Sleepy Hollow Episode 2.3: Actually, Team Apocalypse is Doing Just Fine

Most dysfunctional paternal-filial relationship
since Vader & Son?

Okay, perhaps Frank Irving being locked up in Tarrytown psych with the Horseman of War as his attorney, Jenny Mills nearly offing the new sheriff whilst in possession of an evil coin, and Katrina Crane still only one pissed-off broad-axe swipe away from becoming Mrs Headless Horseman could be described with more accurate words than “fine.” But what matters to this viewer is that the hands in which I trust Team Apocalypse—the show's makers—have proven not once, but twice now that the premiere was an aberration.

Thank you Melissa Blake, Donald Todd, and all of the Sleepy Hollow writers/producers who contributed to composing this episode, the director, actors, editors, and all the crew, from the bottom of my heart for reminding me why I wanted to write for Sleepy Hollow/Television in general.

“The Kindred” was an excellent and very powerful follow-up up to the season 2 premiere, and I hope soon to sing its praises elsewhere. “Root of All Evil” on its own, however, made up for the premiere and then-some. With a well-paced plot, rich themes, outstanding performances across the board, and a masterful balance of tone, the episode bears and warrants multiple viewings, losing none of its heft or entertainment value in the process.

The episode begins with a sufficiently creepy introduction to Henremy's new habit of whittling miniatures of Sleepy Hollow buildings, then shifts from miniature Tarrytown Psychiatric to full-sized, our heroes Abbie and Crane approaching to visit Irving. What could have been a simple scene expositing Henry's reappearance is made poignant by Abbie's noting that she's memorized the hospitals visiting hours, and hilarious by the receptionist's assumption that Abbie is admitting Crane for treatment. Lightly-delivered lawyer jokes from Crane lead us gently into the emotional meat of the episode: mothers sacrificing themselves, being forced to abandon their children, in order to save them, a theme we will visit with both Katrina and Mama Mills this week. We, and Ichabod, are also introduced to Abbie's unspoken distrust of Katrina-as-Mole, given her relationship to Jeremy. Not only is that conflict with Crane sorely needed, it's handled with the maturity, dignity, and, by the episode's climax, unflinching honesty we've come to expect from Abbie; well-played.

Early on we are reintroduced to the new, toughlove sheriff, Leena Reyes, who continues to endear herself to the audience with a rather insulting attempt at mothering Jenny. Many fans complain about Reyes because she's acting like an actual sheriff instead of a fan of Team Apocalypse. She's mean, they complain. She's rude to our beloved Ichabod and jailed our beloved Jenny. My husband even asked if she's going to end up being one of the Four Horsemen. C'mon, people, get a grip. First of all, the Four Horsemen, so far, are all people who have mega-fucked-up history/seriously unresolved anger at Crane (this does leave the way open for a horsewo/man or two with such issues with Abbie, but so far, Reyes doesn't fit the bill). Second, doesn't anyone remember Irving's skepticism before he saw Headless for himself? Third, and perhaps most important, of course Reyes is going to end up being on the side of good, because the writers are making us dislike her intensely now!!

Personally, I adore Sakina Jaffrey as Reyes, if for no other reason than she makes Sleepy Hollow so much more believable and powerful by grounding our heroes' adventures in something approximating reality. I think she's going to prove a fascinating character and vital piece of the puzzle.

While Reyes is bullying Jenny, Crane and Abbie arrive at Sleepy Hollow Savings & Loan in pursuit of Henry, and we learn still more about our 18th Century hero's liberated 21st Century mores. When Ichabod gets upset by the sight of two men, one wearing a baseball cap, holding hands in a restaurant. Abbie assumes she has to explain gay romance. With the same gorgeously appalled, “I'm not a bigot” tone of voice he used to inform Abbie of his abolition advocacy, he retorts that he couldn't care less about the men's sexual orientation. He's offended that one of them is wearing a hat indoors.  Granted, the Glee line was overkill and unnecessary, but hey, it's a Fox show.

At its best, Sleepy regularly moves seamlessly from humor to tension, even horror, and back again. This episode is full of Sleepy at its best.

It's also full of Women Kicking Ass and Working Things Out, whilst the heroic men largely wait on the sidelines. Shortly after Crane and Abbie spy Henry leaving the bank, a shot is fired and Abbie Mills becomes only the second cop in TV history (after Sleepy Hollow Police Chief Frank Irving) to call for backup before heading into a potentially violent confrontation.

Meanwhile, rather than keeping his son within sight as he'd vowed to do only a moment before, Crane rushes towards the bank with his fellow Witness. When Abbie reminds him he's been ordered by Madame Sheriff to stand down from police work pending another call from someone with a British accent authenticating his cover (are you ever going to explain that season one mystery Sleepy writers?), he commences pacing.

