#TGWThoughts

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 1x01-- Inauguration

For those of you familiar with my posts, you know what this is. For those of you new to this fandom, I write obnoxiously long recaps of every episode (and you can find them all here). I started doing this with 6x01 of The Good Wife and I’m continuing the tradition for The Good Fight. They’re obnoxiously long because I try to be detailed, but they’re in bullet points so it should be easy to skip around and find comments on a particular scene. 

As always, I’m happy to elaborate/explain/discuss any of the ideas in here. I’m hoping to get a 1x02 recap up before 1x03 goes live, but we’ll see. 

Often, it’s easy to tell what a show wants to be from the way it introduces itself to the audience. First impressions aren’t all that matter—but they’re important. They’re especially important on the spinoff of a show that had an opening scene so iconic the writers recreated it seven years later, expecting viewers to get the reference. TGW’s opening scene set the tone for the whole series, so the bar was high for TGF, a show that exists essentially because CBS wants more money. How do you craft an opening scene that sets the tone for a show where the premise is PLEASE GIVE US YOUR MONEY?

The answer, it turns out, is to begin the series with a scene that acts as an argument in favor of its own existence. As Diane watches last month’s inauguration, we’re given a reason to care about this show about a diverse group of women fighting back. Why should we tune in to this show? Because we’re ready for a fight, too.

So, the opening moments of TGF—Diane, alone, watching that man’s inauguration—are irrelevant to most of what follows. You could argue (as I think the Kings have tried to, bizarrely) that Diane decides to retire to run away from the shitshow, but, come on. You and I both know that Diane decided to retire because the Kings needed a way to make her extremely vulnerable to the scandal they created. We know she would’ve retired if Hillary had won (that “shattered every glass ceiling” line they say they had to replace was terrible, btw), and we know she would’ve retired if this spinoff had aired a year earlier. As far as I’m concerned, the opening scene stands alone, and that’s fine.

In fact, since it sets the tone for the whole show (which will, undoubtedly, become more political as we get into the episodes written/filmed post-election), I’d argue it works (much, much) better as an opening scene than the Maia intro (here’s a new woman you’ve never seen before! She is a lawyer!) or the Diane intro (here is a house in France that will be important to this episode and only this episode!).

As much as I hate to admit it—because admitting it means that we’re really living in a world where that man is POTUS, the most recent presidential election gave TGF the reason it needed to exist. The moment I saw the tagline “GET NASTY”, it clicked into place. Suddenly I was excited about TGF as more than a weekly check-in with some characters I used to love. Suddenly I liked the name The Good Fight much more than The Greater Good (the show’s working title). Nothing had changed about the show itself—the “fight” in the title was still about recovering from a fictional scandal; the show was still something that came about because CBS wanted to profit more off of TGW—but it felt different. It felt necessary. And, even better: the show knew it.

The Kings claim they didn’t expect Trump to win, but they do have a knack for being eerily good at predicting what the political mood will be like in a few months. They seem to be right on the money with The Good Fight, even if they had to rethink the opening. The name and premise of the show, both decided in advance of the election, are about struggling.

(I know the Kings think there’s something darkly funny about watching Diane watch the inauguration or whatever but come on. They’re marketing to an audience that would not only understand that “Get Nasty” is a reference to “Nasty Woman” but be driven to watch by that reference.)

Before I move on: Hi, Diane… I’m sorry, but I have a message from the future—one fucking month in the future—this is really happening and it is a horrific shitshow.

Diane turns off the TV, drops the remote, and walks out of the frame as Erin McKewon’s “You Were Right About Everything” begins to play. She has the right idea.

A few seconds in and TGF is already spot-on with its music choices. Yay! (I don’t know if I like the songs used in The Good Universe because I associate them with the shows or because the people choosing them and I have similar tastes in music, but I’ll take it either way.)  

Diane’s dark living room gives way to an image of an unfamiliar face against a black background. Moments later, the lights come on, and we see Maia Rindell, nervously waiting to take the bar exam. It’s hard to make much of her from this glimpse—who wouldn’t be nervous waiting to take the bar exam? Why would a character be on this show and not be a lawyer? One thing, though, is clear: she’s just starting out her career.

Cut to the French countryside, where Diane is touring a beautiful estate. She takes in the view and smiles: she’s going to love it here.

Then we’re back with Maia, sometime later. She’s waiting impatiently for her bar exam results. When she learns that she’s passed, she screams, alarming her sleeping girlfriend, Amy.

Maia begins to jump up and down on the bed and then jumps on top of Amy. It’s super adorable.  

(Before I continue: I’m happy that a) Maia is queer, b) this is not remarked upon or treated as a huge reveal, and c) she’s in a committed long-term relationship. Seeing as TGW had a total of zero lead characters in relationships that resemble the ones most people actually have, this is a welcome change.)

Also: Maia and Amy’s apartment is amazing; they live behind a giant clock.

The music continues, and now Diane’s in a setting both familiar and unfamiliar: it’s familiar because David Lee and Howard Lyman are there; it’s unfamiliar because it’s an office in New York City instead of the old L/G/KeyboardSmash offices. Okay, I know they’re still in Chicago. But that... is definitely New York…

Anyway. Diane’s announcing her retirement. She stands and walks around the room, totally in control. The firm has grown since we last saw it. David and Howard congratulate her, and David secretly rejoices as the music ends. More power for him!

You know what I find odd? Lucca isn’t in the opening sequence. She’s ostensibly also a co-lead, so where is she in this sequence that starts of the show? My hope is that this doesn’t indicate she’s less of a co-lead and was instead an intentional move so her appearance later is more sudden. (Then again, this sequence doesn’t hint that Diane knows Maia or that Maia’s going to work at Diane’s firm, so… I see no reason Lucca couldn’t have been included too.)

The firm now has NINE name partners (LDGLLGLKT) because the Kings think they’re clever. I’m less amused by this than I am excited to know they (finally) understand that the audience is so over the name changes.

It’s Maia’s first day at LockhartKeyboardSmash, and she’s making friends one of the other new associates.

Maia wears a rosary ring, but she is not religious. Hm.

She is, however, nervous. She seems to be a very nervous person in general, though maybe that’s just my impression because we’re mostly seeing her in environments where she’s uncomfortable. (Maia is such an Alicia-esque character—the original casting call for her said it, not me!—that I wonder if Alicia used to act like that, too. Did Alicia struggle to put together a sentence without hesitating, the way Maia does? If so, when did she get that out of her system and learn to pause strategically instead? Law school? Being a politician’s wife? Gradually over time? Ok back to Maia now.)

I would never want to receive a job orientation from David Lee, and that’s all I have to say about that.

David calls off names of the new associates, and his tone changes when he gets to Maia. Be a little more obvious with your ass kissing, would you?

“Say hello to your parents for me, would you?” David tells her. He also informs her that some flowers have arrived for her, because apparently her parents are clueless as to the fact that she might not want to publicize, on her first day of work, that she’s the daughter of prominent billionaires.

Maia tells her mom not to send any more gifts; she doesn’t want to seem “entitled.” At least someone has some self-awareness! “Are people not being nice to you?” Maia’s mom, Bernadette Peters (!!!!!) asks. That one line is enough for me to recognize that it’s amazing Maia even understands that entitled is a thing people might call her.

Lenore, sitting in her office that looks like a living room but is really adjacent to a trading floor (what?), asks Maia if she wants Diane to give her her own office. Oh boy.

(Maia may not want to be seen as entitled… but I have to ask why, right out of law school, she took a job at her godmother’s firm. I’m not saying she shouldn’t have taken the job or anything... I’m just saying that while she understands she’s being perceived as entitled, she’s not exactly rocking the boat trying to accomplish things without her privilege. She seems pretty damn comfortable benefitting from it.)

Maia tries to rid herself of the Flowers of Privilege by mixing them in with the other LGKeyboardSmash floral arrangements. Howard walks by and assumes she’s a florist. Heh.

Maia is then called into Diane’s office. I love Diane’s new office, especially the wallpaper.

Diane also offers to give Maia her own office. This is because Diane is Maia’s godmother and she wants to spoil her. Oof. I get the impulse to help, but in what world is that helping to do anything other than make instant enemies for Maia?

Diane gives Maia a folio (is that what those things are called? I’m blanking on the word) that was given to her by Chicago’s first female public defender. She calls it a “baton” and tells Maia it’s her turn to carry it. Awww. It’s amazing how instantly I buy that Diane has a goddaughter even after seven seasons without a single mention of Maia.

Diane brings Maia into a deposition. Before we find out the topic of our COTW, we learn that Lucca’s not at LGSKGJSLG38527;;jslfj82745K anymore. What a shock.

Lucca’s been at Reddick and Boseman, the firm she’s at now, for four months. “Alicia too?” Diane wonders. “No, just me,” Lucca says pleasantly, but she doesn’t offer any further comments, so it comes off like unspoken shit went down. I don’t really care, though. I know why Alicia and Lucca aren’t working together and aren’t as close as they were, and it has nothing to do with them and everything to do with TGF’s plot. I don’t want TGF to tell me what Alicia’s up to, because I have my own headcanons. This line is the bare minimum for addressing her absence, and that’s fine by me. (I hope she and Lucca didn’t have a falling out, though. I would love to think they’re still friendly and working together, but obviously, if that were the case, there’d be a strong reason for Alicia to still show up frequently in TGF, and that’s not going to happen.)

Adrian Boseman walks in, interrupting any chance we had at learning more about Alicia’s whereabouts. I like you already, Adrian! No, but really: I like Adrian.

He sizes up the room, noting that all of the lawyers his firm brought are black and Diane’s whole team is white. Diane laughs off his comment. Sure, Diane.

The case is a police brutality case, and there’s a video. Case stuff happens; we spend a lot of time watching Maia react to it. Also there’s metadata, a word the Kings will never tire of using.

Maia thinks they should settle for 4 million (Diane’s asked for her opinion). Diane says they’ve been asked to settle for under $500,000. See, they’re representing Cook County now.

Adrian encourages Lucca to “play the radical” but she doesn’t want to; she thinks Diane will know. Lucca does anyway.

Diane makes an argument about Adrian’s firm taking on police brutality cases to make a profit. This is something I’d be interested in learning more about. The Kings said they’ve done their research on this, but I’d like to do a little research of my own.

“We’re both using this case, Lucca; why don’t you just stick to the facts?” Diane says. This is one of those arguments where it’s hard for me to determine who’s right and who’s wrong because we’re not given all the facts, but I think I’m going to side with Lucca here. There’s using a case to make a profit, and using a case to do good and make a profit. Only one of those sides contains “doing good,” so why would I suddenly only focus on the profit part?

Maia has the same questions I do. “Are we on the right side on this one?” she asks.

“We are on a necessary side,” Diane explains. Hold up. I understand that it’s necessary because this is how legal procedure works in this country and all that. But how is it necessary that Diane defend racist police departments who use unwarranted force and beat the shit out of black people? How is that a necessary side? Diane didn’t take on this case because she believes in the innocence of these particular policemen. She took on this case because Cook County is a good client to have. If she can sleep at night, then fine. But don’t tell me it’s a necessary side just because they might be innocent. You could say that about literally every single side of every single case. Isn’t that the whole point of trials? Everyone’s entitled to representation, innocent until proven guilty?

Diane continues with her speech: “People I’ve thought with all my heart were guilty turned out to be innocent, and people I thought were saints, they, um, they weren’t. That’s why you don’t go on instinct. You wait. You listen. And watch. Eventually everyone reveals themselves.” Argh. I find this so unsatisfying as an answer. It’s not bad advice to keep an open mind, but it feels like Diane’s not saying “keep an open mind instead of making snap judgments” but rather saying “keep an open mind because it’ll make you feel better about representing people you’d rather not be representing.” On second thought, that is useful advice. After all, Maia still has to defend clients she thinks are guilty, and maybe that would help her do it.

“People I thought were saints, they, um, they weren’t.” The Kings have said this line is about Alicia. If you follow me on Twitter, you know this has been under my skin for days now. At first, I thought Diane would never say these words. I’ve reconsidered. While I still think it’s odd she’d think of Alicia before, I dunno, the liberal legend who turned out to be a rapist (W205—I’m writing W in front of TGW episode numbers and F in front of TGF episode numbers, btw) or her dad who accused his best friend of being a communist (W419) or her husband who she discovered cheated on her, I suppose it’s possible, especially since this scene comes right after a meeting with Lucca. (Also, why would Diane have learned this lesson from Alicia’s betrayal in W722 and not from 40 years of being a lawyer?)

But, it irks me a little that Diane would use Saint Alicia as an example here. If anything, Diane was one of Alicia’s biggest critics throughout TGW’s run, and she was always suspicious of her (she never bought into the Saint Alicia myth!). In W101, Diane believes Alicia’s being entitled and trying to upstage her (Alicia is really attempting to help a client and clumsily moves a little too fast). There’s another season 1 episode where Diane is and remains convinced Alicia’s using SLG to fight Peter’s battles (this thought has not crossed Alicia’s mind). There’s a season two episode where Diane asks Alicia to join her new firm behind Will’s back, and the second Diane finds out Will knows about the new firm, she says that Alicia must’ve told him (Will didn’t know that Alicia knew). Diane befriends Alicia in season 3 in order to discourage her from sleeping with Will. Even in the later seasons, there are episodes like W620, where a misunderstanding is enough for Diane to believe Alicia’s scheming against her, or W703, where an even sillier misunderstanding leads Diane, for the second time in like five episodes, to mistrust Alicia. And that’s not even including the time that, you know, Alicia plotted for months to leave Diane’s firm and take clients with her. But sure. Diane thought Alicia was a saint.

I think what’s happening here is that the Kings thought they’d be cute by referring to Alicia as a saint, because SAINT ALICIA. The problem is that they put those words in Diane’s mouth, and now it sounds like Diane is saying she actually bought into the Saint Alicia crap. But maybe that’s the part of the point. Maybe Diane’s trying to save face just a little bit. After all, it’s easier to admit that you mistakenly believed in the same larger-than-life myth everyone else bought into than it is to admit that you had your suspicions, truly believed you knew someone, and were proven wrong. Ironically, if Diane’s trying to teach Maia that people aren’t always what they seem, she’d be better off telling her the full story.

(Um, also, I’m being a little unfair. Obviously a lot of the reason why Diane would reference Alicia here is that she was hurt—whether she “should have been” or not—by Alicia’s actions. I’m not questioning why Diane would mention Alicia; I’m questioning why she’d use the word saint to describe her own views towards a woman she’s been suspicious of since day one.)

At Reddick/Boseman, the attorneys are having an internal meeting about settlements, and we get our first glimpse of Barbara Kolstad, who would be my new favorite character if I didn’t also love all of the other characters. Barbara asks Lucca for advice on how to handle this. “I think Diane’s got something to prove and she’s out to prove it,” Lucca says. (Oh yeah! In all of my talk about Diane’s reasoning, I forgot to mention that this is her last case and she doesn’t want to lose it. Also, that reminds me that the last time Diane thought she was working her last case, the client fired her and hired Alicia instead. Yes. Diane definitely thought Alicia was a saint.)

Barbara understands what Lucca’s saying. I really like the way Erica Tazel plays Barbara’s thought process—her eyes express everything.

Seriously, I can’t wait to see more from Barbara and Adrian.

Reddick/Boseman is quite obviously the old LGksadjklasjflkahg set after some (minor) renovations. I think, mostly, they just painted, redecorated, and took out the central conference room. I don’t think there’s an in-universe reason they’re in the same space; I think there’s a budget reason.

Lucca has to put on a British accent so Adrian’s call will be put through faster. Haha, it’s just incredible that Lucca has a believable British accent. I don’t know how in the world they came up with that one.

Adrian is amused by Lucca’s fake/real accent, and I’m amused by his amusement. Unamused? Lucca.

Now we’re watching a retirement slide show for Diane. “Good Luck Diane! We’ll miss you!” a slide reads in an ugly font. The narration on the slideshow says that Diane was an assistant district attorney. Wait. So she practiced law somewhere other than Chicago (since it’s ADA and not ASA), and she didn’t start out in a private firm?! Woah. Also, omg, young Diane!

Diane’s many friends congratulate her and joke that if she wants to come out of retirement, they’ll have work for her.

The Rindells appear and briefly talk finances. Hmmm. Then Maia and Amy arrive, and Lenore asks when they’re getting married—they don’t have the Supreme Court excuse anymore. (So, Maia and Amy have been together for a while.)

A photo of Diane and Will pops up the slideshow next, and Diane wistfully stares at it. I’m glad that made it in. <3

Then the party’s over, and… that was fast. I was expecting to spend a whole act there.

Outside in the valet line, Maia’s dad gives her a weird warning about her uncle Jax.

Case stuff happens. Maia notices that there’s a car in the background of the video that has its own camera, so there’s an alternate recording of the events somewhere. What a great thing it is that Maia has enough money to know that! (I kid, I kid. It’s an important find.)

The familiar TGUniverse score is back now, but it sounds a bit more up-tempo and seems to have percussions now. Fine by me.

Maia feels triumphant for a moment, then Lyman mistakes her for a florist again (… ffs, I just wrote “florrist,” with two rs like I’m writing Florrick, because habit), and then she gets a call from Amy, informing her that their apartment is being searched.

Two things of note on the search warrant: one, Maia’s address is listed and it is a bogus address that gives no indication of where in the city she might live, and two, it’s dated 2/24/2017, so TGF takes place a few days ahead of realtime. I expect that TGF will be as bad with timeline as TGW was, so…

Amy tells Maia that the search is connected to Maia’s parents, then gets off the phone to argue with some agents who are trying to tell her what she is and isn’t allowed to do.

Maia calls her dad, who doesn’t pick up: he’s having a drink. Then Diane’s called out of a deposition to talk to her accountant. Uh oh.

Maia arrives at her family’s home just in time to see her dad being taken away in handcuffs. “I didn’t do it, Maia,” he says. “I know,” she replies. But does she? 

Diane hasn’t heard the news yet. She turns on the TV and sees what’s going on: BILLIONAIRE INVESTOR HENRY RINDELL ARRESTED. He ran a Ponzi scheme… and now all of Diane’s retirement money is gone. 

“FUCK,” Diane says when she learns all her savings are gone. That’s a very well deserved inaugural f-bomb, show!

Now it’s time for the credits sequence. At first, they seem like nothing special: cast names in an ugly font and images of objects you’d find in an office. Then the objects BEGIN TO SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST IN SLOW MOTION as the score gets more operatic. I’m not sure I understand, but I’m not sure I need to.

(I don’t associate most of the TGW/TGF score with Alicia—more with the general feel of TGUniverse’s Chicago—but it’s weird to me that the piece of music in the TGF credits is the one from the 6x21 scene where Alicia and Grace turn Zach’s room into a home office. It’s possible they’ve used it before, but it only took me a second to place it. And I’m bad at identifying instrumental music, so I must strongly associate it with Alicia. Weird. 6x21 is an episode so Alicia-centric that when I wrote about it, I suggested that TGW no longer needed most of its non-Alicia series regulars!)

This episode was directed by Brooke Kennedy. I like it when Brooke directs, since she’s the producer most involved with the day-to-day on set. She has a very good understanding of the show’s themes, and she’s usually able to find interesting ways to visualize those themes.

This show was not just created by the Kings: there’s some other dude listed as a creator. I’m not even going to bother to write his name here, because… well, because I haven’t heard much about his role in the creative process, which I take to mean that he was called in to help with the show when it looked like the Kings weren’t going to be involved, and the moment the Kings returned, his level of involvement decreased significantly. I’m curious to know the real story.

Apparently you can see some dude’s bare ass in the first scene of act 2, but it’s so hidden in shadow I’d have to raise my screen’s brightness all the way and really look to see it. And, I’m sorry, CBS, but I really don’t care enough about this guy’s ass to get excited about the nudity.

The naked guy is with Lucca. Lucca’s watching the Rindell scandal unfold on TV. She recognizes Maia and watches carefully.

Maia, Amy, and Lenore wait for the family lawyer to arrive. Maia was on the board of a foundation, which might’ve been a front. Amy realizes this is bad: Maia needs her own lawyer. Lenore tries to convince Maia otherwise, but Maia knows Amy’s right.

Some dude on the news is insisting that Maia must’ve been in on the scheme. As the news plays, Maia showers. Amy joins her and comforts her. I’m excited to get more moments like this from Amy and Maia—not shower scenes, but scenes that show how they support each other from day to day, how well they know each other, and stuff like that.

Diane and her accountant go over the details of her new financial reality. It’s bad. Her money’s gone, even money that wasn’t involved in the fund is at risk (including Kurt’s money; they haven’t divorced yet), and all the charities she’s steered towards the Rindells have also lost their money. The house in France is gone. And Diane can’t even retire. She might not even be able to keep her apartment.

Christine Baranski is amazing. Have I said that yet?

At the next Lockhart Deckler Lee whatever meeting, Diane sits at the head of the table. Brooke positions the camera behind Diane, so we see everyone staring at her. She commanded the room in the earlier scene where she announced her retirement, but here, she’s not the one with the power. And everyone can see right through her speech about not wanting to retire.

Diane’s lost most of her leverage, but not all of it: she can still remind the partners they’re going to lose Cook County’s business without her. The score from W601 beings to play. Not sure why.

In the elevator at work, someone recognizes Maia and begins to yell at her. “I know where you work, you stupid bitch,” he screams. You ruined everything, you stupid bitch, SING WITH ME!

Maia’s new lawyer, Yesha, is waiting for her when she gets off the elevator. Yesha is 25, so Maia doesn’t trust her. Yesha seems capable, but inexperienced, and Maia resents having to get a lawyer at all.

Diane embarks on a quest to find a new job. Might one of her friends that said they’d always have a position open for her be willing to take her on? Everyone thinks she’s looking for an emeritus position. She’s not. And not even her friends have room for her, not now.

Diane gets to say “bullshit” and it feels so natural and appropriate to the moment it was only on rewatch that I processed it as a curse word. I’m glad—and unsurprised—to see that the Kings know how and when to use swear words.

“You’re poison. No firm will hire you,” Diane’s friend, Renee, informs her. Quick! Where’s the nearest desk!? Shove everything off of it!!! Now!!!

After a long and frustrating day, Diane returns home to find Kurt waiting on the stairs outside her home. She invites him in for a drink, and they discuss divorce. “It’s about money. It’s not about us,” she insists. Kurt doesn’t seem to care. Diane says it’s in his lap. Kurt says he didn’t leave her; Diane says that actually, he did—when he slept with Holly. I’m not sure I understand why Diane wouldn’t initiate the divorce? Does she not really want to? Does she not want to accept that it’s over? Does she want Kurt to accept responsibility? Maybe her reasons will become clearer later on. Or maybe she’ll stay married to but estranged from Kurt until season seven and beyond. (Sound familiar?)

Kurt isn’t even sure where they stand now. Honestly, neither am I. Did Kurt really cheat on Diane while they were married?! I still can’t believe that.

At any rate, Kurt still knows how to be there for Diane. She explains her current predicament to him and starts to cry. “How is my life suddenly so fucking meaningless?” Diane wonders. “It isn’t,” Kurt reassures her. I’ve said it before and I have a feeling I’ll be saying it many times over the course of TGF’s run: Christine Baranski is amazing.

I’m rereading this section of my recap, and it just occurred to me that I didn’t even think to comment about what it means for someone as successful as Diane to lose everything she’s known. I think part of the reason my mind didn’t go there is that this screams “NEW SHOW, NEW SCANDAL” instead of “NATURAL PLOT DEVELOPMENT,” but I think I should try to treat it as the latter. Diane’s emotional arc, no matter why it came about, is something that’ll drive this show going forward. For ages, I’ve thought of Diane as a character who works best in a supporting role. She’s well-defined enough to be a lead, but she’s so stable and successful—where’s the story? I can picture her leading a procedural, or a character study drama, but a huge part of her character was that she’d worked so hard, pre-TGW, that aside from firm drama bullshit and ambitions of getting a judgeship, her life was already the way she wanted it to be. She was more captivating than her story arc, if that makes sense. Because of the way the Kings like to write, it makes a lot of sense to me that to promote Diane to lead, they’d want to turn her into an unlikely fish out of water. Now she’s a captivating character with a captivating plot. And better still, a lot of the reason this plot is likely to work is that we know what Diane’s accomplished and how hard she’s worked. When she cries about her life feeling meaningless, we know exactly what meaning she used to find in her life. And, because she was always so stable and self-assured (and well-written!) as a secondary character on TGW, watching her lose everything hits even harder.

Maia’s playing with her rosary ring and lurking in reception, waiting to greet Diane. Diane’s not in a great mood, to say the least.

“We have a little opening right here,” Adrian advises Lucca, observing the icy Maia/Diane interaction. "Go for jugular.” As he says this, from approximately his POV, Maia is literally standing in the opening between two panes of glass.

Case stuff happens. This case is barely there. Lucca makes things personal, and Diane steps out.

Elevator Asshole who called Maia a stupid bitch has returned to complain more about Maia. Dude. It sucks that you lost your money, but you’re a misogynistic asshole who’s hanging around lobbies all day to harass a 25 year old woman at her place of work. You’re pathetic. And scary. And please don’t follow Maia, you creep.

Maia runs into the ladies’ room. Lucca takes care of the creep. He screams he’s going to sue Maia, and Lucca screams at him, “THEN DO IT. BUT RIGHT NOW, FUCK OFF!” YAY LUCCA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I want so much more from Lucca in this series. In the first episode, she’s pretty much just playing lawyer and supportive friend. I’ll have more to say about Lucca in episode two.)

Lucca walks into the bathroom, and Maia scurries into a stall, not sure if whoever opened the door is a friend or a foe. Lucca looks straight into the mirror and gives Maia a pep talk.

“When they see you cry, it makes them happy. So get it out of your system here,” she begins. Maia eyes her through the opening in the stall door—Lucca’s positioned herself where she can easily be seen. And she knows Maia’s watching.

Maia doesn’t understand why Lucca, who’s on the opposing side of the case, would be helping her. So Lucca explains it’s because Maia is the New Alicia. At least, that’s the (not very sub) subtext of her words.

No, but really: why is Lucca helping Maia? Lucca may like to say she’s out for herself, and she speaks with the non-nonsense, hard, strident tone of someone you wouldn’t necessarily want to befriend… but Lucca is actually a really kind person. And she’s not just kind to people she knows or had a reason to be kind to. She’s kind to people who should be her competition. I don’t know if there’s something she finds compelling about victims of scandals (my two examples of “Lucca is a kind person” are Lucca helping Alicia and Lucca helping Maia, and obviously Alicia and Maia have some significant things in common) or if she’s normally the kind who would reach out without realizing what she’s doing, though. I have a feeling she doesn’t do this too often, because anyone that’s constantly looking out for strangers is going to have at least a few friends.

(Which makes me wonder: Lucca helps Alicia right away, but only becomes her friend after months of working with each other and watching Alicia’s 7x13 breakdown. Does Lucca help Maia because she realizes she can help, because she wants to help, or because Maia reminds her of Alicia? Or all three?)

“I had a friend. Went through the same thing. Said it was hell for a few months,” Lucca says. Maia opens the door. Lucca doesn’t turn around the whole time, and when she’s done with her speech, she turns sharply and leaves.

Lucca’s speech is long, at least by the Kings’ standards. It’s also nearly identical to the speech Alicia gives her client in W101. I wish I could appreciate this more as a moment for Lucca, but it just makes me think about Alicia. To her credit, Lucca delivers the speech in a different manner than Alicia does. Alicia manages to be empathetic without getting emotional (which is, I think, why she made such a good handholder for clients—they felt her connecting with them but she still always came across as professional). Lucca is clearly sympathetic to Maia’s situation—she’s giving the speech, after all—but it kinda sounds like she’s trying to keep her tone as impersonal as David Lee’s orientation spiel, with only occasional glances (via the mirror) to let Maia know she’s a friend.  

Diane gets a case related video and it’s bad for her client.

Adrian stops by to see Diane. She seems almost too tired to talk. But then he says something interesting: “I want you to join our firm.” Diane laughs, but Adrian is serious. He offers to let Diane be their diversity hire. Heh.

Why isn’t Adrian afraid of the Rindell scandal? His firm wasn’t affected by it, because the Rindell fund “never invited black folk.”

Adrian offers Diane the opportunity to “fuck them back” for fucking her over. Why do I feel like Adrian is going to be responsible for most of the swearing on this show?

Adrian—whose office really looks like Will’s office, because I’m pretty sure it is—and Barbara fight over the offer Adrian extended to Diane.

Barbara’s concern about Diane is that “she doesn’t know her place. She’s not gonna be happy until she’s in the inner circle.” I’m not sure what new, desperate Diane looks like, but that totally describes the old, confident Diane. You don’t get to be that self-assured and content making big decisions quickly without fully believing you deserve a seat at the table.

(In the TGW Pilot, Diane had a similar suspicion about Alicia—a junior associate who doesn’t think she’s a junior associate—and that was way off base.)

Adrian argues that he and Barbara are also ambitious like that, and ambition is a good thing. Barbara’s point isn’t that ambition is bad, though: it’s that they don’t want “people who are only happy when they’re giving orders.” She calls in Lucca for backup.

Lucca’s dress has a friggin’ cat on it. I love this show’s costume department.

Lucca argues in favor of bringing Diane in because she’s a good lawyer, idealistic, and cunning. Adrian laughs at Barbara’s move backfiring on her. And now Diane’s a junior partner.

Amy is watching a sex tape. Someone’s put some generic lesbian sex tape on TMZ and is claiming it’s Maia and Amy. “This isn’t even us! This person has a tattoo!” Amy exclaims. Maia tells her to ignore it—she’s a quick study.

Diane’s in her office, looking at a picture of her and Will, when Kurt shows up.

Kurt says he doesn’t want a divorce—he “doesn’t want the door to close completely.” Is the door really open, though? “It is closed between us,” Diane states. Kurt gets a bit agitated: “Then divorce me. But I won’t do it.” I’m curious, everyone: why do you think Diane’s insisting that Kurt be the one to initiate a divorce?

“You Were Right About Everything” begins to play again. Maia and Amy are in bed getting ready to go to sleep. “My parents saw the tape,” Amy says. They don’t believe it’s not her, and that breaks my heart a little.

Diane’s back in the Lockhart/Deckler conference room. Like the first partner meeting scene, she’s standing up. She’s in control, announcing her new firm. She walks around the table on her way out, drops the bombshell that they’re going to have to agree to a $6 million payout on the police brutality case, and defiantly exits the room. “Want the door closed?” she says. She leaves before she gets the answer.

David Lee fires Maia, who’s already having a rough day (week). Maia’s returned the folio to Diane, as though to indicate that she’s giving up (Diane said the folio would force her to accomplish something that would make her feel she deserved it). When Diane goes to return it, she sees that Maia’s being fired.

As Maia leaves the firm, Howard stops her to say he’s sorry she was fired; he likes the flowers. Wait, he knows she was fired but still thinks she was in charge of the flowers? Why would that be the case?

As Diane’s packing up her office, she calls Adrian to let him know Maia’s role in the COTW. She suggests that Adrian hire Maia. This is one of those moments that seems innocent enough—Diane’s just trying to help out her goddaughter who’s going through an awful scandal—but when you think about it, Diane’s first act at the predominantly black firm that took her in when no one else would is to get her (formerly) wealthy white goddaughter a job. YMMV on this. It’s not wrong of Diane to make this suggestion, but it’s this kind of thing that, when unchecked, leads to the lack of diversity Geneva called Peter out on in W412.

Maia sits outside of the firm, staring off into space and watching a WALK sign turn to DON’T WALK. I was going to write something about how Alicia also stared at a WALK/DON’T WALK sign when she found out Will died, but apparently my memory has mixed up Alicia’s feelings after Will’s death with a visual from the scene where Prady realizes he’s lost the SA election. Don’t know what happened there. (I think I mixed up the insert of Alicia watching a mother and child cross the street with the WALK/DON’T WALK?) At any rate, the writers have used this before to symbolize an existential crisis. I think it works because it suggests that there should be movement—walk when it says walk; run when the light starts blinking; don’t get stuck at the light for another traffic cycle—when there isn’t any. Maia’s at a standstill, stuck even when she should be moving with urgency.

Diane sees Maia sitting there and approaches with the folio. “You left this,” she says. “Give it to someone who needs it. I’m done,” Maia responds. “No, you’re not. Let’s go,” Diane decides. “Where?” Maia wants to know. “Someplace,” Diane says. “Why?” Maia can’t wrap her head around this. “Because it’s not over yet,” Diane reassures her. No, it’s not. The Good Fight is just beginning.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 1x03-- The Schtup List

I got my recap done early this week, and as I was writing I started to wonder about something. I’ve gotten a bunch of new followers in the last week or so (Hi! Thanks for following!) and I’m not sure if y’all were TGW fans or if you’re new to the franchise. And I’m really curious about that, so, even if you’re not following me or reading my recap beyond this intro paragraph, I’d love messages (anon is fine!) about why you’re watching TGF and how much, if any, of TGW you’ve seen. 

Anyway. Recap is under the cut! 

My favorite thing about the TGF credits is that I don’t have to watch them. Let me explain: for years, I read press releases for every TGW episode, and so I always knew which guest star would pop up when. But CBS isn’t releasing press releases for TGF, so the only way to know who’s going to show up in an episode is to read the credits. On TGW, the credits played over the show, so they were impossible to avoid even if you didn’t already know who would be guest starring. But on TGF, if I just don’t look at the credit sequence until I rewatch the episode, I can actually be surprised when guest stars show up!

In a classic TGW move, we pick up right where we left off: Maia’s parents’ house. It’s awkward. Jax asks Maia how she is like nothing’s wrong. After a pause, Maia says she’s “good” a little too loudly. “Very good,” she adds.

She stares at her mom incredulously. “Glad things are going so well for you, mom,” she snarks as she makes her exit. Lenore follows, protesting that Maia’s misinterpreting what she saw. “My dad is in jail for something he didn’t do, and you’re fucking the man who put him there?” Maia accuses. Woah, harsh, but accurate. I get the sense Maia doesn’t use that word around her mom often, especially not in this sort of context. Also, on TGW she totally would’ve said “banging.”

“Don’t you use that language with me,” Lenore scolds (see! This is why we need All Access! Because the fact that Maia can use the f-word, then be reprimanded by her mother for using inappropriate language, conveys a lot about their dynamic, and you couldn’t do that with “banging.” Maia uses that word on purpose because it’s harsh and crude; she’s angry. Lenore reacts like the parent of a teenager, not the parent of an adult; it’s clear she’s still thinking of Maia as a child and clear she’s the type of person that finds such language inappropriate.)

Maia can’t believe Lenore is policing her language instead of talking about the fact that she is screwing her brother-in-law. Lenore claims it’s to help Henry. Basically, she’s claiming she’s sleeping with Jax to manipulate him or get information. Maia can’t believe that, either.

“You’re telling me you’re doing this for dad?” she sneers. “Okay. Good to know.” Lenore asks Maia not to tell Henry.

I don’t know who to trust here, but I feel bad for Maia.

Once she’s back inside her car, Maia takes a minute to process what she’s seen: “Oh, my God.”

And then, abruptly, we’re in a hospital in Syria watching a surgery. The surgeons are being assisted by an American doctor at Chicago’s Harbor Hospital (I believe that’s the same fictional hospital from TGW’s 1x12, among other episodes).

Barbara gives a rundown of the firm’s finances at a partner meeting. Among other things, she mentions they’re still waiting for a capital contribution from a partner—Diane is still trying to get her money together. Assuming Diane follows through, there’s 8.5 million in profit to be split among the partners. Except for that a big client hasn’t paid their retainer. They’re down 12 million without that retainer. Holy shit, that’s a big client. This means all the equity partners are on the hook for $300,000 more this year. That has to mean they have 11-12 partners and the firm is taking a loss of 3.5 million without the retainer?  Oh my God, why do I always end up caring about these things?

Adrian isn’t worried about the retainer. Diane, on the other hand, is very worried about having the $300,000 she already owed doubled.

Marissa is answering Diane’s phone when a man walks over to her desk. She asks the caller if she “can” take a message, and when she hangs up, the man corrects her: it’s “may I.” “Thanks. May I help you?” Marissa replies. Turns out this man is the investigator, and he’s upset that Marissa found the names for the class action without him. This makes me wonder why Lucca and Maia and Diane didn’t ask the investigator to, since they didn’t know Marissa was looking and needed it in a hurry.

Anyway, the investigator, whose name is Jay, I think, though he hasn’t introduced himself yet, doesn’t want Marissa to keep doing his job for him.

Marissa interrupts the partners’ meeting to tell Diane there’s a doctor on the line for her. He was arrested for terrorism.

Maia meets with her lawyer, Yesha. Maia wants to see her father, but Yesha thinks that’s not wise. “I need to warn him. I think he’s being set up,” Maia explains.

Yesha reluctantly says it’s okay, but she’s going to be there, too. Maia thinks that’s not necessary, but Yesha sees what she can’t: “There will be a moment when you tell a client, ‘for your own good, you have to do what I say.’ This is one of those moments for you.” That’s an excellent way of putting it. Yesha needs to be there so everything’s subject to attorney-client privilege.

Diane finds her doctor client in holding. He explains why he was conducting surgery remotely. Lucca pops up out of nowhere and inserts herself right into the conversation. Diane isn’t pleased, and calls Barbara to ask why she sent Lucca.

A head’s up text would’ve been nice. But…

Barbara sends Lucca because she “has experience in federal court.” To which Diane replies, “Barbara, I was a name partner at the town’s biggest firm.” And that’s exactly Barbara’s point. “Yes, and I’m a name partner at this firm,” Barbara says. “I’m not questioning that,” Diane responds. But you are, aren’t you? You’re on the phone with Barbara when you could be coordinating strategy with Lucca. I get where Diane’s coming from, since Barbara blindsided her with this and sometimes you really do just need one voice to get your point across. But does this really require a phone call from the courtroom?

“Did you sometimes overrule the judgement of junior partners?” Barbara asks.

In fact, she did!!!!! Does anyone else remember the plot in 7x14 (a good TGW ep that’s possibly also the most forgettable episode they’ve ever done) where Diane tried to get Lucca off a case (so Lucca could work on something tedious and unimportant) to prove a point to Alicia about who had the power? And how Diane said she feared Alicia’s “independence and resistance to oversight” upon coming back to the firm as a junior partner? I sided with Diane on that one, because she needed to set a precedent for the working relationship going forward. So I’m going to side with Barbara on this one, for exactly the same reason. (And, if you really want to look into hierarchy: these are both instances where Lucca has to do what she’s asked to do in order to prove a point to someone more senior.)

“So this is a lesson in humility?” Diane wonders. Only partially. Barbara has other reasons, too: the top AUSA, Colin Morello, is on the other side, so it’s a good idea to have two people on the defense.

“Why are you really doing that?” Adrian asks Barbara. “What do you mean? I want them to work together,” Barbara says. “No, Barbara, it’s a power play. I know that sound in your voice when you’ve got some kind of hidden agenda,” Adrian says. Barbara does seem to share her opinions via subtext, which is a character trait that I bet will annoy Diane. It’s not that Diane is always 100% upfront and clear about her intentions (I could write an essay on how she’s not), but Diane’s style does tend to involve coming across as upfront, and I think she responds best to others who are upfront. Or, rather, to others who seem like they’re upfront.

Barbara explains yet another reason to put Lucca on that case: Lucca needs to feel needed. She’s a good employee and Barbara knows Lucca won’t stay put if she feels undervalued. That’s a very smart insight into Lucca, whose confidence never seems to waver, and who would totally quit a job she wasn’t satisfied with. Lucca used to work in bond court and never loved the idea of a big law firm, anyway. She’ll bolt if she’s not respected… and she already lost her office to Diane.

And I don’t even think Barbara knows that Lucca’s the one who destroyed* Diane’s marriage in court!

*made the destruction public; Lucca didn’t make Kurt fuck Holly.

“That’s the thing about power. You got to take it from somebody to give it to somebody else,” Adrian says. “Thank you, Sun Tzu,” Barbara replies, unimpressed. Is it really that bad of an idea for Barbara to make a power play now? What happens to her firm down the line if she doesn’t set the tone now? Diane’s already brought over two more white people without recognizing her own biases… and last week, Diane hired Marissa right after a conversation with Barbara about racial hiring. Barbara built a firm with her own ideas for its culture and purpose and place in the landscape; Diane’s (unchecked) presence is a threat to all of Barbara’s hard work (and to the people that are helped by the firm she helped to build).

“Barbara. Be nice to Diane. Don’t rule it over her like that, huh?” Adrian warns patronizingly. Why? Why should Barbara be “nice” to Diane? Barbara didn’t know Diane was being asked to join, and her name’s on the letterhead! And Barbara is not being mean to Diane or hazing her or anything like that or even continuously doing this. She is setting a tone.

I swear, if Adrian had said “are you jealous?” which, tbh, feels like the natural extension of his tone/line there, I would be ranting in all caps right now. I mean, how dare Barbara feel threatened by her partner making decisions without her and then telling her she just needs to be nice? 

“Do I question your leadership?” Barbara responds. “All the time,” Adrian says. They both laugh. “Okay. I’ll behave,” Barbara promises.

(I don’t mean to say Barbara’s fully in the right here, because I think she could’ve made her point without having Lucca surprise Diane in court. A simple, “Diane, I want Lucca on this with you,” would’ve made the same point.)

Court stuff happens. Diane and Lucca both respond at the same time to something Colin Morello, our only white male series regular (whom @fle has thus named “Token”) says. Guys, work together.

This case is really interesting, but I’m not spending my time recapping it. (I really don’t know how many new readers I have for these things, but I usually like to ignore the cases and focus on the characters. Sometimes, a case will set me off—usually if they make an argument that doesn’t make sense or if they touch on a subject I know enough about to have opinions on—and I’ll talk about it, but mostly, I’ll just say, “Case stuff happens.”

Adrian and Barbara are trying to get the missing $12 million, and so they meet with the client at their new executive dining room. Obviously, the problem isn’t that they’re lacking in money. The client is a little evasive. The board might want to go a different direction, now that there’s a new administration. They might be going with a different minority owned business now.

The client knows that elevators are awkward and doesn’t get in with Barbara and Adrian. (Okay, no, the real reason he doesn’t get in is that he has another lunch meeting.)

“It’s what I said against Trump. I spoke at a rally,” Barbara determines. (Yay, Barbara!) Adrian thinks that’s not it, then gets an idea. He goes back up to the dining room, and sure enough, there’s the client, meeting with the head of another minority-owned law firm.

According to Investigator Jay, the other law firm is small, just 12 lawyers, and it’s moved from D.C. Its founder ran a Trump PAC.

“Wow. So we’re going bankrupt because we didn’t pander to Trump,” Adrian realizes. I wonder if this is actually playing out anywhere.

Case stuff happens. The scene where the doctor is surrounded by men in suits and taken into custody looks like something that could’ve happened on BrainDead. Space bugs!

Even though we already know that Yesha’s going to be with Maia when she visits her father, director Marta Cunningham cleverly underlines how intrusive the presence of lawyers is in this personal moment. First, we see only Maia. Then we see Henry, who looks uncomfortable. It’s only then we get a medium-long shot of the room, establishing that Yesha’s sitting right next to Maia.

And the trick works again. Henry responds to Maia, then Maia’s the one looking uncomfortable, and then we’re clued in to what the characters already know: Henry also brought his lawyer.

This makes conversation impossible, but Henry does manage to mention that Lenore stopped by earlier that morning. That worries Maia, and she wants more information. But Lenore didn’t share anything unexpected.

Maia weighs how to proceed. “Do you really think that mom is helping you?” Maia asks. “Helping me with…?” Henry responds. “Well, is she staying by you, or, you know, is she standing by… Jax?” Maia rephrases. Henry doesn’t understand why that would be the case. She’s trying to convey that there’s reason to be suspicious, and everyone in the room picks up on it.

“We should end this,” Henry says. Maia doesn’t understand, but then she gets it: Her dad hugs her, and before the lawyers can stop him, he whispers some information to Maia.

Maia refuses to pass the information on to Yesha—and she doesn’t even hide that there’s information. Yesha reminds her that there’s no child-parent privilege. But Maia’s made her mind up anyway.

RBK needs to look less liberal, which means they need a Trump voter. But, LOL, they’re having trouble finding one.

Case stuff happens. Diane wants to take the lead, but Lucca thinks she’s in a better position to argue against Colin. Diane notices Lucca’s effect on Colin, and says Lucca can go first. Hey, team work! (I would’ve loved a little more from Diane in this episode, specifically more about Diane’s working relationship with Lucca. Is there any bad blood between them after 7x22? Or does Diane mostly fault Alicia for that?)

Diane calls Marissa and asks her to find a witness from the Medical Licensing Board. Marissa starts to ask questions to clarify, but decides to just do it herself. Is it bad that my first thought upon watching this scene was, “I bet if Diane had hired one of the candidates Barbara found, they’d know how to take care of this request”? (Marissa can and will learn, of course.)

Because it’s urgent, Marissa rushes to find someone else to help. Maia notices her rushing around and asks her what she needs. Marissa needs Jay; Maia doesn’t know who he is. “He’s about this tall, black,” Marissa describes. “That’s not very helpful, is it?” she realizes. No, it’s not, and also, you couldn’t describe his fashion or his hair style?

Marissa volunteers to help Maia whenever Diane’s out. “What are you doing at 4?” Maia asks.

Marissa barges into a meeting to find Jay. She says she was needed to do something investigative, and Jay asked her to let him know if that happened. This doesn’t sound like an investigative task to me, since Diane would’ve, you know, asked an investigator to do this if it were, but Marissa’s new and Jay can help, so, sure.

RBK has 80 lawyers and 50 staff, if you were curious, which I definitely was. None of them voted for Trump. Or, as Barbara points out, none of them were willing to admit it. Wouldn’t surprise me if it really were the former. But it’s not. See, Julius Cain voted Trump. “Seriously?” Barbara can’t believe it. But she’s more focused on the goal than surprised by this revelation, and says Julius will pitch for them. Julius worries about being ostracized and isolated. Well, I mean, do unto others as you would have others do unto you, right? And we know who you voted for and the policies he supports. (Normally I’d say people shouldn’t be looked at differently because of their political beliefs. This past election has me reconsidering that, especially since I know Julius isn’t ignorant or misinformed.)

“Kanye voted for Trump,” Barbara tries to comfort Julius. “No, he didn’t. He said he would have if he did vote,” Julius feels the need to clarify. Barbara promises only she and Adrian will know. But that doesn’t feel true.

“Really? Did he say why?” Adrian asks when he hears the news. “Conservative politics,” Barbara explains. I’ve seen some people say this episode doesn’t do enough to explain why Julius would’ve made that choice, and while I agree the episode could’ve gone a lot deeper, I’m also amused by everyone’s reactions. I imagine Julius was one of those people who assumed we’d just get a conservative administration that functioned like most other conservative administrations. How’d that work out?

Adrian makes the same comment about Kanye. Heh.

Barbara and Adrian both realize that Julius will be ostracized because of this no matter what.  

Lucca’s in a hurry—too much of a hurry to get a burger. Luckily for her, Colin is already eating a burger and offers her half. She has to take it because they don’t have much time.

Colin taunts her about the case. A blonde lawyer wearing way more makeup than characters on this show usually wear in court walks past and whispers in Colin’s ear. Lucca teases him about it, and about his general “cute little metrosexual thing; the ‘oh my god the law is just something I stumbled into,’ shit-eating grin” thing.

Lucca doesn’t eat half of her half of the burger, but she takes a few of Colin’s fries and leaves.

Court stuff happens. Marissa arrives with a witness. Diane thanks her, and Marissa tries to explain that Jay found her. Diane doesn’t have time to listen. “Okay,” Marissa says to herself. I hope that means she’ll mention it again later, especially if Diane tries to praise her again.

There are lots of images of clocks in this episode to underline the time constraint. Thanks for reminding me I can’t read analog clocks as quickly as I should be able to, show!

Maia goes to visit Jax. They make a bit of small talk before Maia says she’s looking for answers. “How’s that not the truth?” Maia says when Jax recaps Henry’s “lies.” “You know the truth, Maia. You watched your parents all those years,” Jax tells her. He explains that Henry got lucky and didn’t want to be seen as anything other than incredible, so he got a scheme going. I don’t know who to believe, but so far, Jax definitely seems like the least trustworthy person here. He’s so eager to tell his version of events, and he’s sleeping with his brother’s wife while his brother is in prison.

“Why are you sleeping with my mom?” Maia asks when Jax finishes recounting his version of events. Jax denies it, so Maia spits, “Fuck you.” Heh.

Then the phone rings. Maia tells Jax to answer it—she’s not going anywhere. He falls right into her trap, and she rushes to his computer (which Henry gave her the password for) while he takes the call. The call is from Marissa—that’s what Maia needed at 4:00—and it’s not about anything important. Marissa uses the word “regarding” a ton of times in a few sentences, then gets Jax to write down an “important” message.

Meanwhile, Maia finds what she’s looking for: Jax’s “Schtup List.” So, question: if Henry knows Jax’s password and what’s on Jax’s computer, how can we be sure that Henry didn’t put this on Jax’s computer to frame him?

Now Jay has to go to Marissa, because the family of the patient in the COTW won’t talk to him but they will talk to a white girl.

Jax finally hangs up, but Maia’s done before he notices. She leaves abruptly.

While Maia’s plan to distract Jax was smart, I’m not so sure the whole digging-around-on-Jax’s-computer thing was a good move. I know it’s family, but at what point will she doubt her father? She could’ve just put herself in a very bad situation. I don’t know if I should admire her commitment to her family or worry that she’s setting herself up for a legal disaster. Possibly both.

Adrian still can’t believe Julius voted for Trump. I sort of can. At least, I can believe that of all of the characters on the show in this episode, excluding the client and the rival firm owner, Julius is the most likely to have voted for him.

Case stuff happens and Marissa helps out.

Case stuff happens in court.

Get some digital clocks, show, dammit!

Diane and Lucca sort of win in court. They sort of shake hands, sort of hold hands; it’s sweet. I just wish there’d been a little more time to look at their dynamic. The tension faded so quickly the resolution feels… not undeserved, because I don’t want to overstate how much tension there was, but perhaps underdeveloped.  

The partners applaud Julius for getting their twelve million back. He’s happy, but then he goes back to his office and finds the rival firm’s leader, Andrew Hart.  Hart reminds him that from now on, no one will want to talk to Julius at RBK. He drops off his card, just in case. Gah, we’re not already doing partnership musical chairs, are we?! Not even three full episodes of peace?!

Lucca meets Colin for drinks. He tells her she did a good job and they flirt. Lucca says he’s not her type, so she’ll pick someone out for him. That’s not flirty at all, nope. 

Colin takes a call, and Lucca notices the TV in the bar showing a news story about Syria. Turns out she didn’t win. The patient died anyway, along with those in the operating room with him, because the government was trying to lure the patient’s brother, a known terrorist, to a location they could easily attack. Damn. Colin didn’t know it was a set-up, either.  

(Note that TGF’s win/loss record is currently 2-1, but both wins are complicated. The first episode is a loss for Diane and Maia, but it becomes a win because they switch sides. The second episode is just a loss. The third is a win that’s really a loss. I’ve tried to track win/loss records for TGW before, and it always ends up looking like this. I believe TGW’s first three episodes are: win, loss but there’s justice for the victim (it just doesn’t help the firm), favorable plea.

Maia takes the schtup list to her dad, no lawyers present. “What is it?” Maia asks. WAIT, you took your dad, who is in prison, information you downloaded off of someone else’s computer, and took it to him without knowing what it was or asking more questions before you handed it over?!

Maia only finds out once the information’s in her father’s hands that it might also implicate her mom. That’s fun!

I’m curious to know how these early decisions of Maia’s will play out. I hope I’m just being cynical and she’s right to trust her father. (Though I fear that right now, she’s trusting her father more than she usually would out of anger over what she witnessed her mom and Jax doing!) And I hope that, if that’s the case, no one else uses this against her. Maia’s obviously in the dark about the actual scheme, but if she keeps doing stuff like this, someone could very easily paint a picture that makes her look guilty.

Maybe next week we’ll get more Diane and more of Maia’s personal life? I’d really love to see more about who Maia is when she’s not caught up in the conspiracy drama.  

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts-- 1x02: First Week

Thoughts on 1x02 under the cut! 

(I did it! I recapped two episodes in one week!)

First Week takes advantage of its ability to swear from the very start: “Bitch. Fucking bitch. I know where you live,” a man says angrily. This delightful (by which I mean vile) message is on Maia’s personal cell phone. She’s listening in the elevator on the way to work, and it’s evident, watching her reactions, that this is getting to her. Phone Twitter Egg #1 then promises to rape both Maia and Amy (though he doesn’t refer to Amy by name, instead choosing to use a slur). Maia moves on to the next message, which starts off well enough: “Hi. Good morning.” Maia relaxes for a split second, before Phone Twitter Egg #2 spits, “fuck you.” Maia tenses again, then scrolls through her voicemail. It’s full of unknown numbers leaving multiple messages a minute, presumably all like the two we’ve heard.

This opening makes me appreciate that TGF is on All Access. The writers don’t have to dance around the language that most directly and concisely makes their point, and they don’t have to sub in words (think about how the TGW characters always had to say “banging” when you could totally tell they wanted to say “fucking”). Do we need to hear this abusive language to understand what’s going on? No. But there’s something about how explicit it is—and I mean explicit both in the sense of “clear” and the sense of “R-rated”--  that shows exactly what Maia’s up against.

On a different note, is Reddick/Boseman supposed to be literal LGjhahagkjashfl? They didn’t even try to make the elevator look different.

Maia tells the receptionist it’s her first day and she’s not sure where to go. The receptionist holds up a finger, telling her to wait, so she looks at a stack of copies of the Cook County Vindicator instead. I wonder when this insert was filmed, because there’s a headline that says “TRUMP POLICIES FACE PUSHBACK FROM CIVIL RIGHTS GROUPS.” It begins “Less than two months after being sworn in […] Trump is facing the fiercest opposition to the implementation of his new his immigration policies...” I’m pretty sure, since it says less than two months and this happened in reality less than one month in, this wasn’t added in later. I mean, it’s a predictable headline, but, uhhhhh.

The part of the paper relevant to this ep is a small story barely above the fold about the Rindell scheme.

Omg, wait, there’s a shot of Maia with the paper and it is formatted differently. The headline is still the same, but I don’t know about the body of the story. So something definitely happened here.

Anyway, Maia’s not able to read the rest of the article because someone’s ready for her: Julius Cain, who is no longer at LG’s New York Office.

Julius informs Maia that they have 55 associates and 40 workstations, so you just sit down at whatever desk is free and can’t keep anything with you there. Oh man, I would hate that so much. They’re really small desks, too.

Maia has her first assignment already, too. She’s going to the SWSMU offices at 10. It’s a union they represent, and they have to do pro-bono work for them for appearances, essentially.

First days of work are difficult enough without unknown numbers threatening to cut your tits off. I feel terrible for Maia. (I love the little flashes of anger on Maia’s face as she reads/listens to these words.)

While Maia’s trying to harden herself against harassment, Diane is staring off into space in the parking lot as she gets more disappointing news: Lockhart/Deckler is withholding her capital contribution, so the only money she has for the buy-in at Reddick/Boseman is the money she’d get if she sold her department. And she’s not willing to do that. So maybe, her accountant suggests, her new partners will offer her a loan.

Diane looks at Barbara, who’s exiting her car at that exact moment. Diane knows exactly how that conversation would go.

Next, Lucca arrives at work. She exits the elevator, nods at a colleague (she’s been here for months), and finds Julius in her office. She’s being moved from her office to make room for Diane. Her new office is right near the men’s bathroom… and the bathroom door opens straight into the (glass, of course it’s glass, did you think for a minute they’d give that up?) wall of her office. This is going to be a recurring gag like Eli’s tiny office, isn’t it?

Lucca also has to go to the SWSMU. She complains that she did it last month, but Julius doesn’t let her out of it.

Adrian arrives next. He jokes around with the valet and his secretary, which gives me a very good sense of his personality. He throws his keys to the valet, and asks him how the college search is coming. He’s playful, but not in a way that’s disrespectful of others.

Next, he talks to his secretary about the case from 1x01. They’ve officially won. And, his secretary alerts him, Diane is already meeting with Barbara.

In Barbara’s office (which is the one I thought, in 1x01, belonged to Adrian, but in any case is still Will Gardner’s office), Barbara tells Diane she heard her speak at an ABA conference. “Oh, yes, on racial hiring,” Diane recalls. “That’s right,” Barbara says. She doesn’t elaborate, and Diane understands: “Oh. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much.” Barbara doesn’t reassure Diane (and why should she?): “Hmm. Not too much.” Diane laughs to move the conversation along, but they both know Barbara wasn’t joking.

Yeah. That’s definitely Will’s office. See the door to his private bathroom of Willicia sexytimes?

Adrian enters before things can get any tenser between Diane and Barbara. Adrian has a gift—a nice bottle of wine—for Diane. It’s from his own row of vines.

Barbara mentions that they’ll need Diane’s capital contribution by next week. Diane tries to spin the situation with the old firm, telling them she’d appreciate their patience. Adrian says it’s fine, because he’s dealt with David Lee, and tells her she needs to be in on a meeting at 11 with litigation financiers.

Diane exits, and Barbara asks Adrian, “And how patient are we to be?” “Let’s give her two weeks,” Adrian replies. Their dynamic reminds me a lot of season 1 Will and Diane. Definitely not the same, but the sense of partners who have very different ideas about how to approach situations and what they’re trying to accomplish.

Marissa is plugging in Diane’s computer when she gets to her office. “Are you from Lockhart/Deckler?” she asks, not recognizing Marissa (who’s under a desk). “Lee, Deckler…,” Marissa begins to recite. No more Lockhart! When Marissa pops up from under the desk, Diane recognizes her. Marissa wants to help as much as she can, because if she goes back to Lee/Deckler, she’ll just be sent out on another errand.

“When Alicia hired me, I was supposed to be involved in cases and everything, but it’s been all moving boxes since she left,” Marissa explains. How did I miss an Alicia reference the first time through!? I just deleted a whole thing about how I don’t understand how Marissa got a job at Lockhart/Deckler when she was always in Alicia’s universe and… this makes so much sense. Though, it also means that Alicia would’ve had to have hired Marissa in late season 7 of TGW, right? But we didn’t see that happen. Or does it mean that Alicia stuck around for a little bit even after 7x22? Whatever. The important thing is that it makes a lot of sense that Alicia hired Marissa.

Unpacking a box, Marissa holds up the Diane/HRC photo. “Still want this?” she asks dryly. “Definitely,” Diane replies. WHY WOULDN’T SHE, MARISSA?

Racist as fuck David Lee sent Diane a box of African masks to take to her new firm. A perfect moment for Barbara to walk in—she definitely sees the masks. Barbara mentions that Diane will need an assistant and candidates are coming in today. As soon as Barbara’s out of earshot, Marissa starts angling for the assistant job. She says she doesn’t have a resume, but wants to be hired for a day as a trial.

At the union, Lucca is sort of in charge. Everyone else is there to give 20 minute max consultations. Their purpose isn’t to find new business, it’s to refer people to other resources. Which is a nice way of saying that maybe they’ll help a few people, but mostly it’ll look good.

“You’re the ‘door close’ button in the elevator. Comforting, but not necessarily effective,” Julius explains. I like that analogy. (Also, of course it’s an analogy about elevators. How long ‘til TGF’s first elevator makeout sesh?)

Case stuff happens, and we get a sense of how this type of legal work plays out. Maia’s not sure how to accomplish what Julius instructed her to do. “I’m not really supposed to help…” she tells one woman. The woman then asks, “Then why are you here? If you can’t help, why are you here?” Maia doesn’t have an answer.

Lucca surveys the room and notices that Maia’s line is longer than anyone else’s. She glances at the other lawyers, and it’s obvious why Maia has the longest line: she’s the only white lawyer. “Oh, come on,” Lucca says to herself.

Lucca tries to convince a white man in Maia’s line (the line behind Maia isn’t entirely white, btw—I think this scene is about both people assuming that a white lawyer would be more knowledgeable or better just because she’s white AND racist white people being comfortable around other white people) to come with her instead. He isn’t interested. Lucca tells him she’s a third year associate and Maia just passed the bar, and he won’t budge. She moves on to the next man.  

The case of the week begins with Maia talking to a man who’s been accused of stealing product and had his wages garnished. He wants his wages to be garnished less, but Maia wonders why her wages are being garnished at all. He signed a confession.

Maia takes it to Lucca. It was a forced confession. There’s arbitration that afternoon, and Maia wants to go to help him out. Lucca tries to talk her down, but Maia asks again. Lucca, sensing that Maia could use a win/a distraction from her own problems (Lucca doesn’t know it, but Maia’s still getting those messages.)

Lucca also asks if Maia’s doing okay, and Maia says that for the first time in a while, yes. “It’s good when you can focus on someone else’s problem,” Lucca says. Maia smiles in agreement. “First place I’ve been I wasn’t recognized,” Maia comments.

The meeting with the litigation financers—two dudes who run cases through an algorithm, which is a thing so Kings-y it must actually exist (it does: http://www.newyorker.com/business/currency/what-litigation-finance-is-really-about) – is going on over at RBK. (Heh. I am reading that New Yorker article now, and guess what ad I was served? Yep. An ad for TGF.)

The RBK conference room is Diane’s LG office. Seriously, they didn’t even change out the window backdrops.

Marissa calls Diane out of the meeting to meet with Lenore, Maia’s mother. I think Diane’s office is one of the 27th floor offices, maybe Alicia’s old one. Those windows look really familiar.

Lenore is trying to get to Maia through Diane. Diane doesn’t want to do anything to help Lenore—doesn’t Lenore see how much she’s hurt Diane? Lenore insists it was all Jax. But Diane doesn’t believe that: she asked about the money for the house, and they told her to keep it in the fund! Yup. Not sure if I noted it last ep or not, but definitely thought it was fishy Henry was being so pushy about Diane not buying the Provence house…

Lenore says she’s innocent and wants to know why Diane’s treating her like she’s not. Uh, maybe for the reason she just gave you? Maybe because it was your responsibility to know if there was a scheme going on, even if it wasn’t yours?

Finally, Diane agrees to tell Maia that Lenore stopped by. Satisfied, Lenore begins to leave, then mentions that it would also be great if Diane could visit Henry in prison. Since Henry is Diane’s oldest friend (interesting that she’s friends with Henry more than Lenore—I want more backstory!), Lenore wants her to visit and maybe give legal advice. Diane considers.

Arbitration takes place in the mall where Client of the Week, Frank, works. 

Maia begins to make an argument, and no one else in the room takes it as seriously as she does. Then Lucca pops in as “an observer from the union.” More like “moral support for Maia.” (And Lucca might be thinking this could lead to bigger things.)

The arbiter decides against Frank, and Lucca provides Maia with another argument to make. She came prepared. (Lucca’s so good and so quick on her toes. I bet she’ll be moving up the ranks quickly. She deserves to.)

Diane does, in fact, decide to visit Henry (whom she calls Hank) in prison. It’s hard to see him in an orange jumpsuit.

They end up talking about the case. Henry also mentions they went to college together. But WHERE? “I’m telling you the truth,” Henry insists.

Henry explains that it’s all Jax’s fault and his lawyer won’t use that as a defense strategy. Henry wants Diane to represent him, and she says no—he needs someone objective. About time someone on this show realized that! What in the hell was Diane doing representing Peter Florrick in season 7?!?!?!?! On a case that involved her husband?!?! #StillBitter about how bad that trial arc was. It’s amazing I’m this bitter considering that I was never even invested in that arc!

Henry accepts that and asks about Maia. “She’s gonna blow us all away,” he says proudly. Diane wants Maia to stay away from her parents until the scandal gets sorted out, and Henry decides to mention that Lenore “doesn’t have years” because her breast cancer is back. This turns out not to be true, so I’m not sure who’s playing whom, but I don’t trust Maia’s parents. I especially don’t trust her mom, but I don’t think we’re supposed to.

Diane passes the information onto Maia, as Henry had to have known she would.

Meeting with the partners, Julius is furious that Lucca took on the COTW. Lucca makes the case for her actions, and Julius thinks it’s about her losing her office to a partner. That’s news to Diane. Lucca says it’s about a good case.

Meanwhile, Maia is doing her idea of working, which is calling Amy to ask a question that’s easily Googled. I mean ChumHummed. Amy even tells her to go look it up online when Maia asks for more information. I’m really not sure why Maia had to call Amy during the work day with a work question. I’m also not sure why this seems to have gotten under my skin.

Lucca brings Maia the bad news, but then reconsiders and tells her to go ahead anyway—on their own time. They’re going to attend a seminar on the method of questioning that was used to get their client to confess.

It’s total bullshit, as one would expect. Maia listens attentively, while Lucca doesn’t buy it for a second. I know why Maia’s tempted to believe in this—she wants to know if her parents are lying!—but I’m with Lucca on this one. She notes that since this method is about anxiety, not guilt/innocence, it’s an unreliable indicator of guilt. Who wouldn’t be anxious? Bingo. Maia wants to know if the same thing holds true if there’s no reason to be anxious (she’s not thinking about the case now). Lucca thinks people have tells but…

She doesn’t get to finish that thought, because she looks at the name tags of the fellow seminar attendees, and realizes they’re mostly middle managers at stores just like the one Frank works at. Now THERE’S a case.

“This is a massive class action,” she tells the partners the next day. Now, the partners are in favor of it and tell Lucca to go certify a class.

An aspect of TGF that I’m very excited about is the hierarchy at RBK. One thing that always strikes me as a smart structural choice when I rewatch season 1 of TGW is that Alicia and Cary feel like first year associates. There’s tension inherent in that, plus there’s the competition between them. They have less room for error, a lot to learn, and they have to take orders. As TGW goes on, Alicia takes on more responsibility at work and becomes more important to the firm, even becoming a partner. When she and Cary go out on their own, they both become name partners, and from then on, all the leads who are lawyers are of equal rank. The conflicts are different at that level—scheming and backstabbing instead of trying to navigate a workplace hierarchy. I have to wonder if losing the hierarchy was part of what led to the firm nonsense in the later seasons of TGW.

