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Monday, May 9, 2016

Or, Maybe the Sleepy Hollow Writers Deserve Raises and Trips to Bermuda

You never know what really goes on behind the scenes of a TV show.  I'll never know, most likely, what happened with Sleepy Hollow.

But when a writer from inside the biz, not affiliated with the show, posts an informative rant like the following, it kinda makes this writer want to eat crow, at least a little.

Thanks Eric

  1. 22) So to end the hypothetical, the question: Would you still want to write for TV?
  2. 21) AND STILL, you can't say a thing. You can't speak to what goes on behind the scenes for obvious legal reasons.
  3. 20) And so, you do your job. And when episode airs, fans write fanfic about you, writer, getting murdered. Piles of "fuck off & die" msgs.
  4. 19) This is your job as writer. You have the story, likely broken by room and/or showrunners. It's like trying to steer a train.
  5. 18) Now, finally, you get called into show office. You hope it's good news. "Write episode where Lead dies." Oh, no. No no.
  6. 17) Journalists who could make a few calls and get the real scoop decide instead to get clicks by supporting fan claims.
  7. 16) Meanwhile, it's not just fandom RAGING at you for "fucking up" Lead's role, now TV critics have hopped on. Without any research.
  8. 15) And again, you CANNOT say any of this publicly or else major lawsuit due to a number of laws on confidentiality+medical health.
  9. 14) Lead is relieved, they're getting what they want after months of frustration. But the DNA of the show has mutated due to constraints.
  10. 13) The reason you, writer, signed up for this is to write Lead and Co-Lead, now you don't get to do much of each. Plus Lead must exit show.
  11. 12) (And because Network operates on fear, the next week they say: Wait, make it so Lead can come back. Flip-flops a lot.)
  12. 11) The situation is becoming untenable. Lead has to go or else everything collapses. Network says: All right, kill Lead off.
  13. 10) New twists, next: Co-Lead realizes Lead has gotten a deal, and demands the same. Now you're really screwed. Network says: Manage it.
  14. 9) So to comply with medical condition as per Lead's note, you drop Lead out of some episodes. Fans rage at you. Not network -- you.
  15. 8) This is a ridiculous task for any writer. Especially since Lead is one of the engines for your show. Yet here you have to do something.
  16. 7) This medical condition progresses, according to Lead, to where Lead's agent demands: "Lead should get every 3rd episode off."
  17. 6) If you do, you open yourself and the network to lawsuits. So now you are burdened with a SECRET problem + fewer scenes for Lead.
  18. 5) Here's where it gets VERY tricky, legally. Due to confidentiality, you can't ask the ailment. You CANNOT share it publicly either.
  19. 4) While dealing with this, possibly during shooting, Troubled Lead comes in with a doctor's note that Lead must get reduced hours.
  20. 3) Your lead then asks for reduced hours. Fewer scenes. Something to ease the wanderlust. This makes it hard in new ways, naturally.
  21. 2) You now have a cranky lead making things tough for everyone else. You try to bear it best you can.
  22. 1) HYPOTHETICAL: You write for a show. One of your leads wants to leave and try movies for a while. Network says, "Uh, no. You're a lead."

Saving Sleepy Hollow: An Open Letter to Bob Orci

May 9, 2016

Dear Roberto Orci:

Thank you for inviting Sleepy Hollow's fans to pitch ideas to you. Since this isn't a pitch meeting, please consider this our virtual handshake. It's a tremendous honor to (virtually) meet you. I've been a big fan of yours and Mr. Kurtzman's work for a long time.

It's very kind of you to ask what one of us who has been critiquing and complaining would pitch, given the opportunity, and to do so without an ounce of snark. First, I just need to say that I know I am not “in the room,” and never have been. I can imagine, but do not know, the tremendous and various pressures, voices, notes, restrictions, egos, and politics one must be navigate getting a single episode on screen. I also can't know if anything I say has already been said by a writer on staff, likely at length and with far more grace, subtlety and wit, only to have said pitch rejected for good reasons about which I know nothing.

Thus, with the caveat that, like Jon Snow, I know nothing:

How to Not Only Save Sleepy Hollow But Get Its Ratings Up Again

I. The first order of business must be to undo the damage caused by the S3 finale—to the story, to the show, and to the relationship between the writers and producers and many—if not most—of the fans. To that end I request the following:

A. Recant and repent of the notion that the role of Witness is recyclable in a new character/ actor's body.

From Day One, the show has stated—and reinforced almost hourly--that the two Witnesses must stay together to succeed and survive. If nothing else is canon, this is. At no time was the idea of Witness being a role that could be filled by a person other than Abbie in the present day, as co-Witness with Crane, explored or foreshadowed.
The idea that Crane and Abbie may not have been the first Witnesses was certainly hinted at by the ancient tablet Crane discovered, though a prison employee did say that the Witnesses represented looked a lot like (present-day) Crane and Abbie. The idea of there being Witnesses in the past was reinforced by Pandora and The Hidden One at times in S3.

But never was the idea that Crane-as-Witness could work, and be effective, independent of Abbie-as-Witness even slightly suggested. And a good thing, too, since logic dictates that, were this the case, he would have been working as a Witness in the 18th Century with whomever that century's manifestation of the-Witness-still-known-as-Abbie was. Since he didn't, and indeed could not even be made aware of his role as Witness until the other Witness “appeared,” it does not follow that he can just find a handy substitute when it's time to let an actor go.

The notion that a Witness' “eternal soul” just keeps getting recycled into new people's bodies is further problematic for a number of reasons.

1. What happens to the soul of the person already in the body of the person who becomes a Witness? Do they merge? Did that person not have a soul before the Witness showed up?

2. What happens to the soul of Abbie Mills-qua-Abbie Mills, or did she not have one of her own? Do Witnesses never get to reconcile with the dead loved ones from their latest incarnation?

3. Is Crane going to raise a new Witness from infancy?

4. All souls, by definition, are eternal, as opposed to the things they walk around in, which are subject to the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Not sure what the writers meant, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't it, and I ain't gonna believe nothing they say if it don't make so sense.

B. Recant and repent of the insulting notion that Abbie was just another partner of Crane's here to help move him to the next stage of his journey.

This was never the premise of the show. The considerably larger viewer base in S1 did not tune in to watch a brilliant, amazingly talented, brave and strong black woman help a white man fulfill his promise, no matter how cute his accent is. The devoted fans who stuck it out until the finale of S3 absolutely did not. Please don't insult our intelligence, along with all black women everywhere.

C. Recant and repent of the killing of Abbie.

Despite the mad virtuosity of the show's premise, Sleepy Hollow's magic resides above all else in the relationship and chemistry between Abbie (Nicole Beharie) and Crane (Tom Mison). As you well know, people watch the first time for the premise; they return, episode after episode, year after year, for the characters, and the fine actors who portray them.

