Sleepy Hollow Episode 2.4: Ichabod Enchants Abbie, and the Rest is History

You know, Sara, some of us would gladly spend a night in
the Pied Piper's lair if it meant we got to be carried around
in Ichabod Crane's arms afterwards. 

 Thank you writer Damian Kindler and director Doug Aarniokoski for giving us Sleepyheads another reason to get out of bed in the evening. "Go Where I Send Thee," the fourth installment of Sleepy Hollow's Season 2, while at times uneven, was an overall delight, and many times absolutely wonderful.


Following on the heels of last week's exceptional "Root of All Evil," Episode  2.4 had a lot to live up to, and it largely delivered. As ever, the heart of Sleepy Hollow is the relationship between Ichabod Crane (played by the insanely talented and even more insanely handsome Tom Mison) and police Lt. Abbie Mills (played by the equally talented and drop-dead,-forget-how-to-speak-English gorgeous Nicole Beharie). Both Kindler and Aarniokoski, Sleepy vets from Season 1, understand this and understand that Sleepy fans will tolerate pretty much any dumbass plot, any ludicrous phlebotinum you throw at us, as long as that heart beats steadily, passionately, and with a healthy dose of laughter throughout the episode. Balancing serious and tender moments of mutual defense and concern with the hilarious and near-perfectly executed bookend scenes of "Ichabod drives" and "Ichabod discovers cappuccino," the episode played like a love letter to the fans, while still serving the needs of story arc, season arc, and character development admirably.

"Go Where I Send Thee," which might have been more aptly titled, "Come Where I Lure Thee," opens with a young girl we've not met before being lured by a haunting flute melody down the stairs, out the door, and across the lawn of her gargantuan colonial-era house, to a creature standing in the woods. Before we can meet this creature, cut to Ichabod Crane passionately reminding us of his most pertinent recent history concerning encounters with dangerous creatures on horseback from behind the wheel of Abbie's 300-horsepower SUV.
As the camera moves to include Abbie, we see that she is finally teaching her two-hundred-and-sumpen-sumpen year-old partner to drive. Crane seems fearful, then defensive when she informs him she knows he's been taking lessons secretly from her sister, Jenny ("Jenny teaches Crane to drive" on the DVD, please!). But, as he seductively starts quoting Japanese proverbs to Abbie—in Japanese—we get our first hint that, like many things in Sleepy Hollow, the situation is not what it seems.
Ichabod, it turns out, has not only been practicing with "Miss Jenny," he's become something of an amazing driver. Combining humor, action, major unresolved sexual tension and fabulous word-free insight into Crane's character, Mison and Beharie take a wild, flirtatious-glance-and-laughter-filled ride through a parking lot, ending with Abbie deducing she's been played and ordering Crane out of her car.
What follows, continuing the secondary purpose served by Mison's horsey pre-drive soliloquy, is an impressively decent version of what I have come to call The Irritating Recap for Those of You Who Just Tuned In (or The Irritating Recap, for short). This is the scene, in every episode's first act, in which we are re-introduced to Ichabod, Abbie, their relationship as the two Witnesses foretold in the Book of Revelation, and the plight they face in trying to defeat the demon Moloch. In the same way that Tom Mison is waiting to see which writer will finally break him elocution-wise with the tongue-twisting speeches they write for Ichabod, I wait anxiously each week to see which writer is finally broken by the network's need to service its new viewers in this annoying manner.
Damian Kindler did not break.
Neither did Mison and Beharie, executing the tender scene which combined luscious Ichabbie feels ("it is not our fate for one of us to bury the other") with the (supposedly required) exposition. These two deserve an entire mantle of Emmys for managing to make this tiresome ritual sound almost-fresh each week.
The Irritating Recap blessedly concluded, they got back to flirting, which Mison and Beharie do so very well. Abbie: "That's not driving. That's unsafe operation of a motor vehicle without a license. I should arrest your ass for it." Ichabod: "Perhaps. If you could catch me." As my husband said, oh just get a room already, you two!
That said, I do take issue with one thing in that scene, namely its first transition, from humorous driving scene, to serious, heavy-emotion-filled scene. Scene transitions are, as I wrote last week, usually one of Sleepy's strengths. This one was not. Out of seemingly nowhere, Ichabod informs Abbie that she can "drop the facade," that he knows she is teaching him skills like driving to increase his independence, so that if anything happens to her, he can continue the struggle alone.
Using the word "independence" in this scene was a mistake, in my opinion, because it immediately harkens back to Episode 2.3, wherein Ichabod complains, fairly--lacking both cash and a government-issued ID--about having fought a war for independence but having none himself. That episode ended, sweetly, with Nick Hawley giving Crane a fake passport so that he can at least have a beer in a pub now and again (something Hawley rightly intuited that Englishmen consider their birthright).
Now, here we are, with Abbie giving her partner yet another tool of independence, and his response is to accuse her of trying to empower him to fight without her. That didn't work for me, Sleepy writers. But then, I tuned in last week. And the week before that.
More gorgeous flirtation between our heroes, then we transition back to our A story, also known as the plot. The little girl we met in the first scene, Sara Lancaster, has been declared missing, and Abbie (naturally) knows the girl's family. Our dynamic duo rushes to the scene to try to help (because apparently they're doing regular police work now as well as the supernatural kind?). While Abbie does some actually believable detective work questioning the girl's parents, Ichabod is relegated (by the new sheriff's orders against his involvement in same) to lurking in the bushes. Literally. But before we can hilariously reunite an irritated Ichabod with an even more irritated Abbie, we learn An Important Fact which, thankfully, pretends to be Unimportant: that the little girl's mother "forgot" to set their security alarm the night before.