Pace. Pace. Fret about Abbie's safety. Pace. Like Eowyn sent to the caves with the women and children, denied her heart's desire to fight at Aragorn's side at Helms' Deep, Ichabod is sidelined to prayer, worry, and waiting for his warrior to return. Sucks, doesn't it, fellas? Now imagine how we've felt for the last 10,000 years.

If last week's episode was all about father issues, this week is clearly dedicated to mama, in a variety of incarnations. Before back-up can arrive, Abbie bravely faces down bank teller/former-model- citizen-turned-armed-robber, Lydia Galway, trying to negotiate the release of her hostages. You read that right: armed woman confronts other armed woman, no armed men in sight. When back-up arrives, it's not in the form of any of Sleepy Hollow's male black-and-whites, but rather the female police chief, Leena Reyes, who naturally has nothing better to do with her time but take 911 calls. A badass former border patrol agent herself, Reyes wastes no time wasting Ms. Galway when she sees darkness overcoming the bank teller, protecting her work-daughter, Abbie.

Brief but adequate conversation among our heroes and judicious use of camera shots and images tell us Henry did this, using some kind of coin, and he's already picked out his next victim. God, I love exposition that doesn't assume the audience is made up of morons.

Back to Crane, Revolutionary War hero and top-billed star, still pacing. But that's okay! Our male hero can pace while three women with guns rock the house because in the next scene Crane is once again proven to be not only the Smartest Guy in the Room by several furlongs, but a brave soldier himself in the fight against evil (albeit in flashback).

Sneaking into the archives under Reyes' radar, while charmingly channeling Alan Rickman in several of his film roles, Crane scathingly inquires of Abbie “is the proverbial coast clear?” When he asks Abbie to “unspool” the video from the bank, I'm as delighted as Abbie (seriously, it takes so little to make me happy, writers).

Ichabod and the beautifully directed flashback then explain this episode's phlebotinum, and redeem Benedict Arnold in the process (redemption of Judas Iscariot to follow presently).

Thus begins the episode's deft, gorgeous homages to The Lord of The Rings, as we see victims slipping an evil coin into their pockets all “ring of power”-like. With just this simple image resonating gently in our unconsciousness, we come to understand exactly what Team Apocalypse is up against.

Act 2 begins with an ill-explained bit of fraternal infighting between the two Horsemen (perhaps fraternal is a poor choice of words since right now Abraham's on track to become Henremy's stepfather). We'll let that one go because the masterfully handled heart of the scene is Katrina's and Henremy's brief and pointed exchange. Katrina's determined to reach her son; Henry's equally determined she won't seduce Abraham into betraying Team Moloch, but his mother nonetheless affects him, deeply. It is to the director's and both Katia Winter and John Noble's enormous credit that this dialogue-light scene packs a huge emotional wallop (not to mention gorgeous story-advancement-teasing through character development). “Jeremy, my son” - in three words, Katrina says so much. And kudos to the wardrobe department for finally getting Kat a new dress. Still hoping to see her in jeans soon, but this is a lovely step forward. Hopefully Abraham also let her bathe.  Or do witches not get body odor, even after 200+ years in purgatory?

Given community service instead of a jail term, Jenny returns to Team Apocalypse with her all snark thankfully intact (“You two go ahead and stop the Apocalypse. I'll be hosing graffiti off a wall).” Then--exposit, exposit, exposit--our heroes bring Jenny and any audience members just tuning in up to speed on the plot while Jenny surreptitiously breaks into the Sheriff Reyes files using Abbie's login. As Jenny studies Reyes' file, our oblivious heroes are lightly introduced to New Member of the Sleepy Hollow Love Hectogram, Nick Hawley. Then BAM! Jenny's childhood rage at abandonment and adult rage at the system culminate in a shout of “that bitch!,” meaning Reyes, followed quickly by all the trust issues between Jenny and Abbie coming to the fore (a strained but ultimately believable set-up for what comes later). (Yes, there was an awful lot of expositing going on in Jenny's little trantrum, but honestly, I will happily listen to Lyndie Greenwood exposit all day when it's right for the context and gorgeously delivered, and it was). Contrast Jenny's impassioned expression of betrayal and rage with the infinitely restrained, tender, short-hand check-in between Crane and Abbie, and I can only sigh with wonder at how beautifully you're balancing this episode tonally, director and writers, how perfectly you're grounding the madness in the veracity of human relationships.

Meanwhile, Moloch and War's evil plan is playing out magnificently, and our guest stars--unlike the premiere's disposable Hessians--get to do interesting things like blow-up their parents (still more filial rage to echo Heremy and Ichabod's relationship). And with roses no less!!