I don't know what happened to make a young actor co-starring in a network series decide she no longer wanted to do that anymore, and I don't want to know. What I do know is that her seeming departure from the show is not irreversible and must be reversed. If she, like Mison, feels overwhelmed at the quantity of lines she has to learn and the show's pacing, figure out ways to give the leads more down time. Yes, their partnership has to be at the center, but your supporting actors have shown themselves more than capable of handling well-written B-stories to give the stars a breather. If there are personality clashes, work them out. Y'all are adults; I have every confidence in you. If there are contract negotiation issues, mediate. I do understand that this is the hardest part of your job and sucks ass at times. I understand that, I empathize with it, but I'm not able to accept it as an excuse. Work it out, or let the show go.
I don't care if you Jon-Snow us. In fact, I'd recommend it, strongly. “This was all planned, etc., etc.”

D. Lose the suits, or else make damned sure this new direction is worth it.
At this point, we have no idea why Ichabod was just abducted by Federal agents, but we're given leave to believe by Betsy, Washington, and Ezra “Mystical-Black-Man” Mills that Crane is meant to be the head of some super-secret supernatural crime fighting organization.

Why?

Seriously, why is this necessary?

On a related note, compare and contrast the very end of S2 and the very end of S3.
End of S2: Four warriors, including two black women and one black man, are united in their determination to fight the good fight. They are not dressed in uniforms. They are mostly dressed in black, and if anything, could be best categorized as guerrillas.

End of S3: Our Last Witness Standing, a white man, is being abducted by Other White Men, in suits and a limousine.

The end of S2 was the way you launch an outstanding and progressive S3, or end a series.

The end of S3 was the way you launch a (yawn) spin-off of (yawn)well-worn territory starring (yawn) a white man (granted, this particular white man doesn't really ever inspire yawns, but you take my point). It's also the way you kill a show.

Now, of course, the show can't recant anything, short of “it was all a dream.” Since we all had that approach to story-resolution beaten out of us by the seventh grade, what, then, as you so rightly asked, can be done?

Resurrect Abbie
You guys don't need anyone's advice on how to do this. Irving's resurrection was really never adequately explained, and no one cared. You're the experts on resurrecting the Obviously Dead. In fact it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to know Benioff and Weiss called you for advice on bringing Snow back.

But, if you're really taking suggestions:
A. The premiere of S4 could find Jenny learning that she is to be the new Witness (despite Campbell's protestations to the contrary) and feeling inadequate to the task, or learning for some personal history/supernatural reason that she can't do it. Jenny's proven herself an impressive witch/medicine person, without training, the past few seasons. She managed to conjure her mother's spirit. Maybe she could somehow conjure Abbie's spirit and this could lead to a something-something-phlebotinum-something which brings Abbie's missing corpus delecti home in one piece.

B. I mentioned this before, but the rogue angel Orion really seemed to have a thing for Abbie. Now, granted, Orion has some unresolved issues with the Witnesses, so he's not going to be super enthusiastic about helping them. But perhaps an A story which brings him back to work, reluctantly, with Crane could lead to his bartering his freedom from heaven for Abbie's? She could return as an angel (capable of having sex, please) or as a human.

C. Surely some shard of that box exists from which Abbie's body and soul (ala Headless') could be summoned? Have we lost the phlebotinum which makes it possible to journey to the Catacombs? I can't remember.

D. GoT crossover: let Melisandre do it.

E. Hell, at this point, I'd even take “this was all a bad dream” and reset to the end of S1 or S2 over Abbie's permanent demise.

Obliterate Utterly the Idea of Witness Recyclability, Abbie's Work Being Complete, and Abbie's Job Being Primarily to Move Crane Along

The problem here, of course, isn't resurrecting Abbie, but undoing the fine work M. Raven Metzner did in the finale convincing us she's really dead and trying to frame that like it's a good thing/set up the show's new direction.

Unlike Jon Snow, Abbie actually got to see an afterlife, and even reunite with her former mentor, August Corbin. Corbin told her in no uncertain terms that she, Abbie Mills, is done as a character. Abbie then went on to tell Crane in no uncertain terms that she, Abbie Mills, is dead, dead, dead. She did such a good job of convincing him she's dead he finally got over his seventh grade shyness and asked her to the dance kissed her hand. She even went further to tell (and show him through her body language) that she is not only at peace with this fact but kinda doing emotional cartwheels over it.

So, at the very least we have to address the fact that a) whether Abbie died or not she spent time with people who are dead and as a result told Crane she's dead, b) the Greater Plan wants her Witness soul for someone else now and c) Abbie was happy being dead.

Could it be that, even when she was hanging with the Corbins, Abbie wasn't actually dead, at least not permanently? Crane hung out with Abbie, seemingly a dead person, for a while and he wasn't dead. How do we know that Abbie, too, might just have had a brief visit to eternity? 

How do we know that Abbie wasn't absorbed into the box and then released from it, whole and safe, but perhaps unconscious and minus a memory, when the box exploded? After all, Headless was in the box, presumably, when it exploded the first time, and he came out of it just fine after it was remade.

Could it be that Abbie was just being played in the afterlife by some nasty demons, some minions of Moloch's boss, the Bigger Big Bad, posing as the Corbins? And, being so played, she inadvertently conveyed to Crane things that just aren't true so that he and Jenny wouldn't try to bring her back. Because of course, they would try, if they have reason to believe she shouldn't be dead, or doesn't want to be dead, and the Bigger Big Bad of S4 does not want that.

Isn't it likely, that, if Abbie learned she had been played, and/or learned that she had a LOT more work to do, as Abbie-Mills-the-Witness, her seeming peace at being dead would evaporate?

Keep the Suits in the Background Where They Belong

Obviously, the Suits are bad guys, working for the Bigger Big Bad, in league with other nasties of the Apocalypse. Jenny, Frank, and Resurrected Abbie could help rescue Crane from their clutches, and then fight said baddies all season? I'm totally fine with that, but please do not make this weird, unnecessary thing a focus of the show's direction.

II. Now, for the second order of business: getting the S1 magic back, and improving the ratings.

A. On Theme
As we all know, Buffy the Vampire Slayer wasn't about a teenage girl who defeats vampires, nor was it about the constant tension between duty and the life one wants to live. That was the premise, the franchise. What it was about was adolescents confronting and defeating the traumas (or demons) of adolescence.