We're also treated to more of Abbie's backstory as we learn that the elder Ms. Lancaster, the missing girl's mother, is Abbie's former case worker, from when she and her sister were placed in foster care. The two actors work together beautifully, and the scene is given the time it needs to land, and no more, thank God, because, despite their fine performances and the excellent direction, it's boring and we already knew Abbie must have had a caseworker. One can only conclude that this information, or this character, will be heard from again and prove most pertinent in an episode down the road. At least I hope so.

Soon enough we are back with our heroes blissfully bickering through a closed window. Abbie: "What are you doing?!" Crane (still in the bushes): "Helping!" Off they trudge together into the woods in search of missing "Miss Sara." Alas, the field trip into the woods also re-introduces us to the character I'll call "Stage Crane," whom we first encountered in the Season 2 premiere. Our heroes easily pick up Sara's trail, and then Crane goes all Prince Humperdinck on us and starts describing everything that happened based on a few broken twigs and some blood spatter. Abbie shows us that she learned all that stuff at police detective school too, thanks, and takes the lead back from him before finding a bone.

"That's no bone," Crane tells her ominously. "It's a space station."

Sorry. Wrong Episode IV. I meant a flute, an ancient Chinese flute to be precise, which this week's supernatural criminal mastermind thoughtfully dropped where it could be easily found by our heroes. Crane, who earlier showed off his knowledge of Japanese in relation to horseback riding, now shows off his knowledge of Chinese in relation to ancient instrumentation, before beginning to play the flute like he's had that specific instrument in his back pocket for years. (As someone who actually played the flute at one time, and knows how hard it is to get a decent sound out of one's own instrument, let alone an instrument one just picked up off the ground, I would resent this if I didn't so enjoy watching Tom Mison play, his execution of perfect omberture, and the gorgeous poetry of the flute-related scenes that follow).

The scene which follows is both haunting, as our beloved leftenant becomes hypnotized and wanders into a bog, and hilarious as Crane is so absorbed in his new toy he fails, at first, to notice her predicament. But below the surface there is another story being told, which becomes more apparent on their second adventure in the woods.

In the kind of swift stroke of genius that only Sleepy writers can get away with, Crane declares he knows exactly how the missing girl went missing. The act ends with Stage Crane making Big, Worried Eyes at Abbie, after announcing the flute belonged to a pied piper.

Let me explain about Stage Crane. Stage Crane is TV Crane's alter ego, who does and says everything bigger than is appropriate for the small screen, but in a manner which would work marvelously well on stage. I don't know if Stage Crane is the product of Stage Tom Mison, desperately missing that particular expression of his talent, or the Sleepy Hollow directors occasionally forgetting that while the show can get the joke, the characters never, ever can. Directors, writers, beloved Mr. Mison—please rein in the hand-porn and the blazing sapphire blues. I know we're meant to see a sharp contrast between Mills and Crane, with Abbie being our Sensible, Grounded Witness, and Crane being Reckless, Impassioned Witness. But between the differences in accent and language use, clothing, height, and gender, not to mention Mison's ethereal posture, the contrast between these two is ever-present to the watchful eye. I find nothing more attractive than a passionate man, but the expression of emotion in a character requires restraint to be effective; an American should not have to explain this to a Brit. Mison is most believable and most affecting when playing his part more naturally, especially in scenes of humorous flirtation or tender concern for Beharie. Yes, we know Ichabod is supposed to be the comic relief, but he's not a cartoon. He's a real person.