TGF is set up differently. Instead of having two first year associates and two name partners as the regulars, we have: an assistant, a first year associate, a third year associate, a junior partner, and two name partners. Each character has a unique position, and thus unique expectations/goals/responsibilities/concerns, and I’m hoping this structure organically translates into tensions—and then plots—for the characters.

Diane encourages Adrian and Barbara to keep Maia on the case now that it’s a big deal. Adrian agrees, because everyone hating her is a great way to mold a fighter.

In reception, three black women wait to interview for the assistant job. “There may not even be a job here, I just want to warn you,” Marissa tells them. Oh my God, Marissa. Do you even know how that came across?!?!?!? Do you know how rude and clueless and privileged you’re being?!  

Marissa senses that, if she wants to be Diane’s assistant, she’s going to need to help out in a big way. She asks Maia and Lucca what the case is, and isn’t she in luck? It’s about retail workers. And what was Marissa doing last year? Working at a mall, making friends with lots of retail workers. Marissa may be a little obnoxious, but she is resourceful (which doesn’t excuse the cluelessness/obnoxiousness). And not just resourceful: she’s also good at talking to people, persistent, and comfortable in situations most people would avoid.

The head of the union is mad about the class. Now they need to find a new financer, so back to the algorithm boys we go!

Is it typical to use the first person who signs up for a class action as the test case? And to move this quickly? I would think you’d want to independently vet the test case as carefully as possible before deciding?

Algorithm boys don’t want to go for it because they don’t like the judge assigned to the case. “Your algorithm’s not taking into account that I’m a fucking good lawyer,” Adrian responds. Otherwise, the algorithm likes the case, so Adrian says he’s going to get a new judge.

“We’re going to court. Fuck the union,” Adrian declares, walking into Diane’s office. He points at Maia and tells her she’s second chair.

They’re having trouble finding people for the class, and at the moment Maia and Diane tell Adrian, Marissa appears with a list of people who are on board. “And there are two more people here to be interviewed,” she says, knowing she just got herself the job. “Who was that?” Adrian asks. “My new assistant,” Diane decides.

In court, Adrian asks the judge to recuse himself. Why? Because he lost money in the Rindell fund, and Maia’s second chair.

The judge recuses himself, and now Abernathy is presiding. Fun bit of trivia: Abernathy’s first episode was W1x02. Now he’s in F1x02. His quirk in this episode is that he has to wear his prescription sunglasses.

Opposing counsel is Andrea Stevens, the woman who kept telling Lucca she loved her hair in TGW season 7.

Case stuff happens! It goes well for Lucca et al.

“Good to see you’re still at it,” Andrea tells Lucca after court. How condescending. Why wouldn’t Lucca still be at it?

“It’s, uh, Mia, right?” Andrea says to Maia, damn well knowing Maia’s name.

Andrea wants to talk to Lucca sometime. Lucca says they can talk now. Lucca assumes it’ll be a settlement offer, but Andrea just wants to know where Lucca gets her haircut. Andrea makes me so uncomfortable. She’s so fake.

Oh no, I just noticed that Maia’s phone says it’s March 9th. I’m kind of tempted to go back to the earlier scenes and see if the timeline matches, but… I’m good.

“It was just a scare,” Lenore tells Maia when they finally talk. Of course it was.

Maia tries to interrogate her mom. The shot gets tighter and tighter (on both Lenore and Maia) as they talk—Maia’s definitely trying to apply that interrogation method she learned about. But it’s inconclusive.

Later, Maia and Amy are in bed together. Amy plays with Maia’s hair as Maia talks about her conversation with her mom. “I don’t know if she’s lying or not,” Maia says. “About the cancer?” Amy wonders. “No, about the fund,” Maia clarifies.

“We were always the boring family. All my friends, their parents were divorcing or having affairs, and I used to lie about mom and dad fighting so that I wouldn’t seem so weird. And now… it’s like we’re paying for all those years of happiness,” Maia explains. I was just watching Robert King talk about this scene, and it’s interesting to me that he puts some of the blame on Maia for not sensing it earlier. Were they really happy, or was she just content to think they were? How much has her privilege allowed her to keep her eyes shut and not question the world around her?

Maia and Amy are great together. I can’t wait to learn more about Amy. She seems like she’s a bit older than Maia. How long have they been together? Who pays for that lovely apartment? When did they move in together?

Case stuff happens.

Maia’s so nervous at first in court. She speaks haltingly and quietly. Then, when she’s asked to speak up, she speaks too loudly. I feel you, Maia.

Barbara notices that Marissa is acting as Diane’s assistant. “Diane. You didn’t like any of the applicants?” Barbara wonders. “It’s just that I know Marissa,” Diane explains. We, of course, understand why Marissa is a tempting pick for Diane: she’s familiar, reliable, and just saved their ass on this case. Those are good reasons to hire someone. But Marissa’s also white, probably unqualified for this job (did she even go to college?), and the daughter of a well-known campaign manager. It’s the same thing that happened with Maia last week, but now it’s looking like a pattern. Diane is the only white person at RBK, and she immediately begins to bring more white people over, just as Barbara suspected she would.

Andrea Stevens makes a settlement offer for Frank, but it’s only good if they drop the class. As Andrea leaves, Lucca calls after her. “I have an answer for you now,” she says. Playing Andrea’s game, she proceeds to hand her the number for her hair stylist.

The algorithm boys don’t want to take the settlement. This turns out to be a bad move, because… Frank has a history of stealing from employers.

“I hate losing,” Maia says after court. She’s also confused because she thought Frank was telling the truth. “Maybe he was. About the running shoes,” Diane theorizes. “You know people can lie and still be telling the truth. Nobody’s 100% of any one thing,” Diane continues. I like this advice more than her advice from last week.

“My mom lied about her cancer,” Maia confides in Diane. “It was a scare. It wasn’t real. She just wanted to see me.”

“She’s lonely,” Diane explains. “People get desperate when they’re lonely. You should go see her.”

Maia takes Diane’s advice, but maybe she shouldn’t have, because when she gets to her family home, she finds her mom in a nightgown (one of those nightgowns that look so much like lingerie I wonder if anyone actually wears them). Lenore suggests breakfast the next morning, and tries to rush Maia out. Maia asks whose car is parked outside, and Lenore lies. Then Jax—Maia’s uncle—walks in. Uh oh.

I’d be more invested in this cliffhanger if I ever cared about these ongoing arcs.  

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 7x01-- Bond

My thoughts on 7x01 are under the cut. If you’ve read my recaps before, you know I write a lot. Like, a lot a lot. That hasn’t changed. I go scene by scene and try to address everything, and that means there’s a lot of text. If you’re reading this, first, thank you, and second, feel free to skip around. 

The first image of season seven is a man being arrested. Louis Canning is nowhere in sight (and neither is Alicia Florrick). The writers use the opening of season seven to distinguish it from season six. Every season but season three has emphasized continuity, picking up exactly where the one before left off (the ringing phone, the knock at Kalinda’s door, the formation of Florrick/Agos (RIP), the State’s Attorney question), and nothing’s left immediately unresolved by the season two finale (its last shot is a closing door). The final scene of season six posed a question and seemed to demand an answer. It was the last image we see before months of hiatus, the hook meant to bring us back for another season. Will Alicia partner with Canning? The answer we’ve been waiting for is… that men are arrested by the police.

The opening sequence shows dozens of men being arrested (often violently), and it’s unclear what we’re watching at first: is it an episode of Darkness at Noon? (Sadly, no.) Evidence being used in court? (No.) The arrest footage gives way to the lights turning on in bond court, a monitor displaying arrest records, thick stacks of paper, and the same arrestees walking into the court room. The sequence establishes where the show is now: bond court. TGW is starting over, walking back some of season six’s moves, and getting the audience acquainted with a new environment. By the time Alicia walks in (I’m getting there!), the answer to Canning’s question is implicit: she didn’t wanna partner.

But before we see Alicia, we see three bar attorneys, talking, texting, waiting. Two are men in very ordinary suits, and the third (in the center) is new series regular Lucca Quinn, in a black and pink plaid dress. We see Lucca at work, understanding the intricacies of bond court, holding her own, and making astute observations. She’s in her element; she’s one to watch.

It’s only after we meet Lucca that we see Alicia. Alicia walks into bond court a bit nervous, eyes down. “Is that...?” one of the bar attorneys remarks. “Yeah,” Lucca confirms. “What’s she doing here?” he wonders. “She tried to steal an election. Where else would she go?” Lucca explains for the benefit of the audience. Alicia’s here because it’s the only option open to her (that she’s willing to consider, at least).Lucca leans forward and taps Alicia on the shoulder. She informs her she’s sitting in the wrong place. “It’s my first day,” Alicia laughs nervously. “Really. Wouldn’t have guessed,” Lucca responds. Alicia tries to introduce herself, and is met with, “We know” and “I voted for you” (the latter comment comes from Lucca). Ah! We haven’t forgotten that Alicia ran for SA! Good, good. “Oh. Sorry about that,” Alicia responds awkwardly. 

Court begins, and Alicia doesn’t quite grasp how it works—when to stand, when to sit, what to do. The judge acts as though she’s not even there, even when she asserts herself. 

Matan’s in bond court too. Did he get demoted? 

Lucca and the other two lawyers get to work while Alicia hovers awkwardly and we get a sense of the pace at which bond court operates and what the work entails. When Alicia asks Lucca if there’s something she should be doing because the judge didn’t include her, Lucca unhelpfully notes that she saw that the judge excluded Alicia, and then carries on with her work. Lucca’s job > helping Alicia. 

Establishing shot of the court house! Funny to see an actual, good-old-fashioned establishing shot on this show, especially right after what was essentially an establishing sequence. Back to basics, rebuilding, reorienting: three minutes into the premiere, that’s the tone I’m getting. 

Outside of the courthouse, Alicia tries to introduce herself to the judge. He already knows who she is: “you were partner at Florrick/Agos and your husband’s governor and you ran for State’s Attorney.” His concern is that Alicia’s not going to be able to keep his court moving smoothly, and if his court doesn’t move smoothly, he gets in trouble. She says she won’t slow him down, but he insists she will. The other attorneys, he says, are “hungry” and need the money. Alicia argues that “I have kids in college. I don’t share finances with my husband.” Oh? Kids, multiple, in college? And you don’t share finances? How does that work? Aren’t you legally married? Don’t you have any savings? Weren’t you offered several high paying jobs by Canning and the DNC? Doesn’t Peter’s money (not to mention Jackie’s and Veronica’s) cover the kids’ tuition if necessary? Come on now, Alicia. 

I can’t say she isn’t hungry, though. She needs the money for one thing, and it’s not to survive: it’s to feel comfortable with her own life. Making her own money and starting out at the bottom makes Alicia feel self-sufficient and in control. She doesn’t need the money (to the same extent the others do). She’s just privileged enough to think she needs it.  

The judge isn’t buying it: Alicia was a partner in a top firm. “Yes, and I can’t get a job since… since the scandal,” Alicia admits. The judge compares her to Marie Antoinette, and as she’s trying to deny it, a limo pulls up. “Your ride, Mrs. Florrick,” the driver announces. “From Mr. Canning.” It’s like the universe is calling Alicia out on her bullshit.

Can Alicia be both humbled and entitled at the same time? Yes. She can start over, want to do good, want to be independent, fight for herself—and genuinely be at a low point—and still have the kind of life and options many would give anything to have. Oh, Alicia, I’ve missed you and your many contradictions.

“No,” Alicia says to Canning over lunch, answering (again) the question Canning posed at the end of 6x22 four full minutes into the premiere. She notes that she’s already turned him down—she doesn’t want to work for him. Canning says the offer is to work “with” him. The distinction doesn’t matter: Like Diane, Alicia thinks Canning is the “devil.” She doesn’t like his cases or his clients. Canning reminds her she made a bad deal on her exit package (some of her financial strain is real, not imagined) and that she’s doing “grunt work” (hello, old episode title) now. He tells her there’s no honor in starting over.

“For the first time in my life,” Alicia begins, “I don’t have to answer to anyone. It’s just me.” That’s the reason Alicia’s starting over—autonomy and feeling like she’s fighting for something, providing for herself, and practicing law the way she wants to. After a season and a half of spinning, Alicia’s found a way to seize control, and it involves grunt work. As I said: it’s (mostly) not about the money. It’s the same position Alicia was in in the pilot—needing to have some income (she probably needed more money then since Peter’s assets were frozen) and having to jump back into the law. In season 1, she chooses to use connections to work for a big, influential, top firm. Here, she chooses to rely on herself and herself alone to start up again, likely to avoid repeating the past.

I should also note that Alicia’s options are restricted and she does have some financial need for employment. Alicia makes the choice to go down the bond court path, but it’s one of few paths open to her. Lucca doesn’t think it strange Alicia ended up there, and Canning confirms that Alicia’s exit package from FAL/LAL/Let’s-Just-Call-It-Lockhart/Gardner (LJCILG?) was a bad deal. This isn’t a problem entirely in Alicia’s imagination or a solution she’s found because she wants to pretend to be an Average Person. But at the same time that it’s a practical, immediate solution, it’s also one that lines up very, very well with her mental state. Does that make sense?

I like that little trick they do—changing the aspect ratio-- to illustrate things when characters would just be monologuing at each other. It’s not really necessary, but it makes the show more visually interesting.

Canning talks about a book he read that talks about how, when two people bump into each other, there’s always one person who says, “I’m sorry,” and one who says, “Watch it!” Alicia is the one who apologizes, according to Canning, who tries to pass this off as Alicia’s internalized sexism. He wants to teach her how to say “watch it!” Eh. I would rather be the apologizer than the one who’s so self-centered they think everyone else is in their way. Am I missing something? I understand why being apologetic might not be a good thing, but why is being a jerk preferable?

Not to mention: Canning isn’t trying to help poor little timid Alicia learn to fend for herself in the big scary world. He’s trying to make her feel inferior and helpless so he can prey on her self-doubt and manipulate her. The problem with being the apologizer is that it’s not just something that happens when you bump into someone by accident: if you apologize by rote, you tend to think things are your fault and hesitate to call others out. But that’s not (always) Alicia. After all, we just saw her reject Canning’s job offer twice.

Alicia sees right through it: Canning said “work for me,” which is exactly what she didn’t want. “I don’t want to answer for anyone else,” she declares. (I want a happy life and I want to control my fate, anyone?)

After she says this, she realizes something. I can almost visualize what’s going on in her mind thanks to Mind’s Eye and the way different threads blended together in her mind there—she’s said something that resonated in another element of her life. She excuses herself immediately from lunch to make a phone call as Canning mocks her aim of being self-sufficient. (It’s not a bad goal! It’s just a very Alicia goal!)

She phones Eli, and says, simply, “Peter should run.” That was a fast turnaround. Eli stops walking, he’s so shocked. He asks Alicia why she changed her mind, and she explains that “I realized I was deciding things for Peter, and I’m through with people making decisions for me.” The campaign isn’t just a decision for Peter—it’s a decision that will affect his family, too—but I get where Alicia’s coming from. She knows it’s Peter’s dream to run a national campaign, and she doesn’t want to be the one that decided his path for him. She wouldn’t want to be told she couldn’t do something, and so she feels like she’s being hypocritical. Is she? I’m not so sure, because supporting Peter as a national candidate requires a helluva lot of time and effort from Alicia, but I see the connection she’s making.

Eli begins to frantically snap his fingers at Nora (Noraaaaaaa!!!), who doesn’t know what snapping fingers means. In this case, snapping fingers = call Ruth Eastman.

“Is Grace okay with this?” Eli asks Alicia, partially to cover all bases with her and know the whole story and partially to write the show out of the corner it backed itself into with 6x22. “Grace has always been okay with it. It was me,” Alicia responds. Huh. Not sure how I feel about that. In the deleted scenes from 6x22, we see Grace come to the conclusion that Peter should run because it’s what he’s good at, and share that with Alicia, who worries about her involvement. Grace assures her mother she can handle it, and the campaign goes ahead. I like the 6x22 scene because it’s a very sweet moment and it shows maturity from Grace, but what I don’t like about it is that none of Alicia’s hesitation about the campaign (and she is hesitant for reasons other than the kids) makes the cut. My problem with the 7x01 explanation is the opposite: I understand Alicia’s hesitation—and why she’s no longer hesitant—but I hate the implication that in 6x22, Alicia was using Grace’s immaturity as an excuse because she couldn’t share her own feelings. I’ll give the writers a pass here because I think a lot of this plot was reconceptualized over the hiatus (the deletion of the 6x22 scene to make way for new reasoning, without dropping the Grace thread, suggests that the writers did intend for Alicia’s original line to lead to a Grace plot, and that over hiatus, they decided it would be more powerful to tie it to Alicia’s new philosophy about life) and because I can pretend the real reason is an amalgam of the 6x22 deleted scene and the 7x01 scene.

Alicia is open to doing some campaign appearances, she says. The first one will be a joint interview with Peter, set for the next evening.

Eli rushes into Peter’s office to spread the good news. Peter wants to know what Alicia said, and here’s Eli’s summary: “something about not wanting to speak for you, or something eloquent.” Heh. Pretty much accurate. (Also, repetition of clearly stated character motivations: there should be no doubt about what Alicia’s doing here or why she’s made this decision. It’s been bluntly stated three times in as many minutes and ties directly to the career path she’s pursuing.)

Who is this Ruth Eastman Eli’s so excited about? “The miracle worker of Iowa,” it seems. Eli realizes demand for Ruth’s talents will be high, and rushes to her office because “we’ve got to get our offer in quick” (we, our—note the language).

When Eli arrives at Ruth’s office, she’s on the phone. He pitches Peter as the ideal VP candidate because of his story (the prison thing). “A man whose wife tried to steal an election,” Ruth counters. Well damn. Alicia’s scandal will continue to affect her, Peter’s campaign, and those around her because it was so public, and that makes the campaign (1) more about Alicia than it normally would be and (2) about images and narratives in a way TGW can work with that it hasn’t worked with before. When Alicia has to play Good Wife this time around, it won’t just be to show that she’s forgiven Peter: it will be to show that she’s not an adulterous liar who steals elections.

(Whose fault is the election fraud? Eli wants to blame Alicia’s “handlers,” so, Elfman and Josh. That’s what you get for not knowing your The West Wing references, guys!)

When Ruth walks away from Eli (after promising to meet Peter), she snaps at her assistant. It seems demeaning and rude, and it also reminds me that Eli just snapped at Nora(aaaaaa).

Alicia returns to her apartment and Grace greets her: “Mrs. Florrick, hello. You’re home early from court.” Alicia looks confused. It turns out that a client has dropped by unexpectedly and Grace decided to play secretary so it seemed like Alicia’s firm was more than a (very nice!) office in her apartment. They both assume the client found Alicia through her website, which Zach put online the night before.

Yay, Zach mention! Clear exposition, lines about characters who aren’t present but would definitely be playing a big role in Alicia’s life, signs that hint at how Alicia’s children feel about her career… what parallel universe have I stepped into where TGW includes these things? And can we stay in it for the remainder of the series?

The phone rings. “Alicia Florrick, Attorney at Law,” Grace answers. When Grace says, “Yes, she’s busy, Your Honor,” Alicia panics. Why would Grace make a judge wait!? It turns out that it’s because Grace has done something smart and taken the initiative to call herself so it seems to the client like Alicia’s in demand. It’s so well-played that I’ll forgive Grace for not calling the firm by what should OBVIOUSLY be its name: Florrick and Associates;)

Bridget Regan is playing the client of the week, and if I didn’t already know that she would be appearing on the show, I’m not sure if I would have recognized her. And she has a fairly major role on Jane the Virgin! (Which y’all should be watching. Get on that.)

The COTW involves a Chagall painting worth 8 million dollars. This excites Grace, who looks in on Alicia’s lovely new office and excitedly mouths “EIGHT MILLION DOLLARS!!” upon hearing the painting’s value. (Ily, Grace) Alicia asks who her new client’s lawyer is, and… shock of all shocks… it’s…  David Lee.

David Lee and Alicia wait to see whose client is the lucky recipient of the Chagall. David taunts Alicia for working in bond court; Alicia fires back by making an exaggerated sad face about LAL losing its top three clients.

David Lee calls the executor (Mr. Handy) who’s letting them into the property “Mr. Dandy,” because David Lee is awful.

Aaaaand all of the post-it notes, excuse me, tack-on notes, meant to signify if Alicia’s client or David Lee’s client will inherit each object in the house, have fallen to the ground. (Guys, it’s a case about post-it notes. I can’t. This is very Important To Me. Maybe someday I’ll explain the reference to Post-its in my blog description.) 

Eli is drinking a smoothie because he’s optimistic about the campaign. He also explains that the entire focus of Peter’s campaign (pretty much) will be Iowa, where he’ll aim to come in second so he can get a meeting with Hillary. His mood is quickly spoiled when he sees Ruth already meeting with Peter, who asks her to ���let Eli and I talk.” (You’re the Governor of a state, Peter. You should know that you mean “let Eli and me talk”.) 

Peter informs Eli that Ruth is on board. “I think she partially believes in me, but more importantly, she dislikes the Clintons,” he explains. (Hope that works out for you, Peter.) He also says she has a very good strategy. Eli figures out quickly that Peter is the one that offered Ruth a job before he did. Then he realizes just what job Peter offered her: campaign manager, the job Eli presumed would be his and has been counting on since the day he first met Peter.

Peter explains his thinking: it’s a national campaign, so he needs a national strategist. “Oh my God, you’re firing me,” Eli realizes. Peter denies it, but he is.

“What happened to loyalty?” Eli wonders. “This isn’t about loyalty,” Peter tries to explain. “I got you here. You wouldn’t be here without me.” I was going to write that Peter should be careful here because he’s playing on a field where disloyalty means all bets are off and he’s talking to a man who has made his entire life revolve around Peter and his family, but then I realized: this dialogue sounds just like the Will/Alicia scene in Hitting the Fan. Will thinks Alicia should be loyal to him and his firm. Alicia futilely explains that “this was a business decision,” (and later, that “this was never meant personally”). “I hired you. I pushed for you. You were poison! This firm got you back on your feet,” Will fumes as Alicia tries to explain. “I got you here. You wouldn’t be here without me. When you were polling nothing, when you were banging your ethics coordinator, your friggin’ ethics coordinator, I stuck by you. I cleaned up your mess. Prostitutes, groupies, Alicia. I was the one friggin’ set of footprints in the sand!” Eli explodes, using lots of network-approved swear word stand-ins, as Peter tries to explain. 

(The ethics coordinator referenced is Ramona, who actually had a different job but ended up worrying about ethics, not Marilyn. That one took me a minute.)

This parallel, intentional or not, is interesting to me. It puts Alicia, who we’ll see later take Eli’s side against Peter, in the same role Peter plays here. Alicia and Peter often strategize and think the same way (5x18 is an excellent example), and while the intensity of the parallel is mitigated by the fact that the situations are very, very different, there’s still something there that could be interesting to come back to later, depending on where this goes. Alicia fights hard against betrayal, but she’s been the betrayer in the past.

This ties into another point I wanted to make about the fight: It comes out of left field. It’s not hard for me to imagine Peter’s thought process here. He wants to win. Eli’s style and ability to play in Chicago politics probably won’t be the best strategy in Iowa, and Iowa is the focus of this campaign. Peter is making the tough call to put himself and his ambitions over a sense of loyalty (a stupid way to go about it, though, Peter: don’t make enemies!). (Not all that dissimilar to that awful plotline last season where being nice to Finn became more important to Alicia than her own political career, and Johnny told her that “distasteful acts” were steps towards maturity.) I can understand that plotline. I can understand Peter being narrowminded (Eli’s the strategist for a reason) and I can understand that he doesn’t want to play around or worry about loyalty when this is his best chance at achieving his life’s goal. But it’s not really on the page. As much as I like what this (possibly inevitable, with the way Eli constantly puts Peter’s needs before his own and receives little in return) plot does for the show and the momentum it gives the season, I could have used a few scenes illustrating Peter’s thought process. It shouldn’t take this much work to follow a plotline, and “Peter has always been horrible” (which I’ve seen a bunch of people say) is not an adequate explanation for me, not when Peter’s been consistently written as a complex character. Contrast this to Hitting the Fan: we know why Alicia’s leaving by the time Will confronts her. We’ve seen her hesitate and worry about making this choice. We’ve seen her unhappy at LG for many reasons. We’ve seen her getting distracted and feeling unable to work/concentrate because of her proximity to Will. We’ve seen her agree to renew her vows. We’ve seen her plan to leave, we’ve seen her plan to leave in a less confrontational way. So when Will confronts her, we know what she means when she says it’s a business decision (even if we don’t believe her entirely). We don’t get that in the Peter/Eli fight, and it’d be more effective if they’d taken the time to give us some insight into Peter’s thinking before the fight played out.

“Are you so narcissistic you can’t see you’re stabbing me in the back?!” Eli yells. Yeah, Peter. Did you think about how your very tightly wound, loyal friend and campaign manager might possibly not be on the same page as you when you go behind his back to suddenly make a big decision? Peter (never one to take an insult calmly) tells Eli he has an inflated sense of his own self-worth. Definitely the issue here… sure…  (An inflated sense of self-worth, like how he’s been organizing meetings for the 2016 campaign for years and Peter’s been talking to him about this campaign for years. Definitely sounds like Eli’s delusional about this…)

Eli says he’s no longer interested in staying on as Chief of Staff. Of course he’s not. That was always a placeholder position for him.

Eli threatens to find someone to run against Peter (okay?) and steps closer to Peter to declare: “You just lost your greatest asset and made your worst enemy.” (Reaffirming self-worth!) (Also probably true, at least the worst enemy part.)

As Eli leaves the office, he looks incredulous and uncertain—what just happened? And what is he going to do? We’ll find out… after the break.

Cary makes his first appearance at the top of act two, in a partner meeting surrounded by lots of old folks talking about being old. Through the glass walls, he can see young associates, with their technology and brightly colored hair, laughing and taking selfies. When Cary goes in to talk to them, they become very quiet and refer to him as “Mr. Agos.” That makes Cary uncomfortable, because he feels more like one of the new associates than like one of the old partners.

When did LAL become dominated by old people? Were there not partners from the F/A side of things that stayed on board? All the fourth-years that left with Cary and Alicia? Where’d they go? I appreciate that the show wants to continue exploring the culture clash Cary’s dealing with now that his hip new firm is the firm he wanted to get away from in the first place, but this seems like a bit much. (But if they’re going to actually explore the consequences of turning F/A into FAL right back into LG, I won’t complain. I just might ask them to be a bit less heavy-handed about it.)

Cary proposes an associate social, but he’s interrupted by Howard Lyman, who also instructs the young associates not to refer to him as “Mr.”, just as Cary did moments earlier.

In the hallway, Diane and David Lee are on the phone with Alicia. So now we’ve seen all of the series regulars. In order of appearance: Lucca, Alicia, Eli, David Lee, Cary, Diane. Hm.

When we switch to Alicia’s end of the conversation, we see that she’s walking into bond court again. The two male bar attorneys are surprised and don’t think she’ll last another day. Lucca disagrees: “I don’t know. She doesn’t look like she’ll quit.” The way she delivers that line makes it sound like her respect for Alicia is growing.

Side note: Alicia’s wig is absolutely awful in this scene (and in most of this episode). Her hair looks burnt. Please fix this, hair department.

Now that Alicia knows what to expect, she stands up before anyone else can to declare that she is a bar attorney. The judge still ignores her, assigning cases to Lucca and the other two attorneys. Lucca looks back at Alicia, then decides to help her out. She tells the judge she doesn’t think she can handle all the cases he assigned her, and that Alicia should take five of them. The judge reluctantly agrees, handing Alicia six cases and warning her not to slow him down. This seems like a great system!

Alicia’s first client speaks slowly and emotionally, giving more details than required and overwhelming Alicia. Lucca manages to both consult with her client and observe what Alicia’s doing wrong (her reputation with the judge is on the line if Alicia fails, so it’s not just selfless), and pulls Alicia aside. Alicia’s used to having time to prepare cases and getting to know her clients, but here, the expectation is she will ask yes/no questions and ask for no details about every client’s “story.” Alicia switches up her questioning style, but there’s not enough time, and she fumbles in front of the judge anyway.

“One second, Your Honor,” Alicia says, shuffling through papers. Uh oh! That’s slowing him down! He takes it out on the client, setting his bail at $500,000. Again: this seems like a great system!

And then Alicia has to move on to the next client, right away, with no chance to rest or process what’s happening until she’s argued for all of her clients. (4 of 6 are still behind bars at the end of the day.) Lucca checks in on her and reminds her that this is “an assembly line.” Definitely not the law Alicia’s used to practicing. Lucca also tells Alicia she didn’t make any money (it’s supposed to be $135 a case) because she didn’t have her clients check a box on a form. Now she won’t make that mistake again. “You catch on. It just takes a while,” Lucca says. She’s willing to help Alicia, but she’s still going to let Alicia learn things for herself.

Alicia has to run to a different court room (a scene filmed on location, because I think they turned the real courtroom set into bond court for this episode) (we rarely see court scenes filmed on location because they have the courtroom set. The courtroom set was the last to be built in season 1, so it adds to the starting-over vibe that some of this episode’s action takes place on location, like the first 13/14 episodes of season 1 did) to represent her other client. Alicia walks in late but prepared. This is where she’s comfortable.

A heat-wave caused the tack-on notes to fall. If there was a heat wave, is it summer on the show? Oh God, I’m caring about the timeline again.

They call in an “adhesive expert” for the case. “Really? That’s a job?” the judge asks. Ha!

Alicia calls Grace because she needs an aerodynamics expert. Grace’s reply: “I’ll ask Uncle Owen if he knows anyone.” Holy shit, this episode is killing it with the continuity. (Also, yes, I have very very very low expectations when it comes to getting lines like this.)

Instead of leaving court right away, Alicia doubles back to talk to Diane and ask why she’s coming after her so hard. “You think it’s just happenstance that you have a case across from us?” Diane asks. Good point. Alicia doesn’t know what that means, but she’ll find out by the end of the episode. (This is going to make a nice plot device for ensuring Alicia has interactions with people at LAL.)

Mr. Elk (“things of that elk”) is back! (His real name is Mr. Willoughby. I am going to continue to call him Mr. Elk because it’s shorter.) I can see the logo of the NYC ABC affiliate in the background—odd. Mr. Elk continues to not be the brightest.

Alicia arrives and looks for Eli, but she only finds Ruth, who informs her they’re no longer announcing Peter’s candidacy that day. “It’s the smarter move,” Ruth claims. Alicia doesn’t buy it (because she doesn’t know who the fuck Ruth is). Ruth explains briefly and tells Alicia she’s going to have her own chief of staff. Alicia just wants to know where Eli is, and Ruth’s cheerful, “he’s no longer with the campaign!” is an unsatisfactory answer.

“Peter, what the hell?!” Alicia demands. “It’s a national campaign, Alicia. I need a campaign manager with a national strategy,” Peter explains. “You need someone who cares. Eli cared,” Alicia counters. “Caring is not enough. He doesn’t know the state. He doesn’t know the people,” Peter reasons. “He knows you. He’s loyal to you,” Alicia argues. While it’s easy to frame this as a decision about loyalty, I don’t think Peter is entirely wrong. His goal is to win, and he—perhaps incorrectly, perhaps correctly—doesn’t think that will happen with Eli as his campaign manager. Eli being on Peter’s side and knowing Peter well won’t necessarily mean Eli will be the best person to run a campaign centered on Iowa. In my opinion, Peter’s flaw isn’t in his decision making (I don’t know the Iowa TGW’s invented, Eli’s specific connections in Iowa, or Ruth’s personality/ties well enough to have an opinion about who’s best to manage the campaign): it’s in how he went about putting his decision in motion. He made an enemy of a close friend, hired a new campaign manager without much of a trial period, and there were probably more diplomatic ways to go about this.

Peter is 100% wrong, though, to tell Alicia that because she held out on being part of the campaign, she doesn’t get to “come in now and pretend [she] has a voice.” Alicia also has to work with the campaign manager. She called Eli to say she was in with the campaign, not Peter. And without Alicia’s support (which she can take back and/or leverage, so watch it, dude), Peter’s campaign can’t get off the ground. She has a voice, whether Peter likes it or not. No matter how many times Peter says the choice was difficult (he even calls it the hardest choice he’s ever made), this choice affects Alicia. Peter isn’t… shall I say… always the best at realizing the effects his decisions have on other people. If he understands his own thinking, that’s usually enough for him to proceed.

Peter accusing Alicia of “scolding” him, and Alicia says nothing (that we see). We cut to the interview with Mr. Elk. Alicia pretends to laugh, and she and Peter hold hands, but the energy in the room is tense. Mr. Elk asks why people should vote for Peter, if he runs. Alicia’s answer? Loyalty. “He’s loyal to his family, he’s loyal to his friends. He sticks with people.” (Translation: “he slept with prostitutes and just fired a close friend. He is disloyal and should feel bad about himself.”) (I hope the Alicia/Peter tension lightens up after this episode. Not sure I can take another season of their fights.)

Peter finds a way to pitch himself as a candidate while arguing with Alicia: a candidate has to be loyal, sure, but he has to be smart, too. “Balance is everything.” Mr. Elk, unaware of the fight that’s happening during his interview, interjects that he wants to be able to trust a candidate, but he also wants to feel like he could grab a beer with him. Alicia and Peter momentarily halt their fight to both give Mr. Elk a polite look barely masking their confusion.

Instead* of watching Alicia and Peter on TV, Eli watches a horror movie, alone in his apartment, with a can of either beer or soda. His version of relaxing.

*it’s probably not an either/or, but this would’ve been an opportunity to cut from the interview being filmed to the interview being watched that the show chooses to pass up. It’s either intentional or a very poetic coincidence that the show jumps from the interview Eli scheduled to Eli watching something else.

Alicia takes it upon herself to go to Eli’s apartment, something we’ve never seen a Florrick do before. He ignores her, but she knows he’s there because his TV is on. When he finally opens the door, she says, “Eli. I heard. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I’m fine. But thanks,” Eli responds, moving to close the door and be alone again. “Eli, wait!” Alicia protests. “No, I just need to be done with it,” Eli snaps. “Alicia, I… I was never your friend. I was just a political operative. I was the help. And uh… I need to be done. That’s it.”

If he says it out loud, maybe he’ll start to believe it. Of course he considered himself an honorary Florrick and a family friend. He knows everything about Alicia and Peter and he’s seen them at their lowest moments. True, he’s never just been a friend, but he was a friend. And if he wants to move on, he has to convince himself he wasn’t. And if he wants Alicia to leave him alone, he has to make her feel like she shouldn’t be there.

Note that he refers to himself as “the help,” the same dismissive phrase Alicia called Ramona.

The next act opens at LAL, where Diane and David are talking strategy and Cary is observing all the old people being old. He’d rather be outside with the young associates. Cut to the associates in a bar, looking bored and restrained. “You guys happy at work?” Cary asks them. He’s their boss, so obviously, they’re not going to say anything or act eager to talk to him. (Their complete disinterest in talking to the boss feels odd, though—I would think at least a few would fake eagerness and try to make a good impression!)

One associate stands out from the others: a guy named Dirk, who has an idea he wants to pitch. He worries that “Lockhart/Agos” (if we want to drop the Lee, that is 110% fine by me) is seen as an older firm, confirming all of Cary’s suspicions.

This COTW is actually pretty amusing, if inconsequential. (But I’m sorry, TGW, Parks and Rec has the best Roomba joke ever. Long live The Ghost of DJ Roomba!)

Alicia’s trying to talk to Grace about Roombas when Lucca calls to ask Alicia to cover for her in bond court, because “bar attorneys stick together.” Alicia agrees, but emphasizes that she can’t stay late.

Eli is on day 2 of his horror movie marathon, but now Nora is at his apartment, trying to get him to snap out of it. She’s sitting in a shiny gold chair, and Eli’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a look I never imagined we’d see on Eli Gold. After Nora tells him to start making calls, Eli stands up and leaves the room. He gets a haircut, picks out a suit, and puts on a tie (looking at his reflection in the mirror).

It’s an Eli version of the 2x21 (In Sickness) sequence where Alicia starts over. Alicia cries and flips some papers, then blasts some music, puts on makeup, gets dressed, and heads to work full of energy and ready to fight. Eli’s doing the same thing—see? (Eli | Alicia) (I know my theme is a little odd-- Eli and Alicia in that last parenthetical are links to caps.)

Eli takes at least a day and a half to bounce back. He watches movies and sulks and shuts people out, and then he springs back into action. I don’t want to stay with the In Sickness comparison because it’s not particularly fruitful (just a nice little parallel/process sequence like the writers are fond of including). I do want to go back to something else in the show’s past, which is Eli wallowing in season three after losing the cheese lobby or whatever it was that happened that made him sit around the office doing nothing until Diane told him to drink and then come in the next day ready to work. Eli’s need to sit around, watch movies, and feel sorry for himself before he can take action seems very familiar.

Grace is in court with the relevant Roomba info. She wants to stay and watch. Awww!

Eli’s also in court. He tells Alicia he wanted to apologize. “You never made me feel like the help. And I always flattered myself to think I was… almost a friend,” he explains. Alicia accepts his apology right away. I think Eli’s being half-sincere, half-scheming. Whatever plan he has, I don’t think he wants to hurt Alicia.

He offers to be her Chief of Staff. Yes, yes, yes. I’m here for this. It’s good for the characters (more Alicia and Eli!), it’s good for the plot (a long arc!), and it’s excellent for the structure of the show (a way to keep Eli relevant while giving him material, a way to link the campaign stuff to Alicia directly, a way to explore Alicia’s image as central to a campaign that’s about Peter). Plus, both Eli and Alicia have good reasons to want to work with each other. Eli wants to either prove his worth or take Peter down, and Alicia wants to get through this campaign without it being too intrusive or unfamiliar.

Eli talks about how Alicia’s image needs to be “rehabilitated” and she needs to be made into a “wife” again. Right. Good Wives don’t steal elections, after all.

Grace looks so proud her work’s being used in court. :) I also like seeing Grace on the courthouse steps and in the courtroom because it’s always fun to shake up which characters belong on which sets.

Ruth interrupts Alicia and Grace’s conversation, offering Alicia a ride. Must be nice to have limos show up at your location and offer you rides—seems to happen to Alicia a lot. Ruth tries to play nice with Alicia and get her on board. Alicia says that Peter seems happy, and that’s what’s important. Hm. Has she forgiven Peter for firing Eli, or is she just being polite? Alicia uses Eli’s word (“rehabilitate”) in conversation with Ruth, confirming that Eli’s strategy is correct.

“We need the voters to see the real you,” Ruth explains. “I’m not sure they’ll like the real me,” Alicia responds. (They won’t, but likability is bullshit!) (... sadly, bullshit that matters in an election.) “That’s why we’ll need to mold a ‘real you’ that they’ll like,” Ruth says. She also says Alicia will need a Chief of Staff, to which Alicia responds that she already has one: Eli.

Ruth is suspicious of Eli, but Alicia insists. She reminds Ruth that she is a volunteer, and she doesn’t have to support Peter publicly or frequently. If Eli can’t be her CoS, she won’t help the campaign. She’s going to be loyal to Eli, and she doesn’t want to have to deal with a new, Ruth-appointed person telling her what to do.

In bond court, the judge reluctantly lets Alicia handle the cases. She does better than she did the first day… until she accidentally drops a paper and loses her momentum. This counts as slowing the judge down, and he warns her that if it happens again, “I will tax your clients.” !!!!!!!!!!! I can’t believe the judge just flat out told her that. How fucking broken can this system be?! (I trust that this is more or less accurate, though I’m planning to try to find some articles/figures confirming. Usually the most unbelievable things on TGW are the ones they’ve researched the most thoroughly (and then slightly exaggerated for dramatic purposes).)

Dirk’s presentation fails to make an impression at LAL. Giving the round charts Dirk distributes his utmost attention, Howard Lyman discovers that circles with holes in the middle can be made to look like boobs. Are the older partners old, or are they actually 10 year olds?

Everyone, Diane included, overrules Dirk’s idea, and by extension, Cary’s desire to keep the firm on the cutting edge. “This firm is becoming a laughingstock,” Cary grumbles.

The judge requires Alicia to stay in bond court later than she intended, so Lucca has to step in for Alicia in probate court. Lucca’s entrance to the probate court set is one of my favorite moments of the episode: she walks in briskly and confidently, but looks around with uncertainty. She approaches Diane and David Lee before realizing she’s supposed to sit on the opposite side of the room. The role reversal here plays well and accomplishes multiple things simultaneously. First, it presents Lucca as someone Alicia can count on, in that she’s someone who will ask for favors and then return them. Second, it adds dimension to a new character: Lucca is not just Alicia’s bond court guide, not just a confident and friendly lawyer with dazzling magical abilities. Rather, she is a person who knows where she’s strongest, but flounders a bit when dropped into a new environment. Third, it highlights that Alicia and Lucca are equals. Rather than setting up Lucca as a young rival for Alicia or Alicia as a mentor for Lucca, Lucca and Alicia are presented as two women who could both learn a lot from each other. Alicia is quick and focused in probate court, but stumbles in bond court, where Lucca understands all the intricacies of bond court, but has less experience practicing the type of law Alicia excels at.

Not sure why it benefits Diane/David Lee to argue that the painting belongs to the housekeeper. Is this a “make sure Canning loses” thing? What does it matter to them if the painting belongs to Madeline or to Selena if it doesn’t belong to Clyde, their client?

Lucca happens to know some obscure law about inheritance and saves the day! Yay Lucca!

At night, Cary talks to Dirk about the presentation, trying to encourage him to continue to innovate. His aim is to fight for the ~youthful spirit~ that Dirk represents and to refuse to give up on getting the corporate culture he wants, but Dirk (mis?)interprets this as flirtation. (“If you ever need anything, just… I’m here,” definitely sounds like something that could be interpreted as flirtation to me.)

Dirk reaches out and puts his hand on Cary’s, but Cary pulls back immediately, out of shock or out of fear of being mistaken for something other than heterosexual or a bit of both. I wasn’t expecting this moment to be the subject of as much fandom discussion as it has been, because I read it as underlining that Cary doesn’t have a place at his own firm and is being so intense about his need for the firm to change that his actions have unintended consequences, but if this does develop into a plotline about Cary exploring his sexuality, I’d be very open to it.

Eli and Ruth talk as Eli’s packing up his office. Ruth says she won’t let him be Alicia’s CoS, Eli says that he’s going to destroy Ruth and maybe Peter too (he hasn’t decided about that). And if Ruth tells Peter, Peter will just think she’s being paranoid. Eli stares Ruth down, confirms he has “enough” of a plan, and leaves the office that used to be his.

Cut to Alicia and Lucca at a bar (sigh, writers, ending with a bar scene makes sense for the episode but it’s also a sure way to get people to compare Lucca to Kalinda, not that anyone’s really talking about Lucca this week what with The Feud being back in the news). Alicia’s drinking white wine (my fave! Yay!) and buys Lucca a beer. Alicia tries to make conversation, starting with, “So, how long have you been a lawyer?” but Lucca doesn’t answer. Instead, she gets up and announces she’s going to go dance. There’s a dance floor, so she’s going to dance. She might not have someone to dance with, but she doesn’t care. She’s like no one we’ve ever seen before on this show (except perhaps Robyn, but Robyn has a very different energy): cheerful, confident, relaxed, and content. If she wants to dance, she’s going to dance. Alicia can’t imagine what that’s like. 

Canning shows up at the bar, intentionally bumping into Alicia, who accusatorily says, “EXCUSE ME.” “Watch it!” Canning says. “Notice I didn’t say ‘sorry,’” Alicia comments. Canning logic, however, dictates that saying “excuse me!” in a frustrated tone is just as bad as saying ‘sorry.’ (I still don’t get this watch it/I’m sorry thing, but it’s Canning, so I don’t think his point actually applies to Alicia; I think he just wants to get under her skin.)

Canning reveals (though Alicia’s already figured it out from Diane) that he sent Alicia her client. He also says, “She’s really good,” referring, I think, to Lucca, which worries me. Stay away from him, Lucca!

As easy as it is for Alicia to turn down a job offer from Canning, it’s difficult for her to turn down his offer to send her clients. He sets it up so that she’d have to tell him to stop (a more difficult thing to do) if she wants out. Does she want him to stop? No.

She’s still independent—she can turn down clients and back out of the arrangement at any time—but her independence is less… pure, for lack of a better word, than it was at the start of the episode. Alicia drinks her wine, and Canning takes Lucca’s beer, because he is an asshole. Unless he ordered his own beer, in which case… eh, he’s still Canning, he’s still an asshole.

Overall, I think this episode worked very well. It set plotlines in motion (Alicia’s independence and job at her new firm and in bond court, Cary’s troubles with the office culture at LAL and LAL’s struggles, the Canning/Alicia “partnership” that will presumably bring Alicia and Diane/Cary/David back into the same world semi-regularly, Eli’s revenge arc and new job, the goals of Peter’s campaign, Grace as Alicia’s assistant) and introduced Lucca and Ruth. It also balances the LAL world with Alicia’s world in a way that, though it isn’t ideal (and could be a problem if it continues this way forever), feels much more coherent than the division in season 6 did. (After all, much of the problem with the split in s6 came from the fact that there were interactions that needed to be taking place but were nowhere to be found; in season 7 there’s no reason, for example, that Cary’s struggles would cause him to have scene with Alicia.) Bond is not as exciting of a premiere as The Line was, but that’s fine with me. I would rather see the show lay groundwork so it can be exciting later on, go back to basics, and establish a new status quo than see the show try to top itself and shock.

My biggest criticism of Bond is more a criticism of Wanna Partner?, which left the show in a tricky place. Wanna Partner? did not adequately set anything up for season 7. The episode focused heavily on the case, on Finn, and on Kalinda’s return and departure. Peter’s (vice) presidential ambitions fall out of the conversation mid-episode; LAL is entirely disconnected from Alicia (unless you count Canning showing up at Alicia’s door at the end of the episode as a connection) and the only hint of an arc for Cary and Diane is that Canning will try to destroy them, which he’s been trying to do for years anyway. So 7x01 has to reset. Season six didn’t set anything in motion, except the vague idea of a campaign and the vague idea of a revenge plot, so season seven needs to establish a million and one things in 43 minutes.

And it shows. Alicia’s suddenly in bond court, even though that wasn’t the plan we saw in 6x21 and 6x22. Canning at the door is no longer the pivotal moment 6x22 made it out to be, even if it’s not forgotten. Alicia’s motivations for supporting the campaign no longer have to do with Grace. New characters need introductions. Peter and Eli need to be in conflict. Cary needs a plotline. A better 6x22 would’ve led to a better 7x01; a better 6x22 could’ve shown Peter hesitating about having Eli manage his (theoretical) campaign or shown Alicia make up her mind to go bond court. The writers absolutely could’ve written a better 7x01, regardless of how 6x22 looked, but I think 7x01 was a very good effort and start to a season that will hopefully continue to correct the mistakes of season six. 

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x22-- Wanna Partner?

My thoughts on the season six finale under the cut!

We open with a bird’s eye view of Alicia in her new office, advising a client. The space looks much more complete than it did at the end of the last episode. In a twist that will surprise absolutely no one, Alicia is no longer using a door as a desk. What do you mean, that was just supposed to be symbolic?!

Alicia’s client this week is Jacob Rickter, last seen as the client in 2x23. In 2x23, he’s wrongfully accused of murdering a judge. He’s been a client of some combination of our lawyers for longer than that, though: the opening of 2x23 establishes that SLG fought a civil case (suing a dentist who screwed up during routine oral surgery, killing his nine-year-old son) for him a year prior. So he makes sense as a client for Alicia to grab—not particularly high profile but still someone that needs legal work. (He’s a businessman, as this opening scene makes clear, but also as Will says in 2x23.)

It wouldn’t be a season finale of The Good Wife written and directed by Robert King if Alicia weren’t doing a thousand things at once: she’s also meeting with Eli and Peter, who’ve brought catering with them “in order to be respectful of your time.” Oh? Catering? Not a deli plate? Are they trying to out-do Alicia’s efforts in 6x04?

“I’ve been asked to run for President,” Peter explains. Alicia laughs. Me too, girl, me too.

“Not the response I expected, but okay,” Peter says. Heh. Alicia wants to know who asked him to run, and it’s the Illinois DNC, AKA Alicia’s favorite people ever!!!

And then Alicia wants to know why—isn’t the race already underway? But Peter explains: he’s not running to win. He’s running to be VP. This actually makes sense. I have some reservations about TGW taking on national politics because it’ll be harder to believe/viewers will have an increased awareness of what’s actually happening/the writers will be beholden to current events/is HRC the Democratic Party frontrunner in the TGW-verse, because we certainly know she exists, but can you imagine the writers trying an HRC/Peter Florrick ticket oh my god no way sorry I’m back to laughing.

Peter asks Alicia what she thinks, and what she thinks is, “thank God my phone only rings when I’m in the middle of other things! It’s like someone’s scripting my life to have the maximum dramatic potential, but sometimes, like right now, it works in my favor! Peace!”

Alicia misses the call, but sits down on her bed instead of going to give Peter a reply. “Yikes,” she says to herself, which is a perfect expression to capture what’s going on right now.

Alicia gets a voicemail from Rickter. Also, it’s 8:49 a.m. on Monday, May 4th. The message sounds like something bad’s happened, with Rickter shouting, “Alicia! Alicia! Help me!”

Alicia’s figuring out what to do when Peter informs her that he and Eli need to leave. She emerges from the office to say goodbye.

“I’m not running unless you and the kids agree to it,” Peter tells her. Good, good. You and the kids! They have kids together! The writers remembered!

Now that Alicia’s had time to process and pull herself together, she gives Peter a more polished reaction: “Peter, I reacted too fast. Congratulations. I know this is what you’ve always wanted.” And it is. We’ve heard them hint at this before. (I just, you know, kind of sang LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU every time the writers tried to foreshadow this because, ridiculous.)

Alicia uses her landline to call Rickter at home, and the camera runs across a table to reveal Rickter’s landline phone, which his wife picks up. Momentum! His wife, Nicole, says he’s not there. He went to meet with his business partner. Alicia’s doorbell rings because, again, it’s not an episode of TGW if Alicia isn’t juggling ten million things at once.

Oh, look. It’s Charles Lester. She tries to say she’s busy, GTFO (which in Alicia speak is, “Actually, I’m in the midst, Mr. Lester.”) Lester asks for a glass of water because it’s so hot outside.

“So, um, how’s your friend, Kalinda?” Lester asks, creeping slowly into Alicia’s apartment as she heads for the fridge. “How? I don’t know,” Alicia replies. (Her fridge looks fuller now.) Bishop wants to know where Kalinda is—duh.

When Alicia brings Lester a water bottle instead of a glass, he starts talking about how plastic bottles are a waste. “I recycle,” she responds. Me too! Because I’m #flawless!

Why has Lester contacted Alicia? Because Alicia lied about talking to K in court! Hey there, continuity.

“It would make things so much less complicated for you if you helped me,” Lester threatens. Alicia doesn’t give a shit. “For you and your family,” he adds.

Oh, Lester. I know that usually when you threaten people’s families it makes them more willing to give in to your demands, but when you threaten Alicia’s, you just unleash a side of her you don’t want to deal with. She reminds Lester that she has heavy security since she’s the governor’s wife (does she, now?) (and where is that security in preventing people from showing up at the door to her apartment?) and tells him she pushed the panic button she may or may not actually have and may or may not have actually pressed if it does exist.

Nicole is back on the phone, so time for Lester to leave—“if you could take five steps back so I could close the door.” That was the most terrifyingly polite conversation ever.

As Alicia’s trying to figure out what happened to Rickter, she grabs the letter from Kalinda out of a desk drawer and moves it to an old coffee container with her valuable jewelry in it. (We’ve seen this before, in season one.)

When Nicole asks why he’d have called Alicia and not her, Alicia pieces it together: he sent her a recording of an arrest. Alicia hangs up with Nicole, then switches to her phone where she seems to have every single CPD precinct in her contacts. Alicia calls as though she’s certain he was arrested. She’s put on hold, so she puts her phone on speaker, picks up the landline, and dials Cary. Awww, do you have his number memorized? How sweet!

David Lee and Diane are bickering in the background. Alicia wants to know if Cary knows how to get in touch with Kalinda. Ha, right.

Diane and David continue fighting when something—someone, rather—catches David’s eye. He follows a group of paralegals down to the 27th floor, which is apparently still partially L/G space. (Remember that I’m calling it L/G because it is L/G and I won’t accept name changes that don’t stick.) He spotted, of all people, Simone Canning. She’s working as a paralegal. None of the name partners were aware she was hired, and they’re all suspicious even though Simone Canning is the “goodest” person on this show (next to Finn, maybe).

Alicia’s new strategy for the case is to locate Jacob Rickter, who wasn’t arrested, through Find my iPhone. May Find my iPhone work better for her than it did for me. (Farewell, my dutiful 5S. I hope your new Italian “owner” treats you well. And I promise, just because I left you in a taxi doesn’t mean I didn’t love you dearly.)  

Alicia calls the app “Find A Phone” which cracks me up because the screen says iPhone, she just said iPhone, and therefore I have to assume Alicia knows of the app but doesn’t have a damn clue what it actually is.

Anyway, she finds the phone and goes to its last recorded location, an abandoned street corner. The only car in sight is a police car, and it slowly pulls into a building. Hmmm. Alicia spots a door and opens it to find a reception desk of some sort. An officer appears at the counter. “My client is here, Jacob Rickter,” Alicia says without asking where she is or what’s going on (because that’s the way to get things done—act like you know what you’re doing and then no one can tell you don’t). The friendly officer tells her he was signed in two hours ago, and she tries to call Nicole to share the news, but there’s no reception.

Important update: Alicia’s phone says she called Zach recently, after she called Cary. Cool! Wish we’d seen it!

The officer returns with lies: he’s been instructed by his boss to say Rickter is not there.

The officers actually grab Alicia and walk her out of the facility. Dude. WTF?

Alicia, newly crowned Queen of the iPhones, takes a picture of the facility, and the click of her camera transitions to the camera flash of the title credits (clever!). (I could do without the clicking sound repeating throughout the credits.)

Alicia shows her picture to Finn, and he knows exactly what it is: Homan Square. The police hold people there before arresting them so they don’t have to enter them into the system and can deny them the rights they’d have if they were arrested. It’s a real thing. Go read up on it.

(I know Alicia needed to investigate this for plot, but I can’t believe she wouldn’t have been informed. If the writers of the show heard about it, Alicia “Your Next State’s Attorney” Florrick would’ve.)

Finn calls after Alicia as she’s leaving to let her know he’s thought about it, “you and me. Uh, starting a firm.” Alicia stares blankly at him, then, “Oh! Right!” How much time has passed?! “We should do it,” Finn says. Alicia sounds overjoyed, then apologizes for thinking he was going to say no, then interrupts herself to say, “Wow, I’ve been apologizing a lot lately, I need to stop doing that.” If you can get Alicia to babble, you can claim her as your BFF.

As the audio recording of the voicemail plays in court, we see the shot from above: Finn, Alicia, and Matan are on one side, the judge is on the other, and straight through the middle of the frame is a giant marble line. Not sure if this is just because it’s supposed to look cool or a callback to 6x01’s many lines. There are some other shots here, like seeing the characters approximately from the judge’s POV, that suggest to me Robert King was aiming to convey that the judge, on one side of the line, has power over the lawyers, on the other.

A billion miles away over at L/G… Diane is introducing herself to Simone. There is nothing bad about this plot. I like Simone. I like Diane. I like the idea of them sharing a scene. Simone is going by her maiden name; Diane wants to know why. Simone just wanted to get the job without connections. Simone says Diane can “totally trust” her, and I believe her because everything we’ve seen before about Simone suggests that this would be true. And because, I imagine, with her husband having a near-death experience, Simone’s thinking about her life and what she wants to accomplish.

Lester pops up to demonstrate that the L/G world is still connected to everything else, if only by a strand of dental floss. I don’t know what the show plans to do about this next season, but this is going to remain a serious problem for the show if they don’t address it head on. The Good Wife, featuring a 10 minute long backdoor pilot for Lockhart Agos and Lee is not a compelling show. The Good Wife is. There needs to be some substantial tie between the world of LAL and Alicia’s world, and I don’t see one forming. I love Diane and Cary and I want them to remain on the show, but it helps absolutely no one to make them into supporting players who should be relevant every now and then who are inexplicably there all the time. I’m at the point where I’m hoping that, if the writers don’t have a good plan, Christine and Matt have contracts to only appear in some of the episodes, like the cast of Parenthood did for its final season. That’s not my ideal show, but I’d rather—and I’m probably in the minority here—a tight show that uses good characters sparingly than a sprawling show that is able to check off the box next to “find something, anything, for Cary and Diane to do this week!”

“It seems that every time I come up here, this place has a new name,” Lester remarks. That’s because it does. I am glad the writers are aware of this. Now can they stop? Your self-awareness does not excuse this fuckery.

Cary spots Lester through the glass walls, and freaks. Bishop is apparently considering bringing his business back to LAL, which, LOL.

Cary tries to email Kalinda a warning and it bounces back. What a shock.

Grace and Zach (ZACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (GRACE AND ZACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) are fidgeting nervously on the living room couch. Peter (PETER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) walks into the room. This is the first scene he’s filmed with either of the kids since 4x22.  

“What’s going on? Are we in trouble?” Zach asks. “Are we moving?” Grace wonders.

Alicia walks in after a busy day, sits down, too. She’s just in time to hear Peter tell them the news. Zach seems excited. Grace looks at Alicia, like, what? Zach’s excited that his dad might be one metro stop away. Peter explains he’s running to be considered for VP, not to be elected. Zach’s on board. Grace is more apprehensive, and Alicia keeps an eye on Grace the whole time.

Grace wants to know if it would be Peter running or the PeterandAlicia unit. Good question. Alicia says she might not have the time to campaign. Peter says he wants her to make a few appearances.

“Are you still gonna pretend you’re married?” Grace wants to know. Isn’t that the million dollar question!? Zach looks shocked she’s actually spoken these words out loud. Go Grace!

“We don’t have to pretend, we are married,” Peter explains calmly. “You’re living in your apartment, dad. And mom’s here,” Grace says. She’s not young enough for this bullshit anymore. “Well, that’s because I have to be in Springfield,” Peter tries to feed Grace the lie for the press.

“Yes,” Alicia says directly. “We’d still have to pretend.”

Wow, I’m floored by the Alicia/Grace development here. Seems like Alicia—the one who never wanted the kids to know in the first place—is finally realizing that’s not a good strategy, especially not for Grace. I think she’s seen how well Grace responds to the truth, and that Grace always prefers the truth over the lie, even if she doesn’t like what the truth is, and is operating on that idea. She also feels she owes Grace the facts now, especially if she’s asking Grace to make a decision.

Alicia calls Peter aside, and they talk in Alicia’s bedroom, the door shut. “Are we gonna be angry with each other?” Peter asks. “No,” Alicia says, truthfully, because this isn’t early season six anymore.

“Peter. You already decided. Don’t put it on us,” Alicia asks. He denies it, but it’s true. Even if he’s unconscious of it, you don’t sit your family down to discuss this if you aren’t already sold on the idea. I’m not sure what he’s supposed to do, though. What’s the alternative? Turn it down? Inform the kids—and Alicia—he’s running whether they like it or not?

“Look,” Alicia begins, sitting down on the bed, “Grace will approve your decision because she knows you want to run, and she doesn’t want to stand in your way. And then they’ll rip us to shreds, because that’s what the press does. They’ll look into our lives, our families, our children, and Grace will blame herself. It’s not her decision. You know it’s not her decision. It’s yours and Eli’s.” Well, I’m glad Alicia realized that after she let Peter tell the kids about the offer, knowing he was going to ask for their permission! But on a non-snarky note, she is right. The kids shouldn’t be told that if they disapprove, Peter won’t run, because this is exactly what will happen. But it’s odd to me that Alicia thinks this decision just belongs to Peter and Eli if it involves her family so heavily. I understand why it wouldn’t include the kids. Why doesn’t she put herself into the equation? (Am I reading too much into this? This didn’t bother me at all the first time through.) (Probably more likely that Alicia’s just saying she realizes that Peter isn’t doing this because he wants to hear that everyone’s genuinely excited and on board with the idea; he’s doing it so he can comfortably follow through on what he already intends to do, so he’s not going to push after he gets the answer he wants, and that’s unfair to his family.)

Anyway, the real point here is that Alicia understands Grace. She’s never understood her better than she does in these scenes right here, knowing to be direct with her and then recognizing that Grace is about to start making decisions because she doesn’t want to be standing in anyone’s way (she never does—Grace never wants to be part of the problem; just look at 4x18). Alicia is entirely right that Grace will blame herself when things go wrong because she’s seen Grace do that in the past. Grace may be maturing, but she’s still a child. This is not her call to make, and Alicia knows it and puts a stop to it.

That may just be the best moment of mothering we’ve seen from Alicia yet on this series. It’s protective in a less fierce way than Alicia gets when her family’s threatened, yet it means even more. She’s calm and direct and what she’s saying is specifically about the way Grace thinks (Zach will be ok; this is the kid who made friends at a new school because his dad slept with prostitutes). Because finally, finally, she’s starting to understand her daughter.

Alicia is sitting for this confrontation (to use the word loosely. This is hardly a confrontation because it’s very calm) and Peter is standing. Usually, this set up would make Peter look intimidating, looming large over Alicia, and it would make things tense. But we see Alicia make the choice to sit down, on her own bed, and the conflict never escalates. Instead of making things tense, it removes tension from the scene. Alicia is comfortable and at ease holding this conversation; she doesn’t make herself as big as she can or stay on guard. She doesn’t need to.

Peter says he’d be able to walk away from this, and Alicia calls his bluff. SHE doesn’t want him to run. “Okay,” Peter says calmly. He’s disappointed (as I imagine anyone in his shoes would be), but calm. There’s no way the writers are actually dropping this—they’ve already talked about “national politics” in season 7—so it’ll be interesting to see how we get from here to a campaign, if we get from here to a campaign. Alicia seems set on her decision and I don’t think Peter would go back on his word. There are other people, though, who might try to get him to reconsider (like the DNC, Eli, and Jackie).

At night, Alicia waits outside of Homan Square to catch the friendly officer as he leaves the building. She lies to him about Rickter having a medical condition, prompting him to call Rickter’s doctor to confirm she’s not making this up. She hands him the doctor’s card. Hmm. “Go ahead, call him, he’ll tell you,” Alicia says, and something sounds sort of off…

… because something is off. Alicia and Finn have set a trap for the officer. He’ll call the “doctor” to confirm the medical condition, but instead he’ll be confirming Rickter’s location. Meanwhile, Alicia and Finn are going to wait back in the season 4 finale, in a dark car.

Oh, did I say in the season 4 finale? I meant in an alley.

Again, Alicia and Finn’s “romance” is paralleling Alicia and Will’s. This happened extensively in 6x09, and this moment recalls the car/kiss scene in 4x22. Just like the 6x09 scenes, the parallel is more of a contrast. Finn and Alicia have a conversation in the car—one that leaves very little room for ambiguity (unlike the 4x22 one). There’s—again, like 6x09 as compared to 1x17— no kiss. And no one says “to hell with bad timing—we talk” and then never does.

Finn wants to be upfront: he’s been seeing his ex-wife. Oooh, yes. Alicia processes this, smiles, and says, “That’s great. Good.” To my mind, she looks sincere. She understands what that means. Finn’s in the Alicia role here, but that doesn’t make Alicia Will.

Finn says he doesn’t like to fail and he feels like he failed when he got divorced. He also wants to make sure this isn’t going to get in the way of his partnership with Alicia. Alicia laughs that off. Again, she seems totally fine with this information.

And of course then the phone rings and it’s the officer calling Dr. Polmar (ha-ha). Alicia does a little happy dance in the background and it’s the cutest thing ever.

Lester is grocery shopping in the frozen foods aisle. I’m going to assume the snowflakes hanging everywhere are supposed to mean “the stuff in this section is frozen” and not “please enjoy our winter specials!” because Lester mentioned earlier that it was hot outside. Lester pushes his cart towards the next aisle, and… there’s Kalinda.

“You looking for me?” she asks, and commercials.

Lester goes to record the conversation and Kalinda snatches his phone. She knows what she’s doing. And she knows what she’s doing, coming back. It’s like 3x22. She will run for self-preservation, but the only mess she’s going to leave behind is a hole in the wall of her apartment. If whatever she’s running from threatens anyone she cares about, her self-preservation ceases to be her top priority. And Lester is threatening multiple people she cares about.

Lester, you know who you should ask about frozen pizza? Alicia.

Kalinda continues to insist she didn’t betray Bishop; Dex set her up.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Mr. Lester. You leave my work and my friends alone, and I will come and see Mr. Bishop,” Kalinda says. That’s Kalinda for you. (Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can say this is a good thing; Kalinda in the Pilot would’ve done the exact same thing… if she had friends.)

Kalinda sets a meeting with Bishop and walks off with Lester’s phone.

Alicia and Finn’s trick worked! The judge orders Homan Square to be opened to Alicia and Finn.

As Alicia’s leaving court, she runs into Mr. Kingsley-Weaver, who I’m going to continue to call Mr. Ghost Writer. She introduces him to Finn as, “my ghostwriter.” Finn just looks at Alicia like, “you’re ridiculous,” she rolls her eyes, and Finn walks away without even saying hi to Mr. Ghost Writer. Alicia tries to ditch her new shadow, but all he wants to do is observe, so it’s good for him that she’s too busy to talk to him.

I wonder why the choice to use a male ghostwriter for Alicia?

Over at L/G, fighting. David Lee doesn’t believe Simone would use her maiden name over concerns about nepotism. And even if she is being genuine, any slip up will be beneficial to Canning. We know that’s true. Remember how he snooped around Alicia’s stuff the second he found out Grace was safe? Cary wants Simone gone, too, because she’s too big of a risk to take with the firm being so fragile. Much as I would like to see Simone keep her job, I really can’t blame David Lee and Cary for being suspicious.

Diane wants to at least be the one to fire Simone, and that’s what we see next. Diane kind of encourages Simone to use connections next time she wants a job, and, really, Diane, you’re going to say that to Simone? At this moment? “I did this on my own. This was me,” Simone says tearfully. Diane knows.