By the same token, Sleepy Hollow isn't about two people trying to stop the apocalypse. It's about (or at least it was, first season) two people working together, learning from each other, developing a relationship of profound trust and love across seemingly impossible barriers, to confront demons—literal and figurative—from their past, defeat them, forgive them, or at least better understand them, so they can then be free to move forward. The entire first season underscored this deeper premise.

And then, starting in S2 it got lost, returning hither and yon through the past two seasons, and then was dragged out of semi-retirement, quite clumsily, to help Abbie make sense of her death in the S3 finale. When Abbie tells Crane and the audience that she reconciled with Daniel (a relationship to which the audience wasn't privy and doesn't care about), yadda, yadda, she's telling him and the audience that she's dealt with all her past demons—her reason for existing as a character—and therefore it's time to move on.

One of the (many) problems with this is that the waters have gotten so muddied on this theme since S1 that no one remembers this is what the show is about. More to the point, Daniel was the least significant of Abbie's unfinished business, and she has at least one very serious demon remaining: fear of intimacy with someone she not only loves but needs, the demon the audience most longed to see her defeat. No, Crane, her life has not fallen into place; it's fallen into oblivion.

Returning, clearly and consistently, to this deeper theme, not with one-dimensional (General Howe) folks from their past with whom their unfinished business isn't viscerally powerful, but to demons who really grab the characters by the throat with their unfinished business and force them to grow, is essential.

On Character
The Leads
Crane needs to be heroic more consistently. Funny he can be--witty, charmingly out of touch, wise, not silly. (Cooking for Abbie and singing opera while doing so is not silly; it's crazy hot). We also need more of powerful, confident, competent Captain Crane, not just in the past, but in the present.

Abbie needs to soften up a little. She had a much wider range of tone and emotion in S1, it seemed. She also used to have more fun and be funny. She has plenty of issues to resolve with dear-old-Dad, so it's not like there aren't soft spots there to exploit.
Also, Abbie is your audience. A) You don't kill your audience, and B) your audience should still consistently be having its mind at least somewhat blown.

#Crabbie
Yeah, I know that one didn't stick, but I still really like it.
Look, I don't know what show you all thought you were creating, but, together with Nicole Beharie and Tom Mison, you co-created a show about two people who are not only best friends and partners, but deeply, passionately in love. Sorry if that wasn't your intention, but that's what happened. And it's one the reasons people loved the show in S1.

Their romance and friendship somewhat derailed in S2, Abbie's and Crane's partnership needed to be strengthened or at least placed back at the center of the show in S3. By the back end of S3, that was happening, and the flirtation and romance was seeping back in. And then the writers killed Abbie, as you do (if you want to commit series suicide).

What worked in S1 was the tender, sparky, sparkly relationship between two people as different as night and day, and as necessary to the other. What made their relationship beloved is the maturity, trust, and mutual support they give one another. They really are equals. They really are adults. And they are still really into each other.

You can't recreate that with a new character, and not having it at all ruins the show.

Why can't you create it with a new character? Who would find it difficult to act like they're in love with Tom Mison? Fair. But you can't create it with a new character because the old character, Abigail Mills, is and has clearly been the love of Ichabod's life for the past three years. We don't want him with anyone else. We won't believe him with anyone else (see, for example, Katrina, Zoe, etc.). Even Sophie, with whom I'll admit, he had pretty hot chemistry, isn't part of the canon. Jenny wouldn't work in this capacity because they're practically brother and sister at this point so that would just be creepy. And God help the Brand New Character and Actor unfortunate enough to be blessed with the soul of the Witness-that-Used-to-Be-Abbie-Mills. What's left of your audience will go into full-scale revolt.

As for doing away with the sparky relationship piece, that's pretty much doing away with Sleepy Hollow, so, please, don't.

So, What's Possible?
As you know, there are a lot of ways forward with a love affair that don't have to destroy the show. The relationship could be

*not consummated but heated up a lot more, ala Moonlighting, with the characters differences and repressed sexual attraction providing more humor and tension;

*consummated and the humor and challenges of committed love explored, ala Bones and Catastrophe;

*consummated and then broken off, a “big mistake,” though they obviously belong together, ala The X-Files;

*haltingly taken forward a step, then back two, then forward another, then back, ala real life.
The Supporting Characters
Again, I don't know what the issue was with Orlando Jones and I don't care. Just bring him back. Danny's nice, he's just not a very interesting character. Sophie's great, but aside from her partnership with Crane in “One Life,” she hasn't really had a chance to develop as a character. Joe was great, but he's dead, for no apparent reason (speaking of folks who could use a resurrection). None of these characters has been around from the beginning, so they can't help ground the show in its original mythology and power. If you want to get the magic of S1 back, you need at least the core cast of S1. Frank was core cast, and we need his strength of established character back. Moreover, he was really fun.

Take a look at the last scene of S2. Look at that team. This is the team we need to move forward. Sophie and Danny can be part of the team, but we need our core. Ask any trainer: you're useless without a strong core.

The Villains
Consistent with the S1-established theme, the villains, their grievances, and their episode and season-long quests must have a deep, emotional and conflicted personal relationship with Crane and/or Abbie. They must be demons of our heroes, with whom they have issues to resolve. How much more fun might Danny have been had he been killed, then became a Horseman of the Apocalypse with whom Abbie hadn't resolved her relationship-issues?

Just hating your parents, as Jeremy/War did in S2, without having a pro-active objective (beyond making them suffer) is boring and rings false. All adolescents, which is what Jeremy was developmentally, hate their parents. That's not a goal. The whole point of a human villain is complex human motivation, and while John Noble did his damnedest to convey a desire for love, parental acceptance and family with his acting, he wasn't terribly well supported by the writing.

This last season's attempt at a recurring human villain from our heroes' past, General Howe, fell flat despite some awesome zombie fight scenes and Nicholas Guest's fine work. Howe failed to inspire the horror of either Abraham or Jeremy because Crane never really loved him/had an emotional connect to him, and the attempts at giving Crane unresolved issues with Howe (his non-existent betrayal of his comrades, his failure to kill Howe) weren't able to overcome this.

Pandora, and especially the Hidden One, were largely static and uninspiring because they had no skin in the Abbie-Crane game.
Please give us juicy villains with skin in the game. We still have (at least) two more Horsemen we haven't met yet, and with Joe Corbin, August Corbin, Andy Brooks, Mama Mills, Crane's Dad, Jeremy and Katrina all in the Afterlife, the supernatural human resources department for apocalyptic mayhem is looking rich.

Finally, I know the CGI he requires is expensive, but we really need Headless back on a regular basis. And Abraham. This is Sleepy Hollow, after all.