We begin the second act with lovely teasing between our two leads, but why is our Ichy suddenly so cold regarding his former flame, Betsy Ross? I so hope we find out in a later episode.

Given how exposition-heavy this entire episode is, the conflict between Crane's quick deduction that the Piper who lured an entire garrison of British soldiers to their deaths in his day must be the fellow who abducted Sara, and Abbie's "not-so-fast-Sherlock," "the modus operandi does not fit" is a welcome breath of fresh air. Nevertheless, it's their best lead. And so they concoct a plan for locating the Piper, and, presumably, Sara. Crane will record himself playing a short, haunting melody on the bone flute. Abbie will put it on a "30-second-loop" on her phone, and, as before, she will be drawn in her enchantment to the Piper, taking Ichabod with her.
Ichabod's chivalry takes a turn for the weird in this scene. When Abbie offered to stay behind in purgatory, Ichabod's pain was palpable when he vowed, "that is out of the question." But Mison plays this scene like the director told him Ichabod really does want to use Abbie as bait, and he's just supposed to give lip service to resisting the idea. This didn't ring true to me at all, given that the one thing Ichabod Crane is in his bones is chivalrous.
And now a question for the make-up department. Is the color on Tom Mison's face his natural tan, or does he have an unfortunate amount of foundation on? Because, especially in this scene—given the lighting--the color of his face doesn't remotely match the color of his neck and chest, and yes, we fangirls notice these things, thank you.
Back in the woods, we move into the most gorgeously poetic scene of the season thus far. But not before finally addressing the height difference between our leads in a charming manner. Abbie worries that Ichabod might lose sight of her in the woods. "A gillygaupus like me?" he responds with adorable self-deprecation. "I can see for miles at my height."


"And I suggest you retire that nickname right here and now," replies Abbie without missing a beat.


Perfection, Beharie, Mison, Kindler and Aarniokoski. That would be what it looks like.


Crane does a much better job of balancing his respect for Abbie's strength and capacity, the need to endanger her in order to find Sara, and his bone-deep need to protect her in this scene. He promises Abbie that, during her enchantment from the recording, "I will be with you at every moment." We see the woods from her point of view, as though enchanted. Then we pull out from her point of view to see Crane determined to protect her from the spell he—with her consent—put her under.

Let's just sit with this for a moment, shall we? In this season's second episode, Abbie worries aloud that her greatest weakness is her faith in Crane. In this scene, Abbie literally puts her life in Crane's hands. And he does not let her down. Crane walks with Abbie, wherever she leads, his primary responsibility throughout to protect her from how he has enchanted her. And her only comment on all this, as she comes under the spell of his music, is "so beautiful." It's really a sensually, gorgeously executed metaphor for the emotional aspect of their relationship, I think.


Unfortunately, in his effort to convey fear and concern for Beharie's Abbie, Mison again goes a bit over-the-top in his expressions. This gets worse when they encounter Nick Hawley, just spending the day hanging out in the woods, despite having been seriously injured by the Piper the night before. Stage Crane's exasperated "unbelievable" is just that. His Big Eyes in response to Hawley's claim that there's still time to save the girl also smacks unfortunately of melodrama.


After the second act break, we are treated to another round of one of the all-time great trios in story-telling: the brave, honorable hero, handy with a sword and willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all; the equally brave, strong, powerful (but short) woman with a big gun; the handsome, roguish privateer who's only in it for the money, but eventually becomes swayed by the cause. I loved this trio in 1977, when they were trying to save a galaxy far, far away, and I love them now, because they work.


So, we'll just pretend that it makes sense that experienced soldier of fortune Hawley hasn't bandaged up his knifed-up thigh yet, despite the fact that such an injury could be fatal, because it gives Abbie something to do while Hawley reveals, conveniently, almost all the answers our heroes seek. What he doesn't know, Crane easily deduces because he is always The Smartest Guy in the Forest. It seems that during the war, Ancestor Lancaster was forced to quarter an entire British garrison at his vast estate (where Sara now lives). The soldiers, not surprisingly, were lewd, rude and damned inappropriate to his daughters. Lancaster sought revenge on them by hiring the Piper, an assassin legendary for his speed, who proceeded to enchant and then dispatch the garrison in short order. Of course, to have such speed, Crane deduces, he must have been a demon, a man who sold his soul to Moloch, and therefore won't die (at least not until the Witnesses have at him). Crane also deduces that Lancaster must have tried to kill the assassin, betraying him after he'd completed his contracted work, and Hawley concludes that, in retribution, the demon takes one Lancaster daughter per year, at the age of ten, because at that age her bones are the perfect size to make his instruments of torture and mind-control.