Alicia goes to talk to Rickter, but the mean officer stops the nice officer from talking to her, who says he’s already talking to his lawyer. Bullshit! “The judge is gonna crucify you,” Alicia snarls.

“Meet me in court. They’re screwing with us,” Alicia says dramatically, and I think we’re about to go to commercials when out of nowhere pops Mr. Ghost Writer, thriving on the drama and eliciting a wonderful eyeroll from Alicia before we transition into court. Reminds me of the camera work on Jane the Virgin a few weeks ago where they kept revealing that Luisa’s new gf was in the room for these intense Luisa/Rafael conversations about business.

As Alicia predicted, Judge Morris has no use for the officer’s stalling tactics.

Outside, in the hallway, Mr. GW wants to know if “this is a standard case for your new firm.” “Well, he’s only my second client, so it’s too early to tell,” Alicia answers, because what else is she supposed to say to that?

“Why are you doing this? Is it about injustice?” Mr. GW wants his angle. “He needed help,” Alicia answers. “It’s like a puzzle. How do you get the law to help someone?” She’s taking his questions literally and being of no help at all to the image he’s trying to craft. He doesn’t need Alicia to talk about logic problems; he needs her to talk about emotions and caring and injustice.

“But… you care?” He probes further. Alicia, instead of answering, glances at his notes. Should you be curious, the page he’s scribbling these notes on is about Veronica, who “appears to have cheated on Father during marriage. (Significant for Alicia’s eventual relationship with husband?) Maybe. Return to question later.” Also, “split from Father – first in a long line […] ultimately ended in divorce – string of men.” I would love to read this book. Maybe it would tell me Alicia’s dad’s name.

There’s also something written in the margins, “Too tough soften.” That note’s not about Veronica. Alicia stares at it. “Do I care, yes, what is that, a rough draft?” Alicia changes the subject.

Alicia figures out what’s going on pretty quickly. This book is Eli’s doing, and he’s giving notes on how he wants the book to make Alicia come across. Alicia gets Mr. GW to hand over the pages and only has to glance at them for half a second before she knows she needs to talk to Eli.

“You rang, Madam First Lady?” Eli says when he finds Alicia on the stairs of the courthouse. “Sit down, Eli,” Alicia requests. “I would, but, I, I don’t like sitting on steps. I always think dogs urinate there,” he refuses. The mind of Eli Gold must be a fascinating place.

Since Eli doesn’t sit, we have another conversation where Alicia holds the power but is the party sitting.

Alicia asks if the point of the memoir is to “rehabilitate me.” Yes, basically.

Then Alicia begins to read from Eli’s notes: “too much ball-busting. Softer words needed.  Why the emphasis on work versus home, rethink.” Oh, no.

“So, you’re remaking me as… a homemaker?” Alicia asks. She cleverly gets him to deny it so she can catch him with the next quote she has, but before I get to that, I want to go way back to season 1, episode 17, and the scene where Will visits the apartment to ask a favor of Peter. Will arrives, asks to talk to Peter, and just like that, Alicia’s back in the kitchen, preparing a tray for the powerful men with important business to discuss. As she’s getting everything ready, there’s a moment where she pauses, considers what she’s doing and the homemaker role she’s slipping back into, and discards the pastries (pastries?) she was going to place on the tray. In discarding the pastries, she rejects the homemaker label, the past she never wants to return to and the identity that’s no longer hers. And here it is again.

Eli claims he just wanted balance so it wasn’t all courtroom action. “So you wanted me to play the wife, with the cookie recipes?” Alicia accuses. “Alicia, no,” Eli dismisses her. I mean, surely that’s hyperbole. Surely there are no reci-- “Ask A for possible recipes here,” Alicia reads. Oh. LITERALLY, THE WIFE WITH THE COOKIE RECIPE. Eli’s caught. “Okay, that was a bad idea,” he admits, as though it’s only that one thing and not the entire idea—and the way he went about this whole process—that’s offensive.

“Don’t patronize me, Eli,” Alicia insists. “I read your notes.”

“It’s a good story. It’s a story with a lesson,” Eli argues. Sure, but if you’re going to tell that story about Alicia and claim it’s in her own words, at least have the decency to let her know what you’re doing. She’ll figure it out on her own and it’ll be worse. Or… she’ll tell you that it’s not true, as though that actually matters. But I get it. This is her story, and no matter how many times she has to manipulate it, sharing her story in (supposedly) her own words is hard enough. Sharing a story that chips away at everything she loves about who she’s become since the scandal and then passing it off as though it were true is even harder. Also, while she got accustomed to manipulating her image for the public during the campaign, I don’t think she ever felt comfortable doing it.  

“No to this,” Alicia states, thrusting the draft at Eli. “No to being First Lady. No to everything.” Here’s hoping that “no to being First Lady” means “of Illinois” and not “of the U.S.”

Does this line remind anyone else of In Sickness? “It’s a no.” “What is?” “Everything. Counseling. An explanation. Anything you ask, anything you say.” I don’t think there’s a connection here (I think the Kings have particular rhythms of dialogue they like to write and moments sometimes recall other moments unintentionally) but…

Rickter finally appears in court, but there’s a problem: he’s confessed to buying marijuana plants.

Finn and Alicia talk this over at a bar. Note the extras moving around in the background throughout the whole frame. Finn’s almost done with his drink and he just can’t believe Rickter never asked for an attorney. Alicia and Finn strategize a bit and Finn very abruptly (with his mouth still full!) gets up to leave.

The camera pans over, and Kalinda (!!) sits down. Alicia stares right past her, I mean, right at her. The extras stop walking around. I’m not going to break down why I think this scene was faked because that’s been done convincingly by other sources. At this point, I’ve run out of energy to discuss whatever’s going on behind the scenes. It’s unfair, it’s stupid, and I’m being generous in saying there’s only a 99% chance it’s something extremely petty. And I don’t want to talk about it. At all. (Which isn’t to say you shouldn’t talk about it or that it’s a waste of time to talk about it. You should talk about it because the show deserves bad PR for this.)

Anyway, I’m going to try my best to talk about this scene as it exists on the page. That is, we may know it’s faked, in that Archie and Julianna didn’t film it together, but for Alicia and Kalinda, the scene is very much real. (And, for Alicia and Kalinda, who’ve presumably had minor off-screen face-to-face interactions, what’s monumental about this scene is that Kalinda returns for it.) (Well, I guess I can’t really talk about A/K without talking about the A/K ban—they treat drinking together like a thing they can no longer do, but we saw them meet for drinks three times in season 4, and that’s not counting the wine in the hotel room. The biggest problem with the A/K ban is that it halts any progress the two made and then acts like that progress never happened in the first place… but only some of the time, because sometimes the writers like to remember that progress only to forget it again.) (This is all a long way of saying that it’s hard to tie up the Alicia/Kalinda friendship with a bow because it’s unclear where the two actually stood when Kalinda ran, or, rather, because it’s unclear how the two got to the place the writers had them in. How can you give a storyline that never existed a good ending?)

“I thought you were gone,” Alicia says. “I was,” Kalinda replies simply. Alicia worries it’s not safe, but Kalinda’s pretty sure that it is for five minutes. Alicia continues to stare past her as Kalinda orders two tequila shots “for the road.” This is somehow less insulting than it should be. One final A/K bar scene to make up for two years of nonsense shouldn’t be enough—and it’s not. But this moment is surprisingly emotional and effective despite it being the realization of what I least wanted to see from Kalinda’s exit (one final bar scene).

Kalinda’s not just there to hang out with Alicia. She’s there to help her. Alicia hasn’t turned the note over to Lester; she was supposed to. But she didn’t want to. “It’s a confession,” Kalinda reveals. It was her way of making sure that if someone found out what she did, her friends (specifically Alicia?) wouldn’t get caught up in the mess. It gets Alicia off the hook. Alicia just shrugs, smiles, and defiantly downs her shot of tequila.

“A great thing happened when I won the election,” she begins. “I gave up. Anger, jealousy, what people thought. I just threw them overboard. It’s nice not to care. It made me miss just sitting in a bar, drinking, with you.” Don’t Fail did an excellent job of setting up these lines. We watched Alicia give up, we watched her have a crisis of confidence, and then we watched her remember how to block out what others thought of her. We saw her anger and jealousy (interesting that she mentions jealousy), at least towards Peter, begin to fade in Loser Edit when the sexy emails were about to go public. We saw Alicia’s anger towards Kalinda begin to fade in Don’t Fail, and we even got to see for a fact that Alicia was thinking about and missing drinking with Kalinda. It doesn’t excuse everything that happened (rather, didn’t happen) in between 4x15 and late season six, but at least the writers were able to tie this in to the other major events in Alicia’s life and set it up a few episodes beforehand.

Kalinda doesn’t know how to reply to that, except to order another round of shots. But she decides to say something. “Alicia, I… I’m not very good at talking. I never have been. But. I do need to say this. My time with you as your friend was the best I ever had. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that things got messed up.” Awwwwww. But, argh! Kalinda and Alicia weren’t friends for more than double the amount of time that they were, and I resent that this is what it came down to for Kalinda. Two seasons of friendship, a season and a half of tension, and then two and a half seasons of nothing. And then this line, which would be so much more powerful if the writers (and whatever other parties were involved) hadn’t effectively quit writing about a relationship that was once so important.

Anyway, nothing about what Kalinda’s saying isn’t true. She isn’t good at talking. She does need to say this before she leaves. Her time as Alicia’s friend was the best she’d ever had. She is sorry. On that last line, I’d like to call attention to Kalinda’s phrasing. She apologizes that “things got messed up.” An interesting—and smart, because I would never forgive the writers if Kalinda and Alicia’s final scene was Kalinda shaming herself and apologizing yet again to Alicia— choice to have Kalinda accept the blame here only passively. She doesn’t say she’s sorry she messed things up. Things just got messed up.

Alicia nods. “I wish we had the chance to do it over again,” she reflects. This is probably my favorite line from the scene. It’s the line that provides the most closure. They can’t go back—even if Alicia could be Kalinda’s friend again, Kalinda’s on the run—but they could do it over again. They could do it over again. Alicia could react differently; Kalinda could make different choices. Alicia is part of the problem, too, and for the first time, she’s almost kinda sorta admitting it.

They do their second shots and look at each other, neither sure where this conversation goes next. “I have to go,” Kalinda reminds Alicia. “I’ll never see you again?” Alicia asks. “I don’t think so,” Kalinda replies. Alicia nods, then whispers, “That’s too bad.”

“I, um…” Kalinda starts to say, but as she watches Alicia stare sadly across the bar and off into space, she can’t bring herself to say it. (I wonder if she was going to say “I love you”?) Instead, she just says, “Goodbye,” and walks away.

“Bye,” Alicia says quietly after Kalinda’s out of earshot. She inhales deeply.

And that, dear followers, is the conclusion of what was once one of the all-time great female friendships on television. The scene’s fine, surprisingly. It’s emotional and hits the right beats and its tone is sad and ambivalent enough that it avoids some of the fanservice-y (though I’m not sure which fans, exactly, this scene would service) feel it could half. Still, it’s not just sad because it’s the end. It’s sad because it makes everyone realize—Alicia especially—what a waste these last four years have been for Alicia and Kalinda’s relationship.

Back from commercials, a very angry Canning storms through the hallways of L/G and pushes open the doors of Diane’s office. “Damn you!” he exclaims. “Damn you three!” Simone is at home crying, and Louis is pissed. Canning reminds them that he’s never gone after any of their family members. “We have no family members,” David Lee reminds him. True! Sad, but true! (Well, not entirely true, because David Lee has a niece.) Also: I’m not sure this counts as going after Simone. Do you think Canning would want to hire Caitlin? I don’t.

Canning says he’s going to destroy LAL and rip them apart. Oooh, I’m so scared. I am so invested in the Diane/Cary/David Lee partnership that I’ll be just devastated if it falls apart and comes back together in some new way! Canning destroying LG! This has never been done before! (Remember the season 4 bankruptcy arc where they were in financial trouble and then OOOOOH WAIT NO ACTUALLY THEY HAD MILLIONS OF EXTRA DOLLARS!?)

David Lee isn’t fazed by the threat.

On the stand, Jacob testifies that he was not told he was allowed to call an attorney and that he confessed because he was told he’d be released if he did. Finn gets angry (passionate) as he talks about the injustices of the system. Go Finn!

When the officer (the mean one) is on the stand, Alicia and Finn stand at the same time to question him. Finn defers to Alicia.

Alicia and Finn end up back at the bar to discuss strategy. “You sounded good in court today,” Alicia offers during a lull in the conversation. Finn says he was angry but notes that it wasn’t very helpful. “Well, it looks good on you-- anger,” Alicia compliments him. Finn makes a silly face at her. She smiles. They look at each other for a bit too long. “I gotta go,” Finn says. He explains that it’s getting late. “9:00,” Alicia jokes. “Well, if I stay, I’ll just get sloppy, and then something or other, and then I don’t know what will happen,” he explains. Yes, you do. You know exactly what you think will happen, Finn.

“Something bad?” Alicia asks. “Very bad,” Finn says, looking directly at her.

Alicia’s alone at the bar again, and this time, there’s no Kalinda sliding into the frame. There’s only a woman who at first glance could be mistaken for her, across the bar. Alicia watches her, sadly.

She has the same look on her face as she rides the elevator up to her apartment, but quickly masks it when she sees Lester waiting there for her. She lets him into her apartment, not even caring to supervise him. She walks directly to the can where she’s stored Kalinda’s note, absentmindedly and unhelpfully answers Lester’s questions, turns on one of the stove’s burners, and sets the letter on fire. “It’s Kalinda’s letter to me,” she explains.

“Why did you do that?” Lester wonders. “I didn’t want you to have it,” she says with a slight smile. “What did it say?!” Lester inquires. “It said goodbye. Goodbye, Mr. Lester,” Alicia replies.

Heh. A fun moment, but also an important one: Kalinda has told Alicia to give Lester the letter. The only one that benefits from Lester getting the letter is Alicia (and maybe Diane/Cary, but Kalinda specifies that it gets Alicia off the hook so I’m going with that). Alicia chooses to make things more complicated for herself instead of letting Kalinda sacrifice even more for her—a nice twist on the usual pattern. On a smaller, more Alicia-level scale (Alicia-level meaning in contrast to the high stakes action packed world Kalinda lives in), Alicia’s making a sacrifice for Kalinda. (That’s not all that’s happening here, especially since it’s unclear if Kalinda would be at any further risk if Lester did receive the confession, but I think it’s part of it.)

Nice officer is on the stand now, and he can’t lie under oath. Lawyer stuff happens and Rickter’s confession is thrown out.

Lester is at what looks like a T-Mobile store purchasing a new phone when Kalinda walks in and sets his old phone down on the table. (How is Kalinda staying so in the loop?!)

Kalinda decided not to go meet with Bishop after all. She realized, just in time, that Bishop’s powerless now. Kalinda also threatens to turn in evidence on Lester if he continues to chase her.

Lester gets upset that our lovely leading ladies aren’t “demure.” Boy, would he like Alicia Florrick’s Life Story As Told By Eli Gold.

Lester says he’ll let her get away, say he couldn’t find her. She just can’t come back. At least she gets her exit. (I totally understand what the Kings meant by this episode being Kalinda’s “encore.” They’ve said a lot of bullshit lately, but I do like that.)

Before Kalinda leaves, Lester asks her if she’d like to partner up with him. Doesn’t he wish?!

Kalinda puts on her sunglasses and says the last words we’ll ever hear from her (!!): “No. I’m good.” A smile on her face, she walks out of the store and down the street. It’s exhilarating. She’s free. She’s leaving the people she cares about behind, but she has the future, and she leaves her friends behind knowing she’s tied up all loose ends (except not saying a proper goodbye to Cary or Diane… or, like, Lana, who, why was she in this season at all if she wasn’t going to be important later on?). Anyway. Kalinda has a promising future ahead of her. She will reinvent herself again, hopefully having learned something from the last time. She’ll rebuild. She’ll form new relationships and learn new lessons, too. Sad as it is, this could be good for Kalinda, if she’s self-aware enough. Now she knows what it’s like to care about someone (many someones) and to leave them behind, and maybe that will inform the relationships she builds wherever she goes next. I have high hopes for her, hopes the writers will almost certainly not be able to dash because they’re no longer responsible for writing K’s story.

Here’s to Kalinda Sharma, a fantastic, iconic, original character who was failed by the writers who created her. I’ll miss you, Kalinda, but I’m happy you’re getting out. (I’m not quite sure what I’m talking about here or how much I’m conflating character with writers with acting. All I know for sure is that fanfic writers are going to treat Kalinda better than the Kings ever did, and that Archie Panjabi deserves to have a flourishing film and television career.)

Finn shows up at Alicia’s door, and Alicia’s thrilled, because she’s been looking up office space. But Finn doesn’t share her enthusiasm.

“I can’t be doing this,” Finn says, like he’s already done something wrong. “Doing what?” Alicia asks. “There’s… um… something… between us,” Finn explains. Alicia crosses her arms.

“And we push it, and then we say we won’t, and then we push it again… I can’t live that way. I can’t.” Hey, we really are in season 4, except for that Finn’s starting the conversation Alicia never could. I think the writers could’ve built this a little better, but there’s just enough flirtation in every Alicia/Finn exchange (plus that weird sex daydream in 6x14) for me to buy that Finn’s worried about it.

“We don’t have to push it,” Alicia offers, sounding so flirty it almost discounts her words. I think Alicia is a lot better at controlling herself around Finn than she ever was around Will, but I also think that if there’s a mutual attraction that they’re going to let fester, there’s a lot of room for danger.

Finn knows that they don’t have to push it, but “it’s not always do or don’t.” Which is exactly the problem. It’s will or won’t. Alicia and Will said a thousand times they wouldn’t push it; they always did.

“I don’t wanna work alone,” Alicia says, accepting but not liking what Finn has to say. Finn apologizes, but insists that he has to go. Out in the hallway, he says, “Bye,” and Alicia closes the door. The last time we saw this happen, it was Kalinda’s exit from the show (the first one). Might this also be Finn’s exit?

Let’s talk parallels, because there are a lot of them. Part of that’s almost certainly meant to convey repetition, Alicia passing all the same benchmarks—from various parts of her life, not just her relationship with Will—again, the situations turned on their heads, but still Alicia inhabiting her past. A lot of it’s also about contrast: this is different than it was before. It certainly is. In 2x23, Rickter is Alicia and Will’s client; Alicia and Will stay at the bar after the case, get sloppy. Will was supposed to go to Tammy; he dropped everything to work on the case instead. In 6x22, Rickter is Alicia and Finn’s client. Finn doesn’t let things get sloppy. Finn goes to his ex-wife. But Finn is, in an odd way, also in the Alicia role, but in season 4 Alicia’s role—the one who puts a stop to things when he senses a problem, and does it clearly and directly. He’s what should have happened in season 2 and what should have happened in season 4, that is, if everyone wanted to be spared a lot of hassle and emotional pain.

It’s a little odd to me that I can’t find a way—maybe I’m just not approaching it the right way—to connect this to Alicia. Alicia’s actions aren’t really factoring in here, in either case, though she certainly isn’t passive around either man. It’s more like the situation is repeating around her. Finn has to play both 2x23 Will and 4x22 Alicia. We can’t see Alicia respond to Finn’s 2x23 Will because Finn cuts the scene short by leaving; Alicia isn’t 4x22 Will in the car and she’s certainly not season 5 Will after shit hits the fan (and that doesn’t seem like a particularly fruitful contrast to make; we already know Alicia and Will are very different, and that Alicia and Finn’s relationship has much less history than Alicia and Will’s did). I sort of wonder, because of this (the logic being that a parallel involving Alicia would be about Alicia), if the writers originally intended to go somewhere different with Finn. Where, I’m not sure, but this ending seems like a nice way to wrap up his character while continuing the repetition of other elements from Alicia’s past (the scandal, rebuilding, Kalinda running and then returning), more about Finn and a general theme than about Alicia. (This is in contrast to the 6x09 || 1x17 parallels, which were TOTALLY about Alicia.)

WOW THAT WAS RAMBLING. Hopefully you got something out of it.

Anyway, it wouldn’t shock me at all if this is Matthew Goode’s exit from the show. I’m neutral on Finn—I’d be fine with him staying; I’m fine with him leaving. This would be a subtle but acceptable exit if it is final, and it’s also a place the writers can pretty easily write themselves out of if need be.

Alicia looks in at her new office, sad that her firm’s falling apart before it even really got started and that it’ll be just her, in Zach’s room, from here on out.

“Stupid… stupid…” she shames herself as she leans against a desk in the living room. Awww, Alicia. You didn’t do anything wrong! There’s a knock at the door! Alicia thinks it’s Finn! He’s changed her mind! She’s not on her own!

But it’s not Finn. It’s Louis Canning. “Wanna partner?”

Alicia stares at him. And that’s the end of season 4. I mean season 6.

(Parallels, y’all. This season’s been embracing them like crazy.)

(Also, s1 ends with Alicia standing in a doorway of sorts, s2 ends with the hotel room door, s3 ends with Alicia and Kalinda at doors, and s4 ends with Cary at Alicia’s door. This makes season 5′s finale the only finale to not end with a door.) (Everyone talks about how much TGW loves elevators. They love doors just as much.)

So, that’s a wrap on season six. I’ll probably write something about the season as a whole in a few weeks, after I have time to think it over (and once I think of a way to frame it that doesn’t hinge on explaining why the Salon article from last week about S6’s flaws is wrong/limited). I also have a piece in the works about Alicia’s identity crisis and season 6 that I need to think through a bit more (it’ll be heavily inspired by that excellent and thought-provoking New Yorker article I posted about the other day). I’d like to write some more traditional pieces over hiatus—you know, things that I put a lot of thought into, proofread, structure, argue clearly—and if you have any prompts for longer pieces, feel free to send them my way. As always, I’m happy to answer any questions, discuss anything I’ve mentioned here in further detail, or chat.

Also, just as a little plug, please note that I have now published something about every single episode (!) of TGW. You can find lengthy recaps like this of every season six episode and shorter entries from last summer’s #TGWRewatchProject on my meta page here. You’ll also see some links to questions I’ve answered and longer meta posts I’ve written, if you’re interested.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a stress-free hiatus!  

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x11-- Hail Mary

Better late than never! My thoughts on 6x11 under the cut..

And we’re back! Wasn’t that a fun hiatus?!

“400, 500, 600…” Alicia says, placing hundred-dollar-bills on the table. I’ve missed the sound of her voice.

Alicia and Cary are sitting to a sofa, handing a man $5,000. Marissa stands next to them, helping with the transaction. You know how the writers used to run blogs like Snark is the New Black to supplement the events on screen, just for fun? They should start a blog from Marissa’s POV—I’m sure she’s an excellent writer whose tone would make for some great blog posts—about all the things she’s seen as Alicia’s body woman. Can you imagine what those entries would look like?! (And yes, I know Marissa wouldn’t actually be able to blog about these things because confidentiality and politics and blah blah blah. But it’d be fun, no?)

“Sign here,” Herc (the prison consultant, but I’m calling him by his character on The Wire’s name) says to Cary, placing a piece of paper on the table. Alicia reaches for it, instinctively. She’s there with Cary, protecting him like he’s her child. She reaches for the paper like she’s his legal guardian.

Herc is Cary’s prison consultant. His job is to prep Cary for his four years in prison, letting him know what to expect and how to survive. He’s been hired for six hours, and once the clock’s started, Herc kicks Alicia out. Women aren’t allowed in this session. Question: if Alicia planned on being in the hotel room with Cary all day, why was the debate prep session scheduled in the first place? We know the six hours of the prison consultation overlap with the debate and the rush to find the Brady violation, so was Alicia planning on just not showing up to debate prep?

Alicia gives Cary a hug—the third between them this season. Who knew Alicia was so affectionate!?

 “I’ll call you,” Cary tells Alicia. “Yeah, he’ll call you,” Herc comments. “Like his first day of school.” Seems like I was on to something with my earlier comment about Alicia acting as Cary’s parent/guardian. Alicia appears to be slightly offended by this comment, and she doesn’t seem to like Herc much.

“Dad, Dad. Calm down,” Marissa says into her phone. We don’t even need to hear the other end of the conversation to know what Eli’s saying and what tone he’s using.

Herc informs Cary that there’s a chance he’ll be sent to a maximum security prison even though he belongs in minimum security. Cary says he just wants tips on what to do; he’s already scared enough and understands that this isn’t going to be easy. Herc throws some sort of brightly colored lingerie at him. Misogyny, joy! Cary looks at the lingerie in frustration and throws it aside.

Herc tells Cary, who’s looking particularly weak and downtrodden, that he needs to find a friend on the inside. Of course, Cary doesn’t have friends on the inside: his family doesn’t support him, and even if they did, Cary is likely the first one in his family to go to prison. So Cary needs to find a friend, “a white guy,” Herc adds because “there’s no such thing as a post-racial lockup.”

“Now, let’s find you a white friend,” Herc repeats. And we cut to a close up of Kalinda. That HAD to be intentional. (Now, show, do something about your diversity issues. Don’t just comment on race, actively aim to have better representation on your show.)

Archie Panjabi has the most gorgeous, expressive eyes.

Cary calls Kalinda to ask her to start searching for a white friend for him in prison. Kalinda is distracted and looks uncomfortable, not because of what Cary’s saying but because she’s about to go meet with Bishop. Again.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Herc asks Cary. “Yeah. But it’s complicated,” Cary replies. I wish Cary would stop referring to Kalinda as his girlfriend when she’s not, but in this case (as opposed to 6x09), he doesn’t say it possessively, doesn’t introduce the word into the conversation, adds that it’s complicated, and seems to just be allowing Herc to use the term because it’s easier than explaining the whole situation.

“You’re gonna want to uncomplicate that today,” Herc comments. Cary laughs. “I’m serious,” Herc continues. Yeah, but how do you uncomplicate the Kalinda/Cary relationship in six hours? It’s impossible.

We cut back to Kalinda, who stashes a gun in her glove compartment, takes off her coat, throws it into the car (um, isn’t this supposed to be January in Chicago?), and walks towards a house as loud rock music plays.

The music stops suddenly, and Kalinda is inside Bishop’s kitchen, waiting nervously. The only sounds now are birds chirping and (presumably) Dylan practicing the violin. Bishop walks up behind Kalinda. He’s so tall. He walks up to her, a bit too close for comfort, not that there’s a comfortable way to talk to Lemond Bishop.

“This isn’t about me. This is about Cary,” Kalinda begins. “A lot of things about Cary end up being about you, Kalinda,” Bishop points out. This is true. And this is because Kalinda makes it that way. But I’ll get to that point later. Keep Bishop’s words in mind at the conclusion of this episode.

A clock ticks in the background. Tickticktickticktick. The countdown is on already.

Kalinda apologizes for threatening Bishop: “I’m sorry, sir.” Few things on this show are as terrifying Kalinda/Bishop scenes, and Kalinda being so deferential is unsettling. She’s in over her head, and she keeps going back.

When Kalinda mentions that Cary’s prison friend needs to be white, Bishop laughs.

Then he walks off, out of the kitchen. Kalinda watches the door he exited from. Cut to a close up of Kalinda from another angle—disorienting. Then dramatic music as Bishop enters from a different doorway with a cell phone he presents to Kalinda. He informs her she’s going to receive a phone call and she needs to take it. She asks questions; he withholds answers. “You’re asking for a favor, Kalinda. I’m asking for one in return.” A deal with the devil. She accepts.

On Bishop’s phone, a man asks Kalinda for information about Cary. Tickticktickticktick goes the clock. Kalinda provides the information, but then realizes the man on the phone spoke of an export trade Cary was involved in. But Cary’s being charged with conspiracy for an import trade. Uh oh! Trey was actually trying to sell drugs on the side, separate from Bishop’s drug empire. Cue the fast-paced music. Go! Go! Go!

Kalinda rushes at the door and tells Diane what’s going on. Diane calls people into her office frantically. Diane and Kalinda, exposition fairies, spell out what’s going on: if the drugs were being exported, then the advice Cary supposedly gave about importation wasn’t followed, so he’s not guilty. But is this enough?

Alicia, now on the phone call (of course it’s a phone call), says no. But maybe they can get the plea withdrawn. Diane sends Kalinda to the courthouse; she’ll meet her there. “I’ll meet you there too,” Alicia chimes in, making me hopeful for a split second that Alicia and Kalinda will interact at the courthouse. But before I can even complete that thought, Diane says, “No! Alicia, Judge Cuesta doesn’t like you. You stay where you are.” It’s just comical at this point, the ways Alicia and Kalinda are kept apart. The writers are lucky that Cuesta’s hatred of the Florricks dates back to the pilot and that this excuse is at least plausible.

On that topic: the Alicia/Kalinda scene ban is hurting the show. It’s been hurting the show for a long time, but in season five, when Kalinda worked at a different firm, had few reasons to interact with Alicia, and was off in her own universe or just barely on the show, it hurt the show in a different way. The damage was limited. The writing for Kalinda kept getting worse and worse, but the rest of the show was more or less unaffected. That’s no longer the case. If Alicia and Kalinda can’t interact in person, the logistics of Cary’s trial become complicated. Diane can always be there. Alicia can’t be there for the crucial moments Kalinda needs to be there for; Kalinda can’t be there for the crucial moments Alicia needs to be there for. Alicia’s absence then creates the impression of distance, and Alicia’s concern for Cary is harder to appreciate and take seriously. But the Alicia/Kalinda ban is not the only problem here. The writers are being lazy. There are other ways to show the connection between the two plots. Office politics would make an excellent arena for Alicia/Cary/Diane scenes that Kalinda would not need to play a role in, scenes that could explain Alicia’s absence from court, explain why there are/aren’t tensions related to Alicia’s campaign, and give us a sense of how Florrick, Agos, and Lockhart is doing. The Alicia/Kalinda ban is hurting the show because the writers are barely even attempting to work around it. Instead, they’ve let it split the show in two.

On a more positive note: Three awesome ladies are working together to help their friend, in an episode written and directed by women. (Erica Shelton Kodish wrote the episode; Rosemary Rodriguez directed.)

Eli overhears Alicia’s end of the conversation, and freaks out. Alicia can’t leave! (But, if you ask Alicia, she can’t not be involved with Cary’s troubles.)

Alicia has a debate tomorrow, Eli says. She has to prep. Alicia thinks she has more important things to do, like calling Cary. Don’t you just love Alicia logic? When faced with two pressing issues both vying for her attention, Alicia will pick one and decide that that means, objectively, that the other is unimportant. Alicia likes rules and objects, except for the rules she doesn’t think should exist, which she completely ignores. The law is the most important thing ever until it stands in the way of keeping her family safe, at which point it should be disregarded. Her debate is worth taking seriously until she’s more concerned with something else, at which point UGH, ALL THESE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS DEBATE, JUST GET OFF MY BACK AND REALIZE I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO!

Eli introduces Alicia to fake!Prady, an English professor who enjoys making jokes Eli has no time for (and is hilariously dismissive of).

Alicia is down by two points in the polls and needs to prep because she’s settled there. Last episode it was even. I knew I shouldn’t be keeping track of this! 

Eli commands Marissa to take Alicia’s phone away. You see, Alicia’s not paying any attention at all to debate prep because she’s so absorbed in Cary’s case. As I said: Alicia logic is a funny thing. (This would play so much better if Alicia and Cary’s relationship had been built up more in the last season and a half. But at least they’re doing it right now—and in 6x10, too.)

Alicia calls Cary, who ignores her call. He’s busy learning self-defense, in a scene that only lasts a few seconds.

Back in debate prep, the first question is about Cary pleading guilty. Elfman asks Fake Prady if he has a question for Alicia about that. He does, of course. How can Alicia help the law abiding citizens if she has a law partner in prison? Her judgment must be questionable. Alicia looks slightly annoyed but mostly uninterested in answering. She doesn’t realize it’s her turn to speak and deadpans a snarky reply, which irritates Eli.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Alicia says listlessly.  “Cary’s innocent. My law partner. He didn’t do it.” Great answer, Alicia. You say it with such conviction! (She says it with the conviction of someone who’s had to say it so many times she no longer cares to say it out loud, especially not when she could be elsewhere, helping him.)

Then Fake Prady breaks the rules of the debate and Alicia’s like OOOOH HE BROKE THE RULES instead of answering. Yo, Alicia, you might want to take this debate prep thing seriously. It’s important, too.

Alicia’s phone rings and she runs to answer it. The music returns. She is totally unfocused, and Dr. Fake Prady isn’t helping to distract her.

Diane says that they may need Peter’s help if this doesn’t work. Alicia’s prepared to call him. Ha. I bet that’s going to go over well. Things went so smoothly in 6x02…

Eli calls Diane to tell her to stop calling Alicia. Diane is like, tell her to stop calling me. But Alicia won’t listen to Eli; she’ll only cut off contact if she’s forced to. “Alicia can make a difference for Cary and any other Cary that comes along, but only if she wins,” Eli argues. Diane thinks this is a good argument and agrees to stop calling Alicia. Wait, wait, wait. Can we get a little more discussion of how Diane became 100% in favor of her new law partner running for SA?

In court, neither Cuesta nor Geneva (HIIII GENEVA) are happy to be there, going over this case. Somehow, Diane has failed to consider that she needs to find proof that the SA’s office KNEW the drug trade was an export and not an import. I can buy that she was in a hurry, but, really? It wouldn’t occur to her that she’d need that? It didn’t occur to me, but Cuesta says it like it’s standard procedure so it seems to me that an experienced lawyer like Diane wouldn’t have been caught off guard. But what do I know?

Diane looks at Kalinda—do we have anything? No, Kalinda shakes her head.

Kalinda looks devastated. Diane looks embarrassed. Cuesta looks agitated. Geneva looks angry to be accused of framing Cary.

Cue the music. “That’s not much time,” Kalinda says of the short window they have to free Cary. “Six hours. We’ve had worse,” Diane replies. Aaaaand title credits. (I hate it when they throw to credits like this. They do it far too often and it’s usually horribly melodramatic. This is one of the better ones, and I’m choosing to read “we’ve had worse” as self-awareness about this.)

Omg please stop fiddling with the credits and making small changes it’s just annoying at this point PICK SOMETHING AND STICK WITH IT.

Act two opens with a bird’s eye view of the conference room table at F/A/L. It’s covered in papers and at least a dozen people are in the room, chattering, when a very out of breath Diane walks in to give orders. We’ve seen this type of scene from this angle in this room so many times that the whole “the F/A/L offices are now in the Lockhart/Gardner building” thing slightly diminishes the importance of the moment.

Diane mentions that 6x10 took place two days prior to this episode and… LA LA LA TIMELINE DETAILS I CAN’T HEAR YOU

Diane gives the floor to Kalinda, who has more of the facts. There’s a shot in either season one or season two—I can’t remember the context, only the blocking—where Kalinda stands at the head of the conference table, giving the partners information. It’s notable because Kalinda is in a position of power there: she is so valuable (to the firm, to the show that put her there) she gets to command the room. For some reason, though Kalinda’s not standing at the head of the table in the scene here, the visual of Kalinda standing next to Diane while briefing the firm’s partners and employees reminds me of that season 1 or 2 scene. Kalinda is important. Kalinda has power.

Kalinda has friends in Canadian law enforcement. I’ll bet she does.

Cary calls Diane; Diane ignores the call. She’s wondering if she should withhold the information that he might not have to go to prison after all until they’re certain. (Reminds me of when Alicia and Diane don’t tell Cary that his dad refused to give more than a few thousand dollars towards his bail.)

Kalinda advises Diane not to tell Cary. They don’t have anything. Then, Alicia calls Diane, who, to Kalinda’s slight confusion, takes Eli’s advice and asks Alicia to stop calling.

Again, I ask: Since when is Diane not only supportive of Alicia’s campaign but so supportive she asks Alicia to not participate in something crucial and time sensitive? Questions like these, raised every single time something like this happens, are the consequence of not building a foundation early on and allocating screentime properly. I’m only slightly annoyed right now, but this is a minor plotpoint that clearly exists to keep Alicia’s debate B-plot going (and to keep Alicia away from Kalinda). What happens when it’s something bigger?

We stay with Alicia at the end of the conversation, as Eli tries to take her phone away from her. Marissa offers Alicia milk—again. I don’t know why this running gag exists, but I love it. (Hopefully it’s a Kalinda reference.) “I don’t like milk,” Alicia explains. To each their own.

Kalinda videochats with a Canadian inspector who claims he contacted Detective Prima, the detective on Cary/Trey’s case (and Geneva’s ex-lover). The music starts again, and Kalinda runs through the office with her laptop. (I don’t know when the stairwell she walks up got there, but ok. I think it was there earlier this season, but I’m not sure where it came from before that, because it’s definitely not the one from seasons 1 and 2.) Diane and Kalinda have found the Brady violation!

“Anyone you trust out here?” the prison consultant asks Cary.  Cary says yes, but not family. “Girlfriend? Friend? Wife?” Herc asks. “A friend. And a girlfriend,” Cary replies. A friend—singular. And a girlfriend, who’s not even actually his girlfriend. In the whole world, he has two people: Alicia and Kalinda. Notably, but unsurprisingly given complicated relationship between the two, Diane doesn’t make the list.

Herc, whose name on TGW is, I’ve just learned, Bill, advises Cary to give his power of attorney to Alicia and to not trust “the girlfriend.” Ugh. Not only is this obnoxious advice, but it’s particularly obnoxious given that “the girlfriend” is Kalinda. If Kalinda has your back, there is no person in the world better to trust. And this is why it’s bad to view the world in rigid stereotypes!

“One of the reasons I’m running, if not the prime reason, is that I saw how a marauding state’s attorney ruins people’s lives,” Alicia says in debate prep. “Not just the life of my partner, but the lives of widows and orphans whose loved ones have been murdered in the recent gun violence.” As an answer at a debate: that’ll do. As an answer that explains to me why Alicia Florrick would personally take on this campaign? Nah. It’s not that simple.

Fake Prady is taking this even less seriously than Alicia: he’s high and can’t stop laughing. Oh, writers. You and your quirk. Alicia, still completely checked out, walks off the stage. This is so not worth her time.

The shot of Elfman, Marissa, and Eli all reacting to Fake Prady’s state is perfect. Elfman looks amused but also frustrated and angry, Marissa’s not even trying to conceal her enjoyment (remember what I said about that blog?), and Eli looks as though he’s about to murder Fake Prady. Heh.

Bill really, really wants Cary to get laid. Cary doesn’t seem that enthusiastic. Alicia interrupts this charming conversation by telling Cary she can’t get in touch with Diane—does he have any updates on the Brady violation? Oh, come on, Alicia. You’re smarter than that. I know you’re not in the loop, but did it really not occur to you as you dialed Cary’s number, interrupted his expensive training session, and waited for him to pick up the phone, that Diane might not have told him? (A minor criticism, but I still think Alicia would have known better.)

Geneva and Diane are back in court because Diane’s trying to get Detective Prima’s hard drive. Cuesta asks Diane if she knows she only has four hours left. “I do, Your Honor. It’s very dramatic.” Hey, Diane? Please never use “Dramatic” and “Your Honor” in the same sentence. I know you don’t realize this, Diane, but you live in a world where different collections of events in your life are given titles, and “Dramatics, Your Honor” happens to be the title of the collection of events in your life surrounding the death of your close friend and law partner.

“… your affection for the dramatic, Your Honor.” HEY, GENEVA, WHAT DID I JUST SAY? STOP IT.

Kalinda’s friend Howell, who we last saw, I believe, in 6x09, helps her sort through the data from the police computers. Remember the good old days of season one where Kalinda had tons of friends who always helped her with little things like this? Why is it only now that she’s leaving that her world’s being fleshed out again and her character’s being developed again?

Unfortunately for Cary, there is no proof that Prima ever opened the email about the drug export. Time to consult the metadata! (The writers really love talking about metadata.)

Kalinda receives a call from an unknown number and presumes that it’s the Bishop call. It’s not. It’s Bill, calling her to ask her to go and fuck Cary. How pleasant. Either she’s being used for a drug empire or being used for sex. “I’d get down here and do your job,” he says. Her job. Kalinda says she’s busy, and Bill is all, “pshhh you don’t have something more important to do than pleasure him!” Meanwhile, Kalinda’s trying to save his ass so I think she does. Bill, always a wonderful guy, threatens to get Cary a hooker if Kalinda doesn’t show. Gross.

This was one of many moments during this episode that made me think about Kalinda’s agency. How much of it does she have? How much is she willing to submit for the sake of others? How much of herself is she willing to give away? To what extent are her choices hers, and to what extent does she feel obligated to make the choices she does? It may seem odd to discuss Kalinda—fiercely independent, brilliant, strategic, badass Kalinda—in these terms. She is, after all, the woman who says and believes that “everything you want to be you is you.” Yet, her character is not as simple as that, a reality with which Hail Mary attempts to engage with. I will get back to this later!

Though Kalinda rolls her eyes at the phone as she hangs up with Bill, once she finds out that Prima definitely never saw the email, her next stop is Cary’s hotel room. This plot makes me, perhaps irrationally, uncomfortable. Of course, Cary did not ask Bill to call Kalinda, and Kalinda did not go because Bill ordered her to. She made the choice to go—that’s why I call my dislike of this plot irrational. At the same time, she made that choice within the context of Bill’s invitation, and it’s very difficult for me to separate Kalinda’s choice from that framework… especially because the writers made the deliberate choice to use that framework. Again: irrational. If Kalinda agreed with Bill’s assessment of the situation but not his phrasing, this would not be the best time to object on principle.

Side note: Isn’t Kalinda supposed to be in a committed relationship with Lana now? I know that was technically left open ended, but are we meant to forget about Lana—who is not mentioned at all in this episode—and the larger context of the Cary/Kalinda relationship? No matter what the situation, there would be a point to make here. Has Lana accepted Kalinda’s definition of a relationship and said she’s okay with Kalinda sleeping with other people while they’re in a relationship? Have Kalinda and Lana tried to have a relationship and failed? Is Kalinda cheating on Lana, and if so, does she feel bad about it or does it not feel like cheating to her at all? Have Kalinda and Lana not seen each other at all since the end of 6x09? Follow-up feels essential here. How can we properly read Kalinda if all we have is a series of contradictory, disjointed events that are easily forgotten and then retconned if/when they’re mentioned again?

(For all the progress the writers have made with Kalinda this season, there’ve still been a lot of dropped threads.)

Bill told Kalinda to wear something sexy. She doesn’t change out of the red-and-black dress she’s wearing, but Bill looks at her in the doorway and says, “Okay. I approve.” BILL IS GROSS IF I HAVEN’T MENTIONED THIS YET.

Bill leaves Cary and Kalinda alone in the hotel room and closes the door, and we go to commercials. It’s suspenseful, I guess.

Shocker: when we get back from commercials, Cary is screaming at Kalinda for not telling him about the Brady violation. Heartbroken, Kalinda tells Cary they found nothing. He sits down on the bed, and Kalinda moves to sit down next to him. She holds his hand. Bill knocks on the door: “Less talking; more sex!” Kalinda and Cary laugh, and it’s totally cute. If this scene hadn’t happened, the first time through, I probably would’ve been very, very upset by the fact that Kalinda and Cary do end up having sex. As I said, I’m being irrational about this. It’s just… icky.

For reasons passing understanding, Eli chooses Finn to replace the professor as Fake Prady. The scene where Eli gives Finn his objective—“bury her”—is filmed right outside of the TGW stages. I see what you did there.

Okay, maybe it does make sense that Eli would invite Finn. He’s trying to get Alicia energized and concentrating, and clearly, making debate practice about the issues isn’t going to work, and since Alicia likes Prady, there’s no hatred of him that Eli can manipulate to coax a great performance out of Alicia. So he has to take a different route: making it fun. He knows Finn’s someone that’s important to Alicia because she was so insistent on having him announce her in 6x05 and he’s been doing things for the campaign so he’d be willing to work on short notice, and Eli’s worked with him before (remember when Finn was running for SA?) and respects his abilities, or at the very least his ability to be a good practice debate partner. So Finn does make sense here.

“Character. Character is the central issue in this campaign,” Finn Prady says. “The SA must be above ethical reproach, and that is where my opponent fails.” Alicia’s a bit more into defending herself now that it’s Finn saying this. He attacks Alicia for representing Bishop and Sweeney, and then mentions her connections to the corrupt governor.

“As a candidate for this office, Mr. Prady should understand the importance of judging people on their own merits instead of engaging in guilt by association.” This is true. It is also true that Alicia should understand that the reasons she’s a viable candidate have very, very little to do with her merits. This isn’t something she should mention at a debate—of course not—but her actions throughout this whole campaign indicate that she thinks she’s running on her own merits.

Because Alicia and Finn play well off of each other (and yes, there is definitely a way to read these debate prep scenes as flirty), Eli and Marissa are happy. “Better,” Eli remarks.

Cary and Kalinda are now naked in bed. “I won’t disappear on you,” Kalinda promises. Ah, but you will, Kalinda. You’re leaving the show. Maybe you won’t disappear on Cary, but it’s guaranteed that your relationship with Cary will disappear off-screen.

As Kalinda leaves the hotel room, she takes a moment to gather herself, leaning against the hallway wall. The thought of losing Cary to prison for four years is too much. She can’t let this happen to her friend. Resolved to help her friend, she decides the appropriate course of action is to frame Detective Prima. Oh, no. Please, Kalinda—don’t do this. The arc started with Cary being accused of committing a crime; now it’s ending with Kalinda in Bishop’s hands (unless she can wiggle her way out, which I’m not sure she can or that she believes she can) and committing a very, very serious crime, ruining someone else’s career and life in the process. It’s heartbreaking to watch Kalinda make these destructive choices, choices that, to Kalinda, feel more like obligations.

Kalinda likes to think of herself as an island. In Kalinda’s ideal world, no one can reach her or get too close. She relies on no one; cares about no one; invests in no one. But this is not Kalinda’s reality. She remains at a distance from most of society, but when she lets someone in, she allows their problems to overtake her life. Even as she maintains distance from the people she cares most about (often to their frustration), she becomes a devoted friend. She will do anything and risk anything for the people she cares about. She will break the law, she will let herself get sucked into dangerous situations, she will make tremendous sacrifices, and she may even have killed Nick because she cared so much about Alicia’s well-being. Once she starts caring, she’ll give and give and give until she has nothing left, without ever asking for credit or expecting the same in return.

On one hand, who wouldn’t want a friend like Kalinda? She is a fantastic friend. It is admirable that she’s able to be so selfless; that she cares so intensely and possesses such great loyalty. On the other hand, this behavior is self-destructive. There is no middle ground between the Kalinda with no ties and the Kalinda with intense ties. Though Kalinda is one of the most assertive, self-assured characters on this show, she’s also, surprisingly, often unable to exert her own power or recognize when she’s taking on the responsibility for problems she can’t possibly fix and giving away so much of herself that it’s unhealthy.

(I wonder if any of this ties into the idea of Kalinda as an abused woman—the idea that if she just stays, if she just does something a little different, maybe she can fix him, maybe she can solve his problems; she has to try or she’ll have failed. I’m just throwing this out there now, but the idea of an abusive relationship in Kalinda’s background has always made a lot of sense to me. And that brings up yet another point: are the writers planning to go anywhere with this, or just to give us another, more overt example of the same thing Kalinda’s always done? This is in character, and I applaud the writers for giving Kalinda material that’s in character, but that’s not enough. They need to push this to its conclusion instead of starting the same few explorations of character with Kalinda then abandoning them to go right back to the start (and then abandoning the new plotlines to start over yet again). They don’t need to make Kalinda change, but they need to explore what the consequences of being static are rather than just being repetitive.)

Kalinda just rushed out before telling Diane that the Brady violation she was so sure she found was a dead end and they needed to keep looking? Yeah, right. This opportunity to commit a crime should not have been waiting for her.

Bill is showing Cary how to eat in prison, and I’m using this as an opportunity to think about why these scenes with Bill were included in the episode. I think it’s to give the episode the sense that this is really happening; that Cary is really enjoying (“enjoying”) his last day of freedom. The episode feels more intense if the danger feels more real.

Cary seems to be considering taking Bishop up on his Barcelona offer. (We all know he’s not going to, yet the writers attempt to build suspense anyway.)

“My whole life, I wanted to be one thing: a lawyer.  I had it. I had it figured out. Get to the top, take the cases I wanted, help the people I wanted. Now… I can’t… I can’t… figure anything out,” Cary says almost tearfully. Yep. Cary did everything he was “supposed to” do, and wound up living a reality he never imagined possible. All he wanted was to be successful in his career and to use his success to help others (in true Cary fashion, his reasons for being a lawyer included both personal glory and an interest in helping others—contrast that with Alicia’s explanation in 6x04). But the system he thought was created for him turned on him, and now nothing makes sense.

Finn and Alicia seem to be having fun debate prepping. Maybe “witness prep” really would be a good code word for sex for them. I can just imagine them, in bed, whispering legal terms in each other’s ears and somehow making it sound dirty in a way only they understand. Of course, this would require them to a) be interested in each other romantically and b) get together romantically.

Peter walks into the room—he had an hour and thought he’d “take a peek.” Okay. Sure. I guess Peter really loves… debating…? How did we get here from 6x09? (Because I can somehow buy Peter’s cluelessness and the fluctuating tensions between Alicia and Peter, this is actually okay with me. Alicia and Peter have a lot of fights but usually hit the reset button, often without addressing the issue, and then things explode again. I don’t quite get it, but it’s always characterized their relationship: the ability to act civilly around each other, respect each other, and support each other (usually as parents) while still constantly being about to explode into massive fights.

Eli watches Peter carefully. He sees that this isn’t going to end well.

At the second Kalinda’s finished changing the metadata, Carey walks in with the real Brady violation… or a least with a lead on some sort of cover-up that makes Kalinda’s “findings” largely unnecessary. Kalinda phones Diane to say she may have something, and then, apparently, leaves the computer with her illegally altered files open on her desk for all to see, because that is a thing Kalinda Sharma would definitely do.

Cary checks his bank account balance—I’m not sure if it’s to reflect on his success before he loses it all or to consider his options for running away—as dramatic music plays. WILL HE RUN AWAY? (No. Of course not. But we need something to take us to commercials.)

Alicia is talking about gun violence, and Finn is talking about limited resources at the SA’s office, and Finn basically starts talking more and more like a former ASA and less and less like Frank Prady. When Finn says that the SA’s office lacks resources, Peter interjects to correct him, just as would happen in a real debate. Thanks for that, Peter. Peter stands up and starts lecturing Finn on his debating skills, giving him pointers. Last time I checked, Alicia was the one prepping for a debate. But Peter, who is so good at things like this, can’t help himself from jumping in. This is fun for him, and he’s the governor, so if this ex-ASA is going to make his points poorly, he’s going to be lectured at. Elfman and Eli both see that this is going to go nowhere (and end up with Finn debating Peter as Alicia gets distracted and out of her groove) and Elfman says they should take a break.

And just like that, Finn thinks he’s intruding (he is, but really, it’s Peter who’s intruding in this debate prep) and leaves.

Now Peter is filling in for Prady, and he’s clearly enjoying having the chance to do some debate prep with Alicia. She approaches him cautiously before they get started, asking him for a favor: to cross “the line between husband and governor” to help Cary out. Peter says he can’t help Cary—just like he did in 6x02. “You’re right. Sorry I asked,” Alicia replies, calmly. Peter pushes it by talking about how much he wants to help Cary, who once worked for him, and the combination of Peter rejecting the favor and Peter being so defensive sets Alicia off.

Luckily for Diane (and Cary), Cuesta’s running behind. We find out why a second later: he’s being offered a seat on the IL Supreme Court. At first, I thought this was the same spot that almost went to Diane, but from the conversation, it seems like they’re discussing the next vacancy and not a current one.

Kalinda talks to the non-Prima detective who might be able to help about Alicia’s campaign. The usual complaints about the show not tying together its two main arcs this season apply.

It turns out that Cuesta’s distracted because… Peter wanted him to be. He, without any prompting from Alicia (this was my read of the scene, but it’s also been confirmed by the writers on twitter), tried to help Cary. And that Peter didn’t take credit for it to Alicia says a lot. He didn’t do it for Alicia. He did it for Cary, a former employee whom he liked a lot. Anyway, Cuesta’s pissed because Cuesta HATES PETER FLORRICK more than he wants a Supreme Court seat (especially more than he wants a probably empty promise about a Supreme Court seat). And now Diane and Kalinda have more time to search, but Cuesta’s in a terrible mood.

Cuesta calls Peter the most corrupt SA in the county’s history, and the most corrupt governor of IL ever. And, before I can say, “WOW, that’s a pretty serious charge, given the competition,” Cuesta says, “And that’s sayin’ something.”

Alicia and Peter are debating, and while he sounds like his usually politician self, she sounds as angry and pissed off as she is. She is, quite obviously, debating Peter, not Prady. Peter asks her why she wants to run for SA, which should be a simple question. (I don’t think it’s a coincidence the show keeps raising this question again and again, and that the answer’s never really satisfactory.)

“I’m running because I believe there is a failure in leadership in the State’s Attorney’s office,” Alicia begins. “No,” Peter interrupts. “You’re setting up a straw man. Mr. Castro is not in this race.” “I’m not just blaming Castro,” Alicia continues, staring at Peter directly. “Cook County has a history of prosecutors with serious ethical shortcomings.” Peter’s right that Alicia’s setting up a straw man argument, but at the same time, Alicia did enter the race while Castro was running, and it’s valid for her to say that she’s seen it done poorly so she was inspired to take matters into her own hands.  But that doesn’t really matter, because what’s really happening here is that Alicia’s taking Peter’s ethical shortcomings to task… because she’s mad he wouldn’t commit an ethical violation when she wanted him to. Alicia logic, I never get tired of your contradictions.

Peter is all, unethical and controversial aren’t the same thing! To which Alicia replies: “My husband, unfortunately, was both.” Was and is, Alicia? Your husband who’s supporting you? I know you want to create distance and carve out your own image and being bold is a way of doing that, but you’re calling your husband, the governor, unethical. Peter is like “your husband isn’t in this race either.”

“But he is,” Alicia counters. “What he did as SA, what he’s doing now as governor, informs voters’ perceptions of me.” True that. “For better or worse?” Peter asks, using language of marriage vows. “Absolutely,” Alicia agrees. “But I think it is critical that people understand I am not my husband, and that they can expect more of me in office. More accountability, more responsibility.” At this point, Eli says, “uh-oh.” He can see that the good points Alicia’s making are getting clouded by her personal anger at Peter, and that this is going nowhere good.

“I’m not looking beyond the SA’s office. I don’t want a career in politics. I’m simply a lawyer, by training and by temperament. And what that means is I have the character to put the demands of this job before my own self-interests and the discipline to ensure that winning cases does not become more important than seeing justice done. Based on your past, Mr. Prady, I don’t think you can say the same,” Alicia snarls at Peter, looking pointedly at him at every opportunity she gets. This is an excellent speech that Alicia delivers passionately, but it couldn’t be more obvious that she’s talking to Peter, channeling her anger at him into the debate, and attacking him personally. She’s only passionate about this subject right now because she’s trying to show up her husband. She has been blowing off debate prep all day because her mind is elsewhere (what was that about putting the job ahead of your self-interests?). And, again: she’s doing this because he’s refusing to do her a favor. Not because she found out about a new scandal or about some corrupt thing Peter did, but because he didn’t do the corrupt thing she asked him to. Love ya always, Alicia.

Elfman thinks this is going great (it sort of is… Alicia’s getting the words right!) and Eli sees giant warning signs and calls a break. Elfman walks up to Alicia—close, establishing some sort of intimacy—and says quietly: “You just graduated. That was amazing.” THE EDUCATION OF ALICIA FLORRICK. (Remember earlier in the season how attentively Alicia was taking notes? Yeah. There’s a lot of literal “education” stuff in this plot.)

Also: Elfman is (perhaps unintentionally) validating all of Alicia’s feelings. He is praising her anger, cheering her on, and telling her she’s doing well. He is lending her the support she so desperately needs and helping her cling to her ideas about being good for the job and in the right as she fights against Peter. He hears her anger and instead of dismissing her, writing her off, or trying to talk her down, tells her she’s amazing. She eats it right up.

Elfman’s pissed at Eli, because apparently Elfman didn’t see the obvious tension between Alicia and Peter and the way Alicia was obviously trying to rip him to shreds. Elfman accuses Eli of wanting to protect Peter’s ego by not letting Alicia win. Ha. No. Eli knows the Florricks too well for that. He can see what Alicia’s doing. Marissa’s awkwardly standing around as her dad fights with Elfman, and she can’t leave. Heh.

Elfman and Eli start talking over each other. Eli accuses Elfman of not caring about the race; Elfman accuses Eli of supporting Peter at Alicia’s expense; Eli accuses Elfman of not knowing the Florricks at all… it’s pretty ugly. Elfman ends up screaming at Eli to get off of his campaign. He should probably listen to Eli, though, because this political marriage thing has been a terrible idea from the start and Eli’s sensed it and been against it for nearly as long as it’s been in place. For some reason, this reminds me of Elfman’s comments in 6x04 about how he gets during a campaign—how he “builds his life on winning. On hating the enemy and loving my candidate.” In other words, he loses perspective a little bit. He has to believe in Alicia the Superheroine to run her campaign at moments like this, and so he’ll only work for people he’s willing to elevate to that status during the most intense moments of the campaign. Elfman hears Alicia saying the words she’s supposed to say with the passion she’s supposed to say them with, and that’s all he needs. What he misses is that Alicia’s not talking about the campaign at all… and that there are lots of ways that could come back to hurt her. (I’m #TeamEli on this one, if that wasn’t clear. Well, except for that this actually is Elfman’s campaign and not Eli’s. Though, what does it say about Alicia’s ties to Peter that her body woman is Peter’s Chief of Staff’s daughter and that Peter’s chief of staff is playing an active role in the management of the campaign?)

Cuesta lashes out at Diane in court over Peter’s tricks. Diane had no idea Peter had done anything. Cuesta asks where Cary is, and he walks into the room at exactly the right moment. I’m not quite sure why he’s not already in the courtroom, but I guess we’re supposed to be worrying that he might run.

“Oh, yes. You have your Brady violation because you delayed me,” Cuesta says. Wait, what? I know Cuesta is mad about this, but that sentence sounds ridiculously petty. Diane’s telling him that the ASAs conspired to make an innocent man go to prison, and Cuesta’s like WELL WHO CARES THAT THERE’S EVIDENCE BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE FOUND IT IN TIME IF YOU HADN’T DELAYED ME!

Diane’s Brady violation is something she pulled from Kalinda’s computer. I call bullshit. So, I’m supposed to believe that 1) Kalinda left her computer unattended after committing a serious crime on said computer 2) Diane thought Kalinda would fail to inform her, in person, of her findings at any point in the two hours Cuesta was delayed 3) Diane would think to check Kalinda’s computer 4) Diane, whose last interaction with a computer involved clicking a sketchy as hell pop-up and bringing down her firm’s entire network, would not only be able to find but also able to understand the metadata 5) Diane would bring this finding to court without checking with Kalinda. I don’t believe a single one of these things, so I’m forced to file this plotline under “plot contrivances that exist to set up future plots rather than actions the characters would ever actually take.”

Kalinda runs into court a moment too late with the real evidence that would free Cary. But it’s too late. Cuesta’s already looking over the faked metadata, because of course he is. (The “moment too late so it hurts even more” trope is one of my least favorites, FYI. It’s rarely plausible or necessary and while it sometimes works, the reveal on its own usually hits hard enough that you don’t need to be like, “AND ALSO HAD IT BEEN A SPLIT SECOND EARLIER EVERYTHING WOULD’VE BEEN SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS!”)

As we head into the final commercial break of the episode, Kalinda watches Diane, Geneva, and Cuesta in terror, knowing that there’s no going back and that she’s just created a lot of problems.

Prima is not happy with the metadata—for obvious reasons!—but the metadata are there so he must just be making stuff up. Prima doesn’t seem like a great guy to me, but no one deserves this. (Cary didn’t deserve to be framed either.)

Cuesta doesn’t understand metadata, but Diane does! (Seriously, what the hell?)

Geneva ends up using Rodriguez (the other detective that Kalinda just talked to)’s statement to admit that there may have been some wrongdoing she was previously unaware of.

“You okay?” Cary asks Kalinda. Note that they’re sitting at Cary’s sentencing but the emotional weight of this part of the scene? It belongs to Kalinda.

Between Rodriguez’s statement and the metadata, there doesn’t seem to be any case at all against Cary. (So it still counts for something that Kalinda faked the metadata—Cary might’ve just gotten a retrial without it. That pleases me, oddly, because it redeems the plot from being entirely caught up in this one-minute-too-late business.)

Kalinda watches as Cuesta rebukes Prima for trying to defend himself. She’s ruined someone else’s life. And the situation she’s created for Prima is not all that unlike the one she’s just helped Cary wiggle out of.

Cuesta apologizes to Cary and drops all charges. He’s free! He’s not going to prison! I really believed they’d send him to prison, but I’m not surprised it worked out this way. I’m also not as unhappy with this result as I thought I’d be. I mean, I’m THRILLED that Cary doesn’t have to spend four years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. But I thought I’d be disappointed if the writers didn’t follow through on this and push it all the way to the point where it ruined Cary’s life in the way it promised to. I think the conclusion of (this part of) this arc works, though. It’s not over. What does going back to normal look like for Cary? Surely the emotional toll all of this has taken on Cary won’t just disappear now that he’s free. He’s had to confront some difficult truths about his life, his goals (especially his personal ones), his relationships, his status in the world, and the importance of every decision he makes. Cary’s arrest will play differently for Alicia’s campaign, too: she wants the narrative that she’s running because the SA’s office is corrupt? Now she has a formal apology from the court proving she was right; Prady’s best attack just became her biggest selling point.

And, of course, this arc isn’t over. Earlier in the episode, Bishop said to Kalinda that “a lot of things about Cary end up being about you.” It seems this entire arc is now about Kalinda, and it’s far from over. I mean, unless the writers decide to drop this plot, too.

Cary and Diane embrace (please, writers, more on their relationship!) and Kalinda looks around, simultaneously happy and panicked. The call from Bishop arrives—we know this because Kalinda apparently has “Lemond Bishop” listed by name in her contacts, no comment— as Cary hugs Kalinda.

The news reaches Alicia, who’s walking through the parking garage after a long day of debate prep, via phone. She hangs up the phone, and laughs and smiles in disbelief and happiness. She leans back against a car, totally consumed by her joy, and accidentally sets off the alarm. She walks away, laughing and smiling more—it’s like the deleted scene from 4x13, only happier, and a very different sort of happiness. She stops again and lets out a cheer. I know everyone’s concentrating on the kiss in this scene, but the lead-up is just as important, in my opinion. This is Alicia so happy she’s disoriented, so happy she’s not even trying to conceal it, so happy she’s allowing herself to be loud and uninhibited. We don’t see that often.

Elfman overhears Alicia’s shout and her laughter and asks if she’s alright. She’s caught off-guard for a second, but she’s happy enough—and comfortable enough around Elfman—that she doesn’t mind that he’s heard her exclamation. She’s not embarrassed, as she might have been around someone else. She just smiles.

Before I get to The Kiss, I want to note how thrilled I am that Elfman enters this scene after it’s already in progress. The reaction belongs to Alicia alone—we don’t even hear Diane on the other end of the line—and then Elfman enters the picture. He is not there to comfort her or to share the moment with her. She does not turn to him and kiss him because he’s already standing next to her. It’s not an accidental decision.

Music starts playing as Alicia walks confidently towards Elfman with a smile on her face. She grabs him and kisses him, then turns her head, walks away, and smiles like, “I can’t believe I just did that, but I’m glad and sort of impressed that I did.” Elfman watches her walk away, shocked.

Y’all, I’ve already written a few text posts about the kiss and how much it does/doesn’t mean and why it had to be Elfman there, so I’m just going to share a few stray thoughts and maybe make some of the same points again.

Does the kiss mean anything? No, but sort of yes. It doesn’t mean that Alicia and Johnny are going to live happily ever after and that Alicia’s totally been into him this whole time and that they’re going to start dating or start an affair. It could end up meaning something romantic, but it just as easily could end up meaning nothing romantic. But that’s different than saying the kiss meant nothing. It meant something, because it’s absolutely crucial to the scene that it was Elfman, rather than someone else, who was there. The fact that the kiss even happened has all sorts of implications about the Alicia/Elfman relationship: she trusts him and feels comfortable around him; she finds him attractive (even if only in the sense that for a second, kissing him seemed like a good idea); she makes the decision to kiss him and walks away, at least in the moment, without regret. There is a context for this kiss, even if it’s just a moment of celebration and release. The kiss has meaning because Elfman is not a stranger; rather, he is Alicia’s campaign manager and, at present, her biggest champion.

(I wrote about this earlier, but the scene wouldn’t have worked with Finn there. I also am sort of wondering to what extent A/F was teased as romantic so the writers could get viewers used to the idea of Alicia in a new romance so they wouldn’t automatically reject the Alicia/Elfman kiss. I think they’ve been planning to at least raise the possibility of Alicia and Johnny since his introduction—dunno if anyone else has noticed this, but he hasn’t missed an episode since his first appearance  (I can’t think of another guest star who’s been in nine consecutive episodes other than Eli in season one) and often has more screentime than some of the show’s actual regulars—and given the Kings’ love of the misdirection, it wouldn’t shock me if there was an attempt to misdirect the audience with Alicia and Finn. Honestly, though, I have no idea where the writers intend to go with any of Alicia’s romantic relationships. Alicia’s marriage is on shaky ground and could continue to exist or could completely collapse and looms over her romantic life; Alicia and Johnny could be nothing or a steamy affair or a relationship; Alicia and Finn could be the best of friends or drift away from each other or date or hook up (that seems unlikely; I don’t think Finn would go for that) or flirt but never act. All of these things could go any way, and they’re all tied up in Alicia’s campaign. And, of course, there’s the affair with Will that could go public at any moment, creating complications and dragging Alicia back down the rabbit hole of sadness and what-ifs.)

(But this kiss wasn’t about romance. It could have implications about romance and it raises questions about Alicia’s love life, but this kiss was about Alicia, not about who Alicia’s going to date or fuck next.)