On Personal Arcs
In S1, Crane's was saving his wife from Purgatory; Abbie's was reconciling with her sister. Since then, both lead characters have been sorely lacking a clear personal, passionate objective beyond stopping the apocalypse. What were their personal goals in S2? Was Crane's to reconcile with Katrina? If so, he was rarely active in that quest. Was Abbie's to hold onto Crane? Uh, maybe? In S3, Crane's objective seemed to be to successfully court Abbie (that went well). Abbie's seemed to be to...get ready to die?
Our characters need goals—clearly defined, real, personal, goals. Something to fight for, besides the well-being of planet Earth.

On Plot Arcs
Remember the apocalypse? The original one, from The Book of the Revelation? What was wrong with that? Why was it abandoned? I have nothing against venturing into other spiritual traditions on this matter, provided an equally strong and consistent framework is established before being completely rewritten. The Christian version of the apocalypse provided a consistent framework, with a rich mythology far from exhausted, and had the benefit of being somewhat familiar to much of your audience. It's hardly limiting, given that you guys didn't remotely stick to the text anyway. Hell, you changed the Big Bad of the story from God to Moloch! Speaking of which, so what if Moloch is dead? Let's say he was never really the source of the Horsemen anyway; maybe Moloch was just middle-management?

When you stick with one framework (e.g. the American Revolution, the Book of the Revelation) you can mess with it absurdly and we'll come along for the ride because we have a home to come back to, something solid to reference, and maybe even some investment in the original mythology. But jumping all over the place into and out of traditions unfamiliar to much of your audience, or created wholesale on the fly and underdeveloped, you make it really difficult for the audience to track, care, and be afraid of the consequences to our heroes.

(As a reader of mine said to me recently, “They created a show about two Witnesses stopping the apocalypse from The Book of the Revelation, and now they've done away with one of the Witnesses and the Apocalypse. Why are we still here?”).

On Tone
S1, and S2 to a large extent, were dark—visually as well as tonally. Filming by day is great from the perspective of allowing your cast and crew to get a decent night's sleep, but terrible from a horror perspective. Daylight is just not scary.

Also, remember when Crane was cranky and broody and depressed? That moodiness lent an urgency and tense passion to his work in S1. While it's nice to see the lad smiling and happy on occasion, it makes no sense that he would be so in Season 3, having just killed his wife and son, and even less after the death of his partner/soul mate Abbie Mills!

Dark can be fun. This is, at least in part, a horror show after all. I love Tom Mison's smile, but I miss Cranky Crane.

If you've made it this far you deserve an award, a pat on the back, or at least a drink. Sorry I can't give you any of those from here, but thank you, deeply. 

If you're bringing Abbie back, I do have ideas for actual episodes I'd be honored to pitch to you and the other producers in person.

Best of luck with Sleepy Hollow, and all your other projects.

Yours respectfully,

Val D. Phillips












Tuesday, April 12, 2016

The Sacred Responsibility of the Bard, and Sleepy Hollow

"I'm not in love, no, no...."
I don't know which executive at Fox TV thought it would be a good idea to have George Lucas step in as show-runner for the Sleepy Hollow Season 3 finale, but that genius needs to be shit-canned, stat.

That's what happened, right? I mean, there's no way the current show-runner and writing staff, all of them witnesses to and survivors of Lucas' reprehensible disregard for canon in the Star Wars films, could possibly have taken such a beloved story as that of Sleepy Hollow, such fantastic characters, such a tremendous premise with such promise, and blown it to hell.

No one who cares about their own story could possibly treat it with such callous disregard, no one who respects their responsibility as story-teller would insult their audience so shamelessly, treat their own canon so ignominiously.

What's that you say? George Lucas was in Bali when this was produced?

Oh. Oh, I see.

I truly admire the Sleepy Hollow writers, and I don't want to blame them for the destruction of my favorite show. After all, they wrote my favorite show, and at least two of the original writing staff who gave us the awesome Season 1 are still around. I do have the vaguest inkling of how hard their job is. I want to acknowledge and express empathy for the insane workload they carry, the quantity and quality of factors they have to balance, the business that intrudes on their art in the form of network executives, budget constraints, actors needs, demands or conflicts, deadlines, weather, or some combination of all of the above plus more factors I can't even name.

But at the end of the day, it's their names on the scripts, as writers and producers, which means the words coming out of actors' mouths, the actions inhabited on screen, they own.

Sleepy Hollow began with one of the most diverse casts, in leading roles, on television. The characters played by people of color were smart, funny, complex, vulnerable, imperfect and delightful (as were the characters played by white actors)—we couldn't get enough of them. The writing was great, and the actors were fantastic; together, they easily seduced us into investing in their characters' journeys. With their leading lady in every way the equal if not better of her (white) male counterpart, the writers created a relationship which demanded we couldn't have one without the other (see, for example, this video) and created in our hearts the absolute refusal, or wish, to entertain the idea.

In Grace Abigail Mills, the show further gave us a heroine whom strong modern women could claim, adore, and cheer for, someone with whom we could, or at least wanted to, identify. While the vast majority of us may never be as heart-stoppingly beautiful as Nicole Beharie, we still found something of ourselves in her powerful, thoughtful, independent, brave, faithful, determined, loving, spiritual self. And Crane, her soul mate, saw her for who she really was--the very definition of respect--and loved her. The strong warrior woman saves the day AND wins the heart of the brave, funny, smart, gorgeous hero! Take that Tolkien! Huzzah!

No show has touched me, captured my imagination and my heart, as Sleepy Hollow did. And no matter how bad things got, I continued watching, always hoping for the best, and always trusting that the writers could, and would, ultimately do right by the characters and mythology they created. Did the show deserve such loyalty & devotion? Yes and no. Sleepy Hollow has been wildly inconsistent over the last two seasons, in terms of story quality, character and relationship development; even its unique twistory and ridiculous mythologies have sometimes suffered. It rarely speaks to social matters of the day, and in its second season it sidelined characters played by actors of color for a really lousy, lily-white story-line. Before its third season, the show inexplicably got rid of one of the audience's favorite original characters, also played by an actor of color, a loss the fans still grieve.

Yet in its own quiet way, vis-a-vis racism and sexism, Sleepy Hollow started out quite radical, and still had the potential to fulfill a beautiful vision. It earned my trust, faith, and love through that vision, and through the telling of a great story about an unlikely friendship and love triumphing against impossible odds. Amidst a goofy, fun horror show, it gave us a romance for the ages.  And the back-end of Season 3 has actually been quite good.

And then the Season 3 finale happened.

First came the shock and horror, then the anger, and now the grief. Aching, overwhelming grief. I'm a long way from acceptance, and I fear I shall circle back to anger for a long, long time. I'd like to explain why.