The writers, director and actors make a valiant effort to transform this expository scene into an action scene via flashback, with slow-mo Guy Ritchie-esque sequences, as much violence and blood as they can get away with on network TV, and moves to make V from V for Vendetta jealous. As information dumps go, it's not the worst I've seen, but it's just way too long. At least it's followable, though, and sorta, kinda makes sense.


After we're all caught up on the history of our present conflict, Abbie tries to persuade Hawley to help them, much to Crane's chagrin, using the flute, as bait. She'll give it to Hawley, to sell to whomever, presumably, after they rescue Sara. If this doesn't sound like the Abbie you know, you've been paying attention. Crane's nervous, but trusts her. Smart lad.


Cut to Irving reading the Bible at Tarrytown Psych and we get this episode's second gorgeous piece of visual poetry, namely, a terrifying vision of who Irving might become as a servant of the Horseman of War: a demon/killer as skilled and vicious as the piper we just witnessed murder a British garrison a few scenes before.

Back in the forest, after using his smarts to complement Abbie's enchanted-homing-beacon technique and locate the entrance to the Piper's home, Crane's chivalry goes on holiday again. He and Hawley stare in terror at the entrance, as Abbie gamely leads them into the demon's lair, a cellar beneath a long-destroyed house. But this actually works, because it is entirely believable that fear would get the better of both Crane and Hawley in that moment, and it is entirely believable for the writers, and Crane, to let Abbie take the lead.


The lighting in the Piper's lair is very well done. It can't be easy balancing "terrifying" with "visible." Similarly, the sound work is very powerful. Walking with Abbie, we hear only her anxious breathing, which works wonderfully to build suspense. Once inside the cellar, we see the Piper's got a pretty macabre decorating sense, his walls covered in bones and dead, bloody animal carcasses. While the boys are busy checking out the Piper's instruments, Abbie stays on point and finds the girl chained in a chamber that resembles a well with a very helpful amount of sunshine coming in. She immediately sets to work picking the lock on Sara's foot, which looks like it's from Ichabod's era, because she's a Mills sister and apparently the lock hasn't been invented yet that they can't pick. (I guess we no longer have to imagine what delinquency she and Crane could perpetrate if they really set their minds to it).

Watching Matt Barr's Hawley come to grips with the existence of a very real monster, both in the moment and after the fact, is worth the price of admission itself. His and Crane's collaboration in and after the fight scene with the Piper gives their relationship a necessary fraternal beat, and Crane figuring out how to work a digitally timed explosive by just watching Hawley for a moment was--inexplicably--completely believable.

Crane's grabbing of the young Sara, then jumping to his feet to carry her away, is one of the most potent moments in the entire episode. So much is conveyed in his urgency, the manner in which he carries her, his primal need to protect her. Mison executes the scene absolutely perfectly. His performance took me back to "The Golem," and the passionate pain he felt for his son Jeremy, not knowing what had become of him, not having been able to protect him.


In the aftermath of Sara's rescue, Abbie and Crane confirm that they are mutually down with returning to the cellar to kill off the Piper, but Hawley's having none of it. He wants his payment for tactical support on Sara's rescue—the flute—and he wants a drink, not necessarily in that order. Abbie and Crane, apparently never having seen Episode IV: A New Hope, are shocked. They try to persuade the "privateer" to help them using silly arguments like the necessity of protecting the world from the apocalypse. Naturally, this goes nowhere. As Hawley's dramatic grandfather, Han Solo, once said, "What good is a reward if you ain't around to use it? Attacking that [fill in the blank with big, scary thing of your choice] ain't my idea of courage. It's more like suicide."