I’m very, very excited to see what happens next. Who is this Alicia who’s confident and comfortable enough to kiss her campaign manager and walk away, smiling? (That’s not a criticism. I think her level of comfort surprised her, and that’s why I think it’s so meaningful that it was Elfman there.) She’s done the sudden-but-determined kiss move before, but always with Peter, the safe choice. How safe of a choice is Elfman—as an outlet, as a romantic partner? Is Alicia beginning to expand her comfort zone, and might this be a step towards Alicia moving on from Peter? How does Alicia feel the next day? (How does Elfman feel, and how might this complicate his status as Alicia’s campaign manager and his tense relationship with Eli?) Elfman claimed that Alicia “graduated” after her debate prep session, but I think her education is still far from complete.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x13-- Dark Money

My thoughts on a lackluster, boring (but not terrible) episode under the cut.

You know that wonderful feeling you get after a long hiatus when your show comes back to you and you see the characters you’ve missed so much for the first time in a while as the episode begins? I was denied that feeling by TGW. But here, have an image of a woman being strangled by Dylan Baker playing an actor playing a version of his TGW character. Welcome back!

You can, indeed, see the ChumHum logo on a computer screen in the background.

And now we’re back in court, with Diane (and Judge Parks!). Because what we were all waiting for was a Sweeney-centric COTW episode! Don’t we have better things to focus on right now? (But hi, Diane! It’s lovely to see you again!)

The showrunner of the Fake!Sweeney show, Call it Murder, is being questioned. I might not enjoy watching this, but at least I can tell the writers had fun writing it.

The credits are still playing over the first act. This interests me infinitely more than the COTW.

“You were quoted by the Television Critics Association…” TCA shoutout ftw!

Sweeney isn’t pleased with the way Diane’s representing him. She tells him to trust her, and instead, he takes his phone out of his pocket and texts Alicia: “I need you.” Isn’t that sweet?

Alicia is, at the moment she receives Sweeney’s message, sitting in a hotel room. She ignores the message and stands to answer the door—it’s Prady; they’re having one of their candidate-to-candidate meetings. Alicia is wearing black stockings, which is never my favorite look on her. Prady mentions that he’s lost some ground in the polling from walking out on the debate. Not that I’m noting this or anything. That’d be silly.

Prady plays Alicia a Robocall sent out by her PAC. It, at first, sounds like it’s in support of Prady, but in context, it’s not: the call talks up Prady’s support for the gay community… and went out to the most homophobic areas. Prady explains to us, I mean, to Alicia, that this is called a False Flag.  

Then we’re at Florrick Campaign HQ, where Johnny is denying his involvement in the Robocalls. Josh denies it too—it’s too early for it to make strategic sense (comforting). Marissa walks in and Josh continues to be The Worst and tells her that “adults are talking here.” Alicia asks Marissa to stay.

And then Alicia says, “What’s @TobyZiegler44?” Hello, West Wing reference! Marissa told her about it. Toby is tweeting polling data in code for the PAC to access.

“Use your little decoder ring and your West Wing tweets to tell the PAC to stop these homophobic robocalls,” Alicia insists. That was easy! But let’s focus on the important things here, shall we? Alicia understands that Toby Ziegler is a West Wing character. This means Alicia has likely watched The West Wing (hey, maybe that’s why she got so idealistic and optimistic about politics!). So, Alicia, does Abbey Bartlet remind you of anyone?

When Alicia hears she’s behind in campaign fundraising, she volunteers the name she noticed on Prady’s phone. Shaky ground…

No. This case. No. I didn’t need the one Sweeney and I certainly don’t need three. You have better things to be doing than giving Dylan Baker Emmy-bait tapes, writers.

Hello there, Kalinda. Kalinda interacts with Diane for a split second before ducking out of court to take a call from Bishop. Look! The writers didn’t forget!

Okay, while I’m on that topic: In a recent interview with TVLine, Michelle King said: “So, oftentimes we’re making lists in the writers’ room of things we don’t want to forget to answer, and then putting the lists up on the board.” I don’t doubt that this is true. There is some plan for season six, some strategy. But do the writers realize that the risk isn’t just dropping plotpoints—it’s not developing stories thoroughly for the characters? Yes, we’re getting follow up with Kalinda and Bishop now, but what happened with the white card in 6x08? What happened with Lana in 6x09? Why aren’t we seeing the emotional consequences of these events? The meaning of the white card is a plotpoint that can be dropped and suddenly resurface; the existence of Kalinda’s relationship with Lana is not. The plotpoints affect the characters. You cannot, as it feels like the writers currently are, place “Diane and Cary have feelings about Alicia’s campaign” on the same list as “Bishop’s funding of Alicia’s PAC causes problems.” Cary and Diane will not, realistically, wait to have feelings until the writers decide it’s convenient to get back to that, but Bishop will be funding Alicia’s campaign with no consequences (except within Alicia’s mind, possibly) until the writers decide to go somewhere with that information. Character development cannot be—or, rather, should not be—dormant. It can be background, and it can be repressed or set aside, but it can't cease to exist. It’s the essence of the show, not yet another thing that needs to be addressed eventually.

Sweeney is in Will’s, I mean Alicia’s, office. The furniture looks sufficiently different, but the layout of the office is the same, and all I can think is, “Wow, this furniture looks out of place in Will’s office.” That’s not a slam on the set decoration (but I still hate that one chair) but rather a more general question of, WHY ARE WE BACK AT L/G?????

Sweeney says he’s unhappy—does that matter to Alicia? She says no, and for a minute I’m hopeful that’s because there’s still a lot of tension between her and the Diane-Cary alliance. But no. It’s because she knows Sweeney’s threat is empty.

Marissa shakes Sweeney’s hand, because Marissa Gold is the exact type of person who would find it amusing to shake hands with Colin Sweeney.

Renata decides to make friends with Marissa. Um, okay. Marissa talks about her time in the IDF (read: The Kings’ time researching for that Showtime show they were going to write but never did). Marissa says she didn’t see any action, but she wanted to, so she could write about it. Did we know that Marissa wanted to write fiction? Marissa reminds me so much of one of my best friends (who will one day be a best-selling author, I’m sure of it) that if we didn’t already know that, I assumed we did.

Alicia’s not having any of Sweeney’s threats… until he says he knows who finances her PAC. Alicia doesn’t even try to deny it. She doesn’t feign ignorance or protest or try to find a way out of it. She wants Bishop’s money and she’ll do work for Sweeney to keep it. She makes a deal with Sweeney quickly and without much hesitation: she’ll consult, but she won’t be seen with him. So many ethical compromises in just a matter of seconds!

Bishop’s favor for Kalinda is… being Dylan’s bodyguard. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting that.

Now Diane (who is wearing the outfit she wears at the end of 4x13) and Cary have to prove that Sweeney didn’t kill his wife. Again. This time, in civil court.

Oh, I see we’re back to the screwing around with the credits. Joy.

Alicia needs to “learn how to ask for things,” Josh and Elfman inform her. So we’re also back to the “Alicia learns lessons on the campaign trail” thing, which I thought we’d left behind because if Alicia still hasn’t figured this stuff out so many months in to the campaign… best of luck to her.

Alicia’s instructed not to use qualifiers, to use more active language, and to show how supporting her would be to the benefit of the supporter. All good advice. Noted.

Court stuff happens. I miss most of it as I contemplate whether or not Taylor Swift could play a young Diane if the show needed a young Diane. Would her celebrity be a distraction? Can she act?  I think I might possibly be meant to be getting something else out of this scene, but I can’t imagine what.

Kalinda is having an awkward time with Dylan, who’s a very chatty little kid. They’re also being followed. Dylan talks about the rumors that his dad killed his mom, which reminds me: the writers tweeted “Bishop did have his wife killed.” So in case there was any ambiguity: no more.

Alicia figures out who is leaking something or other in court: Renata. Didn’t this plot happen already, with Sweeney’s last wife?

Bishop doesn’t just want Kalinda to look after Dylan: he wants her to report back to him on how Dylan’s doing, socially. Not quite sure what this plotline is or where it’s going, but okay. Kalinda with kids is a change of pace.

Alicia sits down with Guy Redmayne to ask for money. This scene was released as a sneak peek, and the first thing I noticed about it was how confidently she asks for his money. He’s direct with her and she’s direct right back. Compare this to 6x07 when she was asking for Prady’s endorsement. She was hesitant and apologetic then, whereas now she’s able to say, “Yes [I want your money. And let me tell you why I deserve it,” before telling Redmayne what she plans to do if elected. This scene would’ve worked so much better for me without the quick prep session! I would believe that, just from being on the campaign trail, Alicia would be able to handle this no problem now. 6x07 was months ago! One of the risks of focusing on campaign-as-character development is getting stuck in a rut while trying to fill time, leading the Politics Lesson of the Week plots we’ve sometimes been getting. These plots are fine by me, so long as Alicia’s learning and they’re leading somewhere. But there’s a balance. These make sense for a certain window of time, but here, if Alicia’s still learning to ask for things, YIKES (and I don’t think that’s what the writers are going for! I think they’re trying to show growth!). I wish the writers had allowed it to be implicit in the development they’ve already done that Alicia’s gotten better at this, needs less prep than she used to, and is more willing than she was to take advice from people who know politics.

Redmayne continuously touches Alicia’s hands and legs, which clearly makes her uncomfortable. She moves away from him at every chance she gets without saying a word.

Alicia says she’s been married 21 years, so it’s time to play another round of The Timeline Makes No Sense: Alicia and Peter got married while Alicia was pregnant with Zach. Zach is 18, 19 at most. So are we back on the timeline we started on, before Zach “repeated” senior year?

This guy is gross. “I got the testicles of a 20-year-old,” he explains. “Where? In your briefcase?” Alicia retorts. I love Alicia’s sense of humor. I do not love this disgusting old man.

Redmayne is going to support Alicia—why? Because he doesn’t like [derogatory slur here]. Holy shit. You can say that on TV? GROSS. FUCK OFF. 

Alicia is caught off-guard by the comment, and weakly tries to defend Prady, saying that he’s married (but she first says “Mr. Redmayne” instead of “Mr. Prady”). But Redmayne dismisses the comment and moves on, and Alicia doesn’t protest. “Kick that fruitcake while he’s down. I love people who share my values,” Redmayne continues (!!!?!?!?!?! STOP). Alicia looks away uncomfortably, in silence. Damn. That’s pretty low. Redmayne’s line about values makes Alicia complicit here: he says she shares his values, and she does not say anything in disagreement. She just looks uncomfortable and takes a million dollars from him. To recap, Alicia’s now getting money from a drug lord, doing favors for a murderer (assuming Sweeney killed his wife) to cover up that she’s getting money from a drug lord, AND taking money from a homophobic, sexist, revolting man.

Let’s also note that Alicia’s campaign slogan is, hilariously, “Defending Our Values.” Whose values, exactly, is she defending? Certainly not her own, not now, not here. And while she could (but doesn’t seem to) claim this is just what it takes to get in office so she can do good… yeah, right.

Sweeney talks to Diane and Cary, then goes to talk to Alicia. This seems like a good place to point out that Alicia does not share a single scene with any other series regular (save for Grace, but she doesn’t count) in this episode. (This has never happened before, unless you count 6x09, where she only interacts with Finn.) This in itself is not a problem (plenty of good, Alicia-centric episodes where the regulars at L/G are relevant to neither her story nor the episode, as well as some solid episodes, or episodes that fail for other reasons, where Alicia’s pointedly kept separate from everyone else for most of the episode), but it demonstrates something that is a problem: how separated the world of the show is now. All season, it’s been two separate shows with some occasional, usually half-assed, overlap. I don’t know if the writers are doing this intentionally to show how Alicia’s campaign is affecting her work life, but if they are, I get the point… and I don’t think it’s the best way of telling the story. Especially since they’re also playing that, “but look! Diane calls Alicia that one time so it’s connected!” game. Either the separation is the point or it’s not. They can’t have it both ways.

Why does Sweeney want to talk to Alicia? “Because [her] ethical compunctions are much more pronounced, which means I’ll get a more considered answer. One more likely to keep me out of trouble.” True. Or, it used to be true. (Also, wow, shocker, in an episode with a focus on Alicia’s morality, talk of her “ethical compunctions,” I wonder what theme the writers are working with here…)

And now here’s a role reversal: Alicia’s prepping Sweeney as a witness, much in the same way Elfman and Josh just prepped her for her meeting with Redmayne. Alicia’s great as a lawyer, lest we forget. She’s excellent at the profession she’s trying to escape.

Kalinda picks Dylan up from school again, and witnesses a boy beating Dylan up. She intervenes. Kalinda around children is fascinating to me, and I can’t quite figure out why. Perhaps because it channels her protective instincts in a way we’ve never seen before, and puts her out of her comfort zone in a way that doesn’t involve sex scenes or outlandish threats. I can’t say that I’m fully on board with this plot because it’s disconnected (Kalinda has one scene with another regular) and I don’t know what its purpose is, but I’m intrigued by this storytelling direction.

Diane looks completely horrified by whatever’s going on in court between Sweeney and Renata. Me too, Diane, me too.

Now it’s time for Prady’s meeting with Redmayne. Redmayne ignores his handshake and then cuts off his pitch, telling him he’s already met with Alicia. Instead of engaging in a conversation about anything of substance, he starts talking about “the ass on that broad.” Prady looks appalled and tries to redirect, but Redmayne wants to comment on how Alicia must be great in bed because “those buttoned-up types almost always are.” Stop talking about Alicia like that! STOP TALKING ABOUT WOMEN LIKE THAT. Prady again tries to redirect, but Redmayne, who’s probably just trying to make Prady feel uncomfortable (and/or confirm that he’s gay?), just says, “Give me an hour with her and she wouldn’t be walking straight for a week. I’d split that little missy in half.” Oh, my God. Make it stop. I just transcribed that and I feel gross. Redmayne asks Prady if he has an issue, and Prady says he has a request: that Redmayne stop denigrating Alicia. To which Redmayne says… you know what? I’m not going to type any more of this filth. Prady’s had enough, defends Alicia as a human being, calls Redmayne disgusting, and leaves. I’ve mentioned before that I’m rooting for Prady, right?

Call it Murder has an audience of 15 million. Yes, this is the most interesting thing to me in the court scenes.

Bishop takes parenting very seriously, and demands that Kalinda tell him everything about the incident with Dylan. Kalinda tells him, reluctantly, then leaves. She turns around, presumably fearful that Bishop will hurt the kid who hit Dylan, but when she goes back into Bishop’s house, she hears him on the phone with the other kid’s parents, handling the conversation like any other concerned parent without sounding half as intimidating as usual (though I’m sure getting a call from Lemond Bishop is intimidating enough! But the point is, he’s going through the same channels that many other parents would in this situation).

Bishop pours Kalinda a drink. I think I will appreciate this plotline more when it becomes clear to me why it exists.

Oh, look. It’s an Alicia/Diane phone call! We’re not going to have to start counting episodes for Alicia/Diane and Alicia/Cary too, are we? (BTW: 43.) 

Alicia is watching Call it Murder, looking for things to use in court. Fake Sweeney, in the scene she’s watching, is talking to Fake Alicia, a young, attractive, model-like (literally—the actress is an America’s Next Top Model alum!) woman wearing a dress much too low cut to ever be professional. She sternly lectures Fake Sweeney about how cheating is wrong. Fake Sweeney calls her “goody-two-shoes” and Alicia—real Alicia—rolls her eyes. Fake Sweeney takes Fake Alicia’s hand, moves to kiss it, and threatens to “fire her.” But Fake Alicia, whose name is Debbie, takes her hand away: “No, sir. I’m firing you,” she says as she stands up, “Because Debbie Conlon is not for sale.” Happy, “you’re supposed to cheer now” music plays as Debbie walks out of the room, and we linger on her walking away so we can see how the dress clings to her, how triumphant she is, and how gorgeous her hair is. Can you imagine if TGW was like this? If Alicia ever referred to herself in the third person?! If it was ever that clear-cut?! Neither of these things would ever happen, but wouldn’t it be nice if Alicia could just tell Sweeney she’s not for sale and walk away? Instead—and this is so on the nose in a way that TGW usually isn’t—Alicia is for sale; this episode is called Dark Money. We may laugh at Debbie Conlon walking away and referring to herself in the third person and call it unrealistic… but didn’t we just watch Frank Prady do the same thing in a less theatrical manner? It’s unsettling (for the viewer, for Alicia) to realize that Alicia did, in her conversation with Redmayne (and her conversation with Sweeney!), what benefitted her, not what she had to do or what she had no way out of.

The ChumHum mascot (CHUMMIE!!!!!) is used in the Call it Murder episode, meaning the show infringed on ChumHum’s trademark. This gets the case settled. Classic TGW—a dig at the restrictions they’re under (this is why Chummie exists in the first place!) AND an in-universe reference. I still don’t care about the case or know if this is plausible. But I like Chummie, so, whatever.

In her office, Alicia is still watching Call it Murder when Prady walks in to start a conversation about Redmayne. It sounds like the Prady-Alicia agreement is about to collapse. Prady says that "campaigning is a lonely profession.” (yeah…) Alicia glances at the computer monitor, displaying an image from CiM of Sweeney—I mean Fake Sweeney-- and his recently murdered wife. Prady and Alicia both know that Alicia said nothing when Redmayne made offensive comments, and they’re both disappointed in Alicia for it. Alicia explains that her PAC took down the Robocall. But that’s the least she can do, with emphasis on least.

Alicia looks tired and disappointed with herself as Prady leaves, and then we jump to Alicia, in her apartment, with a glass of wine, deep in thought, still looking upset and worn out. Campaigning is finally catching up with her, perhaps not physically (though she does appear to have a cold in the stills from next week’s episode if you really want to get literal about the toll campaigning takes on a person), but mentally. She’s beginning, at last, to recognize that she’s isolating people and burning bridges left and right for the sake of this campaign. A lonely profession indeed. And it’s just hit her that she’s making a lot of moral compromises in pursuit of the thing that was supposed to bring her moral clarity. I could’ve used this moment a lot earlier, but I’ll (begrudgingly) admit that I can rationalize this moment into looking like an excellently timed if inconsistently built up incidence. First, as I’ve mentioned before, Alicia doesn’t give up on ideas easily. It takes her all of season one (and even some of season two) to stop asking Will and Diane if they’re really going to do something semi-immoral. Second, this is just how Alicia thinks. It’s my catalyst theory! These things have been weighing on Alicia, but they haven’t exerted enough pressure to break her. I don’t quite buy that Alicia could go for so long having only minor qualms about her actions, but if I pretend that there were a few more scenes of Alicia being ambivalent and slightly reflective, accompanied by scenes of Alicia pushing herself forward, forward, forward, I can get on board with the overall trajectory. So: emotions build, Alicia doesn’t quite know what to do with them, she has a realization, and all of the sudden, everything hits her at once and she breaks. She’s lonely, selfish, and immoral.

Alicia’s built up an idea of the SA’s office, and the campaign to get there by extension, as a moral high ground. She can right wrongs, improve the system, do good, and control her life all at the same time, if she wins. In theory. She’s been clinging to that idea, to the SA’s office as an alternative to the career she no longer wants, for the duration of this campaign. Now, that illusion’s gone, or at least damaged. There is corruption wherever she turns, possibly more of it here. There’s no going back. She can’t escape. She’s doing bad things and she can’t make excuses; there’s no way to spin her actions so they look heroic. (And if there is, the spin isn’t something she can make herself believe. When she criticizes herself, she’s her own biggest critic.)

Grace walks in to the living room and asks if Alicia’s okay. Ah, Grace. Always acting as Alicia’s moral compass! Alicia says everything’s fine, but Grace can tell that’s a lie and sits down next to her. “I don’t like when people do bad things,” Alicia says. “What people?” Grace asks. “Clients,” Alicia responds. “Yeah, well, everybody’s bad in some way,” Grace says. “I was bad today,” Alicia admits. She doesn’t like it when people do bad things; now she’s doing bad things. She’s aware of her own hypocrisy here. She was bad today.

“No, mom, you weren’t,” Grace comforts her. “You can’t be.” Awww. “Why? Why can’t I be?” Alicia asks. “Because you’re the best person I know,” Grace responds. It’s so sweet, so wonderfully sweet and emotional. I don’t know if Grace believes this as an objective truth, but I don’t think it matters. She sees her mom, whom she loves very much, giving herself a hard time and feeling sad. So she tries to cheer her up and comfort her. This isn’t about who the best person Grace knows really is (so, those of you calling Grace stupid for her comments, please stop acting like this is about Grace’s ability to assess character) because it’s about Grace wanting her mom to be happy. Maybe it’s different for others, but at least in my experience, this is the kind of thing you say to your parents when you see them in tears. If I were to walk in on my mom crying and telling me she thinks she’s a terrible parent, I wouldn’t start making a list of pros and cons. I’d walk over to her, give her a hug, and tell her she’s the best mom in the world, even if I happen to agree that the particular incident she’s talking about wasn’t one of her better moments. What I see in this scene is Grace doing the same thing. (This point is a little strange to make here given that none of you know much about my personal life or my relationship with my mom, and I should make it clear that I’m not saying, universally, that everyone should praise their parents endlessly because it’s their obligation to. I’m saying that I love my mom, Grace loves her mom, and it seems to me realistic that Grace would, in this particular situation, respond in this way.)

All of that said, I do wish we’d gotten to see more ambivalence from Grace about this campaign—not in this scene, but over the course of the season. Isn’t this affecting her? What about Alicia and Peter’s marriage, or the way Alicia’s treating Zach right now? Grace can comfort and love her mother but still feel strange about the campaign!

Anyway, Grace’s comment leads Alicia to start sobbing. She knows it’s not true. She wants so badly to be the role model Grace thinks she is. After all this time, Alicia’s finally hit her (inevitable) breaking point. And all there’s left to do is cry.

This scene reminds me heavily of two other moments: first, the crying scene in In Sickness, because that’s another moment where Grace (there criticizing Alicia!) triggers tears from her mother and Alicia shows weakness in front of her children, and second, the Alicia/Veronica scene in The Deep Web. The connection to the first scene is straightforward and others have explored it already, so I’ll focus on the second. If you’ve forgotten, it’s the scene where Alicia and Veronica talk about Alicia’s father, about the people who clean up the messes and the people who make the messes, and where Alicia finally says she’s “spinning” and can’t stop. That’s one of the earlier indicators of Alicia’s identity crisis, the one that spurred her to run (away from her life and) for State’s Attorney. Alicia breaks down in front of someone she usually tries her hardest to be strong around and allows that person to comfort her. It’s the same thing here, fifteen episodes later. Alicia’s still spinning. The pain and the aimlessness are still there, amplified if anything. She has fewer people to turn to now than she did in 5x20 (Grace is one of the two people she sees regularly and hasn’t alienated, and the other is Finn…), she’s doing things that are more selfish and morally sketchy than ever, Will’s still dead, her marriage is still constraining and unhappy, she’s forced (because she chose to put herself in this position!) to pretend to be Saint Alicia more than ever before, and now the thing she thought would be her way out promises more of the thing she wanted to get away from. And she still doesn’t know who she is or what she wants.

Y’all, I’m pretty sure next week’s episode (a) will be a great continuation of the themes/emotions of the last scene and (b) is crafted just to appeal to me.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 7x22-- End

So. It’s over. TGW is over. And so, too, are my obnoxiously long and thorough (yet still, somehow, incomplete) recaps. I’ve been writing these, in some form or another, since the first night I watched TGW live (which was the night 3x15 aired). My posts were shorter at first-- just a list of things I wanted to discuss with a friend in a different timezone after she watched the episode. But then I started writing more, and more, and more, partially for my friend, but mostly for myself (anything as long as these recaps has to be self-indulgent!). And then, at the start of season six, I decided to share my thoughts with all of Tumblr... and, to my surprise, y’all started reading them. 

And for that, I want to say THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for reading, for commenting, for messaging me, for talking to me, for sharing your ideas with me, for loving this show as much as I do, and especially for being awesome people and great friends. It’s been a pleasure getting to know all of you and exchanging messages with you (and if we’ve never talked, hey, there’s no time like the present), and I know that I’m going to miss the community of TGW fans every bit as much as I’m going to miss the show itself. 

And with that, here’s my final TGW Thoughts post...

The episode starts in chaos. Alicia, Eli, Peter, and Lucca are in a car, each of them absorbed in his or her own phone conversation. (Lucca’s working on the case, Peter and Eli are talking politics, and Alicia’s speaking with Grace.) Hey guys! Wear your seatbelts!

They’re all worried that the verdict came back too fast. As Kalinda informed us in the Pilot and Lucca reminds us here, quick verdicts are usually pro-prosecution.

Connor Fox, too, is convinced the jury’s reached a guilty verdict, so he takes the two year plea deal off the table. He wants four years now, which Alicia rejects on behalf of her husband/client. Fox attempts to remind Alicia how tough it’ll be on her family if Peter winds up with a ten year sentence. “You think you can play the emotional card on me? You think I’m gonna break down and cry? Look at me. Do I look like I’m breaking down?” Alicia says without flinching.

She rejects three years, and puts her own offer on the table: two years, an immediate surrender, and Connor gets to control the press cycle. He agrees.

Now that that’s been resolved, we jump inside the courtroom. Alicia may not admit to Connor, who is trying to manipulate her, that Peter being in prison for ten years would be tough on their family, but it’s true: Grace is talking to Peter, crying. “But dad, you have to fight this,” she protests. “I can’t risk being away from you until you’re 30,” Peter comforts her. “It’s two years,” she notes. “I’m gonna be at your graduation, in the front row. I promise,” Peter insists. Alicia watches.

“I can’t go to college now,” Grace states. “Grace. You will go. You have to make us proud. You have to make your mom forget this. Okay?” Peter says calmly. Grace nods hesitantly. (Is it me, or is she dressing more like early seasons Grace—layers and ruffles?)

“Now I gotta go comfort Eli,” Peter says, holding up remarkably well for someone who’s about to go to prison for two years.

He walks over to Eli, and pats him on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he says. “What for? I didn’t do anything,” Eli replies. “You stuck by me through the presidential. I made a mistake there with you, and I’m sorry for that,” Peter admits. They hug. Awwww! I’m shocked we even got this moment. Can you imagine the emotional resonance this would’ve had if the Peter/Eli drama had been explored in depth in any episode this year beyond the premiere?!  

Court is now in session. Alicia puts her arm around Grace. As Cuesta reads the charges against Peter, he’s handed a note. What a shock. They’re not going to wrap the case up at the top of the episode so they can make the plot even more convoluted? Truly surprising.

The jury has a question so Peter backs out of the plea. The question is about the murder itself, which, as Alicia explains to Grace, is a good thing for Peter: it means they’re not really thinking about Peter’s guilt because they’re too curious about the original crime.

Lucca ducks out of court to phone Sparky and get him to help.

I am not even going to bother with the case. I drove myself crazy trying to pick it apart in 7x21 and I don’t intend to piece it together again here, especially since we know the outcome and have as much resolution as we’re ever going to have on it.

Robert King’s directing is always quite exhilarating. He likes to keep the camera in motion, which, if nothing else, makes boring court scenes that are hogging up time seem more interesting than they really are.

Alicia’s surprised to hear that Jason’s still helping, but only momentarily: she moves on to thinking about strategy. There was a similar case during Alicia’s second year, a case for Sweeney. (They did a case for Sweeney while he was in jail and we didn’t see it?!)

(Alicia in glasses alert!)

Diane rushes off to find precedents for the case. Lucca stays behind a minute to tell Alicia she should thank Jason. “I will,” Alicia says disinterestedly, focused on her work. This annoys Lucca, because Alicia and Jason are TRUE LOVE FOREVER!!!! And all Lucca wants in the world is for them to LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!!! Or something. (Why did you do this to Lucca, writers?) (I understand the sentiment coming from her, but the intensity, my goodness.)

“You should probably thank him now,” she repeats after closing the door. Taken aback by Lucca’s harsh tone, Alicia reiterates that she will thank him. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“Jason thinks that if Peter goes to prison, you’ll never divorce him,” Lucca explains. “What?” Alicia asks. “Jason just thinks…” Lucca tries to clarify. “No, I heard what you said. I… what does that even mean?” she wonders. “It means you don’t want to kick a man when he’s down,” Lucca explains. “Okay. And by man, are we meaning Jason?” Alicia asks, confused. “No, Peter. You tend to confuse responsibility and love,” Lucca offers. What a lot of insight she has for someone who’s been around Alicia all of seven months!

This line bothers me. I think we’re supposed to believe that this is true: Alicia will never leave Peter if he goes to prison, because she’ll see it as her responsibility to stay, and that she’ll sacrifice love for responsibility. She’ll be so afraid of hurting Peter more that she’ll call off the divorce. But I don’t believe this interpretation is accurate, for a number of reasons. First, I don’t think it would be a fear of kicking Peter when he’s down that would motivate Alicia to stay in that scenario. What I see happening is that Alicia would want to proceed with the divorce—Peter’s not going to be fooled by her calling it off at exactly the same time he gets a prison sentence—but she’d also visit Peter in prison, because she cares about him as a person. Slowly, talk of the divorce would fade. (This is closer to what Jason said last week: “She will slowly drift away from me [if Peter goes to jail].” Now, is that about responsibility, or about love? If the pull of Peter being in prison grows STRONGER over time, not weaker as Alicia puts prison visits into her weekly routine, that suggests to me that responsibility is not the determining factor in this scenario.)

Second, and more importantly, who decided that love and responsibility aren’t intertwined? Can you have—or, more pertinently, can Alicia have—love without responsibility? She views love as a commitment. If you’re Alicia, being responsible is how you show love. It’s what you do for the people you love. You show up for them. Who says responsibility is detached from love? Am I truly supposed to believe that, after watching how hard Alicia’s fought for her family, how fervently Alicia’s supported Peter’s political campaigns (and ideas), how much she genuinely cares about and understands Peter as a person, and how seamlessly she and Peter slip back into old habits (good and bad), this all boils down to Alicia feeling an unshakable sense of obligation to help Peter? Am I meant to go back to Alicia saying to Grace in 4x18, with tears in her eyes, “This isn’t about responsibility; this is about love,” and think, oh, right, that was just Alicia confusing love with responsibility, when all this time I thought Alicia was affirming to her daughter that things that look like responsibilities are really gestures of love? What is love, anyway? Passion? Fairytales?

That’s usually where I end up on questions like this. What is love? What is Lucca talking about? What is Alicia talking about? Jason? The writers? Is love the opposite of responsibility? Does it have to be? Are there different types of love? Does love sans responsibilities make you (Alicia) happy? Does she experience responsibilities as love? Can Alicia be happy—and I think this is a question more about the past than the present—if she decides not to be responsible? Whenever she’s tried that, it’s eaten her up inside. Why can’t she love Peter as a member of her family and be ~in love~ with someone else at the same time? Does she need to stay with Peter to love him? Does Alicia even believe in love?! Reducing responsibility and love to this dichotomy helps no one.

Sorry. That was a mostly unrelated tangent—and I should note that last week, I was basically convinced endgame was going to be something subversive, with Alicia standing by Peter and calling off the divorce because she wanted to, so I was all prepared to defend my responsibility-as-love position. I think why this line bugs me is that I understand what Lucca’s saying, but I don’t think confuse is the right word. What Lucca means is that Alicia prioritizes responsibility ahead of pursuing her own desires, and that holds her back. I would agree with that. It’s fair to say that Alicia takes on more responsibility than is asked of her and goes above and beyond without realizing she’s doing it. Part of that comes from a genuine desire to help, and part of that comes from fear of not doing enough. One of the lines in “Any Other World” (the song that plays as Alicia and Will kiss in the elevator in 2x23) is, “so I smiled and tried to mean it; to let myself let go.” That’s Alicia’s MO: she plasters on a smile, she tries to mean it, and she wants to let go and embrace new things. She’s just not so good at permitting herself to go through with that last part, both because she likes being tethered and because that’s all she knows.

(I love that line from “Any Other World” so I’m also going to point out that the full lyric is “I tried to live alone, but lonely is so lonely alone. So human as I am, I had to give up my defenses. So I smiled and tried to mean it; to let myself let go.” That seems to have resonance now as much as ever, no?)

ANYWAY. Alicia wants to know if Jason’s saying all this; Lucca says she added a few bits and urges Alicia to think about it. Who does she want to come home to?

So. I don’t mind this framing device. It’s the advice my high school health teacher gave us when someone asked her how we’ll know when we’re in love. It’s valid for Lucca to ask, and it’s a handy way to make Alicia consider her future and her desires. BUT. Alicia’s already decided to divorce Peter at this point, and she’s already declared that she wants to be with Jason. I would rather the finale deal with the ramifications of those earlier decisions than have Alicia work through them again. For example: there’s a lot of material in Alicia realizing her marriage is actually ending, and just as she’s rediscovering how well she and Peter communicate/work together and how their lives will always be connected because of the kids. And at the same time Alicia’s working through that, she’s also faced with a dilemma about lifestyle. Does she want to be alone, romantically, but stay in the city where her life is, or does she want to give it a go with Jason and see what it would be like if she tried to live the untethered life? In the finale, she should not be dealing with a choice between Peter and Jason, not when she already chose (and sure, she might start second-guessing herself, but I’m talking about where the show needs to place importance, not whether or not it’s plausible this could cross her mind). Lucca asks who she wants to come home to, but the question that she should be asking is: where is home?

(Not that LUCCA knows this, of course. I think she’s mostly in the dark about Jason’s plans to leave town. I’m just saying the show needed to push the issue of what type of life Alicia wants rather than just who she wants to share it with.)

Alicia hesitates for a moment after Lucca pitches that question, then says: “Lucca, it’s not up to me. Jason wants his freedom.” “Talk to him,” Lucca encourages. “What will that do?” Alicia wonders. It’s pretty clear they’re at an impasse. “Talk to him,” Lucca repeats. Okay, Lucca, but I don’t think Jason’s going to want to stay put, and this sounds like Alicia’s saying she doesn’t want to uproot her life every time Jason feels like it, soooooo… what’s talking going to do? There are no mixed signals here, and I don’t see a compromise.

At home, Alicia sits on her bed, researching legal precedents for Peter’s case. She’s listening to Ashbaugh’s “Bach Song” as she does this. I’m so happy we got to hear it on the show one last time.  

The Bach Song ends, and Regina Spektor’s “Better” begins to play. The change of song distracts Alicia, and she takes a break from studying. And, for the first time in season seven (!!), we get memory pops! (I didn’t know it was possible for me to think Iowa was more of a missed opportunity than I already thought it was, but, apparently, it is. More on that in a bit.)

Alicia imagines herself walking through her front door. It’s just another day. She’s wearing that gorgeous dress from 7x17. She puts her keys in their bowl, sets her bag down, and walks into the kitchen. When she reaches the kitchen, the camera pans to reveal Jason standing there, waiting, with two glasses of wine. He kisses her hello. Hmmm, could be nice.

She restarts the scenario—front door, keys, bag, kitchen. This time, it’s Peter greeting her. Same scenario (but a different kiss—Alicia and Jason’s kiss is light but sexy (fun! Fulfilling!); we don’t see Alicia and Peter’s kiss, just Peter leaning in and the back of Alicia’s head (routine. So routine she doesn’t even need to imagine it in full. It might even be a kiss on the cheek). Interesting that she thinks of Jason and then Peter.

Then the scenario restarts a third time. Door. Keys. Bag. Kitchen. But Will (whose face she can remember now, I guess, because REASONS!) is waiting with wine. Alicia didn’t expect him to pop up and jolts forward. So what was she trying to think about? I’m curious!

Alicia hops off of her bed and closes the door. (“You’re gettin’ sadder, sadder, sadder…” the song warns.) With the door closed, Alicia allows herself to fantasize. It’s Will’s passionate kiss she wants most. Jason’s nice to have around. Peter’s the norm. But Will… oh, it’s too good to be true.

“If I kiiiiiiissss you,” the song goes, and Alicia slips into fantasy. At “Will you feel anything at all?”, fantasy Alicia checks herself and pulls away from Fantasy Will: “My God.” That’s characteristic of Alicia: she fact-checks her fantasies. In reality, she’s more annoyed with herself than surprised. “Stupid,” she chastises herself, the way she did after the real kiss with Will in Red Team/Blue Team. (She said “Idiot” there, but same diff.)

(Sidenote: I’ve had “Better” on almost constant repeat for three days now. I should be sick of it. I am not.)

It doesn’t make sense to fantasize about a dead man. He’s not an option (and this is the part where I note for the millionth time that when Will was alive, he almost never visited Alicia’s apartment—she kept him out). Alicia closes her laptop and hurries out of the apartment.

She heads to the office to find some case files. No luck on the 27th. But maybe they’re on the destroyed 28th floor? Using her iPhone as a flashlight, Alicia finds the files (which say Stern, Lockhart & Gardner on the side—nice touch, props department! But wasn’t the firm Lockhart/Gardner at this time?) and sits down.

“I can’t read that. What’s that say?” Alicia says to herself. Will’s voice fills her in—it says U.S. v Nunez. And now Alicia remembers the conversation. “Oh! Of course. U.S. v Nunez. How could I forget?” memory pop Alicia jokes. That is not your season 2 hair, babe. “It’s the Saint Jude of precedents,” Will explains. “Lost causes,” Alicia gets the joke.

“Nothing’s ever over. Remember that—nothing,” Will says to her. He’s talking about cases that seem to be concluded, but it’s a good thing (for the audience, for Alicia) to keep in mind when thinking about endings. The ending of this episode seems like a sad one. But it’s not: nothing’s ever over.

Will then recites something from a class at Georgetown. Alicia’s surprised he remembered (apparently she remembered, too, since she remembers it well enough to put in Fantasy Will’s mouth). Will says hey, he was the one awake in that class. “I was awake,” Alicia insists, but Will says no—she was always “drunk, lolling around.” Excuse me? ALICIA showed up to CLASS DRUNK REPEATEDLY? “That’s so not true! And I’ve never lolled in my life,” she protests. But she can’t remember the professor’s name, and Will can. (No, Alicia was not drunk during class every day while she was in law school. Please. Apparently, Fantasy Will is Veronica in some ways.)

(I can see her showing up hungover to a boring class that met in the early morning after the night her friends usually partied, especially if it was a class where she knew she’d be fine on the midterm/final as long as she memorized the lecture notes.)

Alicia stares at Will a moment too long. “What?” he asks. “Nothing. It’s just really good to see you again,” Alicia explains, mixing fantasy and memory. “Again? Where was I?” Will jokes.

Alicia snaps back to reality and looks into Will’s empty office, now David Lee’s office.

“You wouldn’t like it here now. Things have gotten sad,” Alicia informs Will, fully embracing the fantasy. “Hmm. Things were pretty sad when I was here,” Alicia-as-Fantasy-Will reminds herself. “No, they were never sad,” Alicia argues. “Us hating each other?” he reminds her. “Did you really hate me?” Alicia wants to know. “Oh yeah,” Will says with a smile. Sigh.

She asks Fantasy Will for advice about life. He’s not really Will anymore. He’s just a reflection of Alicia. He talks with Will’s cadence, but Alicia’s more focused on working through her issues than on capturing Will accurately. Will tells her he was never very good at life; she insists he was. Maybe he’d say that, but it sounds more like Alicia’s working through this herself: why do I want to capture Will’s approach to life if he wasn’t great it? Oh, that’s right: it always looked so easy for him to do what he wanted, when he wanted. That’s what’s appealing. The effortlessness.

“Why didn’t I come to you?” Alicia questions herself. (Because Will was not a practical option. Because he met some of your needs but not the most important ones. Because he didn’t understand the things you valued. Because you were in a tough situation. Because you felt both loving and responsible towards your family, including Peter. Because you did go to him, and you felt that it wasn’t love. Because you did go to him, and you realized the happiness he gave you wasn’t sustainable. Because he was never the man you’re fantasizing him to be now, as much as you loved him.)

Again, Alicia reminds herself of the counterargument through Will: “What did you say? ‘It was romantic because it didn’t happen.’” Alicia smiles. Yes. This line originally referred to Georgetown Alicia/Will (and maybe that’s what Alicia’s asking him about here?), but it’s correct at any point in time for them. The idea of the romance, the idea of the fantasy—that’s what propelled Alicia and Will forward. It’s not all there was to their relationship, not at all. But it’s why the relationship came to be so important for both of them. It never was something, which means it could have been anything. Maybe if Alicia and Will had gotten together at Georgetown, they’d live in a fairytale castle (…or a nice house) together now! Maybe if Alicia hadn’t gone back up to the apartment with Peter in 119, they’d have made a plan. Maybe if Alicia had gotten that message, she and Will would’ve gotten together without it being an affair. Maybe if she’d just opened up to Will in season 3, all her fears would’ve melted away. She’d never have left the firm. Will never would’ve fought to keep Jeffrey Grant as a client. The trial would’ve gone differently; Will wouldn’t have died. Alicia would come home every night to a passionate kiss, and it would never get stale, no matter how many years they were together. That’s a lot of maybes, but why be rational when fantasy feels so nice?

“So you got a little bit of both. Life. Us together. And now, romance,” Will consoles her. This line is hard to parse. If it seems abrupt, it’s because Will’s replying to Alicia’s full line in 1x18 (“It was romantic because it didn’t happen. If it had happened, it would have just been… life.”), but he only says the “romantic because it didn’t happen” part here. So, she got the part that was just life: they got together, it happened, it ended. Life. And now she has romance: the fantasy that will last forever. It will always be romantic because it didn’t happen, and she got a glimpse into “life.”

Or maybe he means now, with Jason, she has a chance at romance. I like my interpretation better.

Back to reality. Alicia sits alone on the couch, and the camera zooms out to reveal—or, rather, to underline—her loneliness.

She steadies herself against a wall (bad idea! The 29th floor could come crashing down on you!) and walks away. The office turns into newsprint, and with that, we have our final title credit sequence ever. I am not sure I understand it. Why is the office in newsprint? And couldn’t we have gotten the real theme music one last time?

Alicia’s studying precedents when Jason sneaks up behind her and accidentally surprises her. Jason needs Alicia to talk to Cary. Alicia doesn’t think Cary would talk to her, but Jason thinks he would.

Diane is excited about court strategy! She got a real life lawyer to talk in court as an expert witness. The plan is to use his celebrity status to impress Cuesta so much Alicia and Jason have more time to prep.

The plan works.

Peter meets with a campaign donor to try to make sure their relationship is still solid. It’s not. The donor slips up and says something he shouldn’t: he refers to Alicia as a “path to the future.” That’s right! You remember Alicia’s miraculous rehabilitation campaign? It worked SO WELL that now Alicia is in a spot, a year after her dual humiliation, to run for office!

Eli’s plan is for Alicia to divorce Peter, look like she got away from the criminal, and then run for office. (As Alicia Florrick or Alicia Cavanaugh, I wonder. Alicia Cavanaugh Florrick?) I would say it would never work, but hey, Eli’s magical. He rehabilitated Alicia without doing anything.

(I’m convinced this is just placed her to suggest that Alicia has a future that’s hers for the taking so the ending doesn’t feel as sad once you think about it.)

“I didn’t know he was teaching,” Alicia remarks to Jason. That’s right: Cary’s found his new calling, and it’s teaching. I can’t say that’s what I would’ve expected for him, but I like it. There will be less fighting and less moral ambiguity there (though I hear the world of academia can be pretty cutthroat!), and Cary won’t have to deal with management issues or needy clients. I don’t know if I think he’ll stay a professor forever—he’s just a guest lecturer, according to Jason—but it’s a nice place for him to be as the series ends. Who would’ve thought, based on the Pilot, that Cary would be the one to remove himself from that crazy competitive world? I’m glad Cary gets a happy-ish ending.

“He looks like he’s been doing this his whole life,” Alicia observes. Awww. I love that Alicia’s proud of him. I hope they can stay friends.

Alicia tries to talk to Jason about their relationship, as Lucca told her to. “I don’t know. My head hurts every time I try to figure out what it is you want and what I want and how those things may coincide,” Jason replies. Sounds like that’s his answer—he doesn’t see a way this will work out.

Alicia tries to protest, but Jason continues: “No. Look, your husband needs you. I think sometimes you need to be needed. It keeps you from tipping over.” I don’t like the way this sounds, but he’s not wrong. Needing to be needed is another way of saying tethered, right? I don’t think Jason is right that Alicia needs to be needed by Peter, but yes, Alicia needs to have ties. That means she needs to put herself into positions where she can’t leave, that she needs to put down roots and take on responsibilities. It’s not as much of a one-way thing as it sounds here, but an Alicia with no obligations is hard to imagine.

There’ve been a lot of sequences over the years of Alicia suddenly finding free time/suddenly being freed from responsibilities, and they usually do lead to Alicia tipping over. Give Alicia a goal and structures and something to build on or someone to answer to (or something to answer to—a deadline will work, too) and she’ll jump into action. Give her a chunk of free time, and she gets bored and confused. She counts down the minutes until it’s an acceptable time to drink, mindlessly watches TV, gets restless, and mopes around. She’s more productive when she’s needed.

Anyway, class gets out and Jason and Alicia can’t have their Big Romantic Chat right now, so Alicia leans in close and whispers to him to wait for her. Ah, yes, because whispering into his ear is much more discreet than just saying, “Wait for me” out loud!

Cary doesn’t want to help at first. He suggests that Alicia and Jason talk to Matan instead. But Jason is insistent: the bullets must still be in the evidence room somewhere since it would trigger the metal detector to take them out; why did no one look after the mistrial?

Cary asks what the point would be. “The truth. You always talk about the truth,” Alicia prods him. Cary is convinced that the truth is that Peter caused the mistrial. Is that the truth? Does Cary know the truth? Do I care, at this point? I can answer one of these questions—the one about my level of caring—and the answer is no, I do not care. I see a lot of theories and very little proof of anything.

Alicia says she wants to know what happened whether or not Peter did it. Cary says a total search would be impractical, but the idea is planted in his mind. Jason also asks Cary for help with something else case related.

Diane is still stalling in court. It’s still working. Cuesta seems to be easily distracted. This is not the first time they’ve tried this strategy on him. (A similar ploy works in Hail Mary, too.)

Alicia arrives in court and is surprised to see Grace, because Grace is supposed to be “on her way to Berkeley.” Oh, come on, writers. I can’t even happily learn where Grace is going to college without needing to nitpick timeline? This episode takes place in March. We literally just heard that Grace hadn’t graduated from High School yet. Why would she be going off to college in March?!?!?!

Anyway, Gracie is going to Berkeley! I would’ve expected her to choose somewhere that doesn’t have a reputation for being extremely liberal, but I think she’ll succeed there. I can see her loving California, and it’s a big school. She’ll find her people.

Also, Berkeley is CJ Cregg’s alma mater, and this matters because… because it does.

I’d give the writers the benefit of the doubt that Grace was just going on an admitted students’ weekend to visit Berkeley, but Alicia drags Grace out of court and informs her she’s going to college; it’s not open for debate. And that’s when Grace says she’s already phoned the school and deferred admission. I don’t get it. Why would she do this before the trial is over? Why is this happening at all? Why doesn’t anyone on this writing staff understand college?

“You wouldn’t do it. I’m not gonna do it either,” Grace says of her plan to take a gap year. You know, Alicia, an eighteen year-old taking a gap year is not the end of the world. And I’m saying this thinking of Grace, too: wouldn’t it take a toll on Grace to start college while her father was in prison? Couldn’t that leave a kid fucked up and vulnerable and not in a good position to move to a new state? Grace frames it by saying she wants to support her dad, but I dunno, I think this is something for Alicia to give more consideration to.

I think, however, what I’m supposed to get out of this line is that Grace is observing and imitating Alicia’s behavior. I may not understand why this conflict has arisen now, but I get the gist of it. Grace takes Alicia’s example to heart, and that isn’t always a good thing.

Alicia tells Grace that she has to go to college, “this is about your future.” Grace responds that Alicia’s right—“and I get to decide my future.” (Both Florrick ladies are right. I wish this plot delved more into Alicia and Grace’s feelings, because it sorta just feels like a plot device that emerged out of nowhere to cause tension.

Oh hi there, Sutton Foster. Nice to see you on TGW for all of five seconds!

Court stuff happens. Cary slips in to see how things are going, and gets an idea: he’s going to find the missing bullets. He goes to Matan to convince him to help him find the truth.

Cary reminds Matan about how the cops used to talk about “pitting evidence.” Awwww, that’s what the case in the pilot hinged on!

Connor is now offering one year of jail time. Alicia rejects it, so Connor goes for the emotional manipulation strategy again. (Aka, the easiest way to piss Alicia off and ensure she will do everything in her power to destroy you while keeping a smile plastered on her face.) “You know, I met you some years ago. At the Equal Justice Conference in 2008. Do you remember?” he says. “No,” she replies.

“Your husband was giving a speech. This was before… everything. You were fun. We, uh, we talked about our kids. You, uh, you made a joke about the terrible twos and how they weren’t as bad as the freakin’ fours. That was a long time ago. Not many laughs now,” Connor reminisces. Alicia acknowledges the story. There’s no way Alicia said “freakin’.”

But the end of Connor’s story pisses Alicia off. “Really? I don’t make you laugh now? The wife of someone you’re prosecuting for corruption doesn’t amuse you?” she asks him, miffed that he is under the impression she’s there to entertain him. “Okay, thank you,” Connor replies, annoyed with the snark.

“Hey, here’s a thought. You give my husband one year probation, no jail time, and I’ll work up a demure smile for you,” Alicia bargains. “How’s this?” she adds, giving Connor a smile that says two things: (1) Look at me! I’m an innocent brainless woman! Teehee! (2) FUCK YOU.

Peter confronts Eli about moving the donors to Alicia. Eli explains that he’s just being smart: he wants to keep the money in the family rather than losing it to another candidate.

“If I’m so tainted, why am I not tainting her?” Peter wonders. “Because she will divorce you. And it will be seen as a move of independence,” Eli explains. So wait, do the donors already know she’s going to divorce?

Peter considers Eli’s explanation, then asks if Alicia knows. This is Eli we’re talking about so of fucking course Alicia doesn’t know.

Eli and Peter reach an understanding, albeit a tense one. And then Alicia phones to say they’ve found the bullets. Yay Cary! And Matan!

This is quite a big bet to make, Diane et al. Diane moves to have the bullets included in evidence for this case once they’re tested, and that’s… weird. Locke is likely guilty. The bullets could’ve come from Locke’s gun without Peter intentionally causing a mistrial. So if they admit the bullets and they’re from Locke’s gun, Peter looks guilty whether he is or isn’t guilty. And the chances that the bullets aren’t from Locke’s gun in the first place? I feel like that’s a pretty slim chance, given everything we’ve heard. So why fight to have the bullets included if they could easily just end up hurting?

And the results are back! Lawyer people: if Diane becomes aware of the location of the bullets, is she under any obligation to report them to the court? Does checking them out of the evidence locker to have them tested mean the court has to know about the bullets being found? Is there a legal reason they couldn’t have waited to see the test results and then not submitted the bullets into evidence if they didn’t help their case, or is that illegal?

The bullets definitely came from Locke’s gun, says Kurt. Alicia looks exhausted. “Florrick had reason to hide ‘em,” Kurt explains. Sure! But where’s the proof he actually DID hide them!? Also, this just doesn’t make any fucking sense: if Peter knew the bullets were from Locke’s gun in the first place, it would have been because of what Kurt said to him at the time, not because of what gun the bullets actually came from. So, if Kurt thinks Peter had reason to hide the bullets, THIS IS NOT AND CANNOT BE NEW INFORMATION. (Oh God, I’m nitpicking again.)

“It doesn’t mean that he’s guilty,” Diane explains to Alicia. “I don’t know if I care anymore,” Alicia says. Is she exhausted by this? Did this new evidence that changes LITERALLY NOTHING and proves LITERALLY NOTHING change her mind? Whatever. “He’s your client. That’s why you care,” Diane reminds Alicia.

Diane then lies to Cuesta (Uhhhhh???? Is this okay????) about the phone call not being the ballistics testing. Lucca doesn’t understand why Diane is suddenly hesitant, since she’s been in chambers with Cuesta this whole time, and passionately argues to get the bullets included. Whoopsie.

“We stand by our original contention,” Diane stumbles. “Which was…?” Cuesta asks. “What we originally said,” she repeats. There’s a line that sounds exactly like this in the BrainDead promo I keep seeing. (“You’re outnumbered.” “By who?” “By the people you are outnumbered by.”) (No but you guys I’m genuinely curious to see BrainDead.)

HEY LOOK IT’S A LONG SHOT OF ALICIA WALKING IN THE DOOR AND PUTTING HER KEYS IN THEIR BOWL AND PUTTING HER BAG DOWN BEFORE THE CAMERA PANS TO REVEAL… Peter! Remind you of anything?

He doesn’t have any wine, though. Alicia doesn’t look thrilled to see him. (Yes, perhaps because she’s already in the process of divorcing him.) (Or because she just got evidence that we’re meant to understand suggested his guilt.) (Or maybe she’s just disappointed that her fantasy involved wine, no matter the man, and do you see any wine?! NO!)

(I don’t know what to make of Peter being the reality option. A wake-up call that she doesn’t want the man she’s already divorcing? An acknowledgment that she can fantasize about whatever she wants, but of those three men, Peter’s the only one that’s going to be waiting for her in the kitchen at home?)

“Just so you know, I didn’t do it,” Peter tells Alicia. Hey, I believe him. “It doesn’t matter. The jury’s deliberating anyway,” Alicia responds. “It matters to me,” Peter says, because Alicia believing him and the jury believing him are two separate things.

“Should I take the year?” Peter asks. “I don’t know,” Alicia says. “I did eight months and that was hard. A whole year,” Peter reflects. Um, didn’t we have this conversation last week?

“Grace says she is going to drop out of college to visit you in prison,” Alicia mentions. I believe she said she was going to take a gap year, but whatever, drama, high stakes! “What?” Peter laughs. “I know. We’re talking,” Alicia explains. Heh. If you’re a Florrick, you go to college. Yet Zach and Grace are both considering putting their educations on hold.

And then court’s back in session, which means… gah.

Holly testifies for the prosecution, which makes Alicia convinced that Kurt has to testify for them. Diane says no, but Alicia’s insistent: these test results can’t go to the jury or it’ll be bad. (This I do see the logic behind: it doesn’t help their story if the bullets came from Locke’s gun. When I was nitpicking before, that was mostly because it was Kurt expressing surprise, and unless Kurt was trying to help Diane with trial strategy (or just serving as exposition fairy) then he’d have no reason to believe this changes anything.)

But it ends up being a moot point anyway: he’s testifying… and for the prosecution. (Or, at least, they called him to the stand. They could’ve subpoenaed him.)

Back at the LF offices, Diane and Alicia are fighting. Diane insists she had nothing to do with Kurt’s appearance, but Alicia doesn’t care: “He’s your husband, do you know what that looks like?!” “The jury didn’t hear it!” Diane shoots back. “But they will hear it! Cuesta believed him. He believed both of them!” Alicia shouts.

Lucca, who’s between her two bosses, wants to find another strategy (I’d love to hear more about this and why Lucca doesn’t bring it up again to Alicia later, btw). But Diane wants to try to get the evidence excluded (good luck) and Alicia wants to undercut Kurt’s testimony. After all, he’s reversed himself.

“No, he only reversed himself because I convinced him to testify in the first place,” Diane argues. But that doesn’t matter, does it? He still reversed himself. “So? We can still use it. We can still use the reversed testimony,” Alicia argues. “NO!” Diane thunders. Oh man. This is a tough dilemma. I would hate to be in the middle of it, because I don’t know who’s right. And I also don’t know what “right” is. Is “right” not betraying someone that took a risk for you, someone that you love? Or is “right” doing your job to the best of your ability?

“Because he’s your husband?” Alicia wonders after a moment of stunned silence. “No. Because he’s honest. He can’t be undercut,” Diane insists. Uh, Diane, you literally just said the only reason he reversed himself is that you convinced him to. He can… really easily be undercut. And, uh, when has the truth ever mattered before? Remember all those times Alicia went to Diane with the truth or with knowledge that changed everything, and Diane was just like, “well, our duty is to represent our clients…” and the truth didn’t matter because the firm mattered more? Because I definitely do.

And Alicia definitely does, too. She’s learned from them: “Diane. You have a client. My husband. You have a duty to zealously represent that client.” This isn’t to say that Alicia is right here: Alicia is also fighting harder than she would for any ordinary client. That she’s right about how Diane might act if it didn’t involve Kurt is irrelevant, on some level. It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong, or if there’s a right or a wrong. Alicia knows that, right or wrong, this will hurt Diane. Try applying precedent the next time someone’s mad at you. Reading them a laundry list of sketchy things they’ve done is not going to change the fact that you hurt them. Acting like this is any other case is not going to remove the emotions. It’s not any other case.

“And I am, but to besmirch this witness would backfire on us. I am not saying this because he’s my husband. I am saying this because it is strategically a mistake,” Diane argues. I believe half of that. Maybe she believes it’s a strategic mistake. She probably does. But that doesn’t mean her emotions aren’t also a factor.

“I disagree,” Alicia counters. “Then have Peter fire me,” Diane suggests. (Really, that’s what Alicia should do. I don’t get why she doesn’t, except maybe optics. It does probably play better for the jury if it looks like Diane was trying to protect her husband over her client… that somehow makes Peter look like a victim…) (And that’s a shitty thing to do to Diane. And to Kurt.)

Alicia and Diane stare each other down, and then Diane leaves, slamming the door behind her. Alicia sits down at the table, shakes her head, and decides: “I need your help.” “With what?” Lucca asks. “Cross-examination,” Alicia says.

In court, Diane goes ahead with her strategy—no questions for Kurt. But Lucca jumps in (seriously though, I understand why Lucca would help Alicia, but it would be really nice to get a scene that spells out why Peter can’t just fire Diane and whether or not Lucca had any hesitations about doing this, especially given that she thought she had a better strategy).

Diane stares at her, alarmed. (Hey, Christine Baranski: THIS is your Emmy tape.)

As Lucca speaks, we don’t see her. Like last episode, it’s entirely about the other characters. Diane glares at Alicia, who makes eye contact with her and then remorselessly turns to watch what’s going on in court.

Then we get to the case stuff, so we see Lucca. Lucca’s argument: Kurt’s retired, so why was he doing a ballistics test? It was as a favor, right? And he checked his findings with Holly? Yes, and yes. Lucca finds something to be suspicious of there. Were they comparing their findings, or were they coordinating strategy? It’s not standard to compare results, is it? No. But, Kurt says, they had a differing opinion in 2012. (Wait, so, did Holly actually see the bullets in 2012? Last week she didn’t. This week she did. I HATE THIS CASE!)

Also looking bad for Kurt? That Holly’s the one who bought his business. Lucca uses the word “give”, not the word “purchase.” Then, Lucca takes it to another place entirely: she asks if Kurt’s had an affair with Holly.

And we get Diane’s reaction. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. No one deserves to be hurt like this. Regardless of whether or not Kurt cheated, Diane doesn’t deserve this humiliation. Connor objects, Lucca argues for the relevance of this line of questioning, and Diane keeps her eyes closed.

The arguments go in Lucca’s favor, but that’s secondary: Diane is devastated. She looks down, and the camera locks in on her as Lucca, Connor, and Cuesta talk.

Diane looks up again as Lucca repeats the question. She’s fighting back tears.

The camera shows a long shot for a second, and we can see Lucca, but she’s still not the focus: the focus is Diane, blurry in the background, standing up and walking out of court. The focus racks and we see Diane, sharply. Then Kurt, powerless and silent.

Diane silently marches out. She doesn’t want to hear it.

(My headcanon is that Kurt slept with Holly before he was married to Diane and I refuse to accept that it’s possible he cheated.) (Unrealistic? Maybe. But until the writers contradict it directly and in canon, it’s what I’m going with. And it remains to be seen if this spinoff, if it happens, will be something I consider canon.)

Back in court, Alicia looks sad, but not conflicted. Grace stares straight ahead.

Well, I spoke too soon: Alicia is conflicted. She realizes the gravity of what she’s done. Outside of the court room, she tries to rationalize it to herself. “What is the point?” Will asks. “What?” she says in fantasy land, as real Alicia looks straight into the camera. “What is the point of all this?” he repeats. “To zealously represent our clients,” Alicia recites. “Right. Diane knows it better than anyone,” Will reassures her. Will would definitely say this. And this is definitely true. But it’s here, in Alicia’s mind, because she’s doubting it. Whenever Alicia did anything morally ambiguous in the past, she had a figure like Will or Diane telling her it was okay, it was her job. (I would love it if Alicia’s conscience took the form of Diane right here instead of Will, just saying. It’d be more powerful, I think, especially since Diane was always the one who was your friend right up until the point her own self-interest mattered more. Will was just never your friend or was loyal to you forever.) (“[Diane] didn’t approve of Alicia standing up to the panel, and yet, she’s supposed to care about people, the truth, morality, etc etc. I never understand Diane’s motivations– is her philosophy to help others whenever it wouldn’t hurt her, personally, to do so? I remember thinking Will had a lot of grey areas when I was watching season 1, but I think Diane may be more grey,“ I wrote in a message to a friend the night Blue Ribbon Panel aired back in season three.) (If nothing else, this proves that I’ve felt the same way about Diane for as long as I’ve been watching TGW.)  

Anyway, while I’m on this DIANE IS NOT A SAINT kick (which I think I’m feeling super strongly as a response to the way parts of fandom are exaggerating the problems with Alicia’s actions and putting Diane on a pedestal), I’d also like to argue that the closest we’ve come on this show to a betrayal like the one between Alicia and Diane in End is not Peter cheating on Alicia, but rather, Diane throwing Will under the bus in early season five. Peter cheating on Alicia is why Alicia knows exactly what type of situation she’s putting Diane in (although Diane won’t have the press in her face and Alicia’s more of the Childs than the Peter in this scenario), and why it’s so important as a contrast that Alicia goes from victim to someone who has enough power to victimize. But in terms of the betrayal itself, this is most like what Diane did to Will. It’s done with full knowledge of the consequences—Peter didn’t think he’d get caught; Diane and Alicia both knew their betrayals wouldn’t stay private (to her credit, Diane told Will immediately while Alicia surprised (because she had to?) Diane in court). It’s done against a friend and partner, and for one’s own self-interest. Diane wants the judgeship, and she decides that she values it more than she values her partnership with Will, so she trashes Will. Alicia wants Peter to be free (and that’s not exactly selfish, especially when you consider that she genuinely cares about Peter and has kids that would be devastated by Peter going to prison just because Alicia didn’t try her hardest to defend Peter), and she decides she values Peter’s freedom more than she values her partnership with Diane, so she instructs Lucca to discredit Kurt by hurting Diane.

To be clear, I’m not arguing that Diane can’t be a victim here because she’s made similar choices in the past. She absolutely can be a victim here, and she absolutely is a victim here. But Will in Alicia’s mind is right: if there’s anyone that knows Alicia’s dilemma, it’s Diane. I think that adds a cool tangle to this ending. You don’t have to be innocent to be a victim. The roles can shift.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Will and Alicia are still talking. “And the ethics of it?” Alicia wonders. “Hey, ethics change. We’re all adults here,” Will waves away the question.

“Things used to be simpler,” Alicia reflects. Ha, really? No, not really: “No. Things were never simple,” she reminds herself through the remembrance of Will. (NOTHING HERE IS PURE AND NOTHING HERE IS SIMPLE. SEASON ONE, EPISODE SEVEN, BITCHES.)

Alicia’s strategy works, so at least she didn’t blow up her relationship with Diane over nothing.

Connor has a new offer: one year probation, no jail time, and a resignation. “We could wait for a verdict,” Alicia jokes. Connor still insists that Peter is guilty (proof????) (I’ve yet to hear ANYTHING OTHER THAN MOTIVE.), and Alicia and Connor both know that Peter’s going to take this deal.

“What do you think?” Peter asks Alicia at the apartment. “It’s up to you,” Alicia says wisely, knowing this can’t be her call. “But what do you think?” Peter repeats, inviting her to share her opinion. “I would take it. It’s amazing we’ve come this far. This jury is unpredictable. You take the plea, you don’t spend one day in jail,” Alicia advises. “My career would be over,” Peter realizes. Yeah, but you’re at the point where you’re worrying about your career rather than life in jail!

“I think it’s over anyway, isn’t it?” Alicia reminds him. Peter realizes she’s right. Or, at least, I think that’s what that look is trying to convey.

As Peter leaves the apartment, Alicia asks him what he’s going to do. “I’m gonna take the deal,” he says. “But I need one more favor. I’ll announce tomorrow. Stand by my side.”

“Sure,” Alicia nods. One last time.

And now her apartment’s empty. There’s the living room, the office—all empty. (Where is Grace? Is she not still at home?)

“What do I do now?” Alicia wonders. She may still be in Chicago, but now she’s more untethered than she’s been in… well, decades.

Will emerges from her bedroom. “Go to him,” he suggests. “You’re done with Peter. Like a fever, it’s over.”

“Jason’s not you,” Alicia replies. Oh, GOOD, because the thing I really need to see Alicia reflect on at the end of her marriage is WHETHER OR NOT BEING WITH JASON CAN EVER FEEL LIKE BEING WITH WILL. TRULY, WE’RE ASKING THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS HERE.

Look. I understand that Alicia’s still hung up on Will, especially since Will is dead. But to my mind, there’s an interesting dilemma here, and there’s a love triangle (square?) here, too. The interesting dilemma is what it’s like for Alicia to be untethered, for a combination of reasons that are both her choice (no Peter, severing ties with Diane) and beyond her control (Grace graduating). I’d love exploration of how Alicia craves something new immediately after ending something old. I may not like it as a viewer that Alicia wants to hop from relationship to relationship, but I can understand why she might be tempted to do that, as a character. Alicia likes being tethered; she will want to trust and trust and trust no matter how often she’s betrayed (or how often she ruins relationships with the people she trusts because she’s paranoid they’ll betray her, too). She doesn’t know how to live without responsibilities, so it makes sense she’d crave something or someone, especially if that something/someone is fun. And I’m not saying “Oh, Alicia can’t live without a man.” It’s not that simple. It’s that it’s an entirely new situation that she has to navigate on her own, after two decades of being used to having obligations. Anyone would struggle to figure out what to do next. It’s not about men or relationships, it’s about being at a turning point in your life. It’s the same feeling you might have when you start a new school (you can be anyone you want to be!) or when you graduate (hi!) or when you move to a new city or when your best friend moves away or when your plans get cancelled at the last minute.