Down at the river, we meet Nick Hawley, rogue entrepreneur and entirely too beautiful for Ichabod to trust.  Hawley speaks for the entirety of Sleepy Hollow, NY, when he gestures to Crane and asks Abbie, “why is he talking like that?” Ichabod's ready to leave his handsome competition on the docks when Hawley wisely shares enough intel to prove his value to the case. Abbie and Crane emote us so believably through their next round of exposition we're happy to come along for the ride, and tell ourselves it's completely plausible that the turning of Benedict Arnold and Judas Iscariot can all be traced to one set of imperial Roman coins (never mind that the Roman Empire never minted shekels).

(UPDATE, MEA CULPA, JAN 8:  Turns out I'm not the expert on First Century history I thought I was.  Should have trusted Mr. Todd and Ms. Blake.  The Roman Empire DID mint shekels, in Tyre).

We next encounter Henry planting flags on his diorama of Sleepy Hollow (what is the crest of Moloch?), and Sheriff Reyes appropriately confronting Abbie about the inappropriate search of her personnel files. This gives Abbie a chance to explain to the audience why she defended Reyes so vehemently to Jenny (“If you were 'just doing your job,' [Mama Mills] would have gone to prison for kidnapping.”) Clearly Abbie is not convinced Reyes is the villain the fandom think she is, and Abbie's one smart cookie. She's already figured out Katrina's a weak link.

The exposition in the scene between Abbie and Reyes is provided magnificently, in large part thanks to the depth and heart of both actors' restrained performances (and the outstanding direction). But what I continue to be amazed by in Sleepy Hollow is the ease and strength of transitions between scenes. “Our flower shop perp lawyered up,” and...

Cue the Horseman of War! (Flashing neon sign to the audience: This is going to be FUN!)

When Abbie and Crane spy Henremy in the hallway (awkward!), Abbie tells Ichabod he was right at the bank, and they should have “taken [War] out when they had the chance.” Excuse me, but when did you have a chance to “take out” War? Talk to, sure. Expose, perhaps. Take out? Yeah, good luck with that. Katrina's coven couldn't even manage it, and we've all seen how impressed the Horseman of Death is by bullets.

In the two awesome back-to-back confrontation scenes, first between Ichabod and Henremy (heavy), then between Reyes and Ichabod (light), an interesting sub-theme about identity and identification develops. The fact of Henremy/War's having multiple identities around town, even within and among his relationships with Team Apocalypse, makes infinitely more sense on a poetic level when the brilliant John Noble shows us with such subtlety the pain, sorrow and longing beneath his rage. Equally unafraid to also show us War's sense of humor, Henremy deadpans to Crane: “your son's a lawyer; you must be very proud” without a trace of hamminess.

I just have to say it again: John Noble's capacity to move in and out of PTSD-induced madness and pure evil with only a glance is astonishing.

Meanwhile, Papa Ichabod, who is mostly clear on his identity, though admittedly still a bit at a loss as to his paternal role vis-a-vis the Horseman of War (Crane: “Let us agree that I was not the most involved father.” Henremy/War: “Oh, dear. Is this to be an attempt to start over? Are you going to take me down to the fishing hole?”), can neither hang out in a public building, despite an astoundingly well-delivered discourse on his civil rights, nor enjoy a beer in a pub, for lack of state-sanctioned proof of his age (has anyone, ever, been MORE over 21?).

Henry's not only several steps ahead of his father in his understanding of what Ichabod's up against trying to heal their relationship, he also remains, fabulously, a step ahead of Team Apocalypse in recovering the evil coin, which he promptly puts back into circulation at the feet of none other than our furious Ms. BAMF, Jennifer Mills.

This leads our heroes back to Nick Hawley, and one of those pubs that won't serve Ichabod. Now, if I were Nicole Beharie, I think I'd probably get tired of playing straight woman to Crane's (numerous and hilarious) moments of humor (the Sam Adams diatribe being particularly inspired), but her attempts to ground Ichabod are so believable, in their tired, tender patience, that with a word, Beharie's performance equals Mison's in every way.

Matt Barr's Nick Hawley is a marvelous breath of fresh air, if for no other reason than, plot and script-wise, he can get away with things our heroes never could. Because he has the audacity to ask how a bit of glass could possibly neutralize our McGuffin, Hawley not only gives Ichabod the floor to explain this contrivance, he allows the writers to gently acknowledge the solution's absurdity ad infinitum. Bless you, writers, for just yielding the field on this one and letting Hawley voice our collective incredulity. With a wee but of witty self-deprecation on your part, you render the most ludicrous plot devices easily forgiven.