Barr is perfectly cast as Hawley. His terror is palpable but played with a healthy undercurrent of humor, his realization that the monster is real and likely to haunt him indefinitely rings true, as does his determination to remain consistent with the man he thinks himself to be. The contrast and juxtaposition between passionate Crane and reserved Abbie in this scene is also played to perfection.
Crane's proud, adoring smile in response to Abbie breaking the flute before letting Hawley have it will go down as a priceless moment/GIF in Ichabbie history. Fortunately, Hawley doesn't appear to hold Abbie's actions against Crane. His "good luck in the next round," to Crane seems as sincere as Grandpa Han's "may the Force be with you" to Luke, as the latter readied to confront the Death Star.
I wanted more, or at least better of Hawley this episode, but "he has to follow his own path; no one can choose it for him," as ole Princess Bagelhead used to say. More to the point, he has to redeem himself and earn our affection. For this trio to work as a story-telling tool, we can't dislike him indefinitely; I give Hawley one episode, two tops, before he flies the Millennium Falcon back to save Ichy's ass. (Just out of curiosity, how many synonyms does Ichabod know for "privateer" and can he express them with more sneering contempt?)

Abbie and Crane return Sara to her mother in a tender, dramatic slow-motion reunion scene, which suggested I should care about the Lancasters a great deal more than I do. The only one I really had any sympathy for in that scene was the young actress playing Sara, forced to release her grasp on Tom Mison's neck as she is pried from her cozy perch in his arms.

Lacking Hawley's support, but none of their determination, the Witnesses burst back into the Bat Cave (both through the front door this time, thank you; Sheriff Reyes' approbation be damned), to arm themselves for Round 2 with the Piper. And here at last we are treated to a scene in which Mison's Big Eyes not only work, but serve the scene beautifully. Abbie introduces Crane to noise-canceling earbuds, something she thinks will help protect them both since the Piper uses sound as a weapon. Crane's shift from skepticism to childlike wonder as he tries on the earbuds is gorgeous. Crane must be so focused and stressed out so much of the time that when he gets to discover something like this from the modern era, and react with marvel, it marks an ideal counterpoint to the rest of the show's tension. Mison again proves himself a wonder of the modern world.

Crane notices that something wasn't quite right about Sara's reunion with her mother. Apparently Sara's parents are either modern Quakers or hippies (redundant) since she has her mother's last name, Lancaster, rather than her father's. But that's not what bothers Crane. He notes and Abbie concurs that Sara's mom wasn't overjoyed to see her daughter. It's a painful, poignant moment—landed but not labored—when Crane says, "if someone rescued my child I'd be overjoyed, exuberant." Would you, now? Well, Ich, one could argue that's exactly what Moloch did when he resurrected Henry (ne Jeremy Crane, see also The Horseman of War). It's particularly pointed given that immediately after Crane says this, Abbie says--referring of course to the Piper--"our focus right now is to kill that thing before it comes looking for its prey." Nice subliminal nod to the season-long arc, Regarding Henry.

The importance of their object is underscored when Abbie and Crane realize through some computer digging--after Crane asks Abbie to "perform the log-in ceremony," the kind of thing that never fails to charm my socks off--the Lancasters really are cursed. Every generation a ten-year old girl is abducted by the Piper, and if one happens to get rescued, all the other children in her family die. What looks like the lower half of a noose comes foreground, out of focus, into the shot, as Abbie and Crane realize the Sophie's Choice that Sara's mom has had to make—sacrifice her daughter, or lose all three of her sons. After their deduction, we need nothing more than Sara's mom looking at her sleeping, recently-returned daughter with tears in her eyes to know what's coming.

Abbie and Crane race to the Lancasters' home just in time to see their three boys being taken to the hospital with fever. Crane inexplicably deduces that they will be dead by nightfall unless he and Abbie succeed in breaking the curse. Sara and her mom, of course, are MIA, no doubt headed back to Piperville. This means Crane will need a good weapon for taking on the Piper, and happily, the Lancasters have what may be the best fighting cutlass ever made hanging on a wall in their house (the walls of Sleepy Hollow homes are literally littered with ancient, yet very sharp, swords).

The scene in which Crane busts the glass on the sword case and takes the sword is one of the sexiest thus far in the entire series. Mison exudes a confidence in his physical grace that is nothing short of breathtaking.

Abbie lets Crane drive so she can safely telephone Sara's mother, and Crane has a blast playing Niki Lauda again for about 20 seconds. Near the Piper's lair, Abbie and Crane find Sarah and her mom, and mom pulls a gun on Abbie. Beharie and the actress playing Sara's mother are both wondrous in this scene, and beautifully directed by Aarniokoski. Beharie in particular just goes all in and gives the scene a rich, emotional grounding. She continues to just sparkle and shine as Abbie, but I do hope she gets to do something other than talk down murderous women in the climax some day.