And that’s why it irritates me so much that this interesting question becomes subsumed in this fucking love triangle from hell. Is that harsh? Yeah. But this is the end of the goddamn series. You want to do this Peter-or-Will-or-Jason madness? Don’t fucking do it in the series finale, after Alicia’s made her decisions. Even if those decisions are still malleable. GET IT OUT OF THE SERIES FINALE. Alicia’s story is not about the men in her life, so don’t fucking use it as a device. You want the viewers to believe it’s Alicia’s story, not the Willicia story? THEN GET RID OF THE FANSERVICE. You can’t have it both ways. This plot belonged in Iowa, which I’ve decided is my least favorite episode of the season because it’s a huge waste. That’s the episode where it was most relevant to debate whether or not Jason was a Will replacement, since Eli presents him in KSR as Alicia’s second chance (which would dovetail nicely into Alicia realizing that Jason isn’t Will, and that’s just fine). It’s also where Alicia and Peter are at a turning point, since Peter’s on the cusp of either winning and dragging Alicia even farther into the Good Wife image (and Alicia likes her privacy!) or losing and giving her a good opportunity to get out. I can imagine a pitch-perfect 7x11 where Alicia feels trapped on that campaign bus, and we get inside her mind. We see her angry enough to throw plates at Eli, but composed enough that she only takes it out on her suitcase. We see her staring out the window of the bus she’s trapped on all day, fondly remembering Will, contemplating against her wishes what it might be like to try again with Jason, sulking around, realizing she can’t sulk, remembering how much she cares about Peter but also realizing that no, she doesn’t want him at home at the end of the day. What a missed opportunity. (And the voicemail, and the breakdown, OY.)

ANYWAY. This scene. I hate that it goes into this “Jason’s not you” stuff. I don’t give a shit. Who said Jason had to be Will for Alicia to consider being with him? This doesn’t have to be epic love—it’s the friggin’ start of a relationship. Sure, Alicia will always love Will. But I already understood that, as a viewer. I got that the last several times the show worked through this conflict. And I got that, especially, in Mind’s Eye, when Alicia recognized that Will was just a fantasy now—he’d never talked like that, never comforted her like that, never understood her like that—before. It’s a point that recurs in Alicia’s thoughts, but it’s not one that needed to recur in the final minutes of the final episode of the series. This is what we get closure on? Of all the loose ends—we get closure on… a relationship that’s been quite literally dead for over two years, that we’ve gotten great closure on several times before? There’s no such thing as getting complete closure, so sure, I buy these thoughts, but my goodness, what a waste of time.

“Hmm. Very few people are me,” Will jokes, and Alicia smiles. Awww. “He’s a boy. He likes boy things,” Alicia worries. “You like boy things,” Will tells her. (Huh?) “No, I don’t, what makes you say that?” Alicia counters. “God, you have so little self-awareness,” the Will that Alicia’s created tells Alicia in Alicia’s mind. (Yeah, no self-awareness at all…)

“What if I’m unhappy with him?” Alicia wonders. “Blame me. Seriously,” Will says. OR JUST, LIKE, LEAVE, BECAUSE PEOPLE BREAK UP ALL THE TIME AND THIS IS NOT THE DILEMMA YOU’RE MAKING IT OUT TO BE PLEASE MAKE THIS TERRIBLE SEQUENCE STOP I LIKED ALL THE WILL STUFF UNTIL THIS MOMENT MAKE! IT! STOP!

“Do you want to live here alone?” Will asks Alicia, turning her around to take in the emptiness of the apartment. “Look at this place. It’ll drive you crazy.” BAD! Bad influence! On the one hand, I feel for Alicia here: she thinks she has nothing, and she has the option to have something. She doesn’t want to be alone—few people do. (Even when being alone would be best for someone, it’s easier said than done.) “You’re right,” Alicia realizes. (He is. It’ll drive her crazy. For a little while. And then she’ll remember that she loves to read, and she’ll pick up that hobby she dropped after college, and she’ll put herself back out there.)

“Then go to him. It’s not too late,” Will recommends. Again, we’re walking this very fine line. I don’t mind the idea of Alicia running to Jason out of fear of being alone—I think that’s very human. But that should be the point. It shouldn’t be caught up in a love triangle. If this is a decision about desperation and loneliness, I don’t need it to be Will telling Alicia all of this. I need a montage of Alicia doing that thing she does, where she flips through cable tv, opens the fridge door but takes nothing out, does laundry, cries. Then I need her to imagine these activities with Jason, super-duper happy. He’s the cure to her loneliness! She craves it! It’s within her reach! (I have a lot of proposals for how this could’ve gone. You could even add in a third sequence where everything’s super-duper happy with Jason, but whenever Alicia reaches out for something else that’s familiar and comfortable, it’s gone. She can have Jason or she can have the rest of her life, and she realizes she’s just not going to choose Jason over everything else. That’s my preferred resolution, anyway. It shows her desperation without allowing it to motivate her decisions.)

Alicia starts to run to Jason, but doubles back. “I’ll love you forever,” she cries to Will. They hug. “I’m okay with that,” Will replies. Yeah, no, delete. This is fanservice, and it feels like it. It also feels true and emotional, but ultimately unnecessary.

Ugh. Wow, I’m bitter about this. But this last scene is off-the-rails bad for me. The fanservice (which would be fine if it took place in an earlier episode, and if it weren’t so obviously fanservice) is only part of the problem. The main problem I have, if I didn’t articulate it clearly enough above, is that it doesn’t need to be here, in this episode, at this point in the show. There are more pressing issues, issues it makes very little sense to ignore.

Alicia rushes to the office to find Jason! Lucca says Jason’s “gone.” Alicia leaves him a voicemail, because of fucking course she does. “Hey, Jason, where are you? I need to talk. I… It’s over. Peter’s taking the plea, my daughter is going to school, and I… I need to see you. Call me back, please,” Alicia says with a smile, walking down a hallway at the office. The music from 1x23 is playing. Nice touch. (Again: Peter taking the plea and Grace going to school are not the things that were ever preventing Alicia and Jason from being together, so I find this really unsatisfactory. What made Alicia willing to uproot her entire life? Because it feels to me, based on the exploration given in this episode that prioritizes the love triangle above all else, like Alicia has to choose Jason so it can hurt when he’s not really at the press conference.)

Fade to black, and then… we’re in the beginning of 6x20! I kid, I kid. The parallel here, with Alicia and Peter holding hands before a press conference, is obviously to Pilot, not to The Deconstruction. (Which, as I said in an earlier recap, was almost titled The End and hits almost the exact same beats for Alicia as End.) Eh, what the hell, I’ll put this rant here, though I think I phrased it well in my 7x19 recap. This whole arc, which leads up to a parallel to the pilot and Alicia being taken down a peg, is literally the end of season six. In season six, it’s more the-world-conspires-against-Alicia, but… not really? 6x20 is a worse episode than 7x22, mostly because 6x20 hinges on a misunderstanding instead of character motivations, and that’s the fault of shoddy development of Alicia/Diane/Cary’s relationship and partnership throughout season six. But it still hits the same emotional beats. There’s a scandal. There’s a resignation. Peter is the only one standing by Alicia, and they’re hardly on good terms. Alicia can’t go back to the firm. And 6x20 ends with Alicia doubling over in physical pain after reading Kalinda’s letter.

This is the last bullet point of my 6x20 recap: “Alicia’s had it all figured out this year, and then she’s had nothing figured out. She’s more self-assured than she’s ever been, more ambitious and goal oriented, and yet she’s still been spinning aimlessly. What she wants is an abstract concept, and she’s prioritized winning and herself over everything and everyone—family, friends, ethics, the truth. And what does that leave her with when she loses? A lot of regret, a lot of burnt bridges, the same problems she had before, fatigue, moral dilemmas, and lots and lots of tears.”

Season seven doesn’t have that arc. In fact, it largely hits the reset button on the arc that already happened so it can wind up back in the same place and make the same points more pointedly. Alicia’s self-sufficient firm (which the writers, at first, scrap completely so they can do a 4 episode bond court subplot) has to collapse so she can go back to LAL so the conflicts can play out; Alicia has to stay with Peter so the final arc can be about his trial; everything Alicia learned from her run for SA (AND everything her run for SA did to her image; acting like the rehabilitation campaign just happened and not concentrating on it at all is probably the surest sign that we’re just erasing season six because it doesn’t work to end the series like this if you already made the same points!) must be swept under the rug. But look at what I wrote above: I mention Alicia putting herself first. I mention Alicia burning bridges. I mention Alicia being left in pain, with no support system. That’s exactly what this ending underlines: Alicia puts herself first, and ends up alone because of her choices, and it causes her physical pain.

(6x20, of course, gives way to 6x21, where Alicia mopes around and then quickly gets back up on her feet and sets realistic goals, which she’s working her way towards by 6x22.)

I don’t mind that 7x22 is repetitive, because I like the points that it repeats, and I think it makes its points more clearly than did 6x20. But I have a big problem with the work s7 did to erase what was a great arc for Alicia in season 6 so they could basically do it over again. The payoff is good in 7x22, but I think less of season seven as a whole knowing that it was building towards something that already happened.

This sequence is shot for shot like the Pilot (well, without the TV monitors), full circle, blah blah. It’s a thematic ending to a show that doesn’t usually go for the thematic plots. And it’s fine, because this is a good way to make the ending feel final without betraying the tone of the show (no flashforwards or happily ever afters here!), but it’s… I mean, the point is pretty straightforward. Alicia’s back to where she was, only she’s changed. (SERIOUSLY SHOW ARE YOU FORGETTING YOU ALREADY DID THE SHOT FOR SHOT THING IN 6x20??? I REALLY WANNA KNOW.)

Alicia doesn’t look distracted or worried this time. She just has her poker face on, and she maintains it well.

She looks to the sidelines—there’s Eli, smiling. (Alicia’s not alone! She has Eli to try to convince her to run for office, and maybe, since we’re ignoring the entirety of season six, she’ll go for it!)

Then she spies Jason (or the approximate shape of Jason) waiting in the hallway. OMG! HER SHOT AT LOVE! NOW OR NEVER!!!

Peter reaches for Alicia’s hand at the end of his speech. In the Pilot, he reached for her hand and grabbed it; her hand was already hovering near his because she wanted to remove the lint from his sleeve. Here, she’s done keeping up appearances the second it stops being absolutely necessary. She removes her hand and runs down the hallway after “Jason.” Joy.

(Another alternate scenario I think could’ve worked better: Alicia tells Jason she would like to be with him, but she can’t give up her lifestyle to live a nomadic life. Jason says okay, but in that case, he’s just going to have to leave, because he can’t give up his nomadic lifestyle to live in Alicia’s world. They end things there. Then Alicia imagines he’s at the press conference, and thinks she’s going to get her happy ending: he showed up! He changed his mind! They’ll be together and it’ll be on her terms! Yay! But no—it wasn’t him. You get the gut punch and you don’t get the triangle or the lack of exploration of Alicia’s life beyond romance!)

(Also, this framing again suggests Peter-or-Jason, and I dislike it for that. I get why it’s done here, but in combination with the rest of the episode, AAAARGH.) 

Alicia walks down the hallway hurriedly, calling after Jason. It’s not him—of course it’s not. (Maybe he returns after the finale ends. I doubt it. But this ending is as sad as you make it, since it’s not definitive.) Peter calls after Alicia; she tunes him out. (Maybe she finds her way back to Peter after the finale ends. I doubt that, too. But somehow, I doubt it less than Jason returning. Peter and Alicia end the finale in similar spots: dealing with a 20+ year relationship coming to a close, a major change of status/career, and kids leaving home. They could be the only ones who understand each other, and they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in these coming weeks as they work out details, sign divorce papers, and attend Grace’s graduation. Anything’s possible.)

After realizing her mistake, Alicia heads back to where everyone’s waiting. Diane appears before her and stares her down. “Diane?” Alicia asks with concern. Diane raises her palm and slaps Alicia across the face. “If you never say your name out loud to anyone, they can never, ever call you by it,” Regina Spektor sings (because “Better” is playing again). (I love this line. If you don’t open yourself up, you’ll never be vulnerable. But… Alicia says her name out loud. She tries to let herself let go (yeah, I’m mixing my song references, deal with it). As closed off as she can be, she strives to connect. She builds relationships. And then she burns them to the ground. She can be slapped by Diane and have it hurt like this because she let Diane in—she let Diane know her name, to use the song’s terms—and then betrayed her.

Does Alicia deserve to be slapped? Yes, and no. I don’t advocate physical violence, first of all. But beyond that, Alicia definitely deserves Diane’s anger for what she did. She had a choice, and she chose to throw her business partner under the bus for her own self-interest and for someone else. Whether or not Alicia made the right call in doing that, Diane has every right to be angry, and what Alicia did was hurtful. On the other hand, Alicia doesn’t deserve to be slapped as, like, some sort of karma for being a supermegabitch to the amazing Diane. I hope I don’t have to explain why that is.

On the symbolism of the slap: it is what it is. It’s a way of demonstrating how much Alicia’s changed from the start of the series to the end of the series. It gives the show a sense of finality. It serves its purpose, and it serves it well. I know the Kings are discussing Alicia becoming Peter or whatever, but I don’t think that comparison does anyone any favors (least of all the Kings themselves!). It’s easy enough to say, but what’s the use of encouraging people to equate Alicia’s actions (to protect her family, to protect herself) with Peter’s actions (to experience sexual pleasure)? There really is none. The better, in my view, thing to note here is that in the Pilot, Alicia was in a position where she couldn’t really victimize anyone. She could slap Peter and still be the victim. Now, she’s in a position where she has, and (ab)uses power.

I’d say this also illustrates how much Alicia’s changed and how comfortable she is with moral ambiguity, but I think if given the chance, Pilot Alicia would’ve done the same exact thing to a friend (if she had one) to protect her family. That’s always been more important than anything else to her, and you can draw a straight line through (among other episodes) 101 (the fine print on your employment contract line), 314 (your problem was that you did things that were wrong against your family), 512 (protect Zach at all costs), and 722 to prove it. What matters is that Alicia still feels this way and that Alicia feels it to such an extreme that she’ll let it ruin (?) her relationship with Diane.

(I really wanna rewatch 105, Crash, and then reflect some more on this. Alicia’s faced with the same dilemma in that episode—does she reveal an affair to help her client?--- and everyone, including Grace, encourages her to destroy a woman’s life by revealing that she cheated. And so she does, apologetically. Afterwards, she washes her hands, symbolically cleansing herself of her misdeed.)

(Maybe that’s the difference: Alicia’s not apologetic about this stuff anymore. Maybe in her mind she is, but she used to run to Will or Diane—the actual Will and Diane, not fantasies—with her problems. She needed to be told by someone other than herself that she was making the right call. Now, she may still think about it and wonder if she’s made the right call, but she doesn’t need to check with any authority figures.)

Alicia whimpers and holds her face as Diane walks off (possibly forever—I can’t see Alicia and Diane’s partnership bouncing back from this, especially considering that Alicia doesn’t even like that firm and had spent three years prior to this moment trying to run away from it!) It’s not lost on her that she’s been here before, and that she used to be the one delivering the slap.

She composes herself, reflects for a moment, and then looks straight ahead. (My goodness, Julianna’s acting here is simply flawless.) She’s sad, but this won’t get the best of her.

Just as she did in the pilot, she adjusts her jacket. (It reminds me of her words to Jennifer, the client, in the pilot: Put on makeup, for yourself…) Some things change, and some things stay the same. Alicia was resilient then, and she’s resilient now. She’ll reevaluate her life—she did after she slapped Peter, and I’m hopeful she’ll do the same now—but she’ll bounce back.

She confidently begins to walk down the hallway. Elevators get a lot of play as TGW’s signature space, but I think a convincing argument could be made (maybe I’ll even write one up some day) about the role of hallways in TGW. Both elevators and hallways are similar in that they’re spaces of transition, but elevators have a dimension that hallways don’t: you’re stationary while you’re in an elevator, and you’re boxed in (so you’re either alone with your thoughts or stuck with someone else). Hallways work differently. You have to get yourself from point A to point B. The ends are open. You choose your pace.

And hallways, on this show, give characters—almost always Alicia, though we’ve gotten one or two for other characters—time to compose themselves, time to morph into something new, step by step. Alicia walks down a hallway after finding out that Peter slept with Kalinda; she’s in tears but has to keep moving. The same thing happens when she breaks up with Will: she cries, but she has to keep on moving. Then, as the series goes on, she’s not crying: she uses hallways to compose herself. When Peter’s elected governor, she realizes she wants to double down on her choice and go into business with Cary. She starts out shaky, walking down that hotel hallway where she once cried, but by the end of her walk, she’s confident.

That’s the case here, too. Yes, she was just slapped. Yes, her future’s completely uncertain and isn’t looking great. Yes, she’s alone (and part of that’s by choice, part of that’s by happenstance). But no, this isn’t a sad ending. She is going to walk down this hallway, and she is going to use that walk to pull herself together (as always), and she is going to walk out into a world of possibilities, and no one is going to know her pain unless she tells them about it. She is going to be fine.

This is an optimistic ending for Alicia, I think. It’s not relentlessly dark—Alicia was never a superhero. (She warned us about that.) She’s not left without options: she can do anything she wants from here. It’s the closest thing to happily ever after I could ask for. The show doubles down on the idea that Alicia’s growth hasn’t all been positive and that she’s just as (if not more!) capable as anyone of doing bad things and inflicting pain. But instead of punishing her for that and leaving her in tears, the show lets her show signs of rebuilding. She’s not “good,” but of course she’s not: the title has been ironic from day one. She’s also not “bad.” She’s just human, someone who makes difficult decisions, deals with the consequences, and then picks up and moves on to the future. (And I’d like to believe that this slap makes Alicia reevaluate her priorities. She can avoid being in this situation again.)

After all, this final scene mirrors the first scene. Alicia’s at her lowest point when we meet her, and look where she goes from there: she gets a job at a great firm. She keeps that job. She learns how to be competitive and fiery. She rediscovers her sexuality. She becomes a partner at her firm; she makes new ties. She starts her own firm! She runs for, wins, and then loses, an election! Her husband, who’s headed to jail in that first scene, becomes the governor. The precedent for this moment (without even taking into consideration how much stronger Alicia’s become over the last seven years; without taking into consideration her reputation or her skills and credentials!) is that Alicia will become wildly successful. (And then that she’ll end up back in this hallway, but she can take steps to ensure that part doesn’t repeat itself.) That’s reason enough for me to hope for her future.

But there is one substantial difference between the Pilot and End, and it’s a filmic one. In Pilot, when Alicia turns the corner, the camera follows her until she stops to collect herself before, presumably, facing the press. In End, however, Alicia walks past the camera. The last shot of the series isn’t Alicia, as I always assumed it would be. It’s an empty hallway. The camera doesn’t move; we as viewers stay in the hallway while Alicia moves on. Seven years ago in that hallway, Alicia became our protagonist and so the camera followed her. But now, our time watching Alicia Florrick’s life has come to a close. Now, as she walks towards her future, we stay in the hallway. She’ll keep walking; we’re just leaving her here.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x14-- Mind’s Eye

My take on Mind’s Eye under the cut!

“Previously on The Good Wife…” You’re joking, right? No.  

Marissa Gold sets multiple types of cold medicine down in front of Alicia. It seems Alicia’s lost her voice.

Elfman walks in and asks how Alicia’s voice is. It’s still bad, and she still has to do a very important interview. And here’s our set up for the episode: Alicia has three hours to rest her voice and prep for the interview. The interview is very important. It is a very important interview. Important. Very.

We’re a week away from Election Day, which means we’re some number of episodes away from Election Day! Will it be one episode? Two? Ten? No one knows with this timeline!

Marissa and Johnny leave Alicia to rest her voice. She slides her laptop towards her and ChumHums “frank prady editorial board interview.”

Prady’s interview is solid. He’s friendly and comes across as being above politics. He even manages to get in a backhanded compliment against Alicia. Alicia grabs a white notepad to take notes on. He mentions a “racist infrastructure” and I’m half like, YES and half like OH GOD PLEASE DON’T TRY TO TALK ABOUT RACE AGAIN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME. But the episode moves on as Prady begins saying something about militarization and Alicia pauses the video. The camera zooms in on Alicia, and… IT’S MEMORY POP TME!

Before I get into talking about the memory pops (a word I’m using as a catch-all for all things mind-y and TGW), you all should be aware I’m predisposed to love this episode because it’s Alicia centric and stream-of-consciousness is my favorite narrative device ever. It’s also a narrative style that I feel suits TGW perfectly. TGW loves exploring perception and presentation, and subjectivity is crucial in exploring both of those themes. Stream-of-consciousness, or whatever s-o-c type device the memory pops can be considered, allows us to see how the characters perceive themselves, how they perceive others, and, depending on the content of the memory pop, how they aim to present themselves. It’s a natural fit in a show that pays so much attention to characterization, perception, and presentation.

So, I strongly disagree with anyone who calls Mind’s Eye a filler episode. That criticism assumes that the main point of the show is to move plot forward, but I believe that the “point” of TGW, if there is just one, is the character development. The plot is important too, of course, but I’m not sure how an episode of this show that gives us such insight into the mind of the main character could possibly be considered filler.  Also, there were a lot of important plot developments in the episode, so I have trouble viewing it as a filler episode by any standard.

Alicia imagines herself giving the interview. @monibolis pointed out earlier that everyone in Alicia’s mind wears either gray or black, and… to complicate things further, the background is entirely colorless, too! Prady gives his interview in front of colorful bookshelves. Alicia imagines herself in a gray room with gray books. The only color on the shelves is the dark wood. What does it mean!? I don’t know. Also, Alicia’s water bottle has no label on it while Prady’s does. I wonder if the point is to show where Alicia focuses—not on the specifics of clothes and decoration and the visual, but on the words and events. As with many things in this episode, I can’t quite tell what the writers are doing that’s about memory in general and what they’re doing that’s supposed to be specifically Alicia.

Fantasy Interview Alicia stares straight into the camera and discusses her ability to manage issues and says that she should be held accountable for her actions: “If I don’t bring in more hate crime prosecutions in my first 100 days, fire me.” Alicia nods to herself—that’s good. She writes it down. Before I can write a tweet questioning how the hell Alicia can be fired after 100 days, Alicia questions herself. She imagines Eli calling her out on her statement, then she imagines Johnny defending her (of course he is) by saying it’s about sounding good, even if what she’s saying is illogical. So, take note: in Alicia’s mind Eli criticizes her while Johnny fights for her.

Eli and Johnny’s fantasy space is the video editing room, the one we saw in 6x09. A nice touch: even though it’d be more probable for Eli and Johnny to be in Alicia’s campaign HQ or even her apartment, in Alicia’s mind, they occupy the space where her image is crafted frame by frame, and unsavory details are edited out.  

Alicia goes back to watching the video, where Prady makes a joke the editorial board responds well to. Alicia then imagines her own interview, being asked: “You’re not as funny or as likable as Mr. Prady, are you, Mrs. Florrick?” LIKABILITY! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT LIKABILITY! ON THE SHOW! Y’all probably know this is one of my biggest problems with criticism of Alicia. Far too much of it is about whether or not Alicia is likable. I spend time I could be spending writing analysis stating again and again that Alicia Florrick is not your superhero and Saint Alicia is a device the writers use to show us they don’t view Alicia as a saint and for fuck’s sake the title of the show was not meant literally. Because, somewhere along the line, the viewing audience got it into its mind that female characters aren’t worth shit if they’re not likable heroines. Alicia is neither likable nor a heroine, so people have trouble accepting her as a protagonist. Now, this isn’t to say you have to watch a show where you can’t connect with the protagonist. I just ask that you please stop conflating your misreading—and it is a misreading*—of the entire purpose of the show with something that resembles analysis. Don’t tell me that the show is terrible because you don’t like Alicia and you’re under the impression, somehow, after six seasons, that the show is about how wonderful and likable Alicia is. Tell me the show is no longer something you’re interested in watching (and then go enjoy your male anti-hero dramas without complaining about likability because these standards probably don’t apply to those shows for you, go figure).

* if you want to make a counterargument based on specific moments, trends, and the show’s screen-language, go for it. I’ve yet to see it done convincingly, but if your argument is more nuanced than the one I’m ranting about, I *am* open to discussion.

ANYWAY. Likability is bullshit. Likability is irrelevant to quality, unless the show rests on and actively wants its viewers to like its protagonists and then fails to make them likable. There are shows like this, and that’s fine, but TGW? It’s not one of them. To demand that Alicia be likable is to demand that Alicia exist to conform to your expectations. Every time you comment that Alicia isn’t likable enough, you push her right back into the Good Wife mold—perhaps not the one she’s fighting to escape at the beginning of the series, but your own personal version of that construct. Whatever likable is to you, you’re asking that Alicia conform. You’re asking that she have the perfectly forgivable flaws and the perfect level of self-awareness and the perfect amount of regret over her mistakes. She’s not going to meet your expectations, and that’s your problem, not hers, and not the writers’.

I don’t know why I wrote this last section so confrontationally. I have strong feelings on likability. I usually try to avoid the arguments that generalize (like saying that people who ask female characters to be likable are necessarily the same ones that don’t give a fuck if male characters are unlikable) but I think at this point I’ve run to enough examples where that is the case that the generalization is ok. Forgive me?

“Well, I think I’m likable,” Fantasy Alicia starts. (She also thought she was a likable kid, in 5x02, while we’re at it.) “But more importantly, I’m passionate.” She deflects the question. Even her pleasantly-delivered answer betrays her frustration with the question: more importantly, she’s passionate. Also, this is clearly something that worries her about campaigning. No one tells her she’s unlikable here—she jumps to that conclusion on her own. What triggers this line of thought isn’t a rude comment but something closer to an insecurity (though it very well may be pragmatism, since the issue itself isn’t a new one), as Alicia reads Prady as likable and turns his likability into a potential problem for her campaign.

Fantasy!Eli berates Interview Fantasy Alicia for acknowledging the premise of the question. Marissa, now in the editing room but still with the cough medicine, disagrees. Then Eli’s question about acknowledging the premise finds its way into the grim interview room, where Alicia responds. She’s not acknowledging the premise, she says, because she’s “just saying that likability is not a key component to the job.” True that. (Though networking and management skills actually are a key component to the political side of the job, but that’s not the same as the “likability” referred to here!) You know what other job likability isn’t a key component of? Television protagonist.

Alicia attempts to switch the topic to Prady; her mind switches tracks to think about her agreement to play fair. One thought leads to another thought and there’s logic to it but it’s not always immediately obvious what that logic is. Prady pops up in her mind in what looks like the hotel room they met secretly in last episode (their “backchannel”) and reminds her that she’s supposed to avoid smearing him.

Interview Alicia reacts to Fantasy Prady and starts her thought over: likability isn’t a key component to the job, and now she’s going to tell you about her qualifications. “I spent the last five years working full-time as a lawyer. I haven’t had time to finesse my on screen presence.” I can hear Alicia’s irritation in the line reading. A few things here: first, this line can be applied directly to the question of Is Alicia Meant To Be Likable?, because here she is, telling us that she’s not here for us to like her. Second, within the show’s universe, Alicia’s saying, more or less truthfully, that crafting an image wasn’t her top priority after the scandal. Of course she’s had to worry about images since the scandal, but her story isn’t characterized by her constant, active attempts to project a certain image. Spending lots of time on this type of strategizing is new to her and it doesn’t come naturally (see the soup kitchen fiasco in 6x08). She spent the last five years working full-time as a lawyer and making sure that no one could read her unless she wanted to let them in. To take this all the way back to the pilot, she tells Jennifer, the client of the week, to “put on nice clothes and make up. Force yourself to. Not for court, for you.” It’s the pilot, so the line’s a little rough, but my point stands: Alicia’s speaking from experience there, and she’s saying, essentially, to put effort into your appearance for your own sake. Figure out how to dress and look for yourself, not for others. And now she has to figure out how to dress and look and act to constantly maintain an image.

Naturally, Fantasy Johnny praises Alicia for this answer. And naturally, it’s Eli who pops up to remind Alicia that she’s not out of the woods yet, that the conservative paper interviewing her will Have Thoughts about abortion. Fantasy Alicia freezes at the question, and Editing Room Eli calls her out on it. Marissa steps in to defend her, and then something interesting happens…

Marissa says Eli should back off because this is the first time Alicia’s been asked directly about this (wait, what?), and then she corrects herself: “it’s not even the first time she’s been asked it, because we’re just in her imagination thinking about…” I call this interesting because it happens again and again in Alicia’s fantasies. All of Alicia’s fantasy figures acknowledge, to an extent, that they’re fantasies. Alicia calls herself out on the assumptions she makes and the words she puts in the mouths of others, even though all she’s doing is daydreaming. Her fantasy figures don’t just criticize her behavior, they also criticize her thoughts. I don’t know. Maybe this is something that everyone does—I know I do this all the time—and the writers want the universality to be the point, or maybe they think that within Alicia’s mind, there’s a lot of fact-checking and uncertainty and need for logic to enable fantasy. Unfortunately, the only point of reference I have for this is Will’s decision tree.  Whatever self-awareness Will has at the beginning of that sequence when he’s trying to list all of the possible answers Alicia could give (all of which are some variation on “no, he did not threaten to fire me”) vanishes in under a minute and he plows on ahead making assumptions about Alicia’s views and turning her into a figure he can easily reduce to tears, never realizing that the real Alicia is going to answer yes and look him in the eye. So while it seems like Will doesn’t check himself in his mind to the extent that Alicia does, and I’d assume that it makes more sense for pragmatic, cautious Alicia to be heavily self-critical, I don’t know what it’s like for a Will-type on any given day (as I’ve mentioned before, I relate to Alicia a lot). It could very well be the same, with the memory pop sequence being an exception because Will’s in such a weird state of mind at that point in time.

Anyway, thinking about the Zach question makes Alicia so nervous and uncomfortable she stands up and starts pacing around the room, and instead of thinking about the question, her thoughts turn to Zach himself. Of course she’s still more hung up on the pot than on the abortion. She imagines Zach sitting on a bench in a bad neighborhood. He’s all bundled up and dirty, like a druggie living on the street (which is, as we all know, totally what happens to all smart privileged elite university students who have sex and smoke pot). It’d be comical how overdramatic this all is if it weren’t something that Alicia was experiencing as a legitimate fear.

Alicia walks over to her phone, turns it on, and scrolls through her contacts. It’s 3:07 pm; her contacts include Cher Tinton, GRACE, EVAN, Zach, Eli Gold, Records Division Chi… and she opens Zach’s contact info. His phone number is (312)-555-0173, which is not a real number and I’m surprised they didn’t cover up the 555, and his email address is zachflorrick@mymailchicago.com, which is a really terrible attempt at a fake email address. Couldn’t they have done, like, chummiemail or something? She’s contemplating calling when she gets a call from Canning. She answers.

Canning says he wants to settle the case because he’s about to die and doesn’t want it hanging over their heads. Alicia’s skeptical because Canning’s been using this excuse for the last three months. Then Canning plays exposition fairy for a little bit, clueing us in that he’s suing FAL for wrongful eviction. Do the writers realize that the more times they have things like this happen, the lower the stakes seem every time? The financial threat barely registers with me because this just seems like a plot device to motivate Alicia and Canning scenes.

Alicia laughs off the settlement offer, and Canning threatens to stall, ruining her campaign as she’s deposed “by a deathly ill man.” That gets her attention. (Image is important!) Alicia goes for the attack and accuses Canning, basically, of wasting the limited time he has left trying to screw up her life—why isn’t he home with his family? Canning says he can do both and tells her to get back to him by 6. He also says, “Come on, Alicia. You’re a chess player. Think it through. This one I’ll win.” Wait—Alicia’s a chess player? Since when? (And will writers ever use something other than chess to convey that a character is capable of thinking ahead and anticipating his/her opponent’s moves? It feels like every smart character on TV is a master chess player just so the writers can talk about how they play chess and are therefore smart.) (This line would work so much better for me if we got to see Alicia with a chess app on her phone or quickly minimizing an online game at the start of a scene in some other episode.)

After hanging up with Canning, Alicia sits back down to prepare for the interview more. But instead, her thoughts go to the depositions, where she imagines Diane (in gray) stating her case. Alicia considers, then imagines Canning’s reply. Then Diane’s reply, then Canning’s. I note this because the way the sequence is edited is interesting: Canning and Diane sit in the same chair at different times. They’re not in conversation with each other. Typically, a conversation would be edited together shot-reverse-shot, but that’s not what’s happening here. Diane and Canning are making their arguments while looking straight into the camera, not at each other, and while we understand their words as a back and forth, Alicia isn’t imagining a dialogue. She’s splicing together parts of monologues.

Alicia realizes that Canning has a point, and shoves aside the cold medicine to make room for another tablet, this time a yellow legal pad (because she’s working on law stuff on this one get it?). She makes two columns: CANNING and US and adds arguments accordingly.

Now Howard Lyman is relevant to this (this is that awful plot from 6x06 that didn’t need to happen). Alicia imagines him focusing on bagels over the content of the deposition and smiles. She starts to write something down.

Then Alicia’s in her imaginary scenario, in the FAL conference room, sitting next to Canning. She looks directly at Canning: “Queen takes your bishop, Mr. Canning.” Canning looks at her, but when he starts speaking to her, he’s looking into the camera. So, it’s weird: he’s looking away from the physical Alicia in Alicia’s mind to look directly at real Alicia.

Canning and Lyman talk for a little while in Alicia’s mind, and while they’re both looking more or less into the camera (at Alicia), they are in conversation with each other. Alicia realizes Canning has her beat there, so she crosses out something she’s written down and comes up with a new strategy.

David Lee is her new strategy. Alicia’s deposing him, and she’s sitting next to Canning while doing so. Most of the shots of Alicia in this sequence are of Alicia and Canning. Pleased with herself, Alicia phones Canning as triumphant music plays. She glances briefly at her laptop screen and Prady’s image. One problem down, a million more to go.

And not even one problem down: Alicia realizes that David Lee is totally playing her. She sees him smirk in her mind—yeah, sounds about right. Was odd that she trusted him for even a split second. She tells Canning, who we can see is getting his blood pressure taken, that she needs to call him back.

And we see more of Alicia’s contact list (and that it’s 3:50 pm) as she looks at her phone: Federal Court North, Marina Vassel (her realtor, I think), Hon. Harrison Creary, Hon. Lydia Danzette, Julius Cain (hello!), Clarke Hayden (PLEASE COME BACK), Elsbeth Tascioni, Rayna Hecht… She’s about to press Kalinda’s name when she hesitates. She pictures a door opening and Kalinda, in silhouette, standing there. Alicia shakes away the image and phones Kalinda to tell her what’s going on with the wrongful eviction suit.

Then Elfman phones (and then sounds confused as to why Alicia picks up, even though he phoned her) to tell her about the latest campaign problem (ever notice how there’s something that’s going to ruin Alicia’s campaign every single week and it never does?): Bishop is on a wiretap talking about “buying the next State’s Attorney” by contributing to her PAC. Alicia wants to know if the wiretap is real or not because she needs the facts. Johnny says the facts don’t matter because the image is the reality. Then he tells her to turn off her phone and rest—ha.

She doesn’t rest, of course: she imagines a new round of interview questions about the drug money, questions she doesn’t know how to answer. “Damn,” she says out loud. She closes her eyes and the camera films her in profile, just like the first image of the credits. And then the title credits begin. Robert King likes that transition (he does a version of it in 5x01 as well)—I do, too.

One of my favorite things about the first act—about this whole episode, but the first act demonstrates it well—is that it takes its time. There’s time “wasted” on a lot of “unnecessary” case related back and forth in Alicia’s mind. But it’s not wasted, and it’s not unnecessary. In order to understand how much thought Alicia’s putting into this, we need to see her thinking, which means we need these details for the “go inside Alicia’s mind” approach to work. This episode is determined to move both quickly and slowly—quickly in that Alicia’s thoughts switch from topic to topic instantly; slowly in that no topic is only addressed superficially and then thrown aside. And that’s an excellent choice on the part of the writers.

Alicia’s putting the cold medicine in a cabinet when we return from commercials, and a graphic match between the door of Alicia’s cabinet and Bishop’s refrigerator takes us into Alicia’s mind. She pictures Bishop saying the words on the wiretap. Then she imagines it again, this time with Bishop adding “although, I guess she won’t be in office for six months” to the end of the thought. She goes back to the beginning and plays it through yet again, tacking on “You know what? She might lose to her opponent,” and adding in more and more uncertainty. She uses the words she put in Bishop’s mouth in her next fake interview: she won’t be in office for six months, so what sense does it make that Bishop would tell someone not to worry about an arrest NOW when she won’t be in office for six months? She’s happy with that answer until she imagines Eli barking at her for acknowledging the premise of the question (all of those plots where Eli and Johnny talked constantly about things like this had an effect!). Marissa says it’s a stupid question, just like Marissa’s seen through some of the other bullshit that’s worked to get Alicia’s campaign off the ground. So we have Eli constantly telling Alicia she’s wrong, Marissa voicing the, “oh my god this is all so stupid!” POV, and Johnny (though he’s not in this scene) cheering her on. Sounds about right.  

A phone rings in Alicia’s mind, and Eli turns to answer it before Alicia realizes it’s her phone, not Eli’s phone. Interesting blurring of reality and fantasy there. Anyway, it’s Kalinda, confirming Alicia’s suspicions about David Lee. She has Diane and Cary there, too.

Alicia tells Diane and Cary about the settlement offer, and Diane asks why Canning phoned Alicia. She thinks it’s because he thinks she’d be motivated to settle—and everyone knows she’d be motivated because of the campaign. Diane has to ask Alicia if she’s wanting to settle, which she’s not, at least, not for that amount. Still tension there, I guess. More on that please? We’re getting farther and farther from 6x12 and much as I hated that scene, ignoring it completely is just going to lead to another scene like it down the line rather than course-correcting.

Alicia sits back down to work and looks at the yellow legal pad. Then she looks at the white one, where she’s written down all things interview related, like “likability” and “Zach?” She looks at the computer screen next, and then imagines herself in Bishop’s kitchen, where she’s asking him to divest himself of the PAC. She says it’s hurting her, and he counters with, “No, what’s hurting you is you being here in my kitchen.” Heh. True.

She tries another strategy next, which is putting Kalinda in Bishop’s kitchen instead. Because, of course, after all of these years, Alicia still feels comfortable just assuming that Kalinda will do anything for her. Never mind that Kalinda’s currently entangled in Bishop’s web in ways Alicia knows nothing about; she still has an image of a Kalinda who will fight for her and run errands for her. Kalinda stops talking mid-sentence, and Kalinda and Bishop turn to stare at Alicia. I’m going to choose to read this as Alicia judging herself for throwing Kalinda, even an imaginary Kalinda, into this situation. That’s probably not what’s happening.

Alicia’s mind next leaps to that image of Kalinda opening the door again, then to Peter, in a white chair, in a hotel room, shot from a high angle, waiting for Kalinda. An odd choice to have Alicia’s mind recall a scene in 3x22 she wasn’t there for, but okay. Maybe Alicia and Kalinda communicate telepathically now since they can’t be together in person. Or maybe RK wants the staging to recall 3x22 for the viewers more than for the characters. Alicia looks sick when she imagines Peter and Kalinda together. I get the impression that we’re meant to believe that every time Alicia thinks of Kalinda, she experiences this pain all over again (she sees Kalinda’s name; she imagines Kalinda opening the hotel room door). And for a minute, I felt for Alicia. But then I got angry. This is an excuse, added retroactively to the storyline. There could be a story where Alicia intentionally avoids seeing Kalinda in person and spends four years now trying to avoid her, but that’s not the story we’ve seen. So, much as it sucks for Alicia to have that image stuck in her mind, it’s no excuse for the Alicia/Kalinda separation. And the inclusion of this scene feels very much like the writers making excuses.

When Alicia attempts to move on to the next thought, Peter and Kalinda pop back into her mind. “I’ve been thinking about you,” Peter says. “And I’ve been thinking about you.” LULZ. Ridiculously melodramatic and 100% not how whatever happened between P and K happened. I have no clue what happened between them, but I know it wasn’t that. So does Alicia: Peter turns to the camera (to Alicia) and says, “We don’t talk this way, and you know it.” Exactly. But she can’t make the thought go away. It sounds like something out of a soap opera so she pictures it as something out of a soap opera. (And here’s yet another instance of Alicia’s imagined figures calling her out on characterizing them incorrectly.) Well, at least I like this part. Trying to fit Julianna’s idea of Alicia’s views of Kalinda and Peter this retconning into the plot just creates all sorts of problems. So Alicia was back with Peter while thinking this every time she so much as phoned Kalinda? So Alicia tried to defend Kalinda on things in late season 4 when even thinking about her made her uncomfortable? I see what the writers were going for here. But I don’t buy it. And if Alicia can’t think of Kalinda without her mind going there, she needs to get her ass to a therapist because that’s very unhealthy.

Alicia goes back to the depositions, where her Canning problems start blurring with her Bishop problems. (I like the Canning stuff. But I wish the time at FAL were spent, you know, on FAL. And not on Canning.) Canning suddenly starts talking about putting out a statement in support of Prady; Alicia switches notepads and writes that down for Bishop. She thinks it through with a Bishop/Kalinda dialogue, then Bishop starts saying Canning things. And then Cary appears in Bishop’s kitchen and Alicia switches to the other notepad. Confusing!

Cool transition where Fantasy Alicia starts writing on a notepad as Real Alicia reaches to write something down.

A client who matters to the case, Solis Securities (sadly not pronounced like Solis, as in Gaby Solis), left Canning and Lee for Brooks, Spelling, & Myers. Wasn’t Canning’s old firm Canning & Myers? Sounds like some drama there!

For the love of God, Howard Lyman’s lunchtime ritual with the removal of the pants cannot be relevant to this fucking many cases. Stop.

But anyway, Howard Lyman’s pants save the day (maybe this is just the second time they’ve been relevant but it feels like more)and the happy I’VE FIGURED IT OUT! Music plays and Alicia winks to the camera, which means she’s basically winking at herself, which is weird and also adorable. Her happiness only lasts a moment because she remembers the Prady interview.

She imagines the interview again, and answers simply and directly that she has no contact with Bishop, and the panel’s like okay whatever next question, so Canning shows up to instruct them about how to trap Alicia. And, much as I wish that Canning’s time in this episode could be given to an FAL plot, this is where I start to see why he needs to be in this episode. He’s Alicia’s biggest rival, and he understands how she thinks. He’s also, in a strange way, a friend. He understands her motivations and her love of family and there’s a mutual respect under all the animosity between them. Putting him in Alicia’s mind forces her to be at her sharpest.

The panel, with Canning’s help, phrases the question differently. Alicia thinks about approaching it differently, saying that yes, Bishop contributed to her PAC. ‘Yes,’ she writes on the white tablet. No context, just the word, “Yes.” She’ll know what it means.

Eli, in her mind, criticizes this decision, saying she can’t say that. She says she can, because it’s true. Then Marissa appears, reminding Alicia that she can find the post about the money online. Alicia Chumhums ‘court scene blog’ and it’s the first result. The third result is about the 1st Amendment, the fourth is about “fashion court,” and the second…? Well, here’s the text: “Grizzly Scene in Chicago Court Room: … ‘The defendant stole an officer’s gun and opened fire’ reported a local court blogger. ‘People were screaming, hiding behind anything they could find. It was truly the most terrifying moment of my life…”

Alicia clicks on the Court Scene Blog post “Is the State’s Attorney Race Bought?” Note that the post is dated February 20th. There’s an image of Alicia holding a bag of money on the side of the article. Alicia reads the article, and a credit card ad begins to auto-play. I was watching this episode on my computer, and I thought the ad was coming from another tab. Then I realized it was in the episode, and was amused that Alicia was being bothered by a credit card ad since Jules does the voice over for those Chase ads that play ever commercial break on Hulu. I thought it was just an in-joke, but then I realized, it’s Will’s voice on the ad Alicia’s listening to. What do you want in a credit card? Everything.

The voice that suddenly reminds Alicia of Will is, of course, an unwelcome intrusion into her day. Now she’s thinking about sex and about Will, and that’s too much for her. She stands to go somewhere, anywhere, and imagines herself, in bed, in one of those sheet tents Robert King loves to insist that people actually have sex in, saying, “Will?” Alicia, in reality, stops, shivers (thankfully not shivers of the same variety as 4x20), and tries to make the fantasy go away. But it doesn’t. “I’m not here,” says the male figure in bed with her. “It sounds like you,” Alicia insists. God, that’s heartbreaking. He’s not here. The voice may sound like him, but it’s not, and it never again will be.

Alicia rushes out the door, where Marissa is waiting outside. Alicia says she’s going to get some fresh air so she can focus. She gets in the elevator and closes her eyes. She imagines sex, including a shot that seems quite boundary-pushing IMO of Will’s hands parting her legs, followed immediately by, hmmm, how to describe this, a shot of Alicia experiencing pleasure. It’s up to you to piece together the connection between the two shots, but it’s not exactly difficult. That’s one way around censorship!

“Dammit,” Alicia says to herself, ending the second consecutive act with some variation of the word “damn.” Also, of course she’s in an elevator.

Act three opens with a shot of the pavement from Alicia’s POV, then a shot of Alicia walking, then an overhead shot of Alicia walking. She’s listening to loud, upbeat music, which plays over the scene. As she walks, she thinks more about sex. The song is in Spanish—it’s Pa’ Bailar by Julieta Venegas—and I’m not sure how Alicia ended up finding it. In any event, I like the song, and I can confirm that it’s excellent music to walk to because I listened to it on repeat on my walk to class last Friday after watching the sneak peek.

Alicia’s phone rings; it’s Elfman. The music, which Alicia’s listening to on a device other than her phone, stops. Her ringtone is now the tone you get when you place a call and wait for the other person to pick up, which confuses me. Did someone insert the wrong sound effect? Johnny wants Alicia to go back inside because she’s getting too worked up about the interview. Ha, that’s why she’s so worked up.

All of a sudden, Alicia starts imagining Johnny as she talks to him on the phone, his shirt being slowly unbuttoned by a woman’s hands. As she continues talking, she imagines Johnny kissing her shoulders in a way that recalls the flashbacks with Will from 4x18. Someone’s projecting her feelings! (She’s also probably attracted to Johnny, but the primary reason she’s having these fantasies now is Will. It’s a blend of her current state of mind and her attraction to Johnny.) Alicia nearly gets hit by a car as she’s daydreaming.

Johnny finds a loophole that will allow Alicia to honestly deny that she knew Bishop gave money by choosing her words carefully. If that sounds less than ethical, it’s because it is.

In fantasy land, Alicia bends over to kiss Johnny, only to find Finn there instead. She gasps out loud. John keeps giving her instructions—actually, instructions he’s given her before—but in her mind, they’re coming out of Finn’s mouth as he leans over her in bed. It’s weird as fuck.

So, why is Finn here? This is his only appearance in the episode, and it’s bizarre and random. He pops up out of nowhere, and it’s not even him: it’s a man that looks like Finn speaking with Johnny’s voice, saying things that Finn would never say. The explanation could be as simple as (1) Alicia’s physically attracted to Finn (2) Alicia’s mind is totally jumbled and Finn made it in there (3) the writers wanted to toy with the fans. It could also be a something more complicated, like Alicia subconsciously using Finn’s goodness to mask Elfman’s moral ambiguity (I don’t think it’s that, at least not here!) or Alicia having feelings she’s suppressed after 6x09 for Finn, or Alicia going from Will to Johnny to Will to the shooting to Finn.  I kind of like that last option, coupled with the physical attraction thing and possibly also with suppressed feelings (depending on where the show goes from here; this scene is like 15 seconds long).

Seriously, why is Alicia listening to music in Spanish? I’m assuming this is some sort of shared family music library. Maybe Zach or Grace listened to it in Spanish class and it ended up on there.

As Alicia walks more, she pictures Peter, in bed with Kalinda, saying, “Why is it alright for you but not for me?” Good question (“stop banging the help” says Alicia to Peter, five episodes before she says she intends to sleep with her campaign manager), but an odd question given that it’s Kalinda she’s imagining with Peter here and her thoughts turn to Will. Ramona and Johnny would be the more appropriate references. But, then, I’m expecting Alicia’s thoughts to be logical. And while Alicia’s thoughts do tend to be rooted in logic, she has a tendency to dream up outlandish scenarios, to fixate on things, and to be extremely self-critical. Somehow sleeping with Will while separated from Peter is on par with Peter having affairs, and there’s an ever-present sense of guilt hanging over Alicia.

So Alicia goes back to her relationship with Will. She sits alone on a bed in a hotel room, wrapped in a sheet. She turns her head to the window, where a breeze is coming in through the curtains. Slowly, she walks to the balcony, where Worst Body Double Ever, I mean Will, is sitting. This is a familiar space: it’s the balcony from The Decision Tree. The one where Alicia and Will were alone in NYC on a lovely night with a gorgeous view of the city, away from all responsibilities, and Alicia told Will it was the happiest she’d ever been. We still don’t know if she said those words, but it doesn’t matter if she did: this space is significant for both of them.

“I’ve missed you,” Alicia says, sounding like she’s about to cry. Will opens his arms to embrace her, and I would like this scene a lot more if Worst Body Double Ever Will didn’t look like a marshmallow wrapped in that blanket. Between the hidden face and the puffy blanket-arms, I kind of want to laugh at the visual.

Alicia chooses this moment to switch from Pa’ Bailar to La Luna, which is much slower and suits the twinkly, dreamy nighttime vibe more. “I miss you, Will,” Alicia says again. “I know. I’ve been away. Just for a little while. But I’m back,” Imaginary Will comforts her. Alicia starts to break, to open up to Will about her feelings in a way she never did when he was alive. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says, sounding just like she did in the conversation with Veronica in 5x20. “Everything’s falling apart.” “You’re strong. You’ll hold it together,” Will reassures her. It feels nice for a second, but then reality creeps in; Alicia can’t stop fact-checking. She can’t escape the reality of Will’s death long enough to even find a moment of comfort.

I’m reminded here of Alicia’s quest to find something, anything, to enable her to fantasize about Will still loving her in 5x16. That’s why she wants all the facts and why she wants to know  what was on that voicemail—for the sake of curiosity, but more than that, so she can justify thinking that he was still there for her until the day he died. Will’s death allows Alicia to be illogical about the relationship in some ways—it’s her permanent what-if and she can focus more on What Could Have Been than Why It Probably Wouldn’t Have Been Perfect—but forces her to be logical in others, like in 6x14. She can’t let him comfort her in her imagination because it’d be out of character for her to do that, for him to do that, for that moment to ever arise. She has no facts to allow her to proceed with the fantasy.

Instead, she says to fantasy Will: “You’ve never talked like that before.” And it’s true. He’s never talked like that before. She never gave him the chance to. That was never their relationship. It breaks my heart that she can’t indulge in fantasy for a moment of comfort, even though acknowledging that Will’s gone is a step towards being able to move forward.  Damn. It hurts to watch Alicia start to tear up as she says, “You’re not really here, are you?”

In reality, she walks slowly and then receives a text message from someone named Evan, which reads: “God loves you. Don’t give up on him.” What a message to get out of the blue, especially right after that sequence! She begins to type “Who is this?” when a message pops up in the convo from Grace: “not giving up. just done.” Ah, a new problem to deal with!

Alicia stops the music and calls Grace immediately to check in and to tell her about the text message problem (props to Alicia for handling this ASAP and for not taking advantage of the opportunity to spy more). Grace is on her bed, staring at the ceiling, speaking quietly and without any intonations. She looks and sounds out of it and sad. I just want to give her a big hug.

As she’s hanging up with Grace, Alicia spots a man in a wheelchair and thinks of Canning. She switches the song to an upbeat rock song and thinks about the depositions more. Canning references his “liver disease,” which I found weird the first time around because I thought it was his kidney, but as it turns out, there’s a reason for the confusion: this isn’t Canning speaking; it’s Fantasy Canning. And then Fantasy Canning eventually corrects Alicia, which means he’s correcting himself because he only exists in Alicia’s mind. I love this memory pop stuff.

Alicia starts getting angry, not believing Canning’s reasons for being there. She towers over him, and she’s shot from a low angle and looks intimidating as a result. “You use compassion like it’s a currency, Mr. Canning,” she hisses. “Don’t attack me like this!” he responds. “I’M NOT ATTACKING YOU!” “This isn’t gonna look good!” Canning (well, a Canning that’s heavily influenced by all the importance Elfman and Eli have been insisting that Alicia put on appearances) counters. “IT’S NOT ME, IT’S THE MUSIC!” Alicia exclaims. HA!

This is a good time to talk about this act, which lasts for the duration of Alicia’s walk and uses the wide variety of music Alicia’s listening to to inform plot and character. Alicia starts out listening to Pa’ Bailar, the upbeat song in Spanish about dancing. She walks confidently and briskly to its beat, imagining sexytimes all the while. When that song no longer suits her mood, she skips to the next track, and it’s slower and very pretty and dreamy and she walks slowly and distractedly through the streets while thinking about Will and then about her family. But that’s not right for thinking about Canning, so she switches the song again to “Sweet Jane” and it’s loud and angry and her thoughts get angrier and her voice gets louder. The music changes her demeanor and the content of her thoughts—and she recognizes that.

Unfortunately for Alicia, who’s trying to focus, the next song up on the music player she’s listening to (I’d guess a Walkman because technological ineptness, but it’s probably, like, Grace’s old iPod.) is the chicken rap from 4x01. So it reminds her of Zach, who she sees again as the homeless druggie on the park bench. “Why are you still angry at me?” Druggie Zach asks. Good question.

Alicia can’t deal with that now and she switches the song again to something classical (I’m shocked they didn’t use the Ashbaugh song!) and goes back to the imaginary depositions. She talks with Canning about the “whole point” of what they’re doing. He just wants to win and to see Alicia lose. He asks Alicia what she thought the whole point was; she says she doesn’t know but she thought she did. Sounds a lot like Alicia’s thoughts about her career in general right now. Alicia’s phone rings and Canning points it out, kind of like in that scene with Eli earlier.

This episode is exhausting to recap. Usually, there’s a subplot I don’t care as much about running through an episode—A Few Words had the vote rigging stuff with Elsbeth; The Decision Tree had the Kalinda/Jenna/Damian bullshit and the holiday party planning; Death of a Client had Peter vs Kresteva and Diane’s judgeship offer and the kids at the bar with Veronica—but this episode just has Alicia. It may as well be one continuous scene with minor jumps ahead in time to condense three hours into 43 minutes, like the narrative equivalent of a tracking shot. I like this approach because it means the episode is very focused and there’s enough time to flesh out multiple plots within the A plot (Oppo Research had this same approach) but oh my God I’ve been sitting here all day writing about this episode and I still have 14 minutes to go.

Cary and Diane call Alicia and give her an update on Canning. He’s in the hospital. Alicia asks which hospital; Cary says Harbor but he’s probably not up for negotiations. That? Is not why Alicia was asking. She’s been talking about compassion and Canning using his illness all afternoon, and now he’s in the hospital. As much as she loathes him, she still recognizes that he’s a human being.

Mind!Canning tells Alicia he wouldn’t visit her in the hospital (he would.) She says she doesn’t believe him; he says he’s more consistent than she is. Is this something Alicia worries about? Being inconsistent? Girl is very consistent… most of the time. She turns off the music and walks out of the frame.

When the next act begins, Alicia’s at the hospital, waiting to see Canning. She overhears the doctor talking to Simone Canning, looks at the time, and goes back to interview prep. The Bishop question again. She answers no, but isn’t satisfied. She looks at the Evan/Grace text conversation again (WHO IS EVAN!? LOVE INTEREST?!) and imagines asking Grace about it. The score from 6x01 begins to play.

Grace-without-faith is still wearing her Capstone uniform, but she’s wearing more makeup than usual. Because atheism = makeup and dressing sort of like a Sexy Schoolgirl cliché. Grace says she thought Alicia’d be happy she’d lost her faith. Alicia’s not so sure.

Richard Dawkins, an atheist and an author of books about atheism (which I’ve never read—should I? I’ll admit I’d never heard of him before this), says Alicia should be happy. This sequence doesn’t sit right with me; it’s a little too long, a little obnoxious, and the exposition about who this dude is is very clunky. It doesn’t strike me as the best way of discussing atheism.

SO MUCH LOVE for Alicia’s Worst Case Scenario where Grace is pregnant (wearing a shirt that says BABY ON BOARD, in case you couldn’t tell otherwise) and sniffing glue, telling Alicia nonchalantly that she’s sniffing glue and then, that she felt a kick. I didn’t know Makenzie could do comedy so well!

Dawkins calls Alicia out on her imagination—it’s offensive to think that an atheist Grace would be a pregnant Grace. Dawkins starts telling Alicia about how atheists can be just as ethical as Christians. Um, okay? I don’t know why the issue here would be about the capacity of atheists to be ethical and not about what it means that Grace is losing her faith or that Grace’s crisis of faith, not the lack of faith itself, might lead her towards danger (as any sort of identity crisis might for any teenager; as Alicia’s identity crisis led her to run for office) but sure, let’s talk about how atheists can be ethical?

Then Pastor Isaiah is there and he’s arguing with Dawkins, kinda, and I just have to keep reminding myself that this is just Alicia trying to make arguments for and against on a topic she doesn’t really know much about. I think I’d like this sequence better if it focused more on Grace than on Alicia’s views on other people’s arguments about the merits of religion. I know the ethics thing ties into her issue with Bishop, but I’d rather see some memory pops of Alicia picturing Grace as a social outcast, worrying that if she loses her faith she’ll lose her friend group and be unhappy again.

Anyway, Isaiah asks if Alicia wants Grace to “turn out like Zach” and then Zach, still a homeless druggie, pops up to defend himself: “Why am I being used as an example of what not to do? I’m at Georgetown.” Heh. Alicia’s starting to realize that Zach’s not horrible because he had sex and smoked pot. Finally.

Then, in Grace’s room, Alicia and Isaiah tower over Grace, hosting some sort of intervention. Alicia insists she can’t discuss religion with Grace; Grace calls her out on that statement. “Why can’t I be more like you [and not believe?]” Grace asks. Ah, that’s more like it. Alicia’s worried that it’s her influence that’s separating Grace from something she connected with. I would’ve rather seen Grace upset about something other than religion and Alicia fearing that her campaign and the way she’s been treating Zach has taken a toll on Grace, but okay, fine, we can do more religion plots again I guess. (This is my way of saying that this time could’ve been better spent but I’m not unhappy with the material that made it to the screen.)

The conversation then switches to being about why Alicia’s not a good role model, and it’s because she’s planning to lie. She insists that it’s not lying because she’s not coordinating and “the other thing… that John said.” Wow! The conviction in Alicia’s voice! She really believes what she’s saying!

“You mean the John you’re planning to sleep with,” Pastor Isaiah says. Planning to? Not considering, actively planning to? Wonder when she made that plan. Alicia denies it at first, but then forcefully declares YES. The fact that Alicia has Mind!PastorIsaiah questioning her choice means that she’s still feeling a bit conflicted about this decision, but it’s a decision. She is admitting to herself not just that she is attracted to Johnny, not just that she might want to sleep with him, but that she plans to sleep with him. That’s a pretty big step for Alicia.

Alicia asks Pastor Isaiah why it’s bad that she plans to sleep with John. “Because you’re married,” he says. Yes, THAT’S why sleeping with your campaign manager is a bad idea. Alicia, remember how you’ve been focusing on your image a lot? This is a good moment to focus on it some more. Not to mention that it could lead to awkwardness in the final week of the campaign. Though maybe she’s planning something special for election night?

“Peter and I have an agreement. You know, I am really sick of you guys playing into this ‘good girl’ thing, making me feel guilty.” GOOD GIRL. Isaiah’s suddenly become the world (it’s no longer “you”; it’s “you guys”), judging Alicia for her choices and decisions. The world tells Alicia she has to be Good Girl Saint Alicia Good Wife and that does affect her, much as I hate the Good Girl Theory. Which I’m not going to explain again because I think I’ve written about it enough in other posts. But in short: the Good Girl thing weighing on Alicia = good characterization; the Good Girl thing explaining every single one of Alicia’s actions in total = awful characterization. At any rate, I’m happy to have the show address it head-on, with Alicia calling out the double standard.

“He slept with Kalinda. He slept with Ramona. He screwed hookers,” Alicia defends herself. Interesting that Kalinda and Ramona make the list first. I’m assuming Alicia includes Ramona here in reference to the Highland Park affair she thinks Peter had with her and not the relationship this year. Alicia’s voice is full of anger—which means her mind is, too. I hope Alicia is able to move on from this by the end of the series. The political marriage is trapping her, exacerbating her fears and her anger. She has to relive the pain of being cheated on every single day, every single time she sees Peter or hears his name, and she’s choosing to invite that pain in. She’s choosing to never move on even though she can’t get through a few hours of thinking about something unrelated to her marriage without getting worked up about the cheating again.

Why is this scene still taking place in Grace’s room, with Grace present? Weird. 

Isaiah encourages Alicia to say yes, she did know that Bishop contributed. She imagines the interview again. She says yes, she’s rewarded for her honesty. They tell her she’s brave for telling the truth, like a grade school teacher praising a student. The music is happy! Alicia is victorious! She gets the endorsement! Grace praises her, even! “One doesn’t need God to act ethically,” she says, giving Alicia a big hug. Which Mind!Eli promptly interrupts: “Well, enjoy your hug, ‘cause that’s not really how it’s gonna go, and you know it.” LOL. Yeah. Nice while it lasted! Again, Alicia has to fact-check her fantasies. Now Marissa and Johnny are reading off headlines about how badly the interview went and Alicia’s ties to Bishop.

Before Alicia can think more about this, Simone spots her. Simone says her husband’s not doing well; he’s not expected to make it through the night. (I wonder if they’ll really kill Canning off. I feel bad saying that I want them to, because I don’t like wishing death on anyone, even fictional characters who’ve overstayed their welcome on a show, but I think that would be an interesting narrative move.)

Simone tells Alicia she’s the only one of Louis’s lawyer friends that came to visit. Wow. That’s sad. Alicia’s his rival and she’s the only one who showed up. She tells Simone that Louis asked her to visit if anything went wrong, and Simone says that sounds like Louis, because he’s always looking out for other people. Which, of course, sounds nothing like the Louis Canning that Alicia knows.

Alicia comforts Simone for a bit (well, for like ten seconds, but I’m assuming this is one of those “it’s been ten seconds but in show-time it’s been ten minutes” moments) and then asks if there’s anything she can do. Simone says she should pray, and Alicia says she will, as both Isaiah and Dawkins call her a hypocrite in her mind. What I’m getting out of this is not that Alicia’s a hypocrite but rather that she doesn’t like to make promises she doesn’t intend to keep. This would be an entirely inappropriate moment to be like SORRY SIMONE I’M ACTUALLY AN ATHEIST SO I CAN’T PRAY FOR HIM BECAUSE I DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD OR AN AFTERLIFE!!!! I think a lot of people would tell Simone, no problem, they’d pray, and then leave the hospital feeling like their good deed for the day is already done and forget all about the prayer. Alicia, perhaps because she’s already thinking of her own lack of faith, takes Simone’s request seriously. She calls Grace immediately to tell her she’s on her way back and to ask her to pray. It seems odd to me that after all of that about how to deal with Grace possibly losing her faith, Alicia decides to ask for this favor. Is that really how you want to handle this situation, Alicia?

Marissa scolds Alicia teasingly for going out and not resting her voice, then informs her she’s made tea. Marissa goes to get the tea and runs into Grace. Marissa then tells Grace, “I’m not trying to replace you.” Huh? Where did that come from, and can we get more development of this?

Grace walks into Alicia’s room and sits down on her bed (a touch I love because it shows that Grace feels comfortable in her mom’s space). They talk more about praying. Grace asks why Alicia promised; she says “politeness.” Alicia asks Grace if she’s losing her faith, and Grace says “No. I don’t know. It comes and goes.” Poor Grace. She sounds so lost.

“I hope I don’t influence you not to believe. I don’t want that. I’m glad you found something.” THERE it is. I wish we’d seen Alicia thinking about THAT. About Grace finding an identity and somewhere she belongs, not about if it’s possible for atheists to act ethically. If Alicia’s saying this, she must also be thinking it, so couldn’t we have seen that line of thought? Where Alicia realizes she’s finally okay with Grace being a part of something that makes (used to make?) Alicia uncomfortable because Grace found something? Where she realizes that her parenting can be damaging or, at the very least, affects Grace’s views of the world? Maybe something that ties directly back to Alicia calling herself bad in the last episode? Maybe a fantasy Grace, rather than being pregnant, growing up to model herself after Alicia, becoming an Alicia-figure but with all of her worst traits? That’s what’s at the core of this scene: Alicia’s worry that she’s influencing Grace and contributing to Grace’s loss of faith. So why was it only mentioned briefly in Alicia’s mind before transforming into discussion of Alicia’s sex life?

Grace smiles and feels a bit better, wishes Alicia luck, tells her she loves her, and leaves. Alicia says she thinks she knows what she’s going to say. Elfman knocks on the door; Alicia imagines Zach on the park bench. She phones him, and La Luna begins again (interesting that they use that song for Alicia’s family plots, not just for Alicia and Will). Alicia imagines herself telling druggie Zach that she’s sorry and giving him a hug. She gets his voicemail. At least she forgave him in her mind. But it’s been months! That must be incredibly damaging.

Zach, now dressed like he usually is, dives for his phone a second too late. I bet this is in Alicia’s mind, too, if only because Zach would be answering his cell phone and not a cordless landline phone with a Chicago area code in his dormroom in D.C.