I'm not angry because I'm a shipper who didn't get what she wanted. I'm angry because the canon makes it abundantly clear that Abbie and Ichabod are profoundly in love, and their not being able to express that love verbally and physically makes no sense.

I'm not angry because I think my pet story deserved to be told. I'm angry because the story we have been told thus far was ignored wholesale.

I'm not angry that a black actress was treated so badly by producers and network that she felt she had to quit, because I don't know that to be true. If it is true, then yes, that makes me really, really angry. But I am definitely angry that the character she co-created has been treated like she's disposable because that not only insults the actress' insane talent and hard work, but the story she helped tell and the show she anchored, ultimately destroying something I truly loved.

I understand that Nicole Beharie wanted to leave the show. I also understand that we may never know what really happened. Did she really want to leave and, if so, why? Or did the producers want her to leave, and, if so, why? Legions of lawyers will keep the answers to these questions from us, likely forever. This hasn't stopped rampant speculation and fury all over the ninnanet, and I'll admit that, internally at least, my speculation-meter is off the chart.

But out of respect for all concerned, let's deal with the facts on the face. Ms. Beharie was going to leave the show. What, then, to do with the character she co-created, Abigail Mills? The writers and producers' answer to this question, apparently, was to kill her off in a frankly lame, not-particularly-explicable way, planting the seed that a new Witness can take her place next season.

To which I respond, as respectfully as possible, what are you smoking?

There is no more show without Abigail Mills, not because we fans say so, but because the writers did! They created this indelible, essential character, and maintained, for three seasons, the standing mythology that once found, the Witnesses cannot be separated, that where one goes the other goes, that it is not the fate of one Witness to bury the other, that they will win or fall together.

Upon learning of Nicole Beharie's desire to leave the show, the writers, producers and network needed to show Abbie Mills, the fans, the actor, the other actors, the crew, the audience, and above all else, the story of Sleepy Hollow the respect and dignity deserved by announcing early on that it was the show's final season, and then making that final season AWESOME. They should have spent as much time, energy and creative juice as possible on the reason people tune in: Abbie and Crane.

And above all else, they needed to allow their leads, who have had possibly the best chemistry on television in the history of the box, to finally profess and consummate their characters' love, a love as passionate and canonical and undeniable as any written. Not because it's mean to bait the shippers, but because it is true.

We—the audience, the fans--would have wept to lose such awesomeness, we'd have gnashed our teeth, we'd have begged for more, but we would have been, on some level, satisfied with a great story concluded well. And we would have felt respected, we could have grieved in peace knowing that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, because we would know that our love, for the show, was reciprocated.

Instead, the show seems to have clumsily, accidentally committed suicide, taking much of its audience, reputation and legacy along with it, whilst breaking fans' hearts in a manner most cruel and unnecessary. The show may be on life support for another year or more, but for all intents and purposes, it's dead. And the worst part is, its producers don't even know it.

I'm sick of people saying “it's the writers' creation; they have license to do whatever they want.” I am a writer myself, and profoundly respect artistic autonomy. But story-telling doesn't consist just of teller and story; without an audience, the story-teller is unemployed.

This is why writers don't have license to do whatever they want. Regardless of the form it takes, story is sacred, the role of bard/story-teller one of profound responsibility in all human societies, and television is the primary story-telling medium of contemporary society. Stories have long been equated with magic because they are incredibly powerful and central to our understanding of ourselves as human beings. A story's life and worth stems from an inviolable trust between listener and bard. That trust requires many things of story-tellers, chief among them that a) you don't betray your own story, b) you don't disrespect your characters by having them speak and act in ways completely inconsistent with their history, and c) you don't lie to your audience by foreshadowing something that will never happen. (Also you don't write stupid things like “a 30-year-old perfectly healthy, brilliant, beloved woman with purpose has fulfilled her destiny and therefore should die”).

With the Season 3 finale, the Sleepy Hollow bards' committed all of these story-telling crimes, and more, irrevocably shattering my faith and trust in them.

I never wanted Sleepy Hollow to end. Never would I advocate its end. I still don't. But I cannot fathom how it can go on, nor why I would want to watch it if it does. I would need to trust the writers again, and I don't.

Sleepy Hollow required only two things to survive, but it required them absolutely: Ichabod Crane and Abigail Mills. They are the heart and soul of the show. They are the reason people watch. Not for Witness Number One and Witness Number Two, whoever they might be this season. Not for their adventures, which are often idiotic. Not for the special effects, lighting, make-up and costuming, which are frequently brilliant. Not for the usually marvelous supporting actors and guest stars. Not for the monsters who range from okay to amazing, not even for Headless, though he is pretty darned key. Not for the best writing in the history of television, which we have not always gotten, although some of it has been awfully good.

No. We've tuned in, faithfully, for three years, for those two characters, the premise which brought them together, and the promise of two devoted friends falling in love. And now that is gone.

Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow, and the entire fandom deserved better.

**********************************
My wholly unsolicited suggestions for Sleepy Hollow's producers:

*Give Tom Mison a cooking show in character as Ichabod Crane. You could call it Hungry Hollow, or Sleepy Snacks. Have Headless come on as a guest cook sometimes, using his broadaxe to chop/sear simultaneously. Seriously, you have a gold mine here.

*Do a spin-off with Lyndie Greenwood, Orlando Jones, Zach Appelman and Jessica Camacho. I don't care what it's called or what it's about.

*Animate the show and let Nicole literally phone in Abbie's part.

*Bring Nicole Beharie back as the showrunner and see what she does with the narrative.

*Let Tom out of his contract so he can go conquer film and theatre just as he's conquered the little box/our hearts.

*Have Crane ally himself with Orion in the first episode of Season 4, promising to help him kill Headless if Orion will help get Abbie back from the afterlife. Then have Orion fall so in love with Abbie he gladly repents and throws himself on the mercy of heaven's court, if only she can have his wings and eternal life, and return to her fellow Witness. Oh, and, yes: angels can have sex.



Monday, February 29, 2016

Episode 3.09: Sleepy Hollow is Back (for Realsies This Time!)

Welcome to the madness, Sophie! Nice to have you aboard.
Oh, help, Albert Kim. I think I love you. Episode 3.09, “One Life,” was absolutely gorgeous. Thank you for giving me my favorite episode of Sleepy Hollow since M. Raven Metzner's “The Weeping Lady.” And my deepest thanks goes also to director Kate Dennis who simply nails it all the way through.

Three well-written, interesting stories, all about partnerships, were all skillfully interwoven. Our theme of desperation leading to dangerous—sometimes deadly—choices within those partnerships was beautifully played, without ever feeling heavy-handed. We fans were given a proper and loving introduction to FBI Agent Sophie Foster, played with crazy talent and charisma by Jessica Camacho. And Albert Kim's marvelous poetic sensibilities balanced subtlety with suggestion throughout the entire episode.