Despite all of Abbie's empathy and reasonable arguments, it takes Crane's tenderness and hand gestures to finally succeed in persuading Sara's mom to put down the gun. Enter the Piper, and Crane begins dueling with him immediately, but, again, balancing the Witnesses' contributions, it takes Abbie's gunshots to scare him off. As we already noted, Abbie has nothing if not faith in her fellow Witness. When she basically orders Crane to man-up, follow and kill the Piper, shouting"finish it!" it's an awfully sexy expression of her confidence in, and need for, him.


To show Crane's entrance into the Piper's lair from his auditory perspective, i.e., hearing only what he would hear with the noise-canceling earbuds--his breathing and the muffled sounds of his clash with the piper--was brave and brilliant. However, the constantly-moving camera in relation to the constantly-moving combatants really annoyed me. Remember the days of The Princess Bride and The Lord of the Rings, when the camera held (relatively) still and we actually got to see the fencing? Mison and his co-star and/or the stuntmen who play their characters in this scene appear to do a masterful job during their brief exchange, with Crane's swordplay even bringing to mind Ewan McGregor's climactic battle with Darth Maul (about the only decent thing in the first three so-called Star Wars' films). In fact, if that was Mison fencing and not a stunt man, I'd put this scene on the actor's audition reel for Episodes VIII and IX. But it would have been so much better if we could have watched it all without getting seasick.

Thank you for letting Ichabod do an excellent job of recovering and trying to defend himself, cutting off the Piper's hand, before Abbie comes to the rescue. That was beautifully directed and edited, although one of these days, I'd really like to see Ichabod actually win a duel. Mison's "I had him," Abbie's smile, and his smile in response, are perfect. Would that we could have seen the aftermath of Abbie and Ichabod in that moment, before cutting immediately to Tarrytown Psychiatric, but perhaps anything further would have undermined that beautiful moment.

It is a testament to the skill and power of both Orlando Jones' and John Noble's acting—as well as the writing and direction--that, though both actors were in this episode only a brief time, their impact is heavily felt. When Irving confronts Henry Parrish about being the Biblical Horseman of War, Henry shrugs it off with "the signs were all there." Really? Like, what? Him being a lawyer?


Noble is glorious in this scene. He's so confident he can afford to be understated, and he's so much more compelling for it. His take on War is a slow-burn that builds and builds and builds. And the casual way in which Henry tells Irving, "the question is what can I do for you," since, after all, you've already given me your soul, is absolutely chilling. Jones matches him, beat for dramatic beat. The understatement with which Orlando Jones' Irving realizes he has inadvertently sold his soul is both weird and right, right, right.

As has been waxed poetically elsewhere, the cappuccino scene between Abbie and Crane is a delight, even with Mison hamming up his unexpected infatuation with the drink. Abbie reaching over to wipe the foam from his mustache is another priceless Ichabbie moment. But I have a bone to pick with the effects department. The green screen work and lighting in this scene do not work. Since Sleepy is filmed in Wilmington, NC, where there is a lovely oceanfront but no Hudson River, the producers and director got creative in combining an exterior shot of what I assume is the actual Hudson River front with a scene filmed indoors, lit for outdoors, and with green screen action behind it. But when we cut from the long view of Mison and Beharie to the close-up, the border between Mison's outline and the action behind him is so jarring it actually detracts from what is otherwise a very charming scene.

I love how in the final scene with Henry we're led to believe that he's angry about the flute being broken, and then we see it was the flute broken down into powder he wanted all along. Why do I have the terrible feeling Irving will be drinking Flute-on-the-Rocks some time very soon?

Now, about the season as a whole...I was talking to a dear friend last night, and she had just watched the entirety of Season 1 in a single sitting. She said the season reminded of her Beethoven's 9^{th symphony, which is composed of seemingly unconnected movements which all come together in the end. I thought that a very apt comparison, and it brought another to mind.}

To me, the finale of the last season was operatic in nature. In contrast, the premiere of this season crossed the line from opera into cartoon. It's a tough, tough boundary to navigate. But the episodes since then have shown the same potential for symphonic composing, for building to an ecstatic finale which brings everything together in a manner which works.

There are pieces of the puzzle introduced, and left hanging, but in a believable way: Franklinstein's monster, the Judas coin, and now the powdered flute. We are given hints and foreshadowing in conversations, themes, and entire scenes, of the season's direction. And yet, I still can't tell you what will happen, who will prove true and who will prove false on Team Apocalypse, and I LOVE THAT!
I wish the writers and the entire Sleepy Team the best of luck with landing both their mid-season semi-finale, and the finale itself. So far, things look very, very promising indeed.

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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