Johnny and Alicia are in the car, driving to the interview. Alicia’s told him she intends to tell the truth; he says that doesn’t make sense. “Here’s the thing,” he starts. “The truth isn’t ‘this happened’ or ‘that happened,’ the truth to me is about doing good. And the only way to put yourself in a position to do good is by getting elected. That’s the greater truth. And if you don’t get elected, somebody else is going to take that position and they’re gonna do bad things with it.” That sounds nice, but in a way, isn’t it just as idealistic as Alicia’s fantasy where she’s applauded for telling the truth? It sounds nice in theory, but at some point, is it just a rationalization? Is that what’s going to happen if Alicia takes office—she’ll do good? She can only do good if she’s elected? She can’t do good as the First Lady or by using her status as a name partner at a law firm to coordinate with charities or organizations?

Alicia asks how John knows she can do better things than Prady, and he replies “Because I… have talked with you, and been with you, and I believe in you.” That sounds like he’s idealizing her a little bit, which gives me flashbacks to the way Will idealized her, even if Johnny’s Alicia and Will’s Alicia probably look like very different people. I build my life on winning. On hating the enemy and loving my candidate. Johnny warned us he’d do this. Alicia warned him she wasn’t his superhero. But, damn, she likes being thought of as someone’s superhero. She likes the way John levels with her and cheers her on.

Alicia considers John’s words, and puts a counterargument in Fantasy Prady’s mouth: “Sometimes words have to mean what they say, or-or else they’ll just mean whatever you want.” Season 4 Alicia would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with that. The meaninglessness of words is what made her loathe Kresteva so much! Season 6 Alicia thinks this is too idealistic. “We’re not voting for a saint,” she says, even though Prady didn’t really imply that they were. He calls her Saint Alicia. She asks if he’d lie if he were SA, and he says no. (I think he’s a little more pragmatic than Alicia’s giving him credit for, but I do wonder if he’d be an efficient State’s Attorney or if he’d get very little accomplished and become frustrated with immorality.) She tells him she doesn’t think he should win, if that’s the case.

Alicia looks at John. “Love, love, la-la-la-la-la-love,” goes the song. In Alicia’s mind, she’s with Will on the balcony again. She moves away from him and says “Goodbye, Will.” In reality, she smiles at John. She’s ready to move on. I’m not sure if her feelings for John are sexual or romantic or both at this point—as usual, despite the lyrics of the song playing over the scene, I’m hesitant to jump too far ahead here and would rather refer to John as a love interest Alicia intends to pursue something with than as a possibility for Alicia’s endgame (one step at a time!)—but whatever her feelings are, they’re real, she’s aware of them, she’s made peace with them, and she intends to act on them.

Outside of the interview room, John tells Alicia her voice sounds better. “I’m finding it,” she replies. Huh. Could there maybe possibly kinda be a double meaning there I don’t think this line is heavy handed enough. (No, but really: did they have Julianna do the sick voice for almost the entire episode JUST SO THEY COULD TALK ABOUT ALICIA “FINDING HER VOICE” while using a cutesy device to show her literally finding her voice? I think they might have.)

Alicia enters the interview room, the door closes, and the episode ends.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x19-- Winning Ugly

My thoughts on 6x19 under the cut...

An unannounced Previously On… is still a previously on.

The episode opens with Alicia, curled up in a ball on her couch, watching the local news on TV. Alicia, it turns out, is doing exactly what we as viewers are doing: tuning into the TV to watch the story of Alicia Florrick.

Alicia looks upset as she watches, even before she catches the headline, “Another Florrick Scandal?” pop up on screen. Alicia’s facing dual scandals right now, both equally harmful but in different ways. The emails are still coming out—just with some spin—and pose a threat to Alicia’s reputation (Saint Alicia?); voter fraud could jeopardize her ability to take office. And then what would she have? None of what she wanted, and none of what she had before.

Alicia turns up the volume: “Allegations are being leveled tonight against Illinois First Lady and State’s Attorney elect Alicia Florrick.” Sometimes, this show forgets how important Alicia is. They don’t emphasize nearly enough that she’s the First Lady of Illinois. “Charges of potential election fraud have been leveled, having to do with voting machines in River North. Many voters complained on Election Day about their touch screen votes, believing that votes for Frank Prady ended up registered for Alicia Florrick.”

The shot of Alicia, curled up in a ball, and the TV across from her is gorgeous. It only gets better when Grace opens her door and turns on the light in the middle of the frame.

“The revelation comes on the heels of the release of numerous sexually charged emails between the State’s Attorney elect and her former boss. Mrs. Florrick, in an interview yesterday, characterized the emails as nothing more than an office fantasy,” the reporter continues. “It was… a flirtation,” Alicia says, on the TV, as Alicia in her living room shakes her head. “I was having difficulties with my husband at that point, and I got carried away,” TV Alicia explains. THIS is how you do a previously on sequence: you give it a diegetic purpose. For viewers who may have forgotten what happened last week, the reporter is explaining it, complete with pertinent clips from 6x18. For viewers who remember all the details, the scene demonstrates that both charges are still hovering over Alicia, and shows how she’s reacting—silently, destroyed, in the dark, at home, watching rather than avoiding the coverage.

“But many have seemed to turn against the once-admired First Lady,” the reporter says, cutting to an interview with a local businesswoman: “I’m disappointed in her, obviously. Look, I didn’t think she was a saint, but I don’t like how she pretended to be so…” (it looks like she’s mouthing “prim and proper.”) Alicia mutes the TV. She���s learned not to care what random people think of her.

Then there’s a clip of an interview with Peter—that’s news to Alicia. She turns up the volume. “Well, this is a press witch hunt. They like building people up so they can knock them down. Now it’s Alicia’s turn. I love my wife, obviously, and I trust her implicitly. There was nothing between my wife…” Grace’s door opens and Alicia changes the channel. But before I deal with that, what to make of Peter’s words? What else could he say? I find it interesting that both Peter and the Local Businesswoman use the word obviously. Obviously, the local businesswoman is disappointed. Obviously, Peter loves Alicia.

This scene was a sneak peek, and I didn’t expect it to start the episode for one reason: I expected Alicia to talk to Grace first. She’s known about these emails for quite a while in political time, long enough to do damage control on them. So why wouldn’t part of that damage control be preparing her daughter that her world’s about to come crashing down again? In 3x14, when Alicia thinks the affair is coming out, she runs home to tell the kids. Why not now? Because it’s harder to do it? Because it was a long time ago? Put yourself in Grace’s shoes for a moment: you’re a sixteen, maybe seventeen year old. You’re a public figure. When you were twelve, you learned more than you ever wanted to know about your parents’ sex lives, you lost all your friends, had to switch schools, had to move out of the house you spent your entire life in, and your dad went to jail. And not only did you have to deal with this, but everyone around you knew what you were dealing with and all of the details, plus endless rumors. You recover from this. You find your group, you find things you’re passionate about, you find yourself (because you’re dealing with all the normal insecurities and anxieties of adolescence, too!). And then, six years later, you’re caught off-guard one day when you get a Google Alert about your mom, a Google Alert she’s well aware you have, containing dozens of sexual emails between her and the man, her boss, you’ve asked her directly about several times, the boss she’s been evasive about explaining her relationship with. Your mom promised you she’d protect you, and yet here you are, back at the beginning.

Maybe you don’t need to put yourself in Grace’s shoes; you’re just a viewer. Alicia is Grace’s mother, and it’s her responsibility to try to see things from Grace’s POV. It’s appalling to me that her first thought wouldn’t have been to set the record straight with Grace. These are the emails, this is the reality, I am sorry I didn’t tell you, I am sorry you are going to watch me lie about this, I am sorry you are going to have to deal with this again. She owed Grace that, and instead, her idea of protecting her daughter was to turn off the TV when she walked into the room. And if the emails were on TV, they were certainly on Grace’s computer first. Alicia doesn’t just fail to have the needed conversation with Grace before the emails leak, she fails to have that conversation for several days after Grace is aware of them. That’s even more unacceptable than approaching the topic of sex by asking Grace if she’s being a “Good Girl.”

“I was just watching, um, sharks,” Alicia lies, checking the TV screen, when Grace asks if she’s okay. Alicia should be asking GRACE if she’s okay. “Is it too loud?” Alicia asks. “No. You should go to bed,” Grace says quietly. “I will,” Alicia replies. A weird inversion of roles here—Grace checking up on Alicia, Grace telling Alicia to go to sleep. Alicia turns off the TV, sighs, and rests her head on her knees.

We go from Alicia’s gray sweatpants to the gray table of a diner, where someone sets down a microchip in front of Eli. Ken from the election board (hello there, The Wire guest star!) informs Eli that there’s going to be an investigation into the election results because of this chip, which indicates a “man in the middle hack.”

Eli suspects Ken’s wearing a wire (ha-ha). You never know who’s your friend and who’s your enemy.

Alicia is staring at an article about the email scandal in her office. Eli says the voting thing isn’t the end of the world. Marissa says he’s acting like it is. Alicia stares at the computer. Then she asks Marissa for coffee when she realizes she has to address Eli’s concerns, and Marissa understands that, duh, what Alicia wants is to talk to Eli alone, and if that’s the case, then she wants falafel.

“If I lose, I lose,” Alicia says, talking about a recount. I think she’d be upset if she lost in a recount, but not devastated. I wish they’d built this arc in a way where Alicia could lose the race after wanting to win, not where the way to make the loss hurt was to take something she feels she deserves away from her. We know what happens when you do that to Alicia, and it’s rarely self-reflection. It’s usually just anger and a feeling that she’s been betrayed.

Eli suggests that Alicia convince Prady not to push for a recount—he won’t want to win ugly. Isn’t it funny that last week, Alicia was the winner, but got the Loser Edit (ep title) and this week, Alicia’s losing, but the episode’s called Winning Ugly? I suppose they never specified who, exactly, is winning.

“It doesn’t end, does it?” Alicia replies. “You win the election, you think it’s over. It’s never over.” Took you a while to get that, Alicia. That’s been one of the main points of thing long campaign—it’s one thing after another. This little crisis then that little crisis then playing nice with this donor then playing nice with that donor then telling this lie and omitting that fact. This scandal, then that scandal, then a period of recovery, and then we’re right back to Grace in her room at night watching people discuss her parents’ sex life as a joke. It doesn’t end. Alicia was foolish to think it would, foolish to think that she’d just grin and bear her way through the campaign and then get to be above it all once she took office. I don’t know how it took her this long to figure it out, especially since she’s married to the governor.

“I wish I could tell you that you’re wrong, but… you’re right. Life… … … sucks,” Eli tells her. All I can think of is Owen mocking Alicia for saying “sometimes the heart needs… steering.” This delivery, this phrasing, this scene, all seem so classic TGW. I’ve seen these moments a million times and yet I’ve never seen them before—that’s a compliment.

Alicia sits alone in a coffee shop. It’s unclear why she’s there at first—maybe she just wants coffee… at a place where you sit down to get coffee brought to the table—but it turns out she’s meeting Prady…’s campaign manager.

When the waitress brings Alicia her coffee, she lingers at the table, making Alicia uncomfortable. “Yes?” Alicia says, looking up at the waitress/camera. “Do what?” Alicia replies. “Screw your boss,” the waitress wonders. Alicia looks slightly taken aback, but controls herself enough to not make a scene. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she says, her irritation clear. “You don’t get to decide when it’s my business,” the waitress comments and walks away. Alicia just sort of raises her eyebrows, like, did that just happen? Okay, then, and goes to sip her coffee. Remembering what just happened, she eyes the coffee suspiciously and decides against drinking it. I wouldn’t drink that coffee! Also, what is this waitress’s problem!? She’s working. And maybe she thinks it’s fine that she knows the content of Alicia’s emails, but why the fuck would she, or anyone, think she has a right to have Alicia tell her the details of her sex life?

What is it with Alicia and rude coffee shop waitresses?

Prady’s not coming to the meeting because actor availability, er, because the plot works better if Alicia’s not dealing directly with Prady. Both of these things are actually true, so congratulations, writers! You’re doing a good job of writing exposition and of writing around scheduling conflicts in this episode! Mr. Campaign Manager warns Alicia (loudly) that he intends to take her down. Cool, dude.

Wiley is in Diane’s office now—oh right, there’s that whole other part of the show that exists!—and his kids are there, too. They have a toy that teaches kids how to spell and about different emotions. It talks. Wiley tells Diane about the metadata problem. This is another scene it feels like I’ve seen before because it’s classic TGW (and classic Wiley). Diane stares at him when he tells her he broke the law, and Gerald Giraffe (the toy) feels ANGRY! Diane Lockhart feels DEVASTATED, D-E-V-A-S-T-A-T-E-D. And also, probably, ANGRY! She asks him to leave, refusing to give him anything.

The fast-paced music that’s come to serve as a theme for this arc (it’s in Hail Mary) plays as Diane rushes out of her office and downstairs to where Kalinda’s set up shop for the day (why is Kalinda working in the space they’ve rented out? Have they only rented out a portion of the 27th?). “Did you fake evidence?” she asks. Kalinda can’t deny it. She can only redirect Diane to Finn’s office. We stay on Diane, who realizes this is about to turn into a big problem that will jeopardize her entire career.

Finn closes the door to his office, and we stay outside, watching Diane react to the news, having to lean against Finn’s desk to steady herself. It’s several seconds before we hear a word that’s being said. Diane’s body language says it all.

In the office, Kalinda’s trying to explain. She didn’t want Diane to use it! “Wiley knows!” Diane exclaims. This is the only time in the episode she doesn’t contain her fear or her anger, and she’s still being restrained. “This is a disbarrable offense for me!” she reminds Kalinda. “I know,” is all Kalinda can say, and Diane stares at her accusingly but says nothing in reply.

We catch up with Diane walking into the conference room (and the music plus the walking are making me feel all the Hitting the Fan feelings!) to inform Cary and David Lee (and some other guy) that the metadata was faked. David is thinking like a lawyer. Cary is thinking like the subject of the case.

“The evidence was faked?” Cary asks, while David talks about attorney-client privilege. “Cary, stop it,” he warns. Easier said than done. But look at the difference here, and throughout the episode, to how Cary and Diane react. I like to think of these two as similar, but they have very, very different ways of dealing with their anger, even though they’re both feeling it. Diane, with years more experience in the workplace and probably a lot more experience, regardless of years, running into people who won’t tolerate indecorous outbursts of anger, knows when it’s appropriate to react and when to wait for a more appropriate time. Cary blurts out whatever he’s feeling when he’s feeling it. (Is that about entitlement or personality or both, I wonder?)

Cary doesn’t want to do anything that would clear Prima, but they’ll have to—so Diane doesn’t end up in jail. So we’ve got Cary (later) volunteering himself as a target for Bishop, Kalinda already being a target for Bishop and in trouble for falsifying evidence, Diane at risk of going to jail, and Alicia accused of stealing an election. Fun times! Happy days!

Frank Landau of the DNC welcomes Alicia with open arms—literally. The doors of his office swing open, a new world of power awaiting Alicia. Marissa introduces herself to Landau, interestingly enough only by her first name (because she’s an assistant or because she wants distance from Eli?).  There’s snack food for them; Landau calls the voter fraud investigation “silly.”  Alicia’s not convinced that it’s no big deal, but a lawyer, whom Alicia and Marissa both recognize and stand in the presence of (he’s that important) walks in. He’s Spencer Randolph, and Alicia is star struck.

He’s going to represent Alicia because elections need to be over, “Don’t you agree, ma’am?” (Marissa does!). He believes that election results shouldn’t be constantly questioned and that the real corruption would be a recount. Of course she’ll let him help!

… looking back on this now, this all seems super suspicious. This great guy is just working with Frank Landau and the DNC to make politics less corrupt? A weird alliance of interests that already suggests Randolph cares more about the party than about the particulars. If you’re really that against corruption, you don’t make a deal with the patronage-loving chairman of the Illinois DNC. It’s Johnny’s logic about lying about Bishop to do good later turned on Alicia. They lie to her to do what they see as good elsewhere.

“A ROMANTIC INTERLUDE” proclaims a title card, suddenly. What is this?! An older man holds a cell phone. “Will, I need you,” he begins. “I need you on top of me.” Oh. It’s the emails. How I’d love it if he would read the delicious linguistics one that no longer exists! “Alicia, meet me after work, at the hotel,” another man replies. You mean to tell me there were references to meetings at hotels in these emails and Alicia claimed it was just a flirtation? “Will, sometimes I worry, this is wrong, you, being my boss.” “I know, but I can’t get you out of my head. The touch of you, the taste!” Oh. My. God. I shouldn’t be laughing because I know—I know!—these are Alicia and Will’s private emails being made a joke for public consumption. But I’m laughing anyway.

I’m also laughing at the description on the video as we pull away from the screen: “A pair of highly talented thespians lend their divine talents to the latest modern love story, The Tale of Saint Alicia Florrick and her Recently Deceased Employer. Truly the love story of our time. Sit back, pour a fine drink, and take in the sensual yet delicate words of the email romantics.” God that writers’ room must be a fun place to work. (The Tale of Saint Alicia and her Recently Deceased Employer, HA!)

“I need you tonight,” continues the man playing Alicia. “Isn’t that a song? ‘Need You Tonight’? EL-OH-EL. God. I’m horny,” replies Not-Will. “You were away at depos this week, and all I could think about were your hands on me,” says “Alicia.”  Why are we seeing this video? Because Grace is. Oh. Yup. We’re right back to season one—Grace on the computer, watching “funny” videos her parents can’t shelter her from. I want to cry watching Grace’s face as she watches the video, but I’m also still laughing.

Alicia gets home as Grace is in the middle of the video, and she can tell what it is when she hears, “Will, I had a crazy dream about you last night. Details later. Happy face!” “Alicia, last night was amazing, you leave me exhausted. I slept like a baby, dot, dot, dot,” aaaand that plays over the credits, continuing the juxtaposition (from last ep) of Alicia’s new public image with her old one.

It must suck for Alicia to come home to the sounds of her daughter watching a video of two men reading her own smutty emails as a joke. Wouldn’t it suck a little less if you’d had a single conversation about it with her, rather than pretending she might somehow not ever become aware of the emails even though she’s the one that first brought the hack to your attention?

(And aren’t you going to say something now that you know she knows?)

Kalinda explains to Cary that she faked the evidence because it wasn’t right that he was going to prison.  Cary asks to be Kalinda’s lawyer, which would be a colossally bad idea and I’m happy that Kalinda, though she cares for Cary enough to fake evidence for him, doesn’t let Cary’s pleading change her decision to go with Finn. Finn doesn’t care, Kalinda explains. (At least not in the way Cary cares.)

Shockingly, the writers are addressing one of the small details from 6x11 that stood out in my memory: Kalinda’s faked evidence not really being necessary because they had something else. Cary doesn’t think that was the case. Also, those who know more about the legal system than I do: Cary can’t be tried again for the same crime, correct? Double jeopardy?

This episode was written by Erica Shelton Kodish. She also wrote Hail Mary (which explains why this episode is so good with the Hail Mary continuity: same writer + director combo!), The Deep Web, and Parallel Construction, Bitches. I love three of those episodes and the other contains a great Alicia plot, so I’m going to take this opportunity to acknowledge Erica Shelton Kodish’s writing talents and emphasize that writers who aren’t the Kings do some excellent work for this show, too.

This episode was directed by Rosemary Rodriguez, and if you’re not already a huge fan of hers, what are you waiting for and go watch Will’s decision tree sequence.

Parillo, Prady’s campaign manager, thinks Alicia cheated! He’s telling this to the election board when Randolph walks in, and he’s shot from a low angle so as to appear larger than life. This is also clear from the smiles on the face of the members of the election board.

“Statistics are nonsense,” Randolph tells Alicia. I have this thought, like, at least ten times every day. (But statistics aren’t nonsense. They’re just easy to manipulate and to use to mislead if you know your audience isn’t looking at your methodology!)

Everything that comes out of Randolph’s mouth impresses the election board. It impresses Alicia, too. She watches with admiration, excited to see him at work and thrilled that his work is defending her. “I wanna marry him,” Marissa whispers to Alicia, who smiles.

Meanwhile, Wiley is presenting the evidence against Diane to the Independent Police Review Authority (thank you, helpful sign in background telling me what to call them). Finn, Kalinda, David Lee, and Diane all walk in just at the right time! (Isn’t David Lee a family law guy? Do any of these lawyers have specialties anymore or are they just all super skilled at everything?

Diane admits to submitting falsified evidence, Kalinda tries to clear Diane’s name. We don’t see what the board says. Instead, we watch Prima walk out and through the halls of the courthouse, straight to Geneva (who’s wearing this hideous suit she’s worn before; on that note, there’s a lot of outfit repeating going on in this ep—Diane and Kalinda are both in repeats, too).

Alicia arrives home after a long day, just in time to catch Grace walking back to her room. “Grace!” she calls out. “Hey,” Grace replies, quietly. We see Grace from about where Alicia’s standing, the camera moving towards her with Alicia’s steps. Then Alicia, from Grace’s approximate location. The distance is clear. Every step Alicia takes towards Grace makes Grace move ever so slightly backwards and towards her room, maintaining the distance from Alicia. She looks nervous, uncomfortable, and small.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all this stuff. My stuff,” Alicia says. A little late for an apology, no? I’m glad Alicia says something, but could she maybe say it in a different way? Like, a way where she’s not saying “stuff” instead of just talking about the problem directly?

“It’s okay,” Grace says and turns to leave. (Read: it’s not okay but you missed your chance to comfort me, leave me alone.) Alicia sighs, knowing that didn’t go well.

“Mom?” Grace says, walking back into the room. “Yeah?” Alicia asks. “Was it just a flirtation? With Will?” Grace wants to know. How sad that Grace has to ask this.

“No. It wasn’t,” Alicia says honestly. At least there’s that.

“So you lied?” “Yes.” “Because?” “Because it’s none of their business.” “That’s okay?” “Yes.” Not the answer Grace wanted to hear. “I have to go do my homework,” she says, turning to leave again. Oh, Grace. (By which I mean, oh, writers, find a new topic for Grace.) Haven’t we been over this question of lying, like, three times this season alone? But there’s a level on which this line works. Alicia’s been telling that same lie, or a version of it (barely even admitting it was a fliration!), to her kids for years. Maybe Grace is really asking why she lied to her. And that’s a great question. Alicia’s relationship with Will is not just “Alicia’s stuff” when it starts to affect her kids. Alicia loves to draw arbitrary boundaries between parts of her life—political/personal/professional, adults/children, etc—and they don’t often work for very long.

“Wait, Grace, give me a hug,” Alicia says, walking quickly towards her daughter. It makes me uncomfortable, a little, Alicia asking Grace to hug her. We’ve seen Grace advising Alicia and Grace supporting and Grace comforting Alicia a lot lately. We haven’t seen Alicia supporting Grace as much (though there are some nice moments in 6x14). Alicia feels a bit overbearing to me here, and I don’t like that she says “give me a hug” rather than “let me give you a hug” or “can I give you a hug?” It feels like the hug is for Alicia’s benefit more than Grace’s, and though both could really use a hug, the hug Alicia needs should not be coming from Grace.

Grace looks downright uncomfortable as her mom embraces her. I feel so bad for Grace here. But I’m also left wondering why the writers chose to write the plot this way, deliberately having Alicia fail to be there for Grace. Maybe that’s not what they’re going for, but between the amount of time elapsed since 6x17, Alicia switching off the news report in case Grace hears (trying to hide it; trying to hide that she’s watching it?), Alicia being startled to hear Grace listening to the “Romantic Interlude” and failing to do anything about it when she overhears the video, and this scene, it’s the narrative I’m getting. Maybe it’s just that Grace doesn’t like her mom lying so much. But I think it’s more personal than that, more about Grace feeling like she’s been lied to or kept away from the truth or not sufficiently protected (see: 2x21) than about lying in the abstract.

Alicia’s on the stand, or whatever it is, in front of the election board. She’s asked if she remembers Peter’s interview with Mandy Post, the one he gave to fuck with her and depress voter turnout. Apparently, Mr. Parillo thinks this means Peter was certain because he knew the votes were rigged. Ha! Now Peter trying to show Alicia he has the power to make her lose if he wants is Peter showing off his power to make Alicia win! Parillo thinks Peter (whom he does not refer to as Governor Florrick!), because of some act that gives Peter control of voting machines or something like that.

Alicia marches into Peter’s press room after that. She confronts him about what Parillo said, and Peter’s like, lolno I don’t go near the voting machines, I have an independent monitor. Unfortunately for Alicia, said monitor is Ernie Nolan, the man we saw try to bribe her in 6x02. You know. When Robyn still existed. And Alicia was screaming at everyone that she was never going to run.

Holy shit they planted that seed early. Why is it that this show can get the beginning and ending of arcs SO RIGHT and have everything come together perfectly, yet when it comes to writing everything in between, they’re terrible? Do they lose sight of their priorities? Do they get distracted? Are they so fixated on the long-game that they forget to advance the plot week by week? They always do this, and not just in season 6. (It’s more apparent in s6 because the arcs are longer, there’s more time spent on them, and there are two of them running at the same time. Season 5 had short arcs and more COTWs, but the middle episodes of season five suffer from the exact same problem, and I have several old rants written about TGW’s pacing problem dating back to when I first started watching in s3!) I know they love  their twists and turns and want to keep everything exciting, but I can’t say enough times that the stuff in the middle needs to be air-tight character work, not distractions and guest stars.

The natural next step is to arrange a meeting with Nolan, which Alicia holds in Will’s office, I mean her office. Nolan isn’t going to be helpful because she turned down his bribe. He’s also helping Prady now. And he enjoys taunting Alicia.

You can see, for a brief second, while she’s out of focus, that Alicia grabs her phone when she follows Nolan out into the hallway. Nice!

“You should’ve taken my money, ‘cause now you won’t be SA,” Nolan says. What an asshole.

I love rewatching this scene knowing that Alicia was recording the whole thing. Yup, I can see that in her reactions now that I know it’s coming. (I kept thinking, “Alicia should be recording this!” while Nolan was talking! In retrospect, I think I was probably thinking that because of the way Alicia’s speaking, being very clear and detailed about what she thought happened, trying to get Nolan to react to the specific allegations—no room for ambiguity.)

Nolan is in front of the election board now, helping Parillo. Alicia glares at Parillo when he denies saying the exact words we just heard him say, and at first I read this as surprise and thought Alicia was going to get caught in another, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN KRESTEVA LIED?!?!?” panic (oh, I see where Grace gets it…). But no. It’s more a look of, “really? You’re gonna dig that hole for yourself?”

So Alicia ends up on the stand again. And it’s not just her word against Nolan’s because… she has the recording. (One party consent is all you need in Illinois! The writers love this law. I think they love it so much because the IL Supreme Court decision referenced is dated March 20th, 2014. In A Few Words, Elsbeth talks about how two-party consent is the law in IL, but not in NYC. That episode aired March 16th, 2014. The writers must be so pleased with themselves for getting to mention that right before the SC decision… That’s my theory, anyway.)

Parillo argues that if Nolan’s corrupt, even if he’s corrupt for Prady, there still needs to be a recount.

Kalinda calls Alicia because for some reason Kalinda (and metadata faking helper Howell) are working on Alicia’s problems right now. What? Why? Why would they link these plots together here and in this way? If Kalinda and Howell are in trouble for faking metadata for a partner at the firm, why the fuck would they offer their services to Alicia—and why would she ask for them? They didn’t need to make this connection and I’m not sure why they did, since all it does is make it glaring how separate Alicia’s problems are from everyone else’s without explaining what that separation means to the characters.

When we first see Kalinda on the phone, the blinds on the L/G… FAL, oh my god will I ever stop thinking of it as L/G, window-walls are in front of her and she looks like she’s behind bars. Foreshadowing? Underlining the threat?! Both?!

“The Cary Agos case. There’ve been more remakes of this case than Spiderman,” Judge Glatt says in court. Heh. #accurate

Again, Cary can’t resist the urge to show his outrage, leaping up out of turn to speak. Diane stares straight ahead, silently, making subtle, pained faces every time Geneva levels a charge she can’t deny. Diane even tries to get Cary to calm down. I can’t even imagine how much strength it’s taking Diane to stay composed and collected right now.

“Ms. Lockhart could be facing three years in prison,” Glatt states. Diane blinks, angrily. Someone give Christine Baranski an Emmy, now.

Diane meets with Geneva in the courtroom hallway (we see Prima walking off, and it seems odd to me they’d have the actor there just to walk away, so if there’s a deleted scene here with Prima and Geneva, I called it first) and asks Geneva what she wants. Maybe I’m reading this wrong, or just hopefully, but… maybe what Geneva wants is a job at FAL? I know. That makes no sense. Wishful thinking!

Seriously who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to have Howell get involved in Alicia’s election stuff?

The man in the middle devices are from the 2012 election, which apparently means PETER put them there (which doesn’t make sense as Peter was elected governor in the middle of 2013 but okay). So Randolph goes after Peter. I don’t know if this is to scare Alicia into dropping the proceedings (?) or just a tactic to avoid a recount of the 2015 votes, but I’m a bit confused by why Randolph is doing this. For the sake of twists and turns?

“You didn’t tell me you were going after Peter,” Alicia tells Randolph. “I’m going after Peter,” Randolph says. “Dad’s not going to be happy,” Marissa chimes in. The scene ends on Alicia making that face she makes when things catch her off guard and she’s angry but she can’t say anything. You know, that face.

“Would that be State’s Attorney James Castro who wrongfully charged me?” Cary says, still bitter. “Cary,” Diane warns him.

Geneva brings an offer to drop all charges against Diane… IF she testifies against Bishop. (Which she won’t do, obviously.)

“Off the record, I can’t condone Castro’s tactics in going after you, Cary. But the larger intent was sincere and more than justified,” Geneva says apologetically but firmly before offering Diane the same deal she offered Cary for turning on Bishop. I wish we’d had a moment like this a bit earlier between Geneva and Cary, but better late than never.

Diane laughs when she hears the deal, knowing there’s no way she’s going to take it. “And here we are, back again. Right at the beginning.”

That makes a nice segue into talking about how circular season six has been. This episode puts us, as Diane says, right back at the beginning. A lawyer’s in trouble, Alicia’s not a politician. I’m not ready to praise the writers for this quite yet, because it’ll depend on where they go with it (if anywhere). But if the writers pull this off, these are things that should have serious ramifications for the characters. Perhaps the plots will become things of the past, but the point of any good arc, at least on a show that tells its stories the way TGW does, shouldn’t just be to entertain with twists and turns. It also needs to create a compelling trajectory for the characters, and that can very easily mean resetting everything to a familiar and stable place, but with new tensions and experiences informing future actions. If the writers embrace this, then telling stories in circles is fine by me. If they fail to embrace this approach and instead launch into yet another serialized plot (pair of serialized plots?) without following through on these ones, then I’ll complain.

“I worked in that office, and Bishop could cure cancer and wipe out world hunger and they’d still want him,” Finn adds as Diane, Cary, and Kalinda try to figure out their next move. Diane asks Finn to leave after that.

Kalinda’s fiddling with her necklace. Awwww.

The way Christine’s playing Diane’s anger and sadness in this episode is just marvellous.

“ ‘Did Peter Florrick steal an election? In battling charges of voter fraud, Alicia Florrick’s lawyer claimed the devices at issue were dated from her husband’s race, three years earlier,’” Peter reads angrily off his phone. Alicia says he’s the Party’s lawyer, and Eli agrees. Anyway, the charge won’t stick because it’s dated and hard to prove (oh? It won’t get Nelson Dubeck on his back again?). (Maybe that’s why Randolph can make it comfortably.)

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have fought back?” Alicia wonders. “No. Either we’re a team or we’re not. Don’t let him divide us,” Peter responds. If Peter planned all of this, as some have been suggesting, then who knew he was such a magnificent actor?

Eli and Alicia sit Randolph down and tell him to change strategies. Randolph starts to say, “I’m not here to defend you, Mrs. Florrick, I’m here to defend the democratic process” (almost there, Randolph. You mixed up the words party and process!). “I’m here to defend,” he continues, and the action picks up in front of the election board, “… a hero. We cast our eyes far and wide for them, but sometimes the most heroic people live amongst us. Heroes, like Alicia Florrick!” Wow, that was a big shift. Wonder how they got Randloph to switch strategies.

“A woman who watched her husband go to jail. Who stood by him until he was vindicated, who worked her way up the legal ladder. Whose story of courage and commitment so affected and inspired the people of Cook County that they chose to elect her to watch over all of them as their champion.” That’ll be the last time you hear that narrative delivered sincerely, Alicia, so enjoy it.

“There is no weakness in Alicia Florrick. There is only strength. Strength to fight for what she has earned,” Randolph continues. Aw!

But the hacking devices HAVEN’T been dormant since 2012, so Alicia’s not out of the woods yet. (I think that’s the moment the Party turns on Alicia. Ideally, they get Peter happy, Alicia in office, and their supermajority in the state senate. If one of those things has to go, it’s Alicia in office. Peter can be appeased easily since he needs the Party’s help to win reelection.)

Kalinda’s buttoning up her shirt in a room with Cary (ah, so they’re still sleeping together). Cary’s figured out that Kalinda’s wanting to testify against Bishop so Diane doesn’t have to. Uh oh.

Landau informs Alicia and Eli (who’s come around to the idea of a recount) that there can be no recount. “Mrs. Florrick, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to step down,” Landau says. Not quite so welcoming now, is he?

Why does Alicia need to step down? Not because she’s done anything wrong, no, but because the Party rigged a different race on the same day! (Wouldn’t it have been nice to have heard about there being other important races?) There can’t be a recount of that race, or any further talk about these votes, because then the Democrats might lose their supermajority. After explaining this, Landau asks Alicia if she now understands why she needs to withdraw. “No, I don’t,” she says, demanding a better explanation.

“I’m not withdrawing,” Alicia says defiantly. Landau says he’ll give her a job where she won’t have to work and will make lots of money if she resigns. “I didn’t enter this race for a cushy spot on some stupid commission,” Alicia says sharply. No, she entered this race to enter this race.

“And if I don’t withdraw, what happens then?” “You don’t want to do that.” “Why?” “Because the party will destroy you. Or the party would hurt the governorship.” Yup. Alicia has no way out. If she protests for what’s “right,” that is, a recount to prove she won fair and square, that’s somehow being selfish and putting her—and Peter—at risk. If she resigns, she’s playing the political game. There’s no good way out when doing right doesn’t do anyone any good. And of course, Alicia wants that supermajority, too, as a Democrat and a citizen of Illinois.

(This is part of why I think it’s such a good idea to have the smutty email scandal running alongside the election rigging one—it’s a reminder that while the Party might be doing the truly despicable things, politics corrupts in small ways, too. Alicia’s played fair in the sense that she’s played legal, but only really in that sense.) (Alicia being forced to resign will probably still turn her into Ultimate Victim Mode Alicia, who can be sort of insufferable, but my hope is that her fall makes her reflect on the things she has done for power.)

And as if Landau weren’t being threatening enough, he also takes Alicia’s phone in case she’s been recording this meeting, too.

“Oh my God. Did that just happen?” Alicia asks Eli. Yes, it did.

Peter encourages Alicia to continue to fight the charges. That convinces her to keep going. This is the moment that has a lot of people suspecting that Peter was ~behind~ Alicia losing the SA’s office, and I’m honestly not quite sure what sort of conspiracy people are theorizing. When did Peter get on board? Is it a long-game evil plan? What are his intentions? The only “conspiracy” that I see being possible here doesn’t even seem very upsetting to me. If Peter knew, at this point, Alicia was going to have to resign (because that’s how politics works), then he has a few options: (a) give her no advice (when she’s asking for advice), (b) tell her to resign (which will make her angry), or (c) tell her to fight it, which will still have the same outcome as (b) but she’ll feel she did everything she could and she’ll be angry with the world and not with Peter specifically; she’ll have someone to support her after she falls. I think, if Peter knew, he chose option (c), and I don’t fault him for that. There’s also the possibility he didn’t know! Randolph changed strategies away from attacking Peter when Alicia asked; maybe Peter likes the guy! At any rate, I can’t really blame Peter if he chooses to place his career, the one he’s spent his life building, ahead of Alicia’s decision on a whim that she wanted to be SA. And I just can’t read into this scene any sort of conspiracy that Peter’s in on—what would he gain from it, from Alicia resigning? What would the goal of this conspiracy be?

Cary approaches Geneva in the courthouse. He wants to know if Kalinda has tried to sacrifice her own safety for Diane’s. Cary reminds Geneva that they worked together, that they know each other. Geneva says Kalinda hasn’t approached her. Cary responds, “Okay. When she does, turn her down.” Cary volunteers to testify against Bishop if it means protecting Kalinda. Wow, that’s a new one—someone being willing to sacrifice themselves for K, who’s been willing to sacrifice herself again and again for others. (And Cary doesn’t even know that Kalinda’s been driving Dylan to school all this time.)

Alicia’s suit is hideous, btw. It looks like an apron. Maybe if she’d been wearing that in 6x08 no one would’ve noticed she was overdressed and scrubbing an already clean pot.

At the election board, Alicia tells Randolph she wants to win. So Randolph gets up and says, “It has come to my attention that an egregious fraud has been placed on these proceedings. Now, I have devoted my life to righting wrongs, to fighting corruption and all manner of ills in the justice system, and therefore I am compelled to speak out. I have just discovered that Alicia Florrick has been lying to me through these proceedings. It is my understanding that the voting machines were hacked under her direction.”

“This is a lie!” Alicia exclaims. Yup. It is. (So many lies in this episode, some even told by Alicia…)

Randolph tries to get the recount off the table by encouraging Alicia to step down. There’s no way out. And Alicia’s hearing one of her heroes, who she thought was on her side, say these words.

“I trusted you. I put my fate in your hands. The man whose speeches I listened to and so admired…” Alicia hisses at Randolph, tears starting to form. “I assure you this isn’t personal,” Randolph says calmly. “Like hell it isn’t!” Alicia replies.

In Hitting the Fan, Alicia tells Will, tearfully, “This was never meant personally.” She’s telling the truth there. She didn’t leave to upset Will. She didn’t leave to hurt him. She meant no harm; it was a move for herself and not one against him. But, of course, Alicia leaving L/G affected Will on a level that was very personal. It’s the same story here. Randolph doesn’t go after Alicia’s reputation because he enjoys causing Alicia harm; he goes after her reputation because it’s what he has to do to achieve his political goals. But it still has a personal effect on Alicia—of course it does.

“Be a good Democrat, step down now. The Party’ll take care of you. Everybody wins,” Randolph tells her. He’s not gloating. He’s just telling her, here, it’s not too late, take one for the team and we’ll all be happy!

Randolph walks away, leaving Alicia to wipe away her tears. (This shot of Alicia, alone, as Randolph exits the building below her, is gorgeous. She’s so small relative to the space.)

Alicia’s still crying (or crying again, more likely) when she gets in the elevator of her building and rides up to the 9th floor. She tries to stay composed, and she’s doing a pretty good job of it, until she sees Peter waiting outside. She runs into his arms and cries—a complete reversal of where they were in 5x16. Damn.

Interesting that this scene takes place in the hallway and not in the apartment. Maybe it’s because they wanted that elevator moment and didn’t want to show Alicia walking from the elevator to the apartment, but I’d like to think it’s because Peter knows this isn’t the time to show up in her apartment without an invitation, or because Peter wants to get to Alicia before Grace can see her cry.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x15-- Open Source

My thoughts on 6x15 under the cut!

Music. A computer screendisplaying modeling software. Something being designed. A man uploading thedesign to a site called RipBuildUse. A world map showing the spread of the design, or the connectivity of the internet, or something. Stock footage that looks like it’s ripped from an ad for an internet provider it’s so different from TGW’s style shows us that anyone can access this design, whatever it may be. A man downloads the design and hits print. His 3D printer prints it; he assembles it. It’s a gun. Well, that’s horrifying. He takes it to a shooting range to try it out, and a crowd gathers behind him. But the gun misfires and hits an innocent bystander.

As a hook to a COTW, that’s pretty good. It catches my attention and makes me want to find out what the real life inspiration for this episode was. It reminds me of season 2 or season 3 of this show, where the case was part of the hook for watching. That’s neither good nor bad, but it is an indicator right at the top of the episode that we’ll be getting more COTW than usual, by season six standards.

This montage sequence immediately cuts to Alicia, looking into the camera, being asked to clarify: is she suing the gun manufacturer? No, she says, they’re suing the gun designer. After last week, I instantly recognize the set Alicia’s on and the outfit she’s wearing: the editorial board’s interview room; the blue jacket. This is the type of continuity we don’t usually get on TGW—the same type of continuity the show would benefit greatly from including on a regular basis. I had a tangent all ready to go for last week’s recap about how Mind’s Eye didn’t suffer at all from not showing us the “final product” or the “fantasy vs reality.” My argument was going to connect Mind’s Eye to The Decision Tree and look at why the scenes of Real!Alicia in court in Tree were necessary to complete that episode, while the absence of similar scenes did not negatively affect Mind’s Eye. I deleted it because it was long and rambling, and because I wasn’t sure if the show would return to the editorial board interview. Deleting it was a good move (though my point still stands as it regards to episode structure; there’s a difference between getting follow-up on a larger scale and needing follow-up for an episode to be internally coherent), it seems. I’m glad to see that the interview wasn’t forgotten.

“I’ve been actively pursuing cases like this on gun control for… years,” Alicia argues, saying that her interest in this case will make her a great SA. Yes, Alicia has been actively pursuing cases like this on gun control for years! For five and a half years, specifically. But if you want to get technical about it, Diane Lockhart has been actively pursuing cases like this on gun control for years, Alicia was an employee of Diane’s, and now Alicia’s a partner of Diane’s. Alicia spent about a year in a position to choose which cases to actively pursue. But it makes a nice narrative.

The Prady team is watching Alicia’s interview. The editorial board asks the Bishop/PAC question, but in a simplified form “To your knowledge, has Lemond Bishop contributed…” that makes it perfectly easy for Alicia to say her rehearsed “no” and move on. It’s also exactly the question, almost word for word, that Alicia imagines herself being asked three times in Mind’s Eye, so props to Alicia for her wonderful predictive powers.

Prady’s campaign manager (Martin) thinks Alicia’s lying. Prady isn’t so sure. The campaign manager says it doesn’t really matter: “she lied, and she got the newspaper’s endorsement.” Prady says he can just do more campaign events. Martin thinks it’s time to slime Alicia—“You are too nice. She’s a liar. She told them exactly what they wanted to hear, and I’ll bet you every dollar I have they knew she was lying, they wanted her to lie, because people respect someone who’s willing to lie for what they believe in. It shows strength. They don’t respect the truth. Every time you said something self-deprecatingly true to that editorial board, they all patted you on the back and then snickered behind their hands.” This is probably all true-- if not in reality (which I think it is to an extent, but that’s totally subjective), in TGW’s conception of reality.

Martin says to attack Peter instead. Prady’s okay with that.

Over at F/A… I mean Alicia Florrick Campaign HQ, Josh and Johnny are fighting when Alicia and Marissa walk in. Elfman doesn’t want to tell them what’s going on, so he chooses to inform them about a different problem: Prady, trashing Peter eight times “in the space of whatever, a short time.” (Josh is very eloquent.) Alicia doesn’t see the problem at first because exposition. This is why Josh has to explain the problem to us, even though Martin already explained the strategy. (Okay, okay. This isn’t terrible exposition. But there’ve been one too many scenes like this where the characters stand around this same table and talk to each other for the benefit of the audience.)

So, should Alicia defend Peter or trash him, too? Elfman says to trash him. To “separate” herself from Peter. No, you know what the time has come for? For Alicia to separate from Peter. As in, divorce. Or at least for Alicia to seriously consider that possibility. For years I’ve been against saying that Alicia “needs to” divorce in order to be happy because who am I to decide what happiness is for her, but what I’m seeing right now is an Alicia who’s unhappy as a direct result of (among other things) her political marriage that prevents her from moving on.

Johnny tells Alicia what the pro side of distance from Peter is, and Alicia asks what the con side is. Johnny and Josh were arguing, so there must be a con side. Or, you know, there must be a con side because she’d be publicly trashing the governor of her state. Or there must be a con side because she has two children with Peter who might not like to hear their mom saying publicly that their dad deserves criticism, even if he does? I think Alicia can figure this one out on her own (that’s my biggest problem with the writing for Alicia in this episode; the writing for her is more focused on moving other people’s plots along than on allowing her to react the way she would. She kind of just goes with the flow, even though it strains credulity a bit that she would) but I guess this is a nice segue back into Johnny’s problems. Which we’re, for some reason, focusing on more than Alicia’s. (I mean, I’m interested in Johnny’s feelings, but not if Alicia’s feelings have to be sidelined for us to see them. The writers could’ve easily, easily refocused and explored both here…)

What Johnny and Josh were really fighting about is that Johnny’s decided to take a job with a campaign in Sacramento. It starts on the 7th of this month, which is Election Day. March 7th, 2015? Yeah, that was a Saturday. What a fitting way to end the nonsensical campaign timeline: a SATURDAY election. Elfman says there won’t be anything left for him to do at that point. Can I ask why this other campaign so desperately needs him to start on a Saturday?

Josh is like BUT THERE COULD BE FRAUD AT THE POLLS, which reminds me that nothing ever came of the rigged voting for Peter. This line makes me suspicious that we’ll hear about it again. Well, this line and that vague TVLine spoiler.

Alicia just kind of looks at Johnny disapprovingly, but says nothing. She gets a phone call from Cary and leaves to answer it without saying a word. Instead of saying hello, Alicia asks, “how’s he doing on the stand?” which is not what Cary was calling about. Alicia wants to know how McVeigh (MCVEIGH!!!) is doing on the stand. Cary’s actually calling about Canning, who’s in ICU and wants to see Alicia. Cary wants Alicia to go to get a good settlement. Alicia’s horrified by this suggestion. Alicia doesn’t even entertain the idea, looking instead at Johnny, on his own phone, and ending the conversation with Cary abruptly with, “Look, just call me when you find out how McVeigh’s doing on the stand, okay?”

Kurt McVeigh is indeed on the stand! Yay, Kurt! I can’t believe we had to wait this long for him to show up! (Welcome to the “appears in every season” club, Kurt! Now we just need Matan!)

Abernathy and Nancy Crozier are also here! Yay! Abernathy’s been in every season except season 5; Nancy’s appeared in all six seasons.

The staging here made me think for a second that Finn and Nancy were working together, not Finn and Diane. This may just be me being used to seeing Finn on the other side; I don’t think I would’ve gotten that impression from the same camera angle if it’d been Diane and not Finn.

Abernathy’s liberal bias is, as always, showing. He can’t resist asking his own questions in outrage over the existence of the 3D printed gun. Abernathy makes a remark about the second amendment, and Diane can see, before Kurt even opens his mouth, that this isn’t going to end well. She interrupts after a few moments.

As the seasons pass, it’s weird to see Nancy Crozier evolve. She’s still young, but she’s not fresh out of law school. She has experience in these courts—as much as Alicia or Cary—and can’t really put on the young, pretty, inexperienced act. She still uses a similar style of rhetoric in court, often feigning confusion or rambling and “happening to” stumble upon a good point, but it’s not as much of a gimmick any more.

For example: Nancy keeps referring to the suit as Kurt’s, even though he’s just a witness, clearly looking for ways to bring up the fact that Kurt and Diane are married.  

After court, Diane gets into her car. Kurt’s there already. And, yep: we’re getting a Kurt/Diane makeout/sex scene. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I assumed we’d never see this because, well, because I can’t remember the last time I saw a character over 60 in a sex scene on TV. So, props to the writers for including this! (And, as is often the case on TGW, the scene is about the woman’s pleasure.)

Also, HOT.

Alicia goes to visit Canning in the hospital. He’s awake. He’s had a kidney transplant. I don’t know why I thought they might actually kill him off; of course he got a kidney in time.

Canning tells Alicia he voted against her. Wait, do I agree with Canning on something!?

With Canning in this mood, Alicia glimpses her briefcase, thinking about what Cary told her to accomplish during her visit. Canning notices. As Alicia moves to talk business, Canning starts telling her about the girl whose kidney he received. She puts the papers back in her bag.

Canning wants to give eighteen million dollars to the girl’s family. More specifically, he wants Alicia to do this for him, because David Lee won’t because David Lee is awful.

I spy Rosemary Rodriguez’s name in the credits. @Schwarmerei1 has made me love Rosemary’s directing.

Diane and Finn talk in the hallway. Fun to see them working together; to see Finn doing something that’s not being an ASA or flirting with Alicia.

Did David Lee just say the daughter’s name was Leela? ‘Cause that name means some things. Anyway, David Lee has already done the work and doesn’t like (understatement) the cause the family’s selected for the money (no interest in talking politics here so I’m intentionally glossing over this topic, which should be discussed by people who are better informed than I am and in places other than recaps of TV shows) and Alicia accuses him of letting his “political bias impact his representation.” David Lee wants full indemnification before he does anything, he claims. None of this makes sense to me, possibly because it’s all a set-up. Since Canning seems to be doing better now, wouldn’t someone check with him about this group and if he still wants to support it?

Finn’s pretty good in court, in my totally uninformed opinion about fictional lawyers in fictional courtrooms. This case is engaging, as TGW cases go. I just don’t have much to say about it.

Finn’s good enough in court, in fact, that Nancy wants to settle. Diane rejects her offer but Finn wants to take it to his client, and it becomes clear why Finn’s working with Diane (and Cary and Alicia, who’ve joined them in the L/G… FAL… conference room). He brought the client to FAL for a second opinion and they ended up working together when the case became much bigger than expected. (That last part is my assumption.) Finn says the case isn’t about Diane’s politics; Cary says it’s not about Finn making quick money.

“Still got some hard feelings there, Cary?” Finn asks when Cary makes that accusation. “You mean from you trying to put me in jail for 15 years?” Cary replies. Bwah! Continuity! (Can we get more of this?)

Alicia diffuses the situation and then we cut to a print-out of her agenda for Friday, March 6, the day before Election Day. Oh, good. The writers are aware they’ve chosen to put Election Day on a Saturday. Also, it’s always fun to look at the text on documents like this. The national news services covering Alicia’s appearance are CBS (of course) and News Service World Wide. The print media is CC Vindicator, The Synth, Modern Female, and Weekly Correspondent. Not sure if we’ve seen the last two so far, but I’m pretty sure we’ve heard of the Vindicator and The Synth is where Mandy Post, Awful Reporter works.

The reason we’re seeing the agenda is that Eli’s looking at it and disapproving. Why is Alicia doing the Black Business Leaders luncheon instead of the Rotary Club? Shockingly, the answer is not that Archie Panjabi does charity work for Rotary. It’s that Alicia’s going to attack Peter. Which Eli pieces together in about 30 seconds, despite Marissa’s best efforts (“I’m thinking of getting a tramp stamp”) to keep it from him.

As always with Kurt, he’s more interested in the truth than in making a case. Does this much back and forth usually happen during trial?

“We’re here to win, dear,” Diane reminds him. “Actually, you’re here to win. I’m here to testify,” Kurt corrects her. Exactly.

Eli takes his anger about the Black Business Leaders speech to Elfman (and Josh). “You’re supposed to be the adult here. When he goes off on one of his crusades, you steer,” Eli scolds Josh. I kind of love that Eli realizes that Elfman needs someone to check his power because he’ll end up on “crusades.” But in this case, Josh thinks attacking Peter is the smart move. And I’m just confused as to how that’s possibly the case. It’s very hard to approach TGW plots like this, where the show doesn’t make it clear what it’s saying is actually the best move, or where what it seems to be saying is logical seems illogical. This plot seems to be asking me to believe that attacking Peter is the right strategy, but I’d be inclined to say there’s more risk than reward there. Or maybe the plot’s not asking me to believe anything and it’s just a disagreement. I think that’s more likely; it’s just harder to get a feel for the “intellectual disagreement” thing when the topic of discussion is something the show invented.

Eli asks Josh to leave the room. He threatens to take Johnny’s job in Sacramento away, and reminds him that “it’s the kind of job that could make someone’s reputation.” I was under the impression Elfman was here because he had a great reputation but okay! Always room to improve!

“You don’t need [the bump from trashing Peter] this late in the campaign. You know you don’t.” Eli says. This sounds logical to me!

Alicia preps to trash Peter by rehearsing in front of a mirror. I like this, a lot. I would also like to see her being emotional—or at least somewhat conflicted?—about the speech. But I’ll take what I can get, and I think it’s also important to watch Alicia rehearse.

Johnny arrives at Alicia’s door and says he’s having second thoughts. I think the dilemma is supposed to be that Johnny never agrees with Eli that it’s the better strategy not to trash Peter, so he thinks he’s giving Alicia bad advice so he won’t lose his Sacramento job. Again, when I’m really curious about what Alicia thinks and when I tend to agree with Eli, the Johnny-centric plotline doesn’t play well for me. I think it’s going to be a topic of discussion next week, too—that’s what the promo indicates—so perhaps I should reserve judgement until I see the repercussions.

“For better or for worse, you guys are a brand. You’re the Florricks. A package deal,” Elfman says. And now my problem goes far beyond this subplot: why haven’t we seen more about Alicia and Peter’s relationship? Why aren’t we seeing the kids more often, with their parents? Why is the exploration of something that should be central only happening intermittently? This is a case of what I was talking about the other day in my post about my biggest problem with season six. Yes, I am interested in hearing about Johnny’s story and his feelings and the way Alicia senses that something’s wrong when he goes back on the strategy he was so adamant about pursuing earlier. But I’m not interested in hearing about Johnny’s feelings when there are more pressing issues that are being neglected for this exploration of Johnny’s feelings. I think I wrote almost this exact same thing above, but I’ll leave it in here twice because if I want to rant about it twice, I must be frustrated about it.

“Why are you leaving Election Day?” Alicia asks. She thinks it’s about her, about her relationship with Johnny, but he says it’s not. Huh. So I guess things didn’t go back to normal between them after they talked in 6x12—understandable, since he has a massive crush on her and she’s daydreaming about sleeping with him!

Diane and Kurt are getting into an intellectual argument over the case. Cute! But also, uncomfortably tense. Kurt says he won’t testify, not for a “crusade,” so I guess Diane and Elfman are one and the same now.

Alicia goes to visit Canning in the hospital again, but he’s out of it. The nurse tells Alicia to squeeze his hand and talk to him, which makes Alicia uncomfortable. Alicia says “hi” when the nurse leaves, then slowly moves to sit next to Canning. She talks at him about the charity, then rolls her eyes at herself and talks to herself—“she probably means talk about something personal.”

“My daughter’s praying for you, so that’s good,” she tries. “I’m not, because that would be hypocritical.” It’s Alicia’s thought process from 6x14, spoken out loud! She states it like it’s the logical explanation, very matter of fact, and also something Canning would need to hear.

She says she doesn’t want Canning to die even though he’s a “bad man” (oh?). “I sort of miss you. I know. That’s weird. I don’t know why.” We should make Alicia ramble more often! She gets contemplative and reflective!

And then all of the sudden she switches gears, from Canning as a Bad Man to the “bad boy issues” she seems to have. Yeah, Alicia. You definitely have some bad boy issues. (Though I prefer Emily Nussbaum’s “morally sketchy charismatic” descriptor—which I’m taking out of context because I disagreed with her larger argument there!— to “bad boy” to the point where, on this show, I just use them interchangeably to avoid ranting about Good Girl/Bad Boy bullshit more than I already do.)  

Alicia squeezes Canning’s hand before she leaves, and then says, “Okay, I am going to get your money to that charity.” UM, ALICIA?????? DON’T YOU WANT TO CHECK WITH HIM FIRST? I know you’re trying to do something nice for him, but he might want to know what he’s giving eighteen million dollars to before the money’s given away…

Marissa takes Johnny to task for making decisions because they’re easy and benefit him: “You’re a real dirtbag, you know that?” Johnny then dismisses Marissa’s role in the campaign and snaps at her. Marissa doesn’t even flinch. She just says, “God, handsome men are so weak.” A+, Marissa!

Diane subpoenas Kurt. Only in that marriage would this happen. (That relationship must be VERY strong for Diane to be willing to subpoena her husband after he said he wouldn’t testify.) Kurt walks past Diane after court—there’s real tension here.  

Then Finn (not Diane!) and Kurt are in Kurt’s workshop/office, testing out more guns. I kept waiting for the moment when the writers would decide to work with one of the few things we know about Finn—which is that he was shot in 5x15 (this is 6x15!). That’s not to say that Finn would necessarily need to be on edge around guns as the result of that experience; maybe he’s fine around guns. But it feels like a wasted opportunity. A year, to the episode, after the shooting, and Finn’s around guns, and not a word, even though Finn’s rather underdeveloped as a character. A throwaway line, somewhere in this case, might’ve been nice. Even one where someone expected Finn to be uncomfortable and he was like, “Um, I’m fine?”

Alicia and Prady are in a make-up room together at the Black Business Leaders luncheon. Yet again, they get time to speak one on one. “I think our campaign managers think we’re running off together,” Prady jokes. Somehow I doubt Elfman thinks that, but I still laughed.

Alicia ignores a call from Eli: “I’m sick of phones. It’s always bad news.” I’d feel that way too after all the phone calls Alicia received last week!

“Whenever I think I’m certain about something, I’m always surprised,” Alicia tells Prady when he mentions that she’s comfortably ahead in the polls. God, that line sounds like classic Alicia.

Prady asks Alicia what she’d do differently. She says she’d be more honest, which is hilarious, given that last week she decided that honesty had its limits and that she was the better candidate because she was willing to lie (and decided Prady wasn’t willing to manipulate the truth at all).  Prady says he’d redo the debate, which is also hilarious, because even though I know Alicia was supposed to emerge from that victorious, I think of the debate as the episode The Debate, and I associate that episode with Alicia saying “pure meritocracy” and Prady making decent points. But yes, Prady, I would redo The Debate too. For different reasons.

Prady would also answer the “closeted charge.” He’s not gay, it turns out. He’s a Jesuit, and he doesn’t believe in divorce. So that’s why he’s been wearing his wedding ring all season!!! Prady didn’t say anything to explain himself because he didn’t want to lose the gay vote (and I guess this made him popular with the gay community, because wasn’t Alicia a gay icon at one point in season 3?) and it’d look weird for him to be serious about religion. In other words, all this time Alicia thought Prady was being completely open, he was manipulating the truth and crafting an image so well she didn’t even realize it. Before, she could write him off as naïve. Before, she could have Prady act idealistic to the exclusion of pragmatism. But now, she knows.

“You are… better than I am,” she sighs. Prady laughs, but Alicia says it’s true, “unfortunately.” I’d like to think she’s talking about Prady being a better candidate. It’s also possible she’s judging herself on things that are broader, like saying that Prady’s a better person than she is, that he’s been able to commit where she hasn’t, that he’s been able to respect the institution of marriage while she’s taking advantage of it (he wears his ring because he believes it; she wears hers because it’s her ticket to success). But I’m going to live in my happy land where Alicia’s saying, at least partially, it’s about Prady being a better candidate. Though I also like the idea that this line could be about Alicia regretting the political marriage. But now I’m a) rambling and b) attempting to interpret this scene to lend support to my biases, so, moving on…

I’m so glad they gave Alicia an opponent like Prady. I mean, we complain about the campaign storyline a lot now, but can you imagine how awful it’d be if she were up against a Kresteva-esque villain!? Prady’s awesome!

The most striking thing about this Alicia/Prady scene is how much of it is, literally, reflective. Alicia and Prady are both seated in front of mirrors, and we see their reflections as they’re… wait for it… reflecting on their campaigns.

SHOCKINGLY the thing with Canning’s charity might hurt Alicia politically. Shocking, I tell you.

Eli says Alicia’s being set up, and this is the moment where any appreciation I had for the Alicia/Canning stuff in this episode AND IN THE LAST EPISODE disappears. David Lee and Canning are working to set Alicia up? By hurting her campaign? Even with the lawsuit dangling, how does this help either of them? They want Alicia to lose? I suppose it’s sweet that David Lee wants to keep Alicia in the offices. Maybe he thinks Veronica will stop by to visit.

Canning and David Lee are the worst villains. I’m so sick of both of them.

Nervous, conflicted Johnny waits impatiently for Alicia to emerge from the dressing room. He tells her he’s changed his mind: “Go after Peter.” “Go after him?!” Alicia asks what changed; he says this is the smart thing to do. If you say so…

“Go after Peter. Kill him. No mercy,” Elfman advices. I’m curious to know how this turns out… Alicia smiles and says, “Okay.” Yet again, I’d like to see more reaction from her, but this does remind me of 6x11’s debate prep, where Alicia appreciates Johnny flattering her and validating her by telling her she’s doing great when she attacks Peter.

With about 7 minutes to go in the episode, Kalinda appears for the first time. She watches an online video, calls Kurt, and saves the day. Wow, what an effective use of a character.

Alicia is giving her speech; Eli’s watching it. He nearly chokes on his food when Alicia says she disagrees with her spouse. He phones Elfman; tells him he’s out of a job. But Elfman’s enjoying hearing Alicia trash Peter and the victory of knowing he did what he felt was right and smiles anyway.

I’m going to quote Alicia’s speech here: “The most insidious form of racism is unconscious and it exists in our legal system. My husband was a good State’s Attorney. But he made some mistakes. […] There’s the saying ‘racism without racist.’ I think this perfectly describes Cook County and the SA’s Office.”

This from the woman who three episodes ago was spouting nonsense about PURE MERITOCRACIES.

No, I will not let that go. But at least it seems Alicia has learned. Or maybe whoever wrote the speech she’s reading should be elected SA instead of Alicia.

The new settlement offer on the COTW is 5 million, but it’s from an undisclosed source.

Alicia goes to see Canning again. This time he’s awake and she asks him about the set up. He pretends he has no idea what she’s talking about. He says he was in a “fugue state” (I want to rewatch Breaking Bad now) and screams “where’s my money!?” Alicia leaves convinced he did try to trick her. Canning asks for his phone, and Alicia pushes it even further out of reach/sight, taunting him. Ha-ha. Show, don’t we have more important things to be doing?!

At night, Diane’s drinking in her office, her feet up, her heels off. Kurt drops by. Diane says she owes him an apology, apologizes, and hands him a drink. He says they need to go away together, tomorrow, for a three day hunting trip (aka the set up for 6x16!). Diane says sure. Awww. I love Diane and Kurt. I love that they understand each other, love each other, respect each other, and put effort into maintaining their relationship. They have ways of dealing with their ideological differences; they’re willing to compromise. They know when to admit they’re wrong and when to accept an apology. And they’re willing to try the things the other loves. In season 1, I never would’ve imagined that Diane would say, “Sure, let’s go,” when invited on a hunting trip. But here we are.

Alicia is in an elevator, so you know something’s about to happen. Johnny is in front of her door when she gets off of the elevator. They talk business for a little while, and then Johnny tries to work up the courage (he’s adorably awkward about this) to tell Alicia how he feels. “Um, listen… I’m not very… not very good at expressing my feelings, uh… so I don’t really like to…” (he can’t make eye contact) “Do you want to come inside?” Alicia asks, confidently (she’s already made up her mind about this).  “No, no, no. I just… I don’t know,” Johnny stammers. “You know what?” He says as he turns to leave. Then: “Oh, whatever.” And he grabs Alicia and kisses her. I’d have more thoughts on this if it hadn’t been in the promo. Since it was, I’m still waiting for the follow-up. I think Alicia and Johnny want different things from this relationship, but when the episode ends on the kiss, it’s hard to tell. 6x11 ended AFTER the kiss and was much easier to read as a result.

Hold on: Did Alicia say, on the evening of Friday March 6th, with the election being Saturday, March 7th, that they’ll know the election results in 48 hours? It’s comical how bad the timeline is. 

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x09-- Sticky Content

A man rambles for twenty seconds until it becomes clear what he’s doing: asking Alicia a question. A question which boils down to a lot of nonsense and “what do you do about everything?” Alicia looks perplexed for a few seconds, but then begins talking about the broken window theory (whyyyy) and how she “remembers a time when Chicago was different. When people helped each other. I remember being a little kid and playing out on the street, going trick-or-treating. I don’t think anyone would allow their child to do that...”

It’s a politician’s answer, but there’s something about Alicia’s delivery that makes it sound very rehearsed. Which it is, I’m sure. But it sounds more like she’s trying to remember her lines and sound sincere than like she’s actually being sincere. It’s her Politician Voice rather than the voice of a politician. She speaks in a rhythm almost inappropriate for the setting, as though she’s arguing in court—if she argued in court by speaking in clichés—rather than trying to connect with a voter. But maybe I’m reading too much into this, because the campaign staff thinks this is great material.

Also, let’s take a moment to note that there’s a flyer sitting next to Alicia as she’s speaking with a photo of her from 5x03. In this photo, she’s wearing the same red dress that becomes an issue later in this episode. So, while technically Alicia would’ve worn the dress first making it an issue for Prady’s mom, not for Alicia, she’d also be wearing it again, so... ALICIA FLORRICK, YOU ARE AN OUTFIT REPEATER!

This appearance, as it turns out, was filmed for a campaign video meant to introduce Alicia. We pick up in the editing room where Elfman, a social media specialist named Josh, and a third white man (just thought I’d point that out) are splicing together footage.  The editor inserts stock footage of cows as Alicia’s talking, and Josh screams, “When were there ever cows in Chicago?” at him. Heh. He’s pretty irritated already. I wouldn’t want to work with him. Just sayin’.

They play a rough cut (terminology?) of the ad. Alicia’s voice plays over gloriously cheesy stock footage of happy little children. (As I said before, I get the feeling that Alicia’s voice is supposed to fit the ad. IMO, it sounds odd.) Then they start adding sappy music... A clip of a woman sneaking up on Alicia and hugging her, which makes Alicia startled and uncomfortable (PERSONAL SPACE) before she smiles. They take some footage out of context, splice Peter in saying that Alicia cares (she does?)...

Throughout all of this, we’re jumping around between filming, the draft of the ad, and the editing room. Speaking of editing: I like this editing.

Next up in the ad is the courtroom shooting. Funny how a tragic moment of great drama can be repackaged as something so cheesy and melodramatic it’s actually a punchline within that same drama. Also, this dude at the computer is really awful at understanding what Josh is saying, so I think I’m starting to understand his frustration.

Now Finn’s being interviewed about the shooting. I thought the writers were going to go all 6x05 on us again and force Finn into plots where he doesn’t belong and was prepared to be angry, but this is fine. Sad music plays as Finn tells the story; a picture of Will fades to black and white on screen as Finn talks. Oh my God. It’s so horrible. And then Alicia’s there, in the editing room, watching, appalled at the way something that hurt her so deeply can be repackaged for an ad. Marissa—HIIII, MARISSA— thinks the ad’s bullshit, too.