Seriously, James Bond has nothing on you two.
We begin the 18th Century, with Crane and Betsy Ross taking a stroll before a British officer's mansion. Naturally, they're engaged in reconnaissance for a later mission, and, gloriously, Captain Crane has returned, in all his charming, confident, hand-twitch-less form. The juxtaposition of his clandestine conversation with Betsy with his chivalrous greetings to passersby is so perfectly done I'd kiss Mison on the nose if he didn't live 1,000 miles away (and I weren't afraid of stalker charges). Mison's acting throughout this episode is just impeccable—thank you for giving him such a fine showcase for his huge talent. Also, hair and wardrobe, I doff my cap to you. Ichabod is just drop-dead gorgeous in that tricorn and break-your-heart curls.

Nikki Reed's acting is pitch-perfect throughout this episode; her Betsy Ross as written is strong, purposeful, and a necessary counterweight to Crane. I love how her relationship with Crane parallels Abbie's, in that, when she gets really angry and starts to lose it, he, very gently, and without even a hint of condescension, calls her back to her self and steps in. Also, it's really nice to see you trusting Reed's beauty rather than pushing her boobs into her nose ala the first half of the season.

Mison's big-brotherly remonstrance of Nathan Hale for his carelessness and desperation in the cause of duty is perfect, and sets up our theme clearly but, again, without a heavy hand. The bit about the British employing civilians as spies, and all of them being trained to look for the glint off a spyglass, lent a marvelous authenticity to the scene. Griffin Freeman, the actor playing Hale, channels a young Heath Ledger, charming and believable without a word.
"Do as I say, Nathan, not as I do."

These scenes provide a lovely contrast to the desperate Man Out of Time we meet up with in the present day. The stuntperson on the motorcycle did a magnificent job playing Crane. I loved the turn—Ichabod jumping off the bike before it went into the water, without us or the bad guys seeing him—even if it is one used often before. It reinforced that this man is competent and smart, and I thank you for that.

The bad guys, however, give up on Crane way too easily. I mean, hell, even I could have held my breath under water longer than that. This unfortunate (and unbelievable) lack of resolution in our characters reappears later in Act I.

Back in the archives, in a gorgeous call-back to Season 1, Jenny asks Crane what was so important about the artifact it was worth pissing off “apocalyptic cultists.” Actually, all the call-backs in this episode were delightful, deftly handled, and did exactly what they were meant to do: reassure us that you all really are immersed in and committed to the canon. And it was done subtly. You trusted your audience. Thank you so much for that.

We see that Jenny and Joe are still a team, and that Jenny is, in typical Jenny fashion, appearing to hold it together much better than Crane since Abbie's disappearance. Said disappearance seems to have completely undone Crane (thank you writers). With a spot-on reference to Orpheus and Eurydice (purrrrr), Crane's slightly frenetic case-solving and the non-verbal exchange between Jenny and Joe shows us everything we need to know about how this man has been acting for the past month. Jenny's anger at Crane betrays her despair, though it does feel a bit sudden. The easy amends between these two beloved siblings plays true.

Crane's embarrassment at having assumed it was primarily his responsibility to find Abbie, his realization of his desperation, his grasping at the thought of a new artifact to pursue like a lifeline, his face as Jenny and Joe ask him to take a respite while they pursue leads, is all played out with such passion and restraint. Mison is entirely Crane, heartbreakingly heartbroken, but the actor made subtlety his watchword throughout the scene (and episode). He was as absolute joy to watch.

Down by the old mill we find The Hidden One (hereafter “Bob,” because THO is not a name) in hiding with the wife. It's taken her a month, but Pandora has finally figured out that they never needed the Shard of Anubis for the hubby to regain his full power. It turns out the box he gave her for a wedding present--the one full of bad guys like Headless (we haven't forgotten; I see a finale in Abraham's future)--is quite adequate to reinstate Bob's reign of terror on earth. Only the lid survived the massive Abbiexplosion in Pandora's lair, but it's enough. Eager to please her abusive dick of a husband, Pandora puts out a beacon to summon all the baddies freed from her box back to Sleepy Hollow.

I love that there's trouble in paradise between these two. But, c'mon, guys, if all Pandora had to do was invoke her box, why did we have to deal with all that hunt-for-the-gem-of-a-jackal nonsense in the first place? More to the point, why did Pandora? I'm guessing the Pandora's Box route takes longer, ergo it's less efficient, but how can it possibly be less efficient than waiting 4,000 years to find the Shard of Anubis before resurrecting your lover? Also, it took Pandora a month to think of this? What have they been doing all that time? I mean, I get that it's their second honeymoon and all, but a) priorities people, and b) if Bob was that much of a crab-apple the whole month, Pandora couldn't have been feeling all that randy towards him.

But, I quibble (which tells you how good this episode is, that I consider this a quibble).

That Crane would ignore Jenny's advice and immediately take the stolen Lydian jug back to Pandora's lair, attempting to reach Abbie in the Otherworld by way of a spell, resonates absolutely true for his character. The only thing—and it was kind of huge—that didn't work for me in this scene was the fact that Crane, like his apocalyptic cultist friends a few scenes earlier, gave up so easily. He saw the jug shaking. Yet after it stops, instead of trying the spell again and again until it works (like he did with the Kindred), he just gives up in frustration. Crane would have given it another try, I think, especially after all he went through to get the thing (including sacrificing that motorcycle he's wanted since “The Akeda”). In both this case and the earlier scene, it felt like the characters gave up easily because it served the writer's purpose rather than their own.

As Crane leaves the cave, he says to no obvious soul, “why are you following me?” The quiet dignity with which Crane lets Sophie know he's on to her, the tension of the exchange which follows, with Crane keeping the upper hand, but never at the cost of his wounded vulnerability, played beautifully. It also underscored yet again why Mison has such a long resume of voice acting. The man can communicate more with a change of timbre in his voice that most people can with a panoply of physical tricks.

After our characters leave Pandora's lair, we see the old Tree of Fear light up, and a face coming through it. Damnit, Crane! I told you you gave up too soon! Now you missed the creepy face-that-is-decidedly-not-Abbie coming out of the tree!

Continuing the effort to find Pandora and Bob, thereby hopefully tracking down Abbie, Jenny and Joe visit the illegal fence she and Abbie beat up in Season 2. McKenna, you old dog, great to see you. McKenna sends them to Randall—it's old home week on Sleepy Hollow, and I love it!