Once our heroes have figured out it's Reyes and not Abbie Jenny's going to try to kill, but before all hell breaks loose in the last act, we're given a chance to catch our breath and return to the other mother-child heart of the story, the season-long as opposed to episode-driven conflict, of Katrina and Henremy. Abbie nails Ichabod both humorously and with deadly seriousness, first by pointing out that he couldn't have stopped Katrina from staying with Abraham if he'd tried because “1) She's a grown woman, 2) she's a witch, and 3) she's a redhead”, then by leveling him with the Crux of Their Dilemma. “You're asking me to bet my life on whether, when it counts, a mother will turn against her son?” For the umpteenth delightful time this episode, our dauntless hero is stopped in his tracks.

If we had any cause to doubt Abbie's reasoning (and we don't), Katrina herself reassures us in the most interesting scene between her and Abraham thus far (interesting because both Neil Jackson AND Katia Winter are given leave to act, and Katia in particular is allowed to finally show [rather than tell us about] some of Katrina's non-weepy iron).

In the final act, we find ourselves in a tense, heartfelt confrontation between two powerful women, regarding their mother, and a mother-figure whose intentions are ambiguous at best. This time, Abbie is saving Reyes' life (though one could argue it's really Jenny's life she's concerned with, since hosing graffiti off walls is most definitely not going to pay back the debt to society of murdering a sheriff). Nicole Beharie is a marvel in these scenes. What we learn of Abbie Mills' consistent tamping down of her emotions, the reason for her distrust of anything crazy, is wonderful, but Beharie's slow burn into profound revelation is a tremendous gift. And Greenwood matches her beat for powerfully moving beat. Without two such gifted actors, and excellent direction, the scene could have been a disaster; instead, it worked on every level.

Including—and this may be your biggest achievement in this episode, writers--the demographics of our story's climactic confrontation.  Once again we find ourselves in a life-threatening exchange among three women, two with guns. Our two very capable male heroes hold their ground, whilst letting the women handle it (Crane literally says to Hawley, of Abbie's efforts to talk Jenny down from murder, “Let her handle it.”).

Did I mention the three women are women of color, and the men are white? And that this show is on Fox?

The men still prove invaluable to the cause, tracking Jenny, informing each other and the audience how dangerous her weapon is, and then ultimately tackling Jenny, getting her gun, and protecting Abbie-as-Frodo from the coin's evil with a goal kick on Ichabod's part to make David Beckham jealous.

Crane continues earning his hero credit by using his Celtic charm and those ridiculous cornflower blues to break into Tarrytown Psych.  He does a less impressive job summarizing last season's insane finale in a manner Irving could possibly understand let alone believe, but at least he does grant that Irving might need a moment to digest what he's about to tell him. 

Madame Sheriff immediately pays off Abbie's faith in her by handing over Mama Mills' file from Tarrytown Psychiatric. Of surprise to no one (but Abbie, inexplicably) it turns out Mama Mills was also on Moloch's hit list, not mente insana, but a victim of demon torment. Of Mama Mills's suicide, Crane observes tenderly, “She paid the ultimate price to protect you.” This sounds suspiciously like foreshadowing? As well as backshadowing? Katrina's-fate-shadowing in some form?

(On the subject of Mama Mills' suicide...my money's on Henry Parrish as the guilty party in that death. Either he killed her, or he drove her to take her own life. Why? Because can you imagine the fabulousness of the drama between Abbie and Crane when it comes out that Ichabod and Katrina's son killed Abbie and Jenny's mom? I shiver at the deliciousness of what I think and sincerely hope is coming).

The return of Nick Hawley (which you knew was coming because we were back in the pub, a place we've never seen the inside of before Mr. Hawley appeared in the script), gives our Sleepy heroes and fans two gifts: a fake British passport for Crane (Hawley may grudgingly respect him, but he's still going to keep him vulnerable to deportation), and a gorgeous, tender moment of Ichabbie feels about how they must above all else remain true to the other, with Ichabod quietly, indirectly conceding that even Katrina's loyalty to Team Apocalypse can no longer be assumed.

The quantity and depth of emotion conveyed by Henremy in the episode's last scene, so brief yet so pregnant with meaning, is a testament to the perfection of John Noble's casting.

Extremely well-done, Team Sleepy Hollow. I'm so grateful I'm not even going to ask how even though it was only ten years between the time Jenny and Abbie saw Moloch in the forest and were subsequently separated from each other, and the fateful day when Henry revealed himself to be War, Jenny keeps complaining that Abbie abandoned her for thirteen years.  I'm clear, by this point, that math works differently in Sleepy Hollow.

Hell, I'm so happy I'll even save my questions about how Henry got his high school transcripts from the class of 1799 in order to attend college, law school and pass the bar.

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