The shooting is “part of Alicia’s story.” Yes, yes it is. But oh, how she wishes it were only a part of her private story, not the narrative she’s spinning for the public.

“It’s so corny, with the boo-hoo-hoo music,” Marissa comments even after she’s asked to be quiet. I’m with you, Marissa. If I’m a voter, I look at this and go, “Wow, could that ad be a little more manipulative?” On the other hand, I probably would also remember the story because it’s quite dramatic. This all got me curious about the effectiveness of political campaign ads and I spent a considerable amount of time after the episode trying to find studies on the effectiveness of campaign ads and negative campaign ads. Frustratingly, the results seemed to be inconclusive and mostly outdated—maybe I was just looking in the wrong places—and it seemed like if I wanted to, I’d be able to find studies showing that campaign ads have no effects, that campaign ads can wind up hurting the candidate they’re trying to support, and that campaign ads can serve their purpose well. So I still have no idea if I should say, “YES, EXACTLY!” to Marissa’s points or say, “Yes, exactly, but it’s still going to work.”

Alicia wants to use the scandal narrative, not the tragedy narrative. She’s comfortable playing Saint Alicia to the point where she even suggests using that image. But that won’t go viral or explain why she’s running.   

Oh, also, I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I don’t like the idea that Jeffery Grant is being held up as the problem with violent crime in Chicago. I know an attractive rich white boy shooting a successful lawyer and a witness is an attention grabbling story, and it’s certainly a valid reason for Alicia to run, but please, show, make an attempt to situate yourself in actual Chicago and focus on the larger, ridiculously underreported problem.

OTOH, maybe it’s just part of the cynicism of the show that this is what sells. 

Alicia also has to do a joint interview with Peter. You know, to shut down questions about the state of their marriage. Why would anyone ever wonder about that?

Diane phones Alicia to say that a meeting re: Cary is about to begin, but Alicia can’t make it. Alicia not being involved in anything related to office politics? Shocking.

This sequence about editing and image construction, which spends a considerable amount of time on the process even as things move at super-speed, takes about five minutes. That’s pretty long for a scene on this show. It’s not surprising, though, because if there’s any show that would decide it was worth five minutes of screentime to showing how someone’s public image is crafted, it’d be TGW.

Diane and Cary are meeting with an FBI agent, who wants Cary to testify against Bishop as part of an ongoing federal investigation. (This is a somewhat similar situation to Will’s position during last season’s vote rigging arc, except for that Cary’s at risk of losing much more than his clients if he testifies.)

The FBI agent calls—who else?—Lana in to play a tape for Cary. Lana says they’ve had dealings before, but I can’t recall a moment when Lana and Cary met, unless we’re meant to believe they met off-screen during Running. I know why Cary recognizes Lana, but I’m not sure why Lana recognizes Cary, if she recognizes Cary. Perhaps she’s just confused by the death glares he’s giving her.

The tape Lana brings in is a wiretap of Bishop plotting to have Cary murdered. It contains the line, “He’s a white lawyer. People take notice. He can’t just disappear.” God, how sadly true is that? I mean, it’s not sad that people would notice—what’s sad is the implication that if he weren’t white (and/or a lawyer?) he could just disappear.

The FBI isn’t planning to use this tape to arrest Bishop because it’s not enough to do anything other than make Cary worry, and between his suspicion that the tape is fake and his anger that Lana’s the one playing it for him, Cary refuses to take their offer seriously. When Lana pleads with him to takes this more seriously, he, instead of addressing her directly, tells her supervisor the following:

“A little hint next time you do this: don’t have the woman who’s sleeping with my girlfriend break it to me.”

Lana looks absolutely petrified. I would imagine she’s still in the closet at work—unless things have changed since that scene where Kalinda threated to get affectionate in the FBI cafeteria—and now she’s being outed, at work, while she’s trying to do her job. This isn’t to say that Lana can do no wrong—of course she can. She shouldn’t be sleeping with Kalinda while pursuing this investigation. But Cary here, spitefully, with the intention of embarrassing Lana and ignoring her presence by talking over her rather than to her, is wholly in the wrong. Once again, I’d like to point out the difference between “understandable” and “justified.” What Cary does here is understandable—he’s spiraling out of control, feels like he’s losing everything (and losing Kalinda to Lana, specifically), isn’t thinking rationally, and has just heard a drug lord giving instructions to murder him within the week. But it’s not justified.

The even bigger issue with this sentence might be Cary’s reference to Kalinda as his “girlfriend.” Kalinda is no such thing. Kalinda is not even an ex-girlfriend, no matter how Cary may have fantasized about that relationship going. She is a woman he was in a sexual relationship with, a woman who specifically and repeatedly told him they weren’t exclusive and she wasn’t committed to him. Cary does not have the right to claim Kalinda as his. Do I understand Cary being jealous/upset at Lana’s presence here? OF COURSE. Do I think it’s okay for Cary to act so possessive of a woman who does not want to be possessed, who never wanted to be anyone’s girlfriend? Not at all. If Cary was looking for commitment from Kalinda, after a certain amount of time passed, he should’ve realized she wasn’t going to change and left the relationship to find someone who wanted what he wanted. He was never going to “change” Kalinda.

But, again, I understand why he kept holding out hope, especially after his arrest. I understand why he thought that her concern for him might indicate she wants something more and that walking away is easier said than done. This thin line between understandable and justified always gets to me. I don’t want to say he should’ve done something different, except for that I do want to say that, objectively, he didn’t make good choices. And then that leaves me all conflicted! I’ll move on before I end up talking in circles.

Outside in the hallway, Cary tells Diane he’s sure the wiretap is a fake. She “shhh”s him, gloriously, because Diane Lockhart is a wonderful human being. (Hey, writers, I like a lot of what you’re doing this season and don’t want more subplots, but could you possibly work on giving Diane some more material? For example, office politics at F/A/L?) Diane tells Cary to take the threat seriously, which means that Kalinda’s now tasked with finding out if the tape is authentic. This is so important that Kalinda is to hand her ongoing cases to Robyn.

Robyn exists, you guys. Robyn still works at F/A/L. DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS???????????

Kalinda suggests—demands, more like—that the firm hire Cary a bodyguard. Diane puts Kalinda in charge of that, too. Of finding Cary a bodyguard. Not of being a body guard, obviously. She can’t be within 30 feet of him.

The other character Kalinda can’t be within 30 feet of comes on screen next: Alicia. Prady is waiting in L/G... F/A/L’s reception area. He’s not supposed to be there and she’s not supposed to be talking to him, so she’s highly suspicious. Prady brings with him a sealed shoebox full of oppo research collected by Castro. Wow, Castro’s a great guy, isn’t he? Wanting so badly to destroy Alicia’s life that he goes to Prady—the one who actually made the race unwinnable for Castro—with a shoebox of secrets.

Prady is wearing a wedding ring, which is a bit odd since he’s divorced, isn’t it?

Prady says he hasn’t opened the box yet, which I’m inclined to believe because Prady does actually seem like a genuinely good person who’s taking active, calculated, steps to achieve his clearly determined goals. (Hey, look, I just described a bunch of qualities I’d love to see in an elected official.) Alicia’s suspicious because it seems like a strange offer—either a trick to keep her from going negative or a front to cover up information he planned to use that wasn’t in the box. She’s not wrong to be suspicious—I think most people in her position would be—but as the conversation progresses, it becomes clearer and clearer that Prady isn’t going to Kresteva her.

Prady gives Alicia his private phone number, and leaves saying, “You’re not my enemy, Alicia.”

“I know. I’m your opponent,” Alicia replies. If there’s a thesis statement for this race, in terms of what the writers are trying to do with Prady’s characterization, it’s this. In the past, the political opponents have been enemies. They’ve been crafty, grudge-holding, and manipulative, and a few have been truly awful people. They were all easy to root against—well, except Maddie, but that’s because her plot is a disastrous mess and you can read it a lot of different ways; my personal read is that she’s eeeevil. But Prady? At this point, I would vote for Prady over Alicia, and Alicia’s my favorite character of all time.

Cary stands in an elevator—you know it’s an episode written by the Kings when there are elevators everywhere—and imagines Bishop’s plans to have him murdered. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how elevators on this show are used either to force conversation (or call attention to the stiffness of a conversationless group) or to force introspection? There’s something about that space that’s inherently provocative, whether characters are alone or in a group.

Rattled, Cary looks around his hallway slowly, making sure no one’s hiding in stairwells or closets. A building where apartments cost $4,000 a month has never looked worse. He sees a light on under his door and then his phone rings—Kalinda’s inside. She’s not supposed to be there—as Cary reminds her. But she needs to be there to introduce Cary to his new bodyguard, a huge former football player Cary recognizes instantly.  Cary thanks Kalinda for finding the bodyguard and for putting effort into protecting him.

See? See, Cary? Commitment for Kalinda isn’t about sexual fidelity. It’s about this fierce protectiveness and dedication.  She doesn’t need to be your girlfriend to care deeply about you, and if that’s not good enough for you, don’t try to put her in a box. What I’m saying here is unclear, but I’ll revisit it when I get to Lana in a few scenes.

At home, Alicia pours herself a glass of wine as she stares at the Shoebox of Secrets. A moment later, we’ve entered into one of TGW’s favorite storytelling tricks: the montage sequence of household chores as a representation of anxiety or boredom. Alicia is now watching some dreadful TV program about the “Gorilla Boy” (his pain is your pain) while staring at the box on the dining room table. This “Gorilla Boy” show is a callback to season 1, during the sequence in Bang where Peter doesn’t know what to do with his life now that he’s on house arrest, right before he calls his team together to get to work on his reelection campaign. When the writers pointed out on Twitter that they’d used the footage before, I figured that meant there had to be some significance here, so I asked... and they answered! The writers said that they “wanted to make the intuitive connection to Peter, and felt it’s fun to keep checking in on people: even people who have a tangential existence in the show.” I like that answer, though considering I know this show inside and out and I mistakenly attributed “Gorilla Boy” to the sequence in What Went Wrong before Alicia meets Owen at the bar, I’m not sure how well that worked out for them. It’s actually quite clever, though: the meeting Peter calls immediately after the “Gorilla Boy” intro plays is the one Zach interrupts with the iPod Nano photo of the FBI agent at their door. Oppo research on the iPod; oppo research in the shoebox. First Peter, now Alicia. And Gorilla Boy remains. Or... something. It sounds more profound when the writers discuss it in a hundred and forty characters.

Next, presumably a few hours later, Alicia’s in her pajamas putting on some hand lotion when she jumps off her bed and rips the shoebox open. I love the idea that Alicia carried that box around with her from room to room, trying to decide when she wanted to open it or if she wanted to open it, and then just sprung out of bed and ripped it open once she couldn’t wait any longer/made up her mind.

Alicia takes a deep breath, visibly nervous, and opens the first envelope. It’s that damn picture of Finn leaving her apartment. Again. She rolls her eyes at that one, knowing that it’s perfectly innocent and marveling at how this has somehow come to constitute a threat because of what it can be made to look like. Next up is the picture of her and Will at the hotel counter—the one from Stripped—which Alicia takes a short moment to smile at. But the next thing in the box is new to her, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s a photo of Peter and Ramona, talking animatedly over dinner. The next photo looks even more intimate, and the photos get progressively more and more damning. Alicia looks horrified. Dinner, shirtless Peter, Ramona leaving Peter’s building. Alicia breathes heavily as she tries to process this.

With a determined look on her face, like she’s about to start lecturing someone sternly, Alicia picks up her phone and phones Peter. He can tell from the tone of her voice that’s something’s up—“What’s wrong?” he says. That’s when she backs down and decides to go a different route (he’s not allowed to read her so well; not allowed to know that this upset her). After a long pause, Alicia finally fills in the blank with the joint interview question. She stares dead-eyed into space as Peter finds time in his schedule. Her blank expression turns to slight sadness, and she looks back at the photo of Ramona. Aaaand, title credits.

Alicia is the one who asked for an open marriage, who told Peter to sleep with whomever he wanted. Yet she’s also the one who didn’t realize what that meant. As easy as it would be to say that Alicia’s just upset here because Peter got caught, nothing about her body language or behavior indicates that her reaction is purely about the way this looks. The photo doesn’t just startle her; it enrages her. She needs more, more, more of the story to confirm what she’s seeing. If it were about fact-finding, she’d be methodical. If it were about Peter getting caught, she’d give him a heads-up right away, not wait until he couldn’t detect her anger. If it were about Peter getting caught, she wouldn’t look back at the photo of Ramona because it already would’ve served its purpose. I’m not saying Alicia shouldn’t care or wouldn’t care; I’m saying that Alicia should’ve thought this arrangement through before she asked for it. I’m sure she expected Peter to have casual sex with vapid young women she could roll her eyes at as she pushed Peter out of her life and into the “he’s cheating scum” box. She didn’t expect him to get into a relationship that involved conversation in addition to sex, she didn’t expect him to date (she didn’t expect to ever use the word “date”) an age-appropriate woman, and she didn’t expect him to date a woman she knows and respects. “Whomever you want” doesn’t sound so great when you realize you’re no longer the thing that, at the end of the day, he wants for the long-term. Alicia’s not used to a Peter who’s not trying to win her back.

The next act opens with a negative ad attacking Prady, and you wanna hear something scary? I switched over to a different tab during the ads on the CBS site’s player, and I’m so used to hearing the terrible negative campaign ads for actual campaigns that it wasn’t until I heard Alicia’s voice I realized I’d accidentally tuned out a part of the episode.

This ad is something else, and it’s... well, actually, not that unlike some of the attack ads I’ve seen for actual campaigns. See above.  I think that’s scarier than Pradysaur himself. A bunch of people look up in terror after loud stomping interrupts their blissful day at the park and see Prady’s face, digitally imposed onto a dinosaur. He is a DINO, the ad claims as it plays footage of Prady agreeing with Republican stances on certain positions—a Democrat In Name Only. Alicia’s look stunned look of confusion mixed with “you have got to be fucking kidding me” is the best way to sum up this ad. Marissa cracks up.

Elfman explains: Prady used to be a Republican and he switched parties. Alicia—oh, how I love Julianna’s delivery of this line, just goes, “Yeah. But a dinosaur?” pointing at the screen. This all makes Marissa laugh even more.

Josh puts this ad on Alicia: she wouldn’t let them talk about the courtroom shooting, which would go viral, so now... Pradysaur.

Pradysaur is also implied to be gay, which Alicia picks up on right away. Oh, my God. The look on her face. She’s appalled that they’re serious about using this.

Alicia wants to talk to Elfman about this, so Marissa and Josh leave the room. “I’ll get you some milk,” Marissa tells Alicia. “I don’t need milk,” Alicia snaps in frustration. What’s with the milk, Marissa? First in 6x06, now this. Are you trying to get A/K in the same room again? Do you have a plan? Please, Marissa, you might be our only hope!

With Josh and Marissa out of the room, Alicia presents Elfman with the Shoebox of Secrets. Elfman says Prady giving her the shoebox means he’s scared. Alicia says, “No, I think he’s trying to do the right thing.” Took her a little while to pick up on Prady’s sincerity, but I’m glad she’s recognized it now.

Alicia lies and says she didn’t look in the box, which is when Elfman tells her that whatever the real threat is won’t be in the box. Then Elfman asks about the dinosaur ad, which gets this wonderful response from Alicia: “Oh, come on. It’s stupid.” Yes. Yes it is.

Elfman argues that it’s “sticky” (as in, Sticky Content, as in, the episode’s title, as in, the crafting of an image to stick in one’s mind... and the images of Peter and Ramona that get stuck in Alicia’s mind) and people will remember it, which prompts yet another great Alicia line, which would sound even better without any context.

“I don’t want to be remembered for a closeted dinosaur.”

Elfman asks to keep the shoebox, but Alicia takes it with her. Of course she does. She still needs those Peter and Ramona photos!

Another use of elevators: showing space and how people/objects relate to each other in space. For example: tiny Cary and giant bodyguard together in the L/G... F/A/L... elevator.

No, I’m not doing the L/G thing to prove a point. I just keep writing L/G, and I’ve decided that every time I accidentally write it, I’m going to keep it in so I can see just how long it takes me to remember that it’s F/A/L now.

For whatever reason, Bishop is in the F/A/L lobby, and he spots Cary with the bodyguard. Whoops. That is not good. Always about appearances on this show. Cary appears scared.

I’d say “most awkward elevator lobby scene ever” when Diane—who’s ridiculously underused in this episode—walks in, except for that The Dream Team exists and nothing can ever top that. IT’S A SURPRISE PARTY FOR YOU.

“He saw I was worried about him; he’ll think I flipped.” Yep. Carter, the bodyguard, is pretty sticky content.

Kalinda is at Lana’s while this exchange is happening, and Kalinda asks Lana for the original of the wiretap so she can verify its authenticity. Lana seems calmer than I’d expect her to be given the circumstances, but I think she’s in more trouble than she’s letting on.

Alicia goes to meet Prady in a park. But before I get into that, can I just ask why a terrible version of the season 2 wig has appeared on Alicia’s head for this scene? Her hair is all over the place in this episode. But I haven’t seen that center part in years.

Prady says that his campaign wants to go negative; wants to use Alicia’s affair with Will against her. “I’m not a martyr,” Prady explains. “I just think I can win a fair fight. So I want it to be fair.” He and Alicia are of like minds, it seems. Alicia hands him a business card with her personal phone number written on it—which means she went into this meeting with the intention of reaching an agreement with Prady.

Prady picks up her business card in such a manner that his thumb covers the middle of the phone number, the part that, because it’s a TV show, would have to be 555. I bet there is a note in the script instructing him to do this, complete with a little dig at how annoying the 555 thing is. And by “in the script” I mean “a note from the Kings” rather than just “a note from the director.”

Alicia next heads to the studio, where she sees none other than Ramona, talking on the phone. Elfman tries to talk to Alicia, to tell her all about how the interview needs to radiate comfort and affection, with lots of physical contact. Alicia’s not even making eye contact with Elfman throughout this. She’s too busy sizing up Ramona and figuring out how to navigate this situation. Yep, it’s all about the politics; she doesn’t care at all who Peter’s sleeping with! (Again: not saying it’s bad that she’s suspicious; saying that the open marriage thing is still total nonsense.)

Ramona calls Alicia over and initiates a friendly conversation. Alicia’s... on the attack, looking for little ways to pry and get in some digs Ramona won’t even notice. She asks how Ramona likes working with Peter. Ramona says it’s challenging. “Yeah. A lot of late nights,” Alicia empathizes.

PARALLEL ALERT. 3x01. “Diane thinks I’m going too hard on you. Am I? Going too hard? All those late nights...”

Alicia’s fake smile is deliciously strained. Also, Ramona is shockingly friendly and guilt-free for someone sleeping with Alicia’s husband. I would guess that Peter told her the open marriage was Alicia’s idea and she was able to justify it.

Peter arrives, and Alicia’s the only one aware of the tension, even though all three parties are aware of the situation. Awkward.

Cut to Alicia and Peter, on the sofa together, waiting for the cameras to start rolling. Alicia’s turned away from Peter. She tries not to let on that she’s friggin’ pissed when Ramona whispers some “legal advice” in Peter’s ear.

The sound guys need to get a level for the interview, so Peter and Alicia both have to talk. Peter uses the opportunity to make a joke—of course he does. He’s naturally charismatic and used to this. It wouldn’t occur to him to do anything other than make a joke. Alicia, on the other hand, who’s both a by-the-book sort of person and in a bad mood, gives the standard, “FIVE FOUR THREE TWO ONE” test. Only she delivers it loudly, angrily, and quickly.

First question: how long have Alicia and the Governor been married. (Funny to me that it’s not Mrs. Florrick and Governor Florrick.) Twenty years. Damn. “Twenty years of married bliss,” Alicia says, placing her hand on Peter’s at exactly the right moment for the camera.

Second question: how did Alicia and Peter first meet? Alicia puts on a little bit of a familiar, flirty act that seems fake to me—because it is fake—but like a close imitation of how she gets when she does fall back into that rhythm with Peter.  It turns out that they met at a party “in Georgetown” (headcanon: destroyed. But at least the writers confirmed that Peter is a few years older on Twitter.) Alicia tells this story with every beat of it down pat. Probably because she’s told it in complete sincerity so many times. That’s what makes this scene really resonate—not the story, but the way Alicia’s simultaneously putting on a show, remembering that she likes this story, acting less and less as she and Peter talk more and more. Ramona notices and glances away for a moment as though she’s intruding and doesn’t quite believe this is as much about show as she initially thought. 

After the party, Peter offered to take Alicia home. It was raining, he covered her with his jacket; she kept it. They ran into a bus stop and he put his arm around her. Awww. I would say this sounds like a bad fanfic except for this basically happened to me a few weeks ago, so I can’t exactly say it’s something that could never happen. My version of the story is far less romantic because it’s just “boy who was walking to same place as I was after late night class had umbrella when I didn’t and let me share it” with no one giving anyone jackets or putting arms around each other and no romance whatsoever, but I had the distinct sense I was living a romcom movie when I ran into my cousin, who probably saw me and a guy sharing an umbrella and laughing and formed an impression very different from reality of what was going on. BUT I DIGRESS.

“I don’t think I had ever had a happier moment in my life,” Alicia reflects wistfully. It’s somehow genuine, feigned, and accusatory all at once. (‘Cause Julianna can do things like that with her face.) I’ve no doubt it’s the truth, and that’s what enables it to have this triple meaning. “Look how great we are,” says Alicia Florrick, candidate. “Look how great we were before you did this to me,” says Alicia to her husband. “I used to be so happy,” Alicia realizes.

PARALLEL ALERT. “I don’t think I had ever had a happier moment in my life” here || “This is the happiest I’ve ever been” in Will’s decision tree. In both of these moments, the statement is unreliable. In The Decision Tree, it’s a romanticized flashback from someone else’s point of view, used as proof of love. In Sticky Content, it’s given as proof of love to a mass audience. In both cases, the happiness is fleeting; the circumstances tinged with fantasy. Will and Alicia make love on a hotel balcony with a stunning view of New York City, away from all responsibilities and familiar faces. Peter and Alicia have a meet-cute sort of story involving a conveniently timed rainstorm they took shelter from together. It seems pointless to me to try to tease out which moment is happier—the one that happens later in Alicia’s life but seems hyperbolic (I guarantee you the happiest Alicia’s ever been is with her children. Guarantee) and is told from someone else’s point of view or the one where her happiness is that of a young student living out a romcom trope at the start of a relationship. What matters to me here is that the writers allow Alicia to experience genuine happiness within both of her serious romantic relationships, not in a sense that pits one against the other but in a sense that refuses to allow one to be more meaningful than the other.

The interview moves steadily along to the topic of the kids—Zach is at Georgetown; Grace is a straight-A student and Alicia glares subtly at Ramona, distracted.

Cut to Alicia in the F/A/L elevator, which has never looked larger. She stands directly in the middle of the elevator, reflecting. She takes the demo tape Ramona gave her—Ramona plays the drums, apparently—out of her purse and stares at it. FIFTH WHEEL, it reads. Anyone have a clue what that means? To me, it instantly calls to mind “third wheel,” which would resonate for Alicia at the moment for obvious reasons.

Alicia walks down a flight of stairs that we’ve never seen before—they’re at L/G... F/A/L.... but they have exposed brick walls and Cary’s posters of the Blue Line stops are, for some reason, down on the twenty-seventh floor rather than in his office. Why?

Alicia then walks into Finn’s office. He’s not in. She walks around, looks at his diplomas and his things. Also, um, can someone explain to me why Finn has a framed portrait of himself on his desk? Maybe he does spend a lot of time thinking about himself. Nah, my guess is that he has a framed portrait from the SA’s office that he brought with him along with his diplomas and hasn’t bothered to put away yet.

Finn, carrying a cup of coffee between his teeth, walks into his office, surprised to see Alicia there. “Sorry. I thought you’d gone,” Alicia says. Finn senses that something’s off (just as Peter does earlier, but Alicia doesn’t seem annoyed that Finn can read her). Alicia lies and says she’s there to see how Finn’s doing. He clears room on his couch for her—PARALLEL ALERT, 1x17, Alicia clearing space on her couch for Will—and begins to talk about the details of his day as they sit. Alicia stares awkwardly at Finn. “Did you want to talk?” he asks, pushing Alicia to talk about her day rather than letting the awkwardness rest. “No, I don’t,” she replies. Aww, you need someone to talk to, and I’m so happy you have someone who wants to get you to talk in your life. Honestly, rewatching this, I’m totally amazed by how comfortable Finn is with Alicia’s silences. He doesn’t push too hard but he encourages her to keep talking and lets her know he’s receptive to whatever she wants to say; he doesn’t add to her stress by being rude, awkward, or aggressive in return.  Instead, he reads the signs she’s giving off and responds accordingly. There’s a level on which he already understands how she works.

“Uh, this was stupid. It was good seeing you,” Alicia says as she gets up to leave. “What was stupid?” Finn stops her. “I don’t know. Just even being,” Alicia replies. “Hey,” Finn says, putting his hand on Alicia’s. She stares at their hands, surprised by how she feels when he touches her.

Before anything else can happen, a man and a woman walk by and Finn takes his hand off of Alicia’s. That visual? It’s sticky content. “My cellmates,” Finn jokes as Alicia scurries out of his office nodding a quick “mmhmm” to his joke. He doesn’t go after her.

So, let’s talk Heart. Parallels galore, amirite? Contrasts may be the more accurate term to use here, actually. These aren’t so much parallels as they are role reversals that call attention to shifts in dynamics, differences between season one Alicia and season six Alicia, and the differences in distribution and use of power among the characters. But before I even start, let me note that this is Finn’s seventeenth episode and Heart is the seventeenth episode of the series. The first parallel is the set-up: Alicia’s dealings in one relationship spur her to take actions in another. In Heart, that’s Alicia and Will’s kiss making Alicia realize all over again that she’s a sexual being, which leads to her sex scene with Peter. Here, it’s Alicia’s interview with Peter forcing her to confront the reality that he’s moved on while she hasn’t, and realizing she might be more upset about this than she thought she’d be. The second parallel is the setting: late night, workplace, a hint of you-shouldn’t-really-be-here-even-though-it’s-entirely-appropriate-for-you-to-be-here.  Though, noticeably, in both scenes, Alicia is the one who’s in someone else’s space. The third is the sofa—Finn clears his for Alicia; Alicia clears hers for Will. The fourth is the entire power structure: Alicia, now in Will’s office—though this scene takes place in Finn’s office—holds most of it. She, like Will was in Heart, is the authority figure (landlord and hugely successful lawyer rather than boss) in need of comfort. Finn is the one making room on the couch and trying to assess the situation, waiting for Alicia to make the first real move.

Look at Alicia in Heart—the Alicia we see immediately after the kiss is nervous, just like the Alicia here. But the Alicia in the rest of that episode, in the rest of season one, often carries herself like she feels inferior to everyone around her, like she’s afraid the world’s going to fall out from underneath her at every step. She does this especially around Will. She’s nervous and terrified—it’s almost painful to watch her squirm, be unable to put things in perspective, let her worries get the best of her, and whisper, “please don’t end up hating me” to Will as he stares at her with puppy eyes. That Alicia is not the Alicia in Sticky Content. The Alicia in Sticky Content still has a lot in common with Heart’s Alicia, like fear of being impulsive, difficulty talking about her emotions, and anxiety about saying the wrong thing. But all in all, she’s more confident, able to handle tough situations with more dexterity, and sure of where she stands.  She is Alicia, plus five years of development. She’s so far from her original position that she assumes the Will role in these scenes with Finn, even though, personality-wise, she still has much more in common with her past self than she ever will with Will. As I said, it’s about contrasts, not repetition.

The next parallel is that the first to make physical contact is the “inferior” figure, though Finn and Alicia are more evenly matched than Alicia and Will were, in terms of rank. Alicia in Heart puts her hand on Will’s shoulder; Finn in Sticky Content puts his hand on Alicia’s hand (which, of course, also parallels the scene moments earlier where Alicia makes a show of putting her hand on Peter’s). And, of course, there’s the moment Where Something (almost) Happens, followed by Alicia making a quick exit. In Heart, there’s a kiss—damn, what a kiss— and then a walk out the door, but in Sticky Content, there’s nothing but the walk.

Which brings me to my next point: as important as it is to look at what it says about the Alicia/Will and Alicia/Finn relationships—and Alicia herself—that these two scenes are such a direct contrast in their similarities, it’s also important to look at the differences. Notably, there is no kiss between Alicia and Finn. Alicia may have inherited Will’s office and his status, but she does not seem to have taken any of his impulsivity. It’s always a possibility next week’s episode will undermine this, but if Alicia’s not going to make a move at a moment where she’s feeling sad, angry, and excluded, will she ever? (Just because I said this I bet they’re going to kiss next week.) She was in the position to be the one to initiate something; she chose not to. She elected to not use her power. Alicia has not become Will. She is still Alicia. She is still the one that leaves in a rush. All of her relationships still have individual characteristics and tones. Alicia’s relationship with Finn is not her relationship with Will, nor is it what her relationship with Will was at any point in her life. The landlord/tenant dynamic is hardly even comparable to boss/employee. There is no history between Alicia and Finn; no idealized notions of romance consuming either party. Finn is not season one Alicia, even though both would easily be labeled “good”—he’s more comfortable in his own skin, he has a clear sense of his identity, much more experience practicing law, and different views on life.

The kiss—which only could’ve taken place within the context of the A/W dynamic, not the A/F dynamic— isn’t all that’s missing. The entire chase is missing. No one phones anyone. Finn doesn’t even get up off the couch or call after Alicia; Will waits a bit but goes to her office to check up on her. Alicia doesn’t go back to Finn’s office. We don’t spend time watching where Alicia goes immediately after the scene in Sticky Content, but we follow her all the way home to the maid’s room with Peter in Heart. There are no missed connections. There’s no bad timing, except that it’s a bad time to be having these feelings while you’re running for office as someone else’s Good Wife. There’s no drama. There’s just a moment in which something almost happened but nothing did. It couldn’t be more different from Heart.

The tl;dr version: The parallels and contrasts between Sticky Content and Heart emphasize the differences, not the similarities, between Alicia/Finn and Alicia/Will. They’re about breaking from the past far more than they are about repeating it. They’re about characters—specifically, about a character, about ALICIA and how she’s changed and how she responds to being the one with the power and how she navigates tricky interpersonal situations.

Lana brings Kalinda the wiretap recording. “I want you to take this more seriously,” she declares.  Kalinda thinks she’s talking about the tap. “No, you. I want you to take me more seriously,” Lana clarifies. “If this is just nothing to you, then don’t come by here tonight, ok? There are other people that I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

Here’s where I want to talk about Kalinda and Cary, Kalinda and Lana, and commitment. This is the second time in two episodes Kalinda’s been asked by a long term sexual partner to commit, and Cary and Lana bring up the topic differently. Cary says he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, basically saying he’s fallen for a woman who told him she never wanted a relationship. And that is fine, because emotions are hard to control and Cary’s in a downward spiral for a lot of reasons. Lana, on the other hand, makes it clear that she wants something out of this relationship that’s different from what Kalinda’s giving, and indicates that she will explore other options, options that include the type of commitment she wants. (Which sounds fair to me—if you’re not happy with a relationship, why not leave it to pursue other relationships?) Both approaches put Kalinda in a similar position where she has to think about her future and what it would mean to be in a committed relationship. What does Kalinda in a committed relationship look like? Has she changed since Donna? And how did we get to this point with Lana? I still feel like this Lana is a bit of a re-write of the old Lana.

Peter and Alicia appear together at an event—which I’m guessing was supposed to get more screentime because there are still pictures of them on stage together, and that’s not in the episode—and then rush into a town car together. Peter tries to talk politics. Alicia replies with, “You need to stop sleeping with her.” He stares at her. “I’m not saying that because I’m jealous,” she continues. “I’m not saying that because our agreement is void. I’m saying that because you’ve been seen.” Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if any of that were true? It isn’t untrue, because there is a level on which this is a political problem, and Peter getting caught up in another scandal wouldn’t do Alicia any good in her campaign.

Peter plays innocent, acting like he doesn’t know who Alicia’s talking about. So she takes out the photos. He only sees the picture at the dinner table and explains he had dinner with her, once. Peter says something about “your photographer,” implying that Alicia had the pictures taken. Which is probably a fair inference to make, considering Alicia provided no context for the photos, has them in her hand, and doesn’t seem, at this point, concerned about these photos leaking as much as preventing future activity.

“Were you sleeping with her in Highland Park?” Alicia asks, out of the blue. “I’m not sleeping with her now,” Peter replies. Huh. Why lie? I think Peter can sense that admitting it would make the situation worse, but why does he let Alicia believe that he was with Ramona in Highland Park? I don’t think he was, because if he was, and Alicia suspected it, there’s no way she would’ve acted the way she did around Ramona in Message Discipline. There’s no way it would’ve slipped her mind when Ramona got divorced. I think Peter’s been down this road one too many times before—Alicia’s paranoia; her assumptions that he was sleeping with every woman he came in contact with—and refused to even address it. But his words here end up implying that he was having an affair with Ramona in Highland Park while Alicia was pregnant with Grace. I still stand by my interpretation that most of what he’s saying here is: I’m over it. We’re not doing this again.

And then Alicia gets angry. She takes issue with Peter thinking she’s having him followed—“you think I give a crap, enough to follow you?”  She tells him the photos came from another campaign and are going to be used. “And I won’t stand beside you. Not again, Peter. Not in a million years. So. Don’t listen to me. Keep lying to me, I don’t care. But do listen to your political instincts. You want to be reelected. You want me to be elected. Then zip up your pants, shut your mouth, and stop banging the help.”

A lot to unpack here. First, as in most Alicia/Peter fights, the pain Alicia still feels because of the scandal comes back to the surface. She’s telling herself she won’t stand by Peter and put herself through that again every bit as much as she’s giving Peter an ultimatum. The thought of another scandal terrifies her—even though another scandal is the inevitable outcome of the open marriage she suggested. Second, she tries to distance herself from the emotions. “Keep lying to me, I don’t care,” she says angrily, seconds after going out of her way to bring up something from the past. Third, she tells Peter this is simply an issue of politics. If it were, would she be talking in this tone? Alicia is usually pragmatic and calm. Why isn’t she calm here, if this is just about Peter needing to listen to his political instincts? Peter is calm. Alicia is furious.

The bit of dialogue that’s most revealing is the “banging the help,” line, which is a fantastically written and delivered line. But just look at it! It’s so condescending. It diminishes Ramona in order to elevate Alicia. Ramona is not someone Peter is taking advantage of or looks down on. She was a peer first, an employee second. She’s not a low-level employee, an intern, or anything like that. She is Peter’s legal advisor. She is the governor’s legal advisor. You have to work hard to make that sound like a maid’s job. And why does Alicia even go there? Is the issue that it looks like he’s cheating or that it looks like he’s cheating with Ramona? Why is there an attempt to depersonalize, devalue, and demean Ramona included in here? Even the use of the word “banging,” Alicia’s substitute for “fucking,” is the word she uses when she wants to make it clear she views a sexual relationship as absolutely nothing more than sex. Yet, Peter appears to be dating Ramona, talking with her and maintaining a relationship with her. Alicia wishes he were just banging the help.

Presumably right after the event, Alicia’s back in the video studio, though she’s changed clothes so I’m not sure what the timeline is supposed to be here. Elfman tells her they’re going to have to use the courthouse shooting in the ad, to which a very determined Alicia says, “Use it. I’m ready.” Josh is surprised by Alicia’s willingness to go along, and compliments her hairstyle. “I [like it] too,” Alicia says quickly as she insists they get the cameras rolling ASAP.

Alicia wears a red dress, the one she’s wearing in 5x03 for family portraits, the one she’s wearing on the PAC website in 6x04, and sits in a chair with her legs crossed the Elfman approved way. Here’s what she says:

“I was shocked. I wasn’t used to politics, and suddenly I was forced into the middle of it. With my husband in prison, what could I do? I went back to work. I had to work harder than anybody. And then I had to go home and hold my kids. I got the call at a speech I was giving for Peter. My friend was dead. Will Gardner hired me when no one else would. And here was more gun violence. I felt... destroyed.”

Interesting. Alicia’s always had a talent for channeling her anger into her work. Telling the Saint Alicia narrative is a breeze at this point, especially when she’s reliving the first days of the scandal thanks to her awareness that Peter’s “cheating” again. (Cheating is in quotes because Governor Peter Florrick is cheating on Saint Alicia, but Peter isn’t cheating on Alicia.) She says she was “forced” into the middle of politics, which is only partially true—she was never used to being high-profile, but Peter was already a small-time politician. She says she had to work harder than anybody when she went back to work. Look how strong she is! (This narrative, understandably, omits the part where she kept her job based on political connections, as well as the part where  she chooses to seek employment in a top law firm rather than a job that could offer more flexibility but less prestige and money.) This telling of her story also justifies how important Will was to her—not just to her but to her narrative as well. I’d be cautious to read too much into this, but I think part of what enables Alicia to talk so frankly (if deceptively for the purposes of the ad) about her friendship with Will is that this is an opportunity for her to cement Will’s influence on her life as a positive one. Even though she’s using Will’s death for political gain, and even though no one watching the ad will ever know, she’s taking comfort in telling a version of her story where Will was a positive force in her life and Peter is a negative one.

The wiretap of Bishop is real, btw.

Then we’re in Alicia’s office, and Finn shuts the door. “That was interesting, last night,” he says directly. She’s wearing an outfit nearly identical to the one she has on in 3x01—the first time we see her after... well, the end of 2x23. “I know. I’m sorry. I was... in a weird mood,” she apologizes. (So far, so good. She’s much more comfortable here than in the analogous Alicia/Will scene in Heart, which, though I attribute this shift mostly to character development over the years and Alicia’s increased confidence and knowledge of her own priorities, is probably also due to the facts that she knows where her marriage stands, there’s no shared history dating back decades, Finn is neither her boss nor her employee, and they didn’t kiss.)

“And the mood is gone?” Finn asks. “The mood is... worrisome,” Alicia explains. “And why is that?” Finn follows up.

“Because I’m... I don’t know. I wish things were simpler.” Because you’re what, Alicia? Married? Running for office? Both? Because you’d have been using him as an outlet and you didn’t want it to happen that way? Because even though you think you’ve figured out what you want in life, it’s only now that you’re realizing that your open marriage means you’ve given up the possibility of ever having a meaningful relationship? (PARALLEL ALERT. What else? Heart: “Because you’re married?”)

“Things can be simpler. You just need to... want them to be,” Finn replies. “I don’t think that’s true. People have expectations,” Alicia counters. I’m not sure Finn’s right. Alicia’s in a pretty tricky situation. She can’t decide to make things simpler without making sacrifices. The decision would be to prioritize her love life over her political career and her Saint Alicia image. And there, Finn’s right—and that’s his overall point; that she has the power to make her life whatever she wants it to be. She could do it. She’s not trapped. She just has to want to. If Alicia’s priority is dealing with the people who have expectations and following through on her promises, that’s a decision, too. (Plus, I get the sense that many of these “expectations” are things Alicia’s put on herself.)

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it should—or does, actually—come down to Alicia choosing between pursuing a relationship and succeeding in her career. I think there would be ways for her to orchestrate a divorce that’s palatable for the public. But I also think that when she decided to embrace Saint Alicia, the decision came with strings.

Here might be a good place for a general fandom-related rant I’ve been meaning to post... if I haven’t already?... I don’t understand why we’re already treating Alicia/Finn as though it’s on the level of Alicia/Peter or Alicia/Will as a ship. This is just the beginning. If Alicia prioritizes Finn here, she’s prioritizing freedom in her personal life more than she’s prioritizing Finn. If Alicia and Finn kiss, their story doesn’t just suddenly end because they’ve officially become romantically entangled. If Alicia and Finn date, their relationship will grow and take on its own characteristics and have its own challenges. Finn seems to have a good read on Alicia right now, but will he be able to keep that perspective when he gets to know her better and to respond to her in the context of a romantic relationship? How well does Alicia know Finn? What will their children think? How do they weather the fallout from the very public divorce that would have to happen first? This list of questions goes on and on and on. Why are we assuming that we already know what their relationship would look like? Why are we jumping straight from flirting to endgame? Why aren’t we looking at the characters, the process, the dynamics, and their implications?

Finn asks what people have expectations, and all Alicia has to say is, “I always hated that these offices were glass.” Not the right place for this conversation, then. I’m very curious to see what happens the next time Alicia and Finn talk. Also, I can’t decide if this line is meant to be a reference to Will saying he didn’t like the glass offices at one point, as other people have noted, or if it’s just the Kings poking fun at the fact that we’re back at L/G now.

Elfman phones Alicia with a problem: Prady’s released his intro video, with the requisite sob story about his dad. It seems sad, but not particularly bad for Alicia, until Prady’s mom shows up on screen, wearing Alicia’s red dress. AGAIN, NOTE THAT ALICIA IS WEARING THIS DRESS ON HER CAMPAIGN FLIERS.

Alicia wants them to change up the dress with digital effects, but it looks awful. Just like the s4 and s5 DVD covers. Instead of making the dress, you know, plain black, they put a floral pattern on it. Still, the sight of Alicia wearing a bright floral print dress is hilarious. And now Alicia has to redo the interview.

Here’s what she says this time, her legs crossed the “wrong” way:

“Well, I was shocked. Terribly shocked. Politics was new to me, and suddenly there was this scandal. And then I had to be home with my kids... [Elfman: Had to be? It sounds like a punishment.] Right. I was shocked. Truly, truly shocked. Terribly shocked. [She rolls her eyes.] I know. I got this. Just, wait. [She clears her throat.] I was shocked. All I could think about was my kids, being home with them. [Pause.] Which I wanted to be. Because... child services said I had to. I know. Just, wait. Well, I was shocked at the scandal. Politics was new to me, and all I could think about was my [southern accent] poor lovely little kids at home. [Alicia bursts out laughing.] [Josh: Okay. Shake it off.]  Right. Yeah. I know. Just do it like you did it before.”

The biggest problem with all of this is that Alicia’s trying to replicate what she did before. She knows it was good, so she wants to do it again. Rather than trying to get the emotions right, she concentrates on the wording, and trips herself up trying to be perfect. In the first interview, she said she wasn’t used to politics and was forced into the middle of it. Here, she says politics was new to her and “suddenly there was this scandal.” There was this scandal? Where did it come from? Did it just appear? What did it have to do with her? And then she had to be home with her kids. That sounds a lot different from, “I had to go home [after a long day of work] and hold my kids.” One conveys that she’s busy. The other, as Elfman points out, makes it sound like she didn’t want to be around her kids.

She starts over again, and it gets even worse. Now, she’s trying to make sure she has the mannerisms right, talking with her hands like she’s got it into her mind that she needs to talk with her hands, like she’s trying to remember the right words. It looks as forced as it is. Her movements don’t flow. They’re stiff. The worst of all—and the most hilarious—is when she tries to get her shock to resonate and, after a moment of thought, moves her hand over her heart. The delayed reaction makes it look so insincere, and she knows it.

Take three isn’t much better. She gets to the part about her kids, remembers what Elfman said and says, “Which I wanted to be...” (You’re overthinking it, Alicia.) As soon as she knows that take is no good, she finishes her sentence with “...because child services said I had to.” omg sarcastic alicia you’re my favorite.

And this southern accent, guys, I don’t even know why that happened. Oh, Alicia. It cracked me up, even though it almost felt like they’d spliced in some blooper footage that was so amusing and true to how Julianna works on tricky lines they left it in.

In yet another town car, Peter tells Ramona about the photos. By the time we catch up with them, Ramona’s in tears, wanting to resign and to get out of the car immediately. She had to know this was a possibility, but I think she thought they were being careful... and I think she’s been worried about her role in the Florrick marriage since the joint interview.

Peter kisses her—it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of ending this relationship. The first time through, I was almost positive he was going to say he was going to get a divorce.

After they’re done kissing, Ramona says, “We’re bad people.” Awwww. This reminds me a lot of the Alicia/Will kiss in 4x22, which I’m guessing is intentional given that Ramona is a woman going back to work and sleeping with her boss who got her the job. I know @anothertgwfan already wrote something on this scene and I think she has a lot to say about it, so I’m going to leave that up to her ‘cause I really don’t have anything.

Sitting in his office, Cary imagines another scenario where Bishop has him killed. “I need to stop being afraid,” Cary declares.

“My worry is fear is creating the reason to be afraid.” Again: images matter. Cary’s new idea is to talk to Bishop directly.

“Phone Kalinda first,” says the bodyguard, using the word phone as a verb. So, this is not something that would ever bother me. But now that the fandom’s made such a big deal of it—I guarantee you that the two most frequent tweets from first-time viewers are “why do they say phone instead of call?” and “OMG FITZ AND SALLY ARE IN THE SAME EPISODE” when they get to Lifeguard—I notice every time anyone uses the word phone. For example, I kept getting distracted while I was reading Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects because everyone kept using phone as a verb. And the second the bodyguard said phone, I knew something was up.

These writers, in what might be the most TGW-writer-y move ever, managed to find a way to work the phone/call thing into the episode. It somehow convinces Cary to go to Bishop directly.

And it’s back to the silly campaign videos—the writers’ room must be such a fun place—where now, Alicia is in bed... er, cartoon Alicia is in bed... with Sweeney and Bishop. Oh my God. I was moderately concerned that we’d get some filler episodes where it was just shenanigans like this, like some of the less-interesting Eli subplots of season two, but I’m glad to see that these more absurd, ridiculous political plots are minor annoyances in Alicia’s campaign. Alicia’s campaign arc is focused more on the process of campaigning, less on filling time with amusing gimmicks. As it should be.

Alicia’s team wants her to release the Pradysaur ad now, but Alicia’s still determined not to go negative. Josh ridicules her idealism. But, strangely, her idealism is also pragmatism here: she doesn’t want Prady himself to go negative.

Alicia tries to change topic to the introductory ad and my God I don’t have words to describe how hilariously terrible it is. Saying that the first line that plays is “And Will was dying” and that I laughed at it because of the way it was packaged says it all.

Alicia walks out—to phone Prady, we learn a moment later and Elfman and Josh discuss going behind Alicia’s back to release Pradysaur anyway. Sigh.

Over the phone, Alicia snaps at Prady, who wants a day to fix things. “A day is a year in politics,” she hisses.

Elfman’s on the phone playing up the wonders of the Pradysaur ad, turning it into forbidden fruit for the media. “Mrs. Florrick intends to rise above the negativity,” Elfman explains, doing exactly what Prady said campaign managers do when they’re being insincere. “This one can never get out,” Elfman tells the reporter. Read: FIND THIS AD AND RELEASE IT NOW.

Kalinda finds out that the tape is real and phones Cary, who is at Bishop’s at that very moment. And now he’s nervous. And we’re back to commercials—a very short act.

My parents phoned me during this commercial break to make a phone/call joke. They know me well.

Dylan, Bishop’s son, wants to play a card game with Cary. Note: this is RealDylan, as opposed to last week’s FakeDylan.

Cary tries to get out of Bishop’s house, but Bishop insists he stays. Bishop scenes make me so nervous. Cary tells Bishop about the tape—confirmation that the FBI is looking into him—and insists that he’s not a threat. Bishop explains he was just venting on the wire. Okay. Cary’s about to leave, on relatively good terms, but he doesn’t get out of there without a warning: “Don’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt you.”

Cary phones Kalinda to let her know he’s okay, and then Kalinda moves over to Lana’s bed, where she awkwardly but decidedly lays down next to Lana. “I take you seriously,” she says. “It’s not easy, but I take you seriously.” I don’t quite know how we got here with Lana, but if the writers are actually going to try to show us what this means for Kalinda and move her past the place they usually stall at, I’m good with that. I’d also be good with the writers developing Kalinda in a way that doesn’t need to put her in a relationship or open her up to commitment to have her make progress, but since Kalinda seems to be making the decisions here and there’s a lot to explore, I’m tentatively on board.

The Pradysaur video is online. “You kept telling the press it was hot stuff,” Alicia accuses. “It was,” Elfman tries. “John,” Alicia says. IDK WHY IT SEEMS SO IMPORTANT THAT SHE SAYS HIS NAME LIKE THAT BUT IT DOES.

Alicia gets on the phone with Prady, who realizes what’s going on. “They’re gonna drag us into the pit, Alicia.” “I know.” “Then what do we do?” “Resist.” And now, somehow, Alicia and Prady are allies and opponents at the same time. If their stances on policy are as similar as their views on campaigning, I suggest that Alicia drop out and endorse Prady. But that’d be too simple, wouldn’t it? And that wouldn’t give her power. And that would mean breaking commitments.

The episode ends in a strange place: Lana being called in to her supervisor’s office because of the leaked wiretap. Um. Why are we ending here? As far as I know, this is Jill Flint’s last scheduled episode. Will we get resolution on this? Is this an ending for Lana? I enjoyed this episode quite a bit and thought all the pieces fit together well even though the two main plots barely intersected. (This worked, because not having  a COTW—can’t say enough times how smart it was of the writers to decide that the COTW was a good way of structuring the show but isn’t the best for every episode—and not having filler subplots allowed everything to be developed properly, even if it didn’t connect.) But why does it end here? Because it’s exciting and dramatic? Hopefully, this ending will play differently after season six is finished, but for now, it’s my least favorite part of the episode by a mile.

Overall/This Season So Far: I’m just gonna skip these. I’ve already written enough.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x08-- Red Zone

A clip from Alicia’s interview in 6x06 opens the episode—Elfman’s playing it for a focus group. He asks the room if they’d vote for Alicia: 7 for, 5 against.

“I’m not really against her. I just need to hear more,” one member clarifies.

“I’m just voting for her here because I like her, but I don’t know much about her,” an older woman named Rita explains. Elfman wants details, so Rita continues that what she liked about her was: “I guess how she handled her marriage. She stood by her husband.”

A younger woman named Sally chimes in: “See, that’s what I don’t like about her. Why didn’t she divorce him? He slept with all of those prostitutes, and she just grins.” “That’s what you do,” Rita retorts. “Through sickness and health.”

“What I don’t get is what this has to do with her being a state’s attorney,” a man interjects. “It matters if she’s a doormat,” Sally replies.

Lots going on here. First, the writers are not-so-subtly poking fun at the viewership here: they’ve said before that they find that older viewers support Alicia for staying with Peter, and that younger viewers support Alicia for putting her life back together. I’d imagine that’s what they’re getting at here, though I’d say they probably would’ve had the focus group play out this way even if they knew nothing of their audience. 

Sally looks like an older version of Grace. Just throwing that out there.

Anyway, over the years in fandom, I’ve dealt with many Sallys: the people who can’t understand why Alicia would stay and never bother to recognize that the situation is more complicated than “He cheated --> I need to divorce him.” Honestly, it shocks me that there are so many Sallys in this fandom (and there are): how are people that never even tried to understand Alicia’s choices watching a show that set out to... explore Alicia’s choices? It’s easy to write Alicia off as a doormat or to presume you know what’s going through her mind; harder to accept that she might make choices you wouldn’t or that she can be more complex than the extremes of Strong Independent Woman (which she is—I mean this in the exaggerated, caricatured sense) or Doormat.

And because this is giving me a good starting place for another rant: one argument I will never, ever, ever, accept as analysis of Alicia—of any character, really—is the, “If I were ___, I would have...” I see it all the time. “If I were Alicia, I would’ve kicked cheating piece of scum out of my house!” “If I were Alicia, I would’ve been with Will.” “If I were Alicia, I would’ve forgiven/would never forgive Kalinda.” Okay, but you’re not Alicia. Why is it relevant to understanding Alicia if you would make the same choices? Yes, the hypotheticals are interesting to entertain, but that should be separate from analysis of Alicia. The relevant question is: “Is it in character for Alicia to do what she does?” or perhaps, “How does this move fit into the larger picture of Alicia’s life?”

On this focus group question, I’m inclined to agree with the man who asks why the scandal is even an issue. I agree with Sally that it goes to character that she stayed, but the scandal is not Alicia’s career.

Elfman next introduces Prady into the session. He hasn’t announced yet, but he’s going to, and... now 8 people would vote for Prady.

Eli’s worrying about the focus group results and demands that Alicia see them. She’s at L/G (F/A/L...) and Owen’s in her office, uninvited. Alicia’s excited to see him, but can quickly tell that something’s up. Owen says nothing’s wrong and asks about her campaign... at which point Alicia apologizes for the events of 6x04. (Funny how Alicia apologizes right away—granted, right away when Owen comes to visit her— but Owen rarely apologizes for his much more intrusive and frequent disruptions of Alicia’s life.)

Owen is there because he has a case for Alicia to take on: one of his students was raped and needs a lawyer for the university judiciary committee as she tries to get her rapist expelled. This is a bad moment for Owen to ask, though, because Alicia’s “taking a step back from her cases.” (Do Cary and Diane have any feelings about that? We’ll never know, since the writers seem determined to never address this issue.)

Owen puts on his puppy dog face, and Alicia’s convinced. She’ll take the case—just a few hours to help a victim get justice, right?

Diane knocks on the wall of Alicia’s office (L/G is a step up from F/A/L; they have walls. Walls made of glass, but walls nonetheless) and alerts her to a meeting that’s going on in the conference room where Cary, Diane, and Alicia are listening to the recording the SA plans to use against Cary. It sounds... pretty awful. “It sounds bad because you don’t hear the beginning and the end of the tape,” Cary insists. Alicia looks horrified: this is awful.

All of a sudden, Diane asks Kalinda—who is (obviously) not in the room—if she’s had any luck in finding the third member of Bishop’s crew from the tape. The camera tilts down, but at first it seems like it’s going to pan over to reveal that Kalinda’s in the room. No such luck. She’s on the speaker phone. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.

Diane and Alicia step out of the conference room for a minute to talk strategy. Alicia squeezes Cary’s shoulder supportively as she exits the room. Cary takes this as an opportunity to chat with Kalinda; he’s suspicious of her whereabouts. She says she’s at home, but she’s not. She’s at Lana’s place, naked, with her hair down. (She still has her necklace on, though.)

Why is Kalinda’s hair down?! WHY?! WHY!? WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?! I suppose it’s meant as an indicator of her level of comfort with Lana, but it’s so weird to see.

Kalinda asks Cary to let her know when he’s leaving so she can come into work. Um, weren’t you both able to be in the office at the same time last week? Kalinda also encourages Cary to take the stand—there were four people on the wire, not just Bishop’s three men.

Outside, Diane is ready to advise Cary to take a plea, the way she would any other client. Alicia hates that idea, and before Alicia and Diane can discuss the merits of both approaches, Cary comes up with an even worse idea: he wants to testify.  Diane and Alicia are both set against this idea, but Cary says it’s his only option and they decide to indulge him. But they’re doing a mock cross-examination before they let him take the stand.

Eli is not pleased, to say the least, when Alicia informs him that she’s taking Owen’s student’s rape case. “This is so irresponsible,” Eli lectures, then asks what the case is. “Oh, great. Because rape is never controversial,” he says when Alicia tells him. Someone’s not thinking like a politician. (But I’m not about to fault her for that.)

Next question for the focus group: Does Cary’s arrest change their opinion of Alicia? Judging from the stunned looks Elfman receives after asking that question, yes.

But we don’t stay with the focus group, we shift to Kalinda and Lana, kissing.  “I like that you can’t go into work,” Lana says. Why isn’t Lana at work? Kalinda’s phone rings; it’s Bishop.  The feds are now investigating him, Bishop says. Well, that’s awkward. It’s not like Kalinda’s in a fed’s apartment at the moment or anything. Kalinda watches herself in the mirror as she talks. She plays with her hair and fidgets with her necklace: Bishop still makes Kalinda nervous.

As he’s talking, Bishop tells a boy sitting next to him in the car that he can’t have any more candy. I’m assuming this is meant to be Dylan, but it’s definitely not. Headcanon: Dylan is sitting one seat over and this is one of his friends. More plausible explanation: They couldn’t get the actor for one scene but wanted to show Bishop with family.

Kalinda gets off the phone with Bishop and Lana walks into the bathroom, where she begins to put Kalinda’s hair into Kalinda’s usual style. It’s really, really, really strange to see. I didn’t realize Kalinda and Lana were this close.

In court, or whatever this is, Jody, the victim, is talking about how she took precautions when she went to the frat party her rapist attacked her during. She mentions the ‘Red Zone,’ or the first few months of school: the time period in which freshman girls are most often targeted/assaulted.

It turns out that Alicia’s not allowed to talk at this, even to point out other violations of the rules, so she needs to find other methods, like saying she needs a bathroom break so she can talk to her client and then texting her helpful bits of information.

This case is an interesting one, a topical one, and an important one to discuss, but the writers don’t really do much with it. It feels like an afterthought in this episode—a shame, because it could’ve been written a lot better.

Back at the focus group, Eli and Elfman are watching footage of the final comments of day one. Sally: “I dunno. [Alicia] seems entitled to me, like the world owes her something. [Elfman asks why.] Something about her. She just seems selfish, like everything is about my pain, my achievements. There’s a world bigger than you, you know.” Alicia walks in as Sally’s saying this, and the video pauses on Sally making a wonderfully displeased, ridiculous, silly face.

Entitlement. That’s a word that keeps coming back again and again for Alicia. It’s in the pilot: “It’s teaching an entitled dog new tricks.” And it’s in 5x14 multiple times, even in Alicia’s keynote: “What did I learn from this? Use everything you have to get the job. And don’t feel entitled.” It’s also a theme the show continuously touches on with Alicia as she uses her privileges and connections to succeed and as she tries to deny that she’s a member of the elite (as in 5x21 and 6x07). And, of course, it’s something that comes up all the time in fandom discussions of Alicia.

So, is Alicia entitled? Yeah. She’s not the most entitled person to ever exist, no, but she’s entitled enough to feel like everything she’s gotten she’s gotten based on merit, content to downplay the effects of the many structures that benefit her. She’s entitled enough to tell Frank Prady that he is the system—and she’s not—while being married to the governor. She’s entitled enough to think the reason she’s been hand-picked by the governor’s chief of staff to run for state’s attorney is her hard work and her hard work alone. Think may be the wrong word: she’s entitled enough to be willing and able to ignore all of that and act as though she deserves this. Does Alicia think, as Sally says, that the world “owes her something”? Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think Alicia’s entitlement is quite at that level: it’s more subtle. It’s more like she can’t understand why things don’t always go her way (see her pouting in 4x13) and she has expectations about the world she doesn’t even realize she has. She feels that she’s deserving, and that if she works hard enough, logic dictates that she should get whatever it is she thinks she deserves. This is a mindset that only someone that benefits from existing power structures can have. She trusts that she knows how to navigate the world, and that it, more or less, will function as expected. She can criticize the system while residing comfortably within it.

Perhaps a better way of saying this, because this is getting very muddled and I’m thisclose to giving y’all a detailed breakdown of a relevant discussion I had in one of my sociology classes the other day on a similar topic, is that Alicia is entitled in that she believes the world is hers for the taking—and that she’s qualified to “take over.” She doesn’t have to worry about the world being against her most of the time, but she’s entitled enough that when things don’t go her way, she acts like the world is against her.

I don’t think that made any more sense. Oh well.

Selfishness is another big problem for Alicia. She worries often about being selfish, especially when she’s being selfish and neglecting (“neglecting”) her children. She’s her own biggest critic, and she focuses on certain definitions of selfishness so intensely she loses sight of the bigger picture. For example: She’s so selfless in protecting her family that she selfishly doesn’t care who gets screwed over in the process. She’s so selfless in supporting Cary by taking out a second mortgage on her condo that she selfishly doesn’t care that Peter has a right not to co-sign (and then acts like she’s entitled to his signature when he exercises that right). She’s so selfless in fighting for her clients (which actually isn’t selfless, as she’s being paid, but she does tend to identify with and care about clients) that she doesn’t bother to learn the names of anyone around her if they’re not relevant to her goals. I could go on. My point is that while Alicia’s not selfish in the sense that she’s self-obsessed or constantly, actively trying to make her life better with no concerns about others’ well-being, she is selfish. (As, I would say, most humans are.) She’s the First Lady of Illinois, but do we ever see her use that platform, that celebrity, to try to make any sort of change? She herself said she didn’t get into the law to help people, too. Do we see her actively take an interest in charities, in volunteer work, even in running for state’s attorney to help the people? No! Combine that with Alicia’s stand-offish personality and the very reserved, intelligent, methodical way she presents herself and it’s no surprise one might view her as selfish.

Since that sounds harsh, I will say that Alicia is often at her most selfless within relationships. Without even realizing it, oftentimes her first instinct is to jump at the chance to help someone else if they’re in need of help and she’s there. She’ll step up and fight for a co-worker, friend, peer, or client that’s in trouble. She’ll get into situations that probably aren’t the best for her (politically, financially) without a second thought because it just seems natural for her to help out. But that’s more difficult to convey than a photo op or a natural inclination to seem interested in every single detail of everyone’s life. I wouldn’t be shocked if it took Alicia a while to make it a habit to ask people she runs into how they’re doing, to express excitement at hearing about the lives of others. That’s not to say she doesn’t care—or that being able to make small-talk easily and naturally means one’s not selfish, just look at Peter—but it does mean that Alicia’s moments of selflessness don’t come across easily and it’s quite easy to read her as selfish.

Sally’s actually not that big of a problem, though: not compared to Prady. I wouldn’t believe it if it had just been Eli calling Sally a “stuck up bitch” (funny; isn’t that a harsher—and gendered—version of what Sally was saying about Alicia?), but Elfman confirms that Prady is the real threat. Elfman’s usually very upfront about things, so I believe him over Eli’s sugarcoating.

As Eli and Elfman talk about how to handle Prady’s announcement, Alicia stares at Sally on the TV screen. The best way to prove to yourself you’re not selfish is definitely to start obsessing over whether or not you’re selfish while tuning out what others are saying, amirite? She’s not even listening.

“Did you tell her I started my own firm?” “What?” “That lady. Did you tell her I started my own firm? It wasn’t handed to me,” Alicia frets. Hey, Alicia? Privilege and hard work are not mutually exclusive. You can be entitled and hardworking simultaneously. You can deserve based on merit everything you get and still benefit from external, societal forces helping you get it. It takes a helluva lot of privilege to be able to say, as the governor’s wife, that things weren’t handed to you. Not directly, maybe, but would Alicia and Cary have been able to even consider starting a firm the size of theirs if it hadn’t been for Alicia’s last name? Hell no. And while that doesn’t negate Alicia’s hard work that allowed her to keep clients, her attempts throughout season 5 to distance her firm from Peter, or Alicia’s many skills and talents, it is a crucial part of the picture. Entitlement isn’t just sitting around and waiting for people to hand you things, and if Alicia doesn’t understand that it’s much more than that... well, that in itself is pretty entitled, isn’t it?

In the L/G... F/A/L...  (I assume) parking garage, Bishop’s waiting for Kalinda. He’s become aware of her relationship with Lana, and he doesn’t like it because it’ll wind up getting him in trouble. Bishop doesn’t believe Kalinda when she says Lana’s on a different case and tasks her with finding out what Lana is currently investigating. These meetings are always scary!

We have new title credits, and they’re strange. I think I like the old ones more. These ones are all stretched out and I don’t like the flickering. But maybe I just need to adapt? And they’re long overdue for a change. (Also, I kinda love that the show doesn’t even bother to have theme music anymore.)

Alicia knocks on the door, er, glass wall, of Finn’s office on the 27th floor, a bottle of scotch (?) in her hand. Yay, another Alicia/Finn scene where it’s friendship for the sake of friendship!!!!! “You seem happier,” Alicia tells Finn. “I’m always happy,” Finn replies. Aww, more power to you! (Also, hasn’t Elsbeth said this before?)

“Do I seem entitled to you?” Alicia ventures, Sally’s comments still clearly weighing on her. “Do I think you’re entitled? No. Why, do you feel entitled?” Finn replies. “It’s the focus group on my candidacy. Someone said I seem... selfish,” Alicia explains. Finn basically says it’s silly to care what some random woman who doesn’t even know her thinks, but Alicia insists: Sally is a voter. (Ah, rationalizing. It’s alright to obsess because there’s a logical reason to try to win Sally over...) And, Alicia worries, everyone else is too polite to level with her.

“She said I seem obsessed with my own pain, my own achievements,” Alicia elaborates. “Yeah. My ex-wife used to say the same about me,” Finn recalls. Oooh, a mention of Finn’s ex-wife again, finally. Can they mention his son soon, too? Alicia’s shocked by this because Finn doesn’t seem that way to her.

“So you wanna do something about it?” Finn asks. “What? Being entitled?” “Yeah. Every Wednesday, I go to St. Paul’s Cathedral on Ashland. They have a soup kitchen. Go volunteer. They always need someone. It helps you see beyond yourself.” It was at this point in the episode that I tweeted, “Does Finn have any flaws?” This is the tweet that inspired the “controversy” over the writers tweeting me and Finn not being created to compost and bring his own grocery bags, and because I don’t feel like that tweet out of context explained anything about what I meant, here’s a better explanation.

Finn is a Good Guy, and that’s fine. He’s written as someone who takes pain in stride, who’s able to endure while keeping a positive outlook on life, and who’s made a living without doing a lot of wrong. He never acts holier-than-thou, never calls attention to his struggles, and always reaches out to help others.  I don’t mind any of this. In fact, I like it. What I don’t like is that the writers have gone above and beyond what they needed to do to make this apparent. In every episode of season 5, the writers piled tragedy after tragedy on Finn: he was shot in 5x15, in the hospital in 5x16, under legal investigation in 5x17 (we also learned in 5x17 that his wife suffered a miscarriage), dealing with being betrayed by a best friend and being accused of creating the circumstances that led to the shooting in 5x15 in 5x18, dealing with PTSD, being forced out of his job, and then being endorsed for a race he had no intention of running in in 5x19. In 5x20, we found out that his sister OD’d. In 5x21, IIRC, we found out that he’s divorced. In 5x22, we found out that he may have done something illegal... to save his sister’s life. I mean, that’s a lot. I get that it’s important to build the foundation early on so it can be referenced in the future without seeming too convenient, but that’s a lot. Season six had been doing a better job making Finn seem like less of a Hero and more of a character, but then he quit his job over Castro being a bad man and using the office politically. And now we learn that he volunteers at a soup kitchen every week! How have we had time to learn all of this but not had time to see a single one of his flaws? Even Alicia in the Pilot had flaws! Pilot Alicia was accused of being entitled, ethically gray, and I routinely cite Alicia’s “I don’t give a damn about the small print in your employment contract” as an example of Alicia’s strange belief that the law does not matter when her family’s concerned. Not even Alicia at her most Good Wife-y was this flawless. There’s a lot I like about the way Finn’s being written and who he is, but it’s starting to get irritating that he feels too good to be true on a show that’s all about how even the best of us are incredibly (and irredeemably) gray.