The little bit of Lance Gross as Daniel Reynolds we get in this episode is terrific. Reynolds wants to know if Foster's surveillance of Crane has produced anything of substance vis-a-vis Abbie, anything to justify an arrest. His angst over Abbie plays out equally believably and well with Crane's. Foster's description of Crane is perfect—we can see him as she does, with his books, walking in the woods, shouting at the sky. “We're missing something. This guy is wrong. I know it,” Reynolds insists. Truer words, Danny, but you are so far from understanding why this “international man of mystery” rubs you wrong it's hilarious.

Just out of curiosity where did Reynolds get a photo of Crane from two years ago when he didn't meet him until a few months ago?

Sophie can see the toll Abbie's disappearance has taken on Reynolds, and encourages him to take a long weekend at a cabin in West Point. Everything between Gross and Camacho in this scene plays true, and throughout this episode they were given great writing and superb direction. “I don't know what people do in cabins” city-girl-Sophie confesses to Reynolds--a lovely, tender, honest beat.

At home, Crane's making lasagna-for-one in a marvelous call-back to the poetic “Pizza for One” box Abbie ate from in Kim's “Heartless” (2.8). From the moment we're in the kitchen with him, we belong to Mison utterly. Crane's posture, his brow, his frowning sigh, his just staring at the lasagna he insists (so Crane-like) on heating up in the pan rather than the microwave tell us everything we need to know about what Abbie's absence has done to the man. Dennis, Kim and especially Mison deserve so many kudos for this scene.

A noise distracts Crane from cooking, and he heads upstairs to investigate. En route, he encounters Abbie's camisole, the one Abbie caught him staring at as he folded laundry in episode 3.02. Again, another wonderful call-back, and I love the spice of thinking Abbie is trying to get his attention that way. Mison's gorgeous restraint when he sees an open window, the way he catches himself, his disappointment, when he realizes all he was hearing was the wind....*Sigh*. Seriously, I could so happily just listen to the man read his grocery list.

In a fine turn, of course, it wasn't just the wind. Someone is writing a message on the mirror: “Help me, Crane,” and the entire audience shudders. Certain that it's Abbie trying to communicate with him, Crane reaches towards the mirror, only to have his arm grabbed by a spirit and branded with a symbol he doesn't recognize. Okay, if that was Abbie, the Witnesses need to have a serious conversation about boundaries. Wonderfully creepy.

When next we find Crane he's fallen asleep on the mirror with his eyes open, all Gandalf-like, and Sophie's calling. She accuses him of breaking into her house; it turns out she, too, got a message from the Great Beyond. The absolute Cranishness of him interrupting her, as she's going on about her telling Reynolds he was a harmless kook, to demand the nature of the message, was so perfect I wanted to cheer.

At Sophie's apartment, the partnership between these two delicately begins, and it unfolds magnificently throughout the episode. “Help me Crane” was also etched into Sophie's floor (“you're paying the security deposit,” she tells Crane, still convinced he's punking her). Crane rolls up the sleeve on Foster's arm and they both see that she, too, has been branded, only her symbol is the mirror image of Crane's. The lights flicker, they look around nervously, and a ghost materializes in the corner. Crane's thinks it's Abbie, and as the spirit rushes through him we see what he sees--fragmented moments of Abbie calling him for help. He's convinced by the end of the scene that she's dying.

Since Jenny and Joe were able to bribe McKenna into telling them who has the map they're looking for, we get a chance to be briefly reunited with Jenny's old business associate, Randall, beautiful as a night sky and “dumb as a bag of hammers.” Randall's not quite ready to forgive or forget Jenny and Joe for their last encounter, wherein they left him trapped in a bathtub while they pursued Sophie. “Like you haven't been handcuffed by a girl in a motel before,” Jenny purrs against him. Touche, Mr. Kim. Using her more than ample charms, Jenny pick-pockets Randall's phone. I love that I didn't see her lift his phone, and the short-hand between her and Joe afterwards.

Back at the archives, Sophie slowly comes on board with the whole supernatural element of their predicament, with Crane trying—efficiently--to be there for her as she picks up the pieces of her blown mind. Crane finds the Shinto symbol for gateway in a book, and when he and Sophie put their arms together they find their brands form that very glyph. Crane figures out this means they need a gateway. In an attempt to be helpful, I shouted at the TV, “You got a mystical tree over in Pandora's lair that's just sitting there not doing anything!”

Ah, but it seems that whomever is calling from Beyond wants them to use a very specific gateway—a mirror. In another subtle call-back to last season and the Disney-mirror-phone, Crane pulls the cursed bug out of hiding. Sophie's bachelor's degree in archaeology, the one Reynolds mentioned in passing a few scenes back, comes in handy when she remembers that a people in Papua New Guinea considered mirrors so powerful they didn't have a word for them, but rather indicated them by showing what they do—ala, hers and Crane's brand. Now, why a Shinto demon is using the communication techniques of folks from New Guinea I have no idea, but, this is creative and interesting, and hell, it's always good to have an archaeologist on the team!

Sophie and Crane's burgeoning partnership is beautifully, delicately, marvelously unwrapped, and recalled for me the warmth, charm and frisson of Season 1 Ichabod and Abbie. Sophie is a great character, and Camacho is a marvel—what a first-rate actor! She and Mison have an easy, lovely chemistry, and their characters play well off each other. More to the point, she holds her own with Mison, and that is no small feat.

They take the mirror to Jefferson's cell. “So why are we doing this in your, uh, dungeon?” Sophie asks Crane, still not sure she's down with his plans to enter another realm via the mirror, find Abbie, and bring her back. Crane curtly explains that the cell concentrates mystical energies and asks Sophie to “anchor” him in the real world, using a rope and her body weight. As you do.

“Whoa, buy a girl a drink first,” she says, in a line that both Crane and this audience member found odd, but it is saved/explained magnificently when Sophie follows up by letting on just how anxious and uncomfortable she is with what they're doing. Crane tries to reassure her by telling her what the Leftenant would do, were she there, and Sophie gets how much Abbie means to him.

As it happens, though, Crane does buy her a drink afterwards, or at least pours her a stiff one, at a new makeshift chemistry lab/bar in the archives, because instead of Abbie, Crane inadvertently brought a murderous demon with him back from the Great Beyond, who, after nearly killing Crane and Sophie, escaped into the wider world.

Did Crane know this was a possibility? Uh, yes. Is Sophie pissed that he went ahead anyway, and without telling her? You betcha. But not so pissed that she's forgotten the soft spot she's had for Crane ever since he threw her up against a wall outside Nevins' bait shop. Sophie's tenderness and resolve as she calls Crane out on his fuck-up is beautifully done. She understands why he let himself be played by a demon, but that doesn't mean it wasn't still a huge mistake.

