’s shot and the time of day rather than any gels or effects. It feels quite art-house cinematic and speaks of quality.
With this scene still resonating, we go to the first scene which is a nice two-hander between Sharon Gless and this week’s guest-star, Barry Primus as Dory McKenna. Taking place in Chris’s apartment, it fills the gaps for the viewer quite organically as the couple get dressed in the morning. As Chris talks coffee in-depth, there’s an ease to their dynamic that tells us all we need to know about their relationship. Dialogue peppered in reveals that Dory is also on the force - a homicide detective. They briefly mention a case that both are working on. It’s a very natural feeling scene that once again credits the audience with the ability to catch up and put the pieces together from the snippets we’re given, reading between the lines of what isn’t said.
What is
not said is huge in this episode, with a number of key scenes relying on the power of silence.
At the office, as Chris had mentioned in the previous scene, her colleagues suspect the nature of their relationship. From Isbecki’s barely concealed jealousy to Mary Beth’s amusement.
We’re also given an introduction to an endearing little subplot in which Petrie talks incessantly about his new baby with constant updates and photos. It’s fun to see the cast bouncing off each other as everyone is polite and tolerant. This is a case in point of what’s
not said being important. In most of these scenes nothing is said about how his colleagues feel about it, but knowing their characters as we have come to, there’s a gentle humour in seeing them internalise this stuff. My favourite moment from this plot is a simple shot of LaGuardia looking round the office and sticking the picture of Petrie’s daughter on his locker. Sidney Clute’s look of resignation and his sad, long little face is a picture. He’s emerging as a favourite of mine.
That particular plot has a kind of resolution when Isbecki - with some uncharacteristic tact - has a gentle word with Petrie as they take a trip to post a warrant. It’s a nice moment for both characters. When Isbecki acknowledges that he probably irritates Petrie with whatever he talks about all the time, Petrie quickly comes back with “Yourself”. In turn, Isbecki’s unfazed reaction to Petrie’s little zinger (“Yeah - but who can blame me”) is right in character.
The sexism faced by the women is dropped into a couple of little moments here, though as Season Two continues it's less in-your-face than in the Pilot and Season One. Tellingly, as Mary Beth and Chris's colleagues at the precinct endear themselves to the audience (and presumably the writers), the sexism no longer comes directly from their workmates, but from characters outside the main cast. Here it's a colleague of Dory's who answers the phone to Chris who makes a botched attempt to be "appropriate" because she's a dame. Later on, the two were asked, rather patronisingly, if their work wasn't perhaps a little dangerous by an administrator. The implication being that they should get themselves a nice, safe little filing job like she has done and leave the policing to the men.
The procedural this week comes from a series of deaths of older people in subsidised housing projects which Cagney, Lacey and McKenna are able to link together. Reliable character actor Susan French is back (she was previously in Season One’s
Suffer The Children). Here she’s Mrs Skimmins. I do enjoy watching her work. There's something very upmarket about her. When the bad guys are caught and she and her neighbour are identifying the suspects, Skimmins happily predicts her neighbour’s reaction: “Now he’s going to say something perfectly awful in Greek.” Then she gleefully watches as he does just that.
Earlier in the episode, French had a wonderfully poignant moment that’s another example of what’s
not being said being important. Mary Beth had called to update her on the case and was held in the hallway as Mrs Skimmins stood at her door, trying not to get involved for fear of her safety. As Mary Beth was leaving she asked Mrs Skimmins if her heating was working now. There was a brief pause before Skimmins replied that it was working and a subtle look on Mary Beth’s face that suggested she didn’t 100% believe the reply. And that was that. The viewer is left to interpret the moment any way they choose.
Daly is a little wonder in this show. I’m in awe that in each scene she brings something that pulls me in and enriches her character. The quiet moment at Mrs Skimmins’ door is one of those moments. Another came when she was let down by Chris and Dory (more about that shortly) when waiting to bring a suspect in for questioning from his home and was forced to single-handedly take care of it. While the situation seemed like it needed big guns and heavy hands, Mary Beth went for the human approach. Smiling politely, she gently chastised him for ripping up a warrant, talking about taxpayers’ money and two officers needing to deliver it. Then she went for full on charm asking him to come to the station with her. While his body language was saying no, Mary Beth didn’t give him a chance to reply, instead looping her arm through his and walking down the long driveway to her car. All the while babbling happily away at great speed about his lovely home, and her apartment and a friend who couldn’t sleep outside of the city because of the silence. Once again, what’s not said comes into play. Lacey counts on it, because if the suspect got the chance to speak she’d have blown it. So we get little one-take monologue from Daly with her scene partner reduced to resigned silence. It’s so fresh some of it just had to be improvised. I especially enjoyed her comments continuing once they were in the car “Just throw that in the back. And put your belt on. I don’t wanna lose you....”. I was left assuming she talked at him on the long drive back to the station.
Gless, meanwhile, effortlessly handles the Sturm und Drang of her character’s relationship with Dory. The chemistry between she and Primus is excellent and Cagney’s happiness in the relationship comes across. There’s a previously unseen coquettishness to her in a couple of scenes that reminds me so much of Loretta Swit’s take on Cagney from the Pilot. The aforementioned opening scene of this episode neatly echoes Cagney’s very first scene in the Pilot, both having that morning after glow feel between Chris and her current paramour. Then she has a flirty, giggly 2am phone call with him that also feels like it would flow neatly if this were shown back to back with the Pilot. Bearing in mind Gless has already proved that she has a good deal of Meg Foster’s wit and attitude, there’s a sense of consistency and history to the character here.
It’s not all satin sheets and fine coffee though. The main character-driven aspect of the plot - and the episode’s title - comes from Dory’s cocaine use. On paper, this aspect of the show is a little “issue of the week”. But as expected by now, the execution has a lot more substance. With an episodic show featuring a guest character with an addiction, a couple of moments can’t help but feel a little cliché - it’s particularly difficult, for instance, to do justice to a character’s mood swings and little personality changes in a fifty minute window, and that has to be borne in mind when viewing. But all things considered, the episode does a sterling job with the storyline which - quite incredibly - feels like it has room to breathe among the other plots.
The most powerful moment of the episode for me came at the Lacey household, with Dory and Chris coming for dinner. A somewhat disagreeable Dory disappeared to the bathroom and returned much more sociable and chatty. By this point, Mary Beth had been told about Dory’s drug use (though she didn’t know the extent) and was very uncomfortable with it. Chris had jumped on Dory’s bandwagon of denial and was playing it down even to herself. The theme of what is not being said being powerful came to a head in this one scene. The only dialogue we have is Dory’s as he chatters happily away without pausing for breath. This is contrasted starkly with the silent and horrified reactions of the others as they realised just what is happening. We see a silent Harv as it dawns on him that a guest has just been taking drugs in his home. Mary Beth is equally silent and the viewer can only guess at what she is feeling towards both Chris and Dory, as well as herself for knowing about the problem and still inviting him to her home and family. Chris is wordless and clearly both angry and deeply ashamed.
Things get more heated towards the episode’s end as Chris and Dory are reduced to a physical fight in an alley, both emotionally and physically drained. It’s another powerful scene.
The final scene runs with the same thread that’s run through the entire episode - the unspoken. Chris and Mary Beth have a conversation about something trivial, but emotionally it’s about something much more important. Here Mary Beth barges into the ladies room clearly very concerned about Chris, and then starts to blather on about the new towels she’s ordered. (in a nice, subtle touch of continuity, Mary Beth had started to dry her hands earlier in the episode and resorted to using toilet paper). Then they talk about redecorating the room and decide they probably won’t (nice symbolism - if it ain’t broke...). Nothing is spoken about what’s on their minds. But they - and the audience - know and
feel exactly what it’s all about. And they reach an understanding and resolution.
The episode ends with complete silence. No music and - most importantly given the underlying theme - no words.
It's also worth mentioning that there are a couple of moments in this episode that seem to acknowledge, tongue in cheek, the silliness of some cop shows. Most notably, there's a scene where Mary Beth and Chris are trying to access the apartment of an elderly man who is dangerously ill. There's a locked door between them. Chris eventually does the job with an axe but while she's finding that Mary Beth has a go at barging the door with her shoulder. Rather than the door busting open, she just winds up with a sore shoulder.
Another scene has the women telling Samuels that their suspect is currently in Honolulu. Samuels brusquely tells them to get on a plane, fly to Honolulu and bring back the suspect. There are a few moments for the girls to absorb this. Just as it's sinking in with both characters and the audience, Samuels announces that he was only kidding. It felt like it was poking gentle fun at the fantasy of an earlier Barney Rosenzweig vehicle:
Charlie's Angels.