Alone again with his thoughts and a beautiful array of photos of Abbie, Crane speaks to her in her absence. All through the episode he keeps referencing what she would say if she were here, but this is the best. Speaking to her aloud, he asks plaintively, “You don't blame me, do you?”answers for her, “'What I think doesn't matter Crane. What do you think'?'” and then in frustration replies, “who asked you anyway!”

Sophie returns to tell Crane that—oops--that demon Crane brought into the world has killed someone. Crane figured out this is a desperation demon, so it's drawn to attacking desperate folk. Sophie is still feeling out her depth with the whole supernatural thing, so she brings Crane on a ride-along. En route we get treated to Sophie's backstory, delivered with exciting authenticity by Camacho. We also learn that the demon has struck again, further out of town, but en route to...West Point!

It takes Sophie no time at all to figure out who the demon is going after next. “There's only one person who's as desperate to find out what happened to Abbie Mills as you,” and that's...Daniel Reynolds?! Really?! I would have guessed that might be her sister, Jenny?!

Meanwhile, Pandora's old man is griping that his demon army is taking too long to convene. “There is a quicker path,” Pandora tells him. “Find the Witness that took the Eye of Anubis.” Ruh-roh. The stakes of finding Abbie have just been dramatically upped. If the bad guys get to her before Team Witness, and Abbie has, in fact, absorbed the Shard of Anubis, it's going to be curtains in a bad way for our brave Leftenant. More action from our villains would be a welcome addition, though. One of the things that makes Headless such an arresting villain is that he is seldom static (pardon the pun). As Abraham he did a lot more talking, but one of the great benefits of a villain lacking a mouth is he has to take action to communicate.

Bob copes with this news about as well as any recently resurrected god finding himself relatively powerless would: he threatens the woman he loves. “If you fail to find her, I will not suffer alone.” Pandora, honey, y'all are beyond couples' counseling. You need to get out of there, stat. Marriage is tough, especially when your husband's been dead for a couple of centuries. Just ask Katrina Crane. Oh, wait, you can't, 'cause her husband killed her.

Outside Randall's storage unit we're treated to an out-of-character moment, namely, Jenny Mills taking forever to pick a simple lock so that Joe can have plenty of time to mansplain to her that her sister is probably dead. Look, I get it. You wanted a moment between Joe and Jenny—I love me my feels—and I also get that Jenny is upset, but in no universe, least of all Sleepy Hollow's, does it take JENNY MILLS THAT LONG TO PICK THAT KIND OF A LOCK.

Also, Joe, Cute-Boy-With Pecs does not replace Beloved Sister, but I get what you're trying to say. You had to be the bad-guy-voice-of-reason-in this episode and the fans hate you for it. Sucks to be you, Joe, but even though you were kinda being a dick, I still like you.
Don't piss off Ichabod Crane or he'll put on a bathrobe.
What am I saying? PISS HIM OFF A LOT MORE!


We're treated to a terrific bait-and-switch at Reynolds' cabin, as we find it's Crane and not Danny awaiting the demon in his bathrobe. The bait and switch is then played out physically by him and Sophie using mirrors to fool and trap the demon. While we needed the exposition, I suppose, of Crane using a shard of the demon's birth mirror to wound it, and Mison did an admirable job of trying to make it sound like the sort of ordinary conversation one would always have with a demon under the circumstances, that did feel clunky.

At FBI HQ the next morning, we're deftly shown how Daniel was absent from the cabin the previous night through Sophie's apology for cutting short his weekend by calling in an Abbie-sighting. Sophie then continues trying to convince Daniel that Crane didn't kill Abbie and he's barking up the wrong Brit. About now, Reynolds has got to be thinking, “Jesus, what kind of cologne does this Fitzwilliam Darcy-assed dude wear?” Daniel concedes that maybe Foster has a point, but I say no way is Reynolds done with Crane. He knows a sizeable percentage of the fandom ships Ichabbie and he doesn't like it one bit.

Back in Revolutionary America, poor Nathan Hale heads for the gallows. Crane had Betsy to tell him the guard rotation had changed at their target mansion, but Hale goes it alone, gets caught, and now has to pay the price. Beautiful, noble, heroic Crane tells Betsy the plan for rescuing Hale, but she's having none of it. She explains that even if the two of them were able to rescue Hale before his hanging, they'd reveal the presence of hundreds of Revolutionary soldiers, resulting in their death. This was a bit of a quick jump for me, and I do feel like we missed a few steps in the logic, but the meat and emotional weight of this scene is hefty. As Hale looks at Crane as he says his famous final last words--“I regret that I have but one life to give for my country,”--we're reminded of Crane's earlier advice to the young man (“Unlike a cat, you have but one life”). Crane's regret is palpable as he says to Betsy, “he was our partner and we just let him die,” Crane says to Betsy. Firmly, with marvelously acted but unspoken devastation she underscores the moment's secondary lesson, after the dangers of behaving rashly: “Not all our partners will survive. Sometimes you must accept that there aren't going to be any miracles. The best you can do is continue your mission.”

The scene is very powerful, and leads well into the present-day scene which succeeds it: Crane removing Abbie's photo from a bulletin board, and Sophie asking him if he's suspending the search. I did NOT like the seeming parallel with Nathan Hale, i.e., Crane accepting that Abbie may in fact be dead, and that he must shift his focus back to their shared mission. Yes, he says quietly, he'll never stop in his search, but the focus, the centerpiece of the scene was that he's been too single-minded, with terrible consequences (a result of his desperation and rash judgment, NOT his single-mindedness). Crane's tenor, as well as his words, felt like he was giving up, and this in an episode during which he and Sophie develop a relationship which echoes Crane's and Abbie's, just felt wrong, almost like we were being warmed up to the idea of Sophie replacing Abbie (2/29: fortunately this fear has not borne out).
It's a good team.  It's a nice team.  It's a lovely team.
Now bring Abbie back.

Both the scene at Randall's locker, in which Joe is captured, and, we fear, killed, and the loving scene between the very-much-alive Joe and Jenny back at her trailer, resolve their story beautifully for this episode. That business sorted, Jenny and Joe bring the supernatural map scored from Randall's storage unit to the archives, and we see—through some visuals I found pretty naff—that Pandora's demons are converging on Sleepy Hollow, a “demon convention,” as Sophie so aptly puts it. So our team is set up and ready to go for their next adventure...except where's Abbie?!

Thankfully, we get to see, if only for a moment. Abbie's waking up on the floor of a mysterious cave in our final scene, calling out for her loved ones with Crane in the lead. But do tell, writers...has she been asleep on the floor of that cave for a month and is only now waking up? I expect explanations...and soon!

Sleepy Hollow is back. No, seriously: Sleepy Hollow is back!!