Or is that the point? Should I be waiting for Finn to suddenly reveal his evil plans to destroy Alicia? IS IT ALL AN ACT?

Alicia feels guilty when Finn says this. She tells him he’s a good person. “A saint, really,” he jokes. And this redeems the scene for me—or, rather, redeems the idea that Finn does all of this. He has a sense of humor about it. I don’t really have a problem with Finn... but I do have a problem with the writers painting Finn as a literal saint in comparison to the ironic Saint Alicia moniker.

Alicia finishes her drink and leaves Finn’s office. As she’s walking back to her office, she pictures Sally (which makes it even stranger that Sally looks like Grace, given that Grace often functions as Alicia’s moral compass—also, my mom asked me yesterday if they’d replaced Sally with Grace at one point in the episode, they look so much alike.)  “I might have been wrong about Alicia,” Fantasy Sally says. “Sure, she has some money, but she gives to those less for—“ Alicia shakes away Fantasy Sally. Oh, man. I love these wonderfully egotistical memory pops. First we have Gloria Steinem telling Alicia she’s going to sit on the Supreme Court one day, she’s that amazing, and now we have Fantasy Sally telling Alicia that she’s a Good Person. The fact that her first thought when an opportunity to be selfless presents itself is, “that’ll show that focus group lady!” says a lot. (Would it ever occur to Alicia to do volunteer work if she didn’t need to calm a nagging voice in her mind? Probably not. She’s busy and she didn’t make it a priority in her life to reach out to the community. )

But it’s not about Sally, not really. It’s about Sally’s comments getting at Alicia’s insecurities. Alicia worries that she’s entitled—rather, she worries that she’s not getting things based on merit (4x14, shades of 5x14, etc.)—and she worries that she’s selfish. Sally’s comments resonated with her on some level. She can handle people telling outright lies—well, unless they’re Mike Kresteva, in which case she feels betrayed and gets obsessive like this—and rolls her eyes at gossip or people glossing over her flaws. What she can’t handle is something that she worries is a valid criticism.

When I was first watching this episode, I thought it was a little silly that Sally was able to get under Alicia’s skin this way, but the idea that Sally struck a nerve takes care of most of that. The rest of it’s taken care of by a comment a friend on Twitter (@alohajodes) made to me when I was obsessing over the meaning of the writers’ tweet to me. She said, jokingly, I was acting like Alicia with Sally, concentrating on the details, picking everything apart, and not being able to let it go. I thought it was a great point, and I decided to try to figure out what it was that made the writers’ tweet so important to me. I think a lot of it was the idea that they’d misunderstood me: they didn’t have context! They didn’t know the whole story! They didn’t have all the facts! I can see Alicia thinking the same about Sally: Did she know I started my own firm? Does she know I’m not just an image on the screen? Does she?! I found myself wanting to clarify what I’d meant, obsessing over what I’d said and how it might have come across. I wanted to do something to rectify my mistake—which wasn’t even a mistake. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t disrespectful or ignorant or incapable of making a good argument—all things that I doubt even crossed the minds of the writers as they sent a joking reply to me. Might Alicia have felt the same way with Sally, even though the context is clearly different?

Yes, I will take any excuse to connect myself to Alicia.

Cary is “on the stand” in a mock trial. Honorable Judge Howard Lyman presiding. Diane’s hired Viola to oppose her in an inspired move—choose someone to go up against her that she respects in terms of skill and that she has a personal rivalry with to ensure that the questions will be tough and Viola will have motivation to try her hardest.

Cary’s easily caught in lies—not lies that implicate him for the crime, but lies that he can’t defend that seem to implicate him. So, in other words, lies that a good prosecutor could frame as evidence of Cary’s guilt. Not good, Cary. Not good.

Viola keeps calling the SA’s office the ASA’s office. It’s driving me crazy!

Cary states that he made $85,000 a year as a first year at L/G. I know it’s silly to take this as an indicator of anything on this show given how details of finances and time never, ever, line up, but now we have a ballpark of what Cary was making in his first year... and what Alicia was making at that same time. Cary’s salary now, as a name partner? Over $350,000. His salary as an SA? $38,000. Cary’s rent? $4,000 a month. (Wow, Cary didn’t waste any time as a first year associate jumping right into a life of luxury. I just did some googling for 1 bedroom apartments in Lincoln Park, the neighborhood Cary says he’s eyeing a condo in in season 1, and found several nice looking places for... well, not $4,000 a month. I’m focusing on this detail because it speaks to entitlement: Cary was certain that he’d keep the job and that he would be able to afford this type of lifestyle, that he’d made it big time because he got his foot in the door. Of course, as I said above, financial details on this show aren’t always the most reliable and this is a detail that requires research into specifics of Chicago real estate, which I’m certainly not an expert on and I doubt the writers spent much of their time looking into. But the point still stands: $4,000/month rent is high and is clearly intended to sound like it’s high, even without the “research” into actual rents.) 

Cary says he paid for his apartment during his time at the SA’s office with savings. What savings? How does Cary have savings substantial enough to pay for an apartment like that? We know he had student loans and—you know what? I’m just not going to pay attention to this. There is really no point in trying to fact check details that are never going to line up. Point is, Cary bought a big, fancy apartment and didn’t move out of it, and it’s a bit unrealistic that his savings would cover rent for two more years.

Cary gets visibly shaken by the questions, Viola’s making her case well, and Diane calls a halt to the mock trial to talk to Cary.

Over at Chicago PolyTech, Owen’s testifying, and Alicia starts to text him. Owen reads Alicia’s text with confidence, but it says, “the campus cop was composing his erection,” so he says the same out loud. OOPS.  “That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. That almost sounds as if it was autocorrected,” Owen agrees when the panel gives him strange looks.

The panel decides there’s not enough evidence and dismisses the case quickly. Alicia isn’t ok with that. She says there was no due process, and they’re open to a lawsuit. The panel asks Jody if she’s suing. Alicia looks at Jody as if to say, “the ball’s in your court. I’m on your side; this is your choice,” and Jody says, “Yes.”

And just like that, Alicia’s few hours of doing her brother a favor turned into a lawsuit. A politically unfavorable lawsuit, a lawsuit that could become high profile, and a lawsuit that Alicia suggested and could have easily avoided getting herself involved with. You want proof that Alicia’s not selfish and doesn’t walk around thinking her problems are the only thing that matters? Here you go. Of course, she now feels an emotional connection to the victim, like she’s at fault for not representing Jody better, and like the system’s done Jody wrong (and one would imagine that with a college-age son and a daughter looking at colleges, Alicia’s pretty up to date on the campus rape epidemic...). But if you look hard enough, you can find a cynical or selfish motivation for any action. This just seems, at least to me, more like it’s Alicia’s natural inclination to help others when she knows them and knows she can do something. As I said earlier, her moments of selflessness are usually reserved for people she knows and cares about.

The court scene ends with, “Yes.” The next scene, Cary in his office, begins with, “No.” Heh. Love it.

An angry Cary watches the footage of his witness prep, and... he realizes it’s not good. He calls Kalinda for help, but Kalinda is with Lana and ignores the call—because Lana’s phone’s ringing, too. I don’t think Kalinda’s ignoring Cary but rather seizing the opportunity to find out if Lana’s working on Bishop’s case or not.

After watching the last Alicia scene for the first time, I remarked that this is the selfless act she should be patting herself on the back for—not that patting oneself on the back should be the reason for being selfless, but that if she’s going to try to convince herself she’s not selfish, she should be looking to something she does without even thinking about being selfless/selfish rather than volunteering at a soup kitchen one night to feel good about herself. I was very pleased to see that the show didn’t ignore this point. The next act picks up with the focus group again, where Elfman is discussing the case. Will it change anyone’s mind? Yes. It’ll change Sally’s mind because the issue of rape on campus is important to her. Some of the men in the group express concern that Alicia is a “feminist activist,” and Sally’s more than happy to point out that only the men in the room are objecting to Alicia’s latest court case. That leads to a lot of people talking over each other. A familiar scene.

In actual court now, Judge Parks is presiding. Welcome back, Judge Parks! Parks is one of three characters to have appeared in all 6 seasons; the other two are Bishop and Geneva. Matan, Nancy, and Kurt all have the potential to join that list. And there are characters like Sweeney, Elsbeth, Lana, Judge Abernathy, and Patti Nyholm who were introduced in season 1 and are still parts of the TGW universe; they just haven’t appeared in ALL the seasons.

There are also a number of recurring faces introduced in season 2 who haven’t missed a season since, like Canning. Speaking of... Canning’s representing the school on this case. He’s now in a wheelchair, which he keeps (intentionally? I honestly can’t tell, and you never know with Canning) crashing into things. The strategy—or the truth—works on Judge Parks, and Canning gets his way: they’ll start the case ASAP rather than waiting.

Alicia asks if any of what Canning was saying was true. He says he’s going in for a kidney transplant, that’s true. Alicia imagines a vicious FantasySally: “He’s going in for a kidney transplant, and she thinks he’s lying. She’s not just selfish, she’s paranoi--“ Damn. This is really making Alicia introspective and causing her to think about her actions. Unlike the last FantasySally sequence, this FantasySally functions more like FantasyJackie from 5x14: Alicia’s biggest critic. This Sally, though Alicia is still presumably trying to change her mind, is calling Alicia out, not bending to her will and praising her. And this is where I think it’s important that she looks so much like Grace; where Alicia’s desire to change Sally’s mind starts turning into Alicia looking at her own behavior.

Alicia heads straight to the church. I guess she didn’t think to bring a change of clothes, because there she is, in her expensive work clothes, with her expensive bag, texting on her fancy smart phone. Finn calls her out on that: “Best dressed in the soup kitchen.” God, Alicia. Do you even think about how things look? For a woman whose life is often defined by the image she projects, Alicia often forgets to put any effort into curating that image. She knows how to do it—how to play Good Wife when she’s asked to—but she’s not used to living every part of her life with an eye to how it’ll look. Alicia’s is not a mastermind who’s crafted an identity that the world will lap up and adore. She’s a woman who had an identity thrust upon her who’s now taking advantage of that status with the help of some of the best political campaigners in the business. I think that’s an essential distinction to make.

It’s also one that hearkens all the way back to peer review in season 2, where Bond told Alicia that her peers said she came off as standoffish and like she wasn’t working as hard as the others. A Peter Florrick type would size up the workplace and figure out how best to make contacts, friends, and impress everyone while moving up the ranks and doing good work. Alicia doesn’t even look at what vibes she’s giving off. An invitation to get drinks is an invitation to get drinks, not a social tool. Friends are optional. She’s there to work. She views her life as an insulated system, as though there’s a separation between the public and the private, as though how she comes across is only important when she’s in front of a camera or in an important meeting.

This is an oversimplification, of course. There are certainly moments where Alicia’s aware of how she’s coming across and makes an effort to change it. She loves to be extremely in control of the expressions on her face, for example, though it’s usually just that she wants to be difficult to read and refuse to show weakness. The point I’m making here is simply that Alicia’s top priority is not maintaining her brand; it’s living her life in private and getting the job done. Now that the job is maintaining her brand 24/7, that’s proving to be a lot more difficult.

Since Alicia arrived last, she has to wash pots. Is she not wearing a cami or something under that beautiful jacket? She doesn’t even take off her expensive watch. But she can “feel the selfishness melting away,” and gets down to business.

Unrelated: Finn looks really hot in casual clothes.

Eli calls Alicia, excited about some bit of information. Alicia’s response: “Eli, can I try to figure out what you’re saying another time?” This is the best response to Eli and it’s probably a response that any character ever could give Eli in reply to anything Eli’s ever excitedly told them about without giving context.

While Alicia’s on the phone, a woman comes up with a camera phone and takes Alicia’s picture. She smiles and waves. Ok, Alicia, that’s maaaaaybe a little too clueless of a mistake to not recognize. It’s like, Nick from Gone Girl smiling next to the picture of his missing wife levels of unfortunate. Does she really not feel that all eyes are on the expensively dressed woman washing pots while taking a phone call? I feel like she’d be getting a lot of weird looks and would feel very out of place. Anyway, I’ll chalk it up to Alicia being overwhelmed  and read into it that Alicia was volunteering more for her own peace of mind than anything else; to prove it to herself that she could be selfless rather than to convince Sally/the focus group.

Also, should I be concerned that there are conveniently people following Alicia’s missteps when Finn’s around—not that this one was predictable; Finn wouldn’t have known Alicia would forget a change of clothes, but even so?

In the parking garage, Cary spots Lana in a fancy convertible. Kalinda walks over to her car and kisses her. Cary is not happy.

The next scene is Grace getting a ChumHum alert for Alicia. Again: I love that the writers started this in season 1 and have kept it going all these years, even though I will never run out of things to complain about regarding how media in the TGW-verse is pervasive until the moment it would get in the way of plot to have the media covering something. Then the media disappears until it needs to pick up the next tiny detail to demonstrate its ubiquity.

I have a theory that TGW episodes are instantly improved if we see the kids or Alicia’s apartment, or both. This doesn’t make episodes good, and not having the kids/the apartment doesn’t make an episode bad—4x13 has neither and it’s still one of my favorites. But both the kids and the apartment indicate that an episode is concerned with and acknowledges that Alicia’s life extends beyond the workplace. Many of the episodes in the middle of season 5 showed neither the kids nor the apartment, and as a result, Alicia’s life felt less complete. Seeing Grace here, just for a few seconds, not talking about religion but simply being a presence in Alicia’s everyday life, instantly fleshes out Alicia’s world.

Grace has found—what else?—the picture from the soup kitchen. Eli calls Alicia about it at the same exact moment Grace is showing it to her. The report says Alicia’s scrubbing an already-clean pot. “Saint Alicia ‘Works’ the Soup Kitchen,” the headline reads. Alicia is very stuck on the idea that the site is saying the pot was already clean. Focus, Alicia!

Eli tells her she can’t do “photo ops” like this on her own. I don’t think it even occurred to her that volunteer work would be a good campaign event.

“Oh my God, does it say it was CLEAN?” Alicia asks again. Yes, Eli’s already said that like five times. Why is this so unbelievable?  Eli is not happy. Alicia’s not listening, and her political instincts are non-existent.

Back to the focus group. “For a politician’s wife, she’s kinda phony,” Sally says. I don’t know why that’s qualified with “for a politician’s wife.” I dunno; I’d look at this photo and be like, “Well, this is clearly a piece slamming her and I don’t see her campaign releasing pictures. She looks out of touch, but all in all, she’s at a soup kitchen without any press there and without calling attention to herself—doesn’t that count for something?” Maybe, MAYBE if I was just shown the photo would I think it was a photo op gone wrong.

“She just went to that soup kitchen to show off,” Sally insists. Whatever you say, Sally.

All of this makes Eli bang his head against the two-way mirror—a great shot where he’s ramming his head into his own reflection.

More witness prep for Cary, who’s distracted by watching Kalinda walk by the conference room. Cary’s now both angry and distracted. He just looks irritated and frustrated, poor thing. And then he just gets snarky over discussion of a Beyoncé related joke.

Cary starts getting angry—I’ve always said he has quite a temper!—and pounds on the table as he criticizes Diane for not objecting more. She has a strategy, but he doesn’t like it. Cary storms off, leaving Diane and Viola, who says:

“Alright, Diane, we’ve had our issues in the past. That’s why you’ve hired me. But I have to tell you, he is a bad witness. If I’m on the jury, he’s going away for 15 years.” Seriously. I have never liked Viola more. There’s no hint of bitterness or smugness in her words. She’s being direct.

Diane goes to talk to Cary, who hisses at her: “I understand that I will be fine. You need to protect me more on the stand.” Uh huh, because this is all Diane’s fault. Poor Cary. I feel so bad for him; this situation is awful. Also, the “protect me more” line just makes me think of 2x21 Grace, though I’m sure that’s unintentional.

Diane just tells him to watch the tape and exits his office. Cary physically pushes his desk a few inches forward. Well, I guess they couldn’t have him shove everything off of it. That’s sort of Will’s thing.

Kalinda opens the door to her apartment to find someone inside. She gets out her gun, but it’s just Cary. I guess he has a key; that strikes me as odd. Cary shouldn’t be there, and Kalinda reminds him of that. “Stop screwing around,” Kalinda says. Yeah. Cary isn’t taking these rules seriously enough. I know he’s in a rough spot and I really do feel for him, but he just can’t be this reckless. Kalinda would understand having the conversation over the phone, given their circumstances.

Cary is not pleased that Kalinda’s lying about being home when she’s out with Lana, at which point Kalinda begins undressing: “you came here to bang me, so, come on, let’s go.” There’s that word again—“bang” as the network friendly substitute for “fuck.”

“Just act like you care for 14 days. Act like I mean something to you,” Cary pleads. Um, Cary? What do you think she’s been doing? “You do,” Kalinda insists. “Well, then show me, and stop going to her,” Cary demands. UGH. Never a good sign when one partner tries to control the other. Doesn’t Peter tell Alicia to prove the condoms aren’t for her to use with Will by not going into work? Need I elaborate on this point?

Cary says the thought of Kalinda with someone else is distracting him. O...kay? “Cary, we’re not married. We’re not even going steady,” Kalinda reasons.

“But you mean something to me,” Cary says. “Yes, I know I’m supposed to be a good sport, but I don’t wanna be with anyone else.” Ok, good for you, Cary. I know I’m being harsh. I feel for Cary, I really, really do. I understand why he’s making these demands and see that he’s spiraling out of control. But it’s not fair for him to expect this from Kalinda, to define the conditions of the relationship, to guilt her into tending to him.

“I do,” says Kalinda. The thought just crossed my mind that Kalinda’s an abused woman, so it means a lot that she stands up for herself here. Not that Cary’s Nick AT ALL. I mean this more as a comment on Kalinda being WELL within her rights to defend her independence and not give in than a comment on Cary being controlling.

Cary doesn’t take too kindly to this. “Thank you, and go to hell,” he says as he walks out. To use one of my favorite phrases I used all the time during Will’s downward spiral last season: Cary is understandable here, but he is very, very, very far from being justified. Kalinda was upfront with him, refused to submit herself to these demands and make commitments she didn’t intend to keep, and yet somehow Cary’s angry that the woman who said this was never going to be a romantic relationship in the conventional sense has stood by her word. Alicia’s not the only entitled one in this episode.

EVEN AFTER THAT, Kalinda’s first instinct is to try to make sure that no one watches Cary leave the building. If Cary can’t see that Kalinda cares about her and demonstrates her love—or whatever you’d like to call it—in ways other than sexual fidelity, does he know her at all?

Cary sits down to watch more of the witness prep when Alicia knocks on the door. She asks how he’s doing. Awww, Alicia’s being supportive! Can we get more of these scenes?

Alicia’s about to leave when she thinks again and walks further into Cary’s office. “I know you’re not asking for advice, but I’m giving it to you anyway. It’s an injustice, what’s happening to you, but you’re lost in the indignation and the anger. You can’t see past them, and neither will a jury, if you don’t get it under control. Give the jury a chance to find the injustice themselves. Coming off of you it reads like... entitlement.”

Excellent words there—and they work. See? Alicia can see how things come across when she has some distance from them and is specifically thinking about appearances. She also seems to be taking her self-exploration to heart: there’s no way it’s a coincidence she chooses the word “entitlement” here.

Cary is entitled, probably more entitled than Alicia. He’s always been entitled. He thinks he’s going to do well if he just works hard. He’s a Harvard Law grad who will proudly and obnoxiously tell you he went to Harvard—well, he’s toned that down now. He grew up in an upper-class lifestyle and even though he’s had to work hard to maintain it and has gone out of his way to do “good” things, that lifestyle is never been something he’s willing to compromise on. He’s been taught, and he believes, that if he works hard enough, he’ll get what he wants. He’s been taught, until very recently, that police officers are there to protect him, not to threaten him. He feels the rules, like the rules of his bail, aren’t that big of a deal. If he weren’t a straight white male, would he feel the same way, or would he feel like the rules existed specifically to catch him “misbehaving” so he could be thrown back in jail and made to look guilty for some arbitrary reason? This situation would be hard on anyone, but the way it affects Cary is deeply tied to his privilege and the ways he—as a man, as a white man, as a rich white man, as a lawyer used to navigating the system—feels the court system should/does work.

Alicia finds Eli in her office. “That pot was dirty, Eli,” she explains. Omg, Alicia, forget about the damn pot. So not the point!

“Don’t ever do this again,” Eli lectures.

“Eli, I went to the soup kitchen because I’m sick of thinking about myself,” Alicia explains. She’s being dense at this point. She could’ve gone to the soup kitchen after work, not taken phone calls while she was there, and dressed appropriately. The problem isn’t that she went to the soup kitchen. It’s that she’s carrying on with her daily life as though she’s not a political figure with enemies and that she’s being reckless in the only sense Alicia Florrick can be reckless.

“You wanna do some good?” Eli asks. “You do a photo op.” “That’s not doing a good deed,” Alicia protests. Hey, Alicia? Do you even have the slightest bit of interest in being a politician?

“Stop acting like this is about you becoming a better person. It’s about you appearing like you’re a better person.” Well. That’s harsh. And true—very true. Remember Emily Nussbaum’s theory that the SA race represents Alicia’s desire to do good, to make a change, to feel like she’s not wasting her life and being an awful human being? “Escapist catnip”? This is exactly why Alicia’s wrong to subscribe to that idea. None of this is going to make Alicia a better person, no matter what her intentions are. What it’s going to do is put her in a bind where she has to appear to be a great person—a person she’s not—so she can get elected to an office where she’ll have only a limited amount of freedom. She’ll be constrained by political forces and political arrangements and preoccupied with making politically savvy moves so she can be reelected. This is not Alicia’s fantasy; it’s her nightmare.

Alicia gives Eli a look, which prompts him to ask if she thinks this is counterintuitive. She does. “That’s why you’re bad at this and I’m good.” And there it is. Alicia is bad at this. She’s not just struggling to learn it or adapting. She is flat out bad at this. How long will it take her to realize that? And how much does she want to be elected if she can’t see that she keeps landing herself in trouble by dismissing the advice of people who know more about this than she does? Alicia plays by the rules if she accepts that the rules are valid; otherwise, she feels she has the right to ignore them. Now, she’s been given a set of rules that she’s rejected on the grounds of not wanting to follow them because she doesn’t like them. Suck it up, Alicia, or get out of the race. 

The next witness prep session—I’m unclear as to why Cary is still doing witness prep if it’s a better idea to keep him off the stand altogether, as established earlier--  goes much better. Cary takes Alicia’s advice.

Out of context lines that sound awful: “I found something better—more rapists.”  I love that Alicia says, “What?” in reply to this. Kalinda’s found a rape wall on campus, which gives Alicia a lot of leverage in court because she can threaten to bring a class action suit.  

Bishop’s in the parking garage again. Kalinda lies to him about Lana’s involvement in his case. Bishop gives Kalinda a test or a mission of some sort: she has to put a credit-card sized blank white card in Lana’s wallet. I assume it’s a tracking device. God, I hate seeing Kalinda in these situations. It’s so scary, especially the first time through.

Canning wants to settle the case by finding evidence to expel Jody’s rapist so Jody won’t pursue the class action suit. Alicia—again wearing her glasses—doesn’t want to take this deal. There are other victims. But Jody isn’t interested in being the face of this. All she wanted was to get the boy who raped her expelled. As I said before, this case is interesting and compelling but would’ve benefitted from a lot more focus. As it stands, I see more compelling Facebook statuses on this topic at least twice every day.

After Jody leaves, Alicia asks Canning when his operation is and if there’s anything she can do. Canning says that if he dies, he’d like Alicia to visit his wife. Aww, that’s nice. Possibly the first Canning/Alicia interaction that’s just been pleasant—if sad-- without being undermined in the next scene.

Alicia’s taken Eli’s advice and is back at the soup kitchen, this time in a sweater than looks casual but actually costs $790. But hey, she’s worn it before, so I guess that makes her more relatable. Vote Alicia Florrick: She Wears Outfits More Than Once.

Now that Alicia is aware that what she’s doing is not community service but image maintenance/construction, she’s “good” at it. She makes pleasant conversation, seems informed and caring, and the press laps it up.

And Castro’s out of the race and Prady’s officially in, a news clip barely on screen tells us. Surely they could’ve worked this Castro news into a scene better? Maybe next week. What’s Alicia’s platform gonna be now that “I HATE CASTRO I HATE CASTRO I HATE CASTRO” is out? That said, it was inevitable that Castro was “the thing that gets us to the thing”—yes, I did just quote Halt and Catch Fire, which I actually haven’t seen past ep 1, to you. Alicia’s had a steady lead on him. She mentions in 6x04 that one of the easiest ways for her numbers to fall will be another candidate entering the race. A fearful Castro leaks the Israel paper in 6x07 to prevent Prady from jumping in. Prady and Alicia are both brands; Castro is the current SA who’s got a bad reputation, was never even elected in the first place, and lost the support of the man who appointed him. Maybe having him drop out the second Prady jumps in is a little too much, and it’s certainly strange to do it in a throwaway line, but Castro was never Alicia’s real challenge here. I don’t mean that from a political standpoint—of course he was her challenger, the one who would leak dirty information about her and get more votes as she stumbles and falls—but from a narrative one. It makes a lot more sense for Castro to be the awful obnoxious opponent that gets Alicia interested in running—remember Eli’s “enemy surrogates” thing?—but for Alicia to have an opponent that poses a more serious threat and makes the campaign even more high profile. Unless Prady becomes a two-dimensional, thoroughly irredeemable caricature of an antagonist, it’s going to be much more difficult for viewers to root for Alicia and for Alicia to win.

But then, maybe I’m just tempted to write off Castro’s role in the narrative as “the thing that gets us to the thing” because we knew about David Hyde Pierce joining the show so early on.

After watching this latest news footage, Sally changes her mind again: “Look, I’ve been all over the place about her, and I’m still not thrilled that she’s with her husband, but... I like her. I think she seems to care.” Omg Sally how impressionable are you? You think she’s selfish and entitled. Then you hear she’s a feminist and you like her. Then you see an unfortunate photo and you write her off. And then you see a clearly staged photo op meant to save face a day later and... now you like her?  Ok, Sally. Granted, perhaps the turning point here was that it was video, not a still footage, and that Alicia came across as genuine. Also, should probably note that my opinions of Sally as a person shifted a bit back and forth over the course of the episode, so people who live in glass houses...

“Now we just have to beat Prady,” Eli says to Alicia. “Tell me what to do,” she replies. WOAH. This is Alicia admitting that Eli’s right, that she’s wrong, and that she accepts the rules of the game—which she’s done, to some extent, already. This is Alicia telling Eli that she will defer to his expertise, that in the future this won’t be an issue, that she’s willing to make herself the Perfect Candidate with all of the sacrifices that entails, and that she’s open to listening about everything. She doesn’t say it in a voice that sounds like she’s angry or determined to beat Prady; she says it for Eli’s benefit more than to convey her desire to win. Let’s see if she can follow through on this. (I think three episodes of Alicia rolling her eyes at the political rules and claiming she doesn’t have to follow them is enough; I’m ready to move on to the next part of this arc.)

Kalinda and Lana are in bed together, sleeping, when Kalinda wakes up and sneaks off to put Bishop’s card in Lana’s wallet. She brings Lana’s bag into the bathroom, and is about to slip the card into the wallet when she reconsiders. “Damn it,” she says as she realizes what she’s about to do. She snaps the card in half. She won’t be controlled by Bishop; she won’t turn on her friend/lover; she refuses to participate.

So, after watching this, it struck me that I couldn’t remember the last time an episode ended with a Kalinda scene. I went back through season 6, nothing. She’s in the end of 601 for a split second, but that ending focuses more on Cary and the line than on Kalinda. There’s nothing in season 5—unless you count 5x15, but that ending’s mostly about shifting from Kalinda to Alicia. There’s nothing in the second half of season 4, either. That’s right. The last time a Kalinda scene ended an episode was 4x10, Battle of the Proxies. AKA THE END OF THE NICK ARC. IT’S BEEN THAT LONG. Unless you count the end of 4x14, where Alicia’s shaking hands with the partners while Cary and Kalinda stand outside the conference room, and luckily I know off the top of my head how many episodes it’s been since Red Team/Blue Team: 38.

Overall/Season So Far: Y’all won’t mind if I just skip these sections, right? I don’t have anything to say, except for the usual comments about sprawl/pacing/focus and the comment that this episode seemed to have a “theme”—entitlement—that found its way into a bunch of subplots. If you have macro-level questions about s6 or want to toss around ideas, just ask:)

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x20-- The Deconstruction

My thoughts on episode 20 under the cut!

It is September 22nd, 2009. (Airdate, not show-time.) A man and a woman hold hands as they walk down a hallway. We don’t see their faces—just their hands. A doorman ushers them in to a room full of flashing cameras and eager reporters. We see them from behind now; their heads; his head. The lights create lens flares. Music drowns out the chatter of the room. The camera spins around; we see the man in profile. We see his wife, out of focus, beside him.

It is April 26th, 2015. Alicia and Peter Florrick hold hands as they walk down a hallway. We don’t see their faces—just their hands. They enter a room full of flashing cameras and eager reporters. We see them from behind now; their heads; her head. The lights create lens flares. Music drowns out the chatter of the room. The camera spins around; we see Alicia in profile. We see her husband, out of focus, beside her.

The parallel’s just getting started, but it’s incredibly powerful. The show’s played many times before with the image of Alicia and Peter together at press conferences—1x23, where we’re denied access to the visual of them standing side by side; 3x20 where Alicia steps into the spotlight with determination; 6x05 where Alicia announces her candidacy, Peter by her side—but this is the most direct contrast to where Alicia started. Like Peter in 1x01, Alicia faces two scandals at once: one professional and one personal. Like Peter in 1x01, the personal failures are of her own making (if played up by the media; I don’t mean to suggest Alicia’s relationship with Will is comparable to Peter hiring prostitutes) and the professional failures are the result of the scheming of others.  

In both scenes, we cut suddenly from the near-silent slow motion to the present, watching the person at the podium (the microphones are even in the same order!) address the camera. “Good morning,” both Alicia and Peter start their speeches. “An hour ago I…” (I’d transcribe the speeches, but you get the idea. They hit the same beats without being word for word; the biggest difference is that Peter references God and his faith multiple times and Alicia never does).

As Alicia’s speaking, the camera pans over to a monitor. It’s almost shot for shot Pilot.

Alicia says some bullshit about how she’s resigning because even though she didn’t do anything, it’s “detrimental” to the “democratic process” to do a recount. Process, Party, same difference, right?

Things that are different about this press conference: we don’t zoom in on Peter’s reaction for extended periods of time (because our focus is still Alicia) (he has the obligatory reaction shot that’s on screen for a split second). They rely less on the effect of making it look like we’re watching a pixelated monitor half the time. And there are, blessedly, no flashbacks/illustrations/memory pops that detract from the scene. Also, the sound doesn’t cut out while Alicia’s speaking the way the sound starts to get fuzzy as Alicia gets caught up in thought in the pilot. Oh, and there’s none of the business with the piece of lint, but it wouldn’t really make sense for there to be.

Alicia thanks Peter in her speech, for being “amazing during this difficult time.” Her voice breaks as she says that. How weird it must be for her to be standing in this room (meant to be the same one) again, saying these words, ending up right back where she was six years ago (only not in the same place at all), thanking, genuinely thanking, the same man that humiliated her. I can’t even imagine what’s going through Alicia’s mind. (A curious choice in this scene to not give us access to Alicia’s thoughts or emotions. The Pilot sequence becomes quite subjective—the sound fades as Alicia tunes it out, there are a lot of shots of Alicia from behind (so we see the crowd as she does), when she focuses on the lint or imagines Peter with the prostitute, we see it. In The Deconstruction, we just see her looking at the camera.)

The press conference ends with Alicia and Peter holding hands as they quickly make an exit, reporters hounding them with questions (just for Peter in the Pilot, for the Governor and the First Lady in The Deconstruction). I love that Alicia and Peter are both wearing large watches here. Alicia wears the hideous suit and the professional look awkwardly in Pilot; flawlessly here.

As in Pilot, once they’re away from the crowd, Alicia stops suddenly, and it takes Peter a minute to realize. When he doubles back in Pilot, he asks Alicia if she’s okay, and she slaps him. When he doubles back here, he’s silent, and she speaks: “What do I do now?” (Note that Alicia doesn’t say a single word in the sequence in Pilot and Peter doesn’t say a single word in this sequence. The choice is more powerful in Pilot because the sequence does so much, as mentioned above, to show us how Alicia feels and thinks and to establish her as the central character, but having Peter not say a word completes the role reversal.)

In both Pilot and The Deconstruction, the press conference representing the (seeming) end of a career is actually the beginning of the next chapter of the story. I’ve heard theories for years about the show “coming full circle” by having Peter resign again, or by having Alicia announce/resign, as its final scene. While I suppose the former option is still a possibility, it seems a remote one. The press conferences pose new questions: what next? One press conference kicks off the series; the other falls at the start (not the end!) of an episode towards the end of season 6. Presumably the show will run seven seasons; this is season six episode 20. It’s not even the season finale! And that is, I think, because this show’s endgame (and now I’m totally speculating) isn’t about getting closure or a complete role reversal. The show is interested in things like this press conference as a benchmark in Alicia’s development, not as its culmination. (If I had to guess, the final scene of the series will be something simple and ambiguous, possibly something a bit meta to signal to the audience it’s final without putting the characters in a place where their stories seem complete.)

God, that scene in Pilot is fantastic.

And we fade to black. I was wondering if the writers would try a title card here—SIX HOURS LATER; SIX DAYS LATER (it wouldn’t be months again), but they managed to create the same effect just by fading to black.

The parallels end there; the pilot picks up with Alicia on her first day of work, waiting in the wrong conference room. (“Oh, excuse me, isn’t the staff meeting at 9:30?” are the first words we ever hear Alicia speak.) This episode picks up with a judge. Shrug.

He’s sentencing an elderly woman to jail time (mandatory minimum sentence) and Diane’s watching. She’s doing research for R.D.’s latest test case/project, and R.D. has Diane and Cary, in the next scene, sit down with two conservative lawyers. They’re all working together against mandatory minimums. I get why this episode has a COTW—to illustrate that the characters are working; to motivate that Diane/Kalinda moment; to get R.D. in play early in the episode; to explore a topic—but God, I’ve gotten so used to the serialization that when I start hearing COTW stuff, I just tune out.

Diane doesn’t agree on their test case; she wants to use the woman we saw in court. She says the woman is 62; the actress is 72. Not sure what’s going on here, but it’s weird. Diane is determined to help her.

“Ms. Lockhart, Alicia’s here,” an assistant informs Diane. R.D.’s reaction is only partially visible, but it’s clear he takes note of this.

Alicia waits in reception of Lockhart, Agos, and Lee. I’ve just figured out why I can’t stop calling the firm Lockhart/Gardner, aside from the fact that they’re in the LG offices: they change its name every damn week, and I can’t be bothered to remember when it’s only going to be that way for another ten seconds. From here on out, it’s just Lockhart/Gardner to me.

(But, how did Diane end up with first billing? It makes sense since she’s the most prominent, but wouldn’t Cary be unhappy with that?)

Alicia observes the changes. They wasted no time getting a new sign. People stare at her, gossiping about her return the same way they used to gossip about her husband. She takes a deep breath.

Cary and Diane greet her with smiles. “I’m so sorry about everything,” Diane tells her. Both Diane and Cary give her a hug.

In the conference room, Cary pours Alicia a glass of water and slides it kindly across the table. It’s the strangest, most minor pattern ever, but for some reason, water has a symbolic meaning on this show. Sometimes characters drink water angrily, sometimes they drink it smugly, sometimes they’re pointedly not offered it…

“Alicia and I have been talking, as most of you know,” Cary starts off. Good. It makes sense that Cary and Alicia would be in contact first. “I wish you hadn’t backed down, Alicia,” David Lee says (he’s not good at seeming sincere). Diane and Cary smile as Diane welcomes Alicia back to the firm: “We want you to come back as name partner.” (Hope you didn’t destroy the sign, guys!)

Alicia, who’s been stoic throughout this scene, is very clearly relieved and happy to hear this. She seems shaken by how nice they’re being, how she’s being welcomed back.

They’re not worried about the voter fraud thing—Cary jokes that he can’t hold that against her after the year he’s had. David agrees with anything that “maintains stability” which is exactly why he’s, in the past year, become name partner at a firm, kicked the founding partner out of that firm, switched firms to a firm where two name partners had uncertain fates (Cary’s potential jail time; Alicia’s campaign), and then become name partner at that firm. Diane mentions that she and Kalinda are having troubles with the SA’s office; they’re dealing with it. They’ll figure out the exit package later, because “This is home, Alicia. Welcome home.”

Alicia watches Diane, David, and Cary as she leaves. David notices her and waves. She’s unsettled—could it really have been that easy?

I’ll confess, I almost thought we were in Alicia’s mind for a moment there, it went so smoothly. Of course, we’re not. There are strategic reasons to bring Alicia back—she’s the governor’s wife and that will matter more than the scandal in a few weeks’ time; they don’t want to risk having her as a competitor. So it makes sense that they’d welcome her back. What annoys me here is that the writers set up a situation where Alicia rejoining the firm would create no tensions at all. They couldn’t problematize the process of Alicia getting back into the firm, trying to rebuild relationships and explain why she’s coming back after being so eager to escape, because they didn’t lay the ground work for it. They couldn’t do a plot where Alicia’s welcomed back and then faces tensions because there would be no tensions for her to face. That’s simply inexcusable. The writers had no other choice but to do the plot this way if they wanted to show why Alicia couldn’t just go back to FAL/LAL/fuck it I’m just calling it LG. If they had tried to do something character-heavy, I’d have complained that there was no foundation for it. So this is what we’re left with.

And the worst part?! There is absolutely no reason for us to be in this situation. There are plenty of things that would have, should have, caused rifts among the FAL partners. Like: how is Cary recovering from almost going to jail? How are Diane and Cary doing as allies? How is Diane feeling about the still-unresolved threat hanging over her head (surely Kalinda hasn’t flat-out told her “I’m going to turn on Bishop to get you off the hook”?)? Is there any resentment on Cary’s end about being in the smaller office in the L/G office space running a firm that is essentially L/G and missing out on top billing? How does Alicia feel about having David Lee there—one of her primary motivators for leaving original recipe L/G? Is Alicia going back out of desperation or because she’s seeking familiarity; will her world stop spinning if she goes back; is she using this as an opportunity to reevaluate her choices or does she feel like this is her only option? How are Diane and Cary viewing Alicia’s commitment to the firm after she decided, without consulting them, to run for SA? They seemed pretty mad all of a sudden in 6x12, did that ever happen? What narrative are we to believe—the one where Diane and Cary have been secretly resentful this whole time or the one where they’ve had no feelings? How’s the firm doing financially? How are their cases? There is not a single reason that these shouldn’t have been the main questions of the season. I’m not even asking the writers to change their plots or their outcomes. Keep the bad decision to put FAL in the LG offices! Keep the two serialized arcs running at once! Keep all of that! Just write it with an eye towards character rather than towards constantly upsetting the balance of things just for the hell of it. Ditch the subplots, or tie them in better. Instead of watching Diane and Kalinda scheme against Canning and David Lee and having another fun plotline where Howard Lyman is central to everything, how about a clear cut plotline where Diane can easily get the office space again and talks to Kalinda about the move? And Cary’s not thrilled with the idea? And Kalinda gets caught in the middle? And everyone realizes that they can’t turn to Alicia about the future of the firm because she doesn’t intend for that future to include her, and then Diane and Cary have to start making decisions without Alicia? And they clash on their ideas for what the firm should be—and this all ties in to the startup culture Cary’s so attached to—but realize, once they set aside the old grudges, that they’re largely on the same page? Something. Anything. Chances are, if your pitch for how to get from point A to point B involves “… and then Howard Lyman…” it is not the right strategy.

And that’s just ONE example! These damn subplots were in every episode. I could write that much or more, easily more, on every single episode. I could do it for the campaign arc, too, which did a great job drawing out major themes and an okay job following through. To say this season could have been better would be an understatement.  

Cary fiddles with his phone nervously before phoning Geneva. He says he’ll turn evidence against Bishop. “What evidence, Cary?” Geneva asks, letting Kalinda (who is sitting across from her) know what Cary’s up to. Kalinda tells Geneva not to agree; Geneva tells Cary she’ll get back to him. Geneva’s amused at how many people are eager to turn on Bishop now. Geneva finds Kalinda’s offer to dig up evidence (but not testify) promising. I would, too, if I’d been trailing her, knew (as Cary does not) that Kalinda is in Bishop’s inner circle at the moment, and knew that she would be much less likely to get caught. Kalinda’s going to be able to offer Geneva a lot more. Geneva tells Kalinda to get her something within a day, implying that she’ll go to Cary if Kalinda doesn’t come up with something.

COTW stuff.

The next image to fill the screen is a clip from To Kill a Mockingbird (which I have neither seen nor read; I KNOW, I KNOW, I NEED TO.) It’s a speech about the courts being “the great levelers” and how all men are created equal. Grace and Alicia are watching. Grace wonders if this is what made Alicia want to become a lawyer. “No,” Alicia answers. (We already know it’s not; she just wanted to be inside something that made sense to her.)  “It made a lot of people at school want to become lawyers, but they’re all prosecutors and tax lawyers now.” It interests me that the writers include this line at this point in Alicia’s story. Running for the SA’s office was Alicia attempting to escape whatever it is that felt stifling and wrong about being at a firm like L/G or F/A. Now she’s headed back to LG, but almost by default: Cary phones her right after the announcement; they welcome her back; she’s tired and it’s where she turns. But might something different, something more along the lines of what her prosecutor/tax lawyer classmates believed being a lawyer would be, motivate her next career move?

“I like when people give speeches, and it makes other people change their mind,” Grace comments. “I know. Me too,” Alicia agrees. This confirms what I have suspected ever since the Darkness at Noon obsession began: I would never in a million years want to talk to either of these Florrick ladies about film or television. Speeches that magically solve problems? I’ll pass, unless said speeches are written by Aaron Sorkin.

I take back my comment. I would love to watch a Sorkin show with Alicia and Grace. We’d all be moved by the big speeches and enjoy the idealism, and then we’d have great discussions about politics as Alicia and Grace problematize or further develop the points the characters make. Hell, I don’t even need to be there for this. I think “Alicia and Grace watch ‘The Newsroom’” would be a far more enjoyable show than The Newsroom.

Anyway, that’s a nice segue to my next point, which is that in reality, the people who give inspirational speeches that change the minds of others are usually… politicians. Or motivational speakers, but the politicians seem more relevant. A good speechwriter coupled with a good orator can win over the masses. It seems likely to me that Alicia was, probably still is, attracted to Peter in part because he’s so good and natural at being persuasive and winning people over. And Grace likes politics—if I had to bet money I’d say she’ll eventually become a politician (I’m totally stealing the Grace-as-politician idea from @anothertgwfan). I totally can see her following in her father’s footsteps, mixing idealism with the pragmatism she’ll develop with experience.

“Do you ever get to do that? In court?” Grace asks. That’s also a no. “It’s mostly about facts and evidence.” (Well, and presentation in other ways, like Nancy Crozier/Louis Canning/Patti Nyholm strategies.) “Most of the time, you don’t really have someone you believe in.” (Again: is Alicia going to try to change that?)

“That’s too bad,” Grace says. “Maybe it’ll be different this time,” Alicia says, optimistically, before telling Grace she’s going back to LG (will it really, Alicia?). Grace is very supportive of this, and Alicia’s phone rings. The movie plays on (Alicia knows how it ends) as Alicia answers.

It’s a bit odd to me that we have such a nice Alicia and Grace moment in this episode after the tension last week. While I don’t think Grace was half as mad as fandom decided she was (I mean, if you read the comments, you’d think she threw a fit, not that she asked if it’s okay to lie and then went to do homework!), I would have appreciated an in-between scene here. I’m alright with assuming that Grace appreciated the (eventual) honesty, needed a few days, and went back to being supportive after the voter fraud happened and Alicia broke down, but wouldn’t it be nice if there were some continuity here? Or, like, a single scene mentioning Zach and how Alicia and Grace are dealing with Zach being out of the apartment? Or a single scene mentioning Peter?

It’s a client on the phone, whom Alicia happily shares the good news about her return to the firm with. But he’s confused: he just (just!) got a call saying that Alicia was not returning. Alicia suspects David Lee, but nope: Diane!

“Damn it,” Alicia says (it’s like it’s 6x14 again!) and… title credits.

When we get back from commercials, Alicia is pacing around her kitchen, glass of wine in hand, ranting: “They had no intention of bringing me back! They never did. They have been playing out this charade so they could cherry-pick my clients.” She’s ranting to Peter, who also has a glass of wine. She must’ve invited him over. It’s so weird—and nice—to see Alicia and Peter working together. I imagine this is what it looked like when they were really together.

Alicia’s taking this personally; Peter says not to. Alicia says it’s personal because she started the firm in her apartment! They ran cables through Grace’s room! (Oh, what’s that? Alicia and Peter have children together?!)

Peter advises her to strike back at “Florrick/Agos, or whatever they’re called now…” Best line of the episode y/y?

Alicia worries that her reputation is “sullied,” but Peter thinks she can win back some clients. Alicia’s answer to that is the answer that’s not part rationalization: she’s just tired.

Hey, that sounds like the 5x22 fight! Alicia pursuing the easiest path because she feels out of energy? Yup. I’ve seen this before. She felt tired, directed all of her energy towards the campaign in hopes that winning would make her feel more awake, she won then lost, now she’s tired again. And still spinning—her word from 5x20.

Peter tries to pump her up—she’d be able to retain some clients, and that’d be a great start! He advises her to play them back, to fake a smile and renegotiate her exit package. Alicia considers this strategy, and the scene ends. The Alicia and Peter relationship (romantically or non-romantically, as in this scene) is one of the most interesting things the show has to develop… when they develop it. I still want to see them divorce, but I can see why this is hard for the writers—and for Alicia—to let go of.

(Just a note on shipping: If I ever say things that seem shippery, they’re not. I might squee over a hot sex scene or jump up and down when I see a scene that illustrates the “intellectual peers and partners” description of Alicia and Peter’s relationship at its best, but I do these things without really caring where things end up. I’m not sure how y’all define shipping, but I define it as being invested in a relationship you would like to see happen romantically/continue to happen romantically. I’m just invested—in Alicia/Peter, but also in Alicia/everyone she has a compelling dynamic with.)  

Kalinda’s arranged a meeting with Dexter Rojas, Bishop’s second in command. They’re in his car. Kalinda’s trying to play him and cover her tracks (and also, we’ll see later, trying to steal his flash drive).

Alicia’s all smiles when she goes back to LG. She’s so smiley it’s alarming. It reminds me of one of my favorite episodes of Desperate Housewives (of all things!), called Smiles of a Summer Night. The Mary Alice monologue in that ep is about how there’s nothing more deceptive than a smile (in suburbia). It’s one of those things that seemed profound to me when I was 13 and has stuck with me.

Finn’s joined the group in the conference room now. David doesn’t like what Alicia and Finn are suggesting; Diane is caught off-guard; Cary’s eager to try to help.

This meeting convinces Finn that the partners are playing her. Sometimes the genuine smiles look like the false ones! Especially in an environment where smiles are usually deceptive…

Finn tells Alicia to get on the phone with clients, now, because they don’t want her back.

“We want her back, David,” Diane is saying at the same time elsewhere in the building. Heh. Diane and Cary fight for Alicia; David calls this a “misguided sense of loyalty.”

OH! There is an important line in here from Diane that makes it obvious how the misunderstanding happened! They thought she was leaving, made calls, and now Diane wants to phone again to tell them she acted prematurely. Ok. Good. (I missed that the first time through and spent a considerable amount of time being like, “but… but Diane phoned…”)

Wow—the COTW stuff actually makes sense when I pay attention to it. Shocking. It’s really not for me, but I wouldn’t mind a return to the COTW stuff, because its worst crime is minor factual inaccuracy on details of the law and being boring. It does not involve Howard Lyman and his pants and things of that elk. Er, ilk.

(To clarify my joke, Howard’s just an easy target because the use of that character perfectly captures everything the show does wrong when it focuses on the office politics. Also, I don’t count it as a COTW if it’s about intrafirm politics, too, so the cases Howard’s pants are relevant to don’t count as COTWs in my book.)

David Lee starts making calls and finds out that Alicia is phoning clients from the LG conference room to come to her new firm. He goes to talk to Diane, who’s talking to R.D. David Lee says he’s a conservative too. That’s news to Diane. Also news to Diane? That Alicia’s playing them.

Let the scheming begin! Isn’t it fun!?

It’s like we’re back in late season 3, with office politics everywhere just eating up time. The only difference now is that Alicia’s involved, but the material is so flimsy on the LAL side of things that it’s hard to get invested. David Lee scheming? Meh. Alicia wondering about where to go next? Less meh. The show’s done a reasonably good job writing for Alicia this year, but it’s failed the supporting characters.

“This is starting to get old,” says the frustrated client, speaking on behalf of the frustrated viewership.

“I don’t believe it,” Cary says. “That’s because the last time she pulled this crap, you were on her side,” David comments. So, usually, I disagree with most of what I read at the AVClub, at least when it comes to TGW. But there was a point there this week that I liked, something about how the paranoia here is very in character. I might not believe that everyone would be so quick to believe the other had turned on them… if there weren’t precedent. If the twists and turns and lack of loyalty become the norm, it makes sense to be on alert and quick to believe the worst in people.

While Bishop is out, Kalinda sneaks into his study and copies all of his files. I guess he has the rest of the house on such lockdown he leaves his computer unprotected? She watches the security cam monitors as she transfers files. Bishop returns home! When he walks into the kitchen, Kalinda is there with a glass of milk (MILK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). She tells him she didn’t want to leave Dylan alone; that she thought Bishop was home because she saw Dex at the house! Bishop is suspicious. He sits down at the computer, and, uh-oh! The flash drive was not ejected properly! Dun dun dunnnnn.

Bishop investigates. It’s March 30th, 2015 in show-time, if you’re curious.

Kalinda isn’t interested in trashing Alicia—“Alicia would never do this,” she says simply. Then David Lee starts talking about how she did it last year; Cary is like well that was justified last year… etc.

Turns out the flash drive thing was a clever scheme on Kalinda’s part to frame Dex. Kalinda’s off the hook!

Kalinda gives the flash drive to Geneva. Everyone’s problems solved!

Diane does something case related; runs into Joy Grubick. Awkward. Joy remembers Diane—Cary’s lawyer (good memory). And LEMON Bishop’s. Lemon. Things aren’t going well for the case because Joy does her job.

David Lee is on the phone trashing Alicia. The name’s tainted! Judges are biased against her! And some slut shaming, too! (Hey, David? I know you’re much less high profile than Alicia and your emails weren’t sexual, but I can’t imagine these same clients would like to read YOUR emails any more!)

David Lee calls Alicia a bitch, can go to hell.

Diane gets mad at Alicia for going after R.D. And then Alicia gets mad at Diane for lying. Then Diane’s like YOU BETRAYED US! And Alicia’s like YOU BETRAYED ME! And oh my god this line makes a billion times more sense in context than it did in the promo.

The police come and arrest Lemond (that’s Lemond, with a d on the end, Joy). Unlike in Waiting for the Knock, the arrest happens in front of Dylan. Bishop wants his IT guy (did we get his name?) to phone his lawyer (Lester?) and tell Dex he’s dead.

Cary’s mad when he hears about Bishop’s arrest and jumps to conclusions. “You’re gonna get her killed,” Cary says, not knowing half of the story with Kalinda and Bishop.

Louise, Diane, and Joy share a scene. Louise is pretending to be an addicted for reasons explained earlier in the case. The most notable thing about this scene is that it’s not often you see three women over 60 sharing a scene like this.

There’s an exchange about Louise getting a “horse off her back” and Joy is like, “monkey?” and it just makes me think of the elk/ilk thing.

Cary goes to Kalinda’s apartment—I guess he has a key, which seems like a meaningful plot development—and waits. Then someone starts pounding on the door: Dex. He needs to leave her a message, because someone turned on Bishop! And it wasn’t him! And he still hasn’t figured out it was Kalinda! Cary decides to try to save Kalinda, again having no knowledge of the situation, by taking the blame. This is a terrible strategy, because Dex actually knows what information is in Geneva’s hands and that Cary could not have been involved, while Cary doesn’t know anything about what Dex knows. So Dex puts the pieces together—finally—and gasp! It was Kalinda!

I don’t mean to say that what Cary’s doing here isn’t incredibly brave and well-meant. It is. It’s just… a very bad strategy. There’s a reason Kalinda’s the one turning on Bishop and not Cary.

Kalinda ignores a call from Cary as Diane and David Lee bicker. Kalinda decides to phone Alicia and put an end to this madness. Alicia, at home now, is still pissed. Alicia tells Kalinda her side of the story, and Kalinda figures it out: it was all a misunderstanding!

Cary is still at Kalinda’s apartment when she gets home, sitting her white chair, the one she sat in in 3x22 instead of running. Kalinda says she’s not in trouble, then Cary tells her about his encounter with Dex. “Why… why’d you do that, Cary?” Kalinda asks when Cary mentions he took credit. It’s heartbreaking. That’s the moment she realizes, I think, she’s going to have to leave forever; another new name, new place, new life. Archie’s such a good actress. It’s a shame this show has failed her.  

When Cary mentions the flash drive, Kalinda knows she needs to go, now. Even if Cary screwed up royally, he does give her a much-needed heads up to get out of town. Kalinda denies that anything’s going on, but she puts the jacket she took off earlier in the scene back on. Cary moves closer, tries to get her to share. He asks if he can help. She says no. She leans in, gives him a slow, lingering kiss on the lips. I don’t know about you guys, but this moment read as quite final to me. It’s Kalinda’s version of goodbye. They look each other in the eyes for a moment after the kiss, and Kalinda leaves. And that’s it for Kalinda and Cary, a relationship I never quite understood but a dynamic that should’ve been more developed during the back half of season 6.

Alicia shows up at Diane’s office to smooth things over. We don’t see their conversation, just that they’re going to have one. That speaks volumes about this plotline: we don’t even need to see the resolution, because it all hinges on a simple misunderstanding.

There’s a knock on the door at Alicia’s apartment. It’s Kalinda, which means that Grace is the one to answer the door, because Kalinda can have scenes with Grace but not with Alicia. Because it would be so contrived, wouldn’t it, Entertainment Weekly, for Alicia and Kalinda to share scenes. But it’s totally natural and not at all contrived that Kalinda would interact with Alicia’s daughter.

Anyway, Alicia’s not home. Amazing!

“I wanted to talk to her in person,” Kalinda says. This was a sneak peek scene. I had to pause the video to laugh at this line.

Kalinda sits down in the living room to wait for Alicia, but ends up walking around, looking at photos. Grace. Zach. That family photo of the Florricks that is sometimes just Alicia, Grace, and Zach, and sometimes also includes Peter depending on what scene it is. That one unsettles Kalinda a bit as she looks at Peter.

Across the room there’s another picture, one of Alicia, season 1 Alicia, posing next to the Stern, Lockhart, & Gardner sign with a big grin on her face. She’s holding up a folder at the end of the sign, with AND FLORRICK written on it. Aw! It’s such a cute picture I’ll forgive that there’s no reason Alicia would have this on display! Kalinda smiles at the picture, then remembers when it was taken. Specifically, when she took it. Her DSLR in hand, Kalinda prompts Alicia to smile, and Alicia smiles widely and laughs. It’s such a cute little moment, probably taken on a slow day when Alicia had just done well at something. Kalinda in season 1 was always prompting her to take control of her career and to work hard and advance up the ranks, so it seems natural that she’d encourage Alicia to be ambitious. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Kalinda’s using her professional camera for this picture, nor do I think it’s unimportant that a print of the picture made its way to Alicia. That’s the kind of friend Kalinda is, was, to Alicia. This moment is goofing off, but it encapsulates the friendship well… and it’s nice to see A/K represented with something other than tequila!

But no, show, you are not off the hook for shooting an “Alicia and Kalinda scene” that doesn’t involve either actor working together. All that makes me think is, “damn, so you COULD have actually included a plot reason for the separation if you’d tried hard enough!” The A/K separation on its own is problematic, but what makes it so detrimental to the show is that it’s unexplained and glossed over. Some weeks it represents how Alicia feels about Kalinda! Some weeks you’re just not supposed to notice! But you’re almost always supposed to forget that anything in season 3 and season 4 happened, because it doesn’t make sense for them to stop interacting in person after they’ve started to come to an understanding, does it?! (Of course it doesn’t, so we’re just going to ignore those two seasons.)

Diane interrupts Kalinda’s nostalgia to talk about the case. Kalinda gives Diane some pivotal information for the COTW. Diane says, “We’ll talk to the lab tomorrow” and Kalinda says, “Yeah, you need to call them first thing in the morning. I won’t be in.” How is the firm going to solve cases without Kalinda?! Diane worries about Kalinda, but K assures her she’s fine and then asks if Alicia came in, wanting to make sure she’s leaving things in a good place. Diane lets Kalinda know that they talked and apologized. “Life’s too short to be mad,” Kalinda remarks. “Well, you’re sounding philosophical,” Diane responds. She is. It’s unsettling.

“I’ll see you, Diane,” Kalinda lies, badly. “Take care of yourself.” She doesn’t know how else to say goodbye. (Damn, I wish we’d gotten more from Diane and Kalinda this year.)

After Kalinda and Diane hang up, Grace walks back into the living room to make herself a snack. She asks Kalinda if she wants anything, but Kalinda has to go. She hands Grace an envelope after quickly writing “Alicia” on the front.

As Kalinda’s walking out the door, Grace says, “Bye.” Kalinda turns to face Grace, meaning she turns to face the camera, looks straight ahead, says “Goodbye,” and closes the door.

Is that Kalinda’s exit from the show? We don’t know, really. We know she’ll be back in some capacity for the finale, but we don’t know what that means. I think it’s likely that she’ll stay on the run and that this scene will serve as her goodbye scene (rather than whatever the finale holds). And I think it’s a perfect goodbye for Kalinda—but there’s a catch.

What works for me about this goodbye is that it’s subtle but very clear—the direct address to the camera and the closed door make the scene seem obviously final, but it’s not a huge moment where there’s a lot happening. It’s Kalinda running away, as she’s threatened to so many times before, starting over in a new place like she’s done before, and leaving the other characters with some closure but not nearly enough. It makes complete sense to me that Kalinda would run when things got this bad, that Kalinda’s self-sacrificing ways would come back to haunt her, that her ending would be both tragic (in that she has to leave the first iteration of her life she’s probably ever felt happy in) and optimistic (in that she has a chance to start over again and to escape some of the more toxic forces around her—and I don’t mean Bishop).  

What doesn’t work for me is that this ending for Kalinda is a satisfactory ending to a wholly unsatisfactory character arc. I don’t know what I could have asked the writers to do differently within 6x20 alone. I certainly wouldn’t ask for any action-packed scenes. I could ask them to spend more time on Cary/Kalinda and Diane and Kalinda, but really, that wouldn’t be about 6x20—that’d be about all of season six. I could ask them to do a better job of illustrating the web Kalinda’s been caught up in, but changing just 6x20 would do nothing for that. I could ask them to make Kalinda more introspective, but, again, that’s not just a 6x20 problem. What I really needed from this show was a long-game arc for Kalinda. I needed concrete and consistent development of Kalinda’s relationships, including her relationship with Alicia. I needed the show to problematize Kalinda’s tendency to self-sacrifice (to give and give and give and put herself at risk) in some way, whether it was by showing us how destructive that can be (and I don’t mean scene after scene of Kalinda driving Dylan to school) or by showing Kalinda making an effort to change. Either way, I needed some introspection from Kalinda, some character development, some character exploration. Kalinda’s arc—if it can even be called an arc—has mostly been repetitive, like the writers know the core elements of Kalinda’s personality and just repeat them over and over. Kalinda is self-sacrificing! Okay, we get it—but what are you going to do with that? Just have her sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice? Is she completely static? If so, does that have consequences for her—and I’m talking emotional consequences, not plot consequences? How does this tie in with the larger picture of Kalinda? There were so many ways the writers could have developed Kalinda Sharma, even with the Alicia/Kalinda separation.  They chose to ignore them all, and if this ending for Kalinda feels unsatisfactory, that’s why.

Kalinda’s info saves the day for Louise Nolfi (the woman at the center of this episode’s COTW)! Cool! (Is this too simple? Maybe!) (But this episode has COTW mostly so everything can tie together for the characters, so I don’t really mind. Not the most effective use of a COTW this show’s ever done by any stretch of the imagination, but it serves its purpose.)

Ah! I haven’t seen this scene before; my feed cut out when I was watching live. Things suddenly make more sense. R.D. won’t stay with the firm if Alicia’s there because the Florrick name is tainted. And R.D. is the reason the firm isn’t underwater right now.

The receptionist (or Cary’s assistant? Not sure) can’t find Kalinda. When Cary tries her cell, the line’s been disconnected. Music starts to play as Cary heads over to Kalinda’s apartment.

It’s been trashed. All the drawers are open, the mirror’s on the ground, there’s a hole in the wall where we know Kalinda stashes her valuables. Cary takes in the empty apartment where Kalinda used to live, and we cut to Alicia and Peter, in Alicia’s dining room, talking.

The song that plays over this scene is Lauren O’Connell’s cover of “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today.” If that name sounds familiar, it’s because she’s the same artist covering “All I Have to do is Dream” in 5x08 (the chair scene and the Alicia/Peter scene at the end of that episode). It’s no wonder this Alicia/Peter scene reminds me so heavily of the “I think you’re going to take over the world from here” moment in 5x08!

Alicia’s out of LAL again because of R.D. I don’t know how this will end up, but that may be for the best for her. She wasn’t happy there. The Kings said in a recent interview (with CBS.com, because the network does better journalism than the major outlets that cover the show…) that Alicia is learning now how to “control her fate” and that politics wasn’t really the right approach for that goal. I said the same thing in my 6x18 recap, and I’ll say it again now. Alicia going back to LAL would not be controlling her own fate. Alicia not being able to coast gives her a better shot at it. (Of course it’s impossible to control one’s fate, but there are ways to ensure that you have more control, like not being a pawn in the DNC’s game or going back to a law firm with a history of scheming.)

Peter thinks it’s because of the Supreme Court Justice thing; it’s not. But regardless, Peter’s advice to Alicia is to start out on her own. Alicia’s tried that and no one wants to stay (really? No one? She’s FLOIL! Give it another week or two, get some distance from the scandal, and you’ll be able to get clients!) The only client that wants to stay is Sweeney, and he doesn’t count. (LOLLOL)

Peter tells Alicia to give it time. I forgot he said this, but hey, cool, that’s what I just wrote!

“I’m tired, Peter,” Alicia says again when Peter encourages her to start back up again (yes, I am using Alicia’s words to Laura Hellinger in a 4x06 moment I don’t think gets nearly enough appreciation!) Peter’s answer to that is to rest and recharge and then move on to the next thing. It’s lovely to see him respect that Alicia feels tired and, instead of telling her to simply get over it, take her seriously while suggesting constructive ways for her to move on. This is the type of support I always imagined Peter gave Alicia during the good times.

Peter’s solution to Alicia’s problems is for Alicia to write a book about her story and political philosophy. Heh. I would read that! It’d be a great tie-in. The ultimate constructed narrative; like A Few Words on steroids.) (Yes, I realize that most of the viewing audience isn’t nearly as enamored as I am with the memory pop device and the mind-y episodes. I still love them and want more.)

“You can do it, Alicia. You can come back from this. I know it.” I think you’re going to take over the world from here. I’d bet on it.

And then we’re back to Cary sitting at Kalinda’s apartment. It’s dark now. He’s broken, frozen. The song continues to play.

And then we’re in Alicia’s apartment again, later. She’s in a hoodie and jeans, looking pretty down. She picks up the letter from Kalinda and opens it. Contemplates. She throws it on the counter and continues walking out of the kitchen, but the second she gets through the doorway, she literally doubles over in pain and begins to sob. Since we’ve seen a lot of teary-eyed Alicia this season (I’ll come back to this), this moment doesn’t make me sad as much as it catches me off-guard. It terrifies me how suddenly Alicia breaks and how physical the whole scene is.

When I first watched this scene, my reaction was, “I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT NOTE SAID TO MAKE ALICIA BREAK LIKE THAT.” Now, I’m not sure it matters—but let me qualify that statement. This moment is, to me, both a cliffhanger and a complete scene. It’s a cliffhanger in that the content of the letter is important (and they better tell us what it says; there is no reason to continue to withhold that information like there was with the voicemail in 5x16), but it’s not a cliffhanger in that they way Alicia reacts makes sense even without knowing the letter’s contents. Even if all the letter said was “Goodbye” it makes sense. If I interpret the song lyrics literally—“human kindness is overflowing”—then whatever Kalinda wrote to Alicia is a gesture of kindness. Song lyrics are difficult to interpret because everyone has their own interpretation and the interpretation that leads the writers to select a song may be their own unique one (and I would bet money that the writers commissioned this cover). With that in mind, the way I read this scene is that Alicia’s broken by how kind Kalinda’s being, in some way or another. Kalinda’s been there for her even when Alicia hasn’t deserved any kindness, and even when Alicia did not reciprocate. At this moment when Alicia’s so low, Kalinda, the woman she apparently can’t think of without recalling her affair with Peter, is still going out of her way to be kind.

Speaking of Peter, there are two people—well, lots of people, but two, mainly—who’ve betrayed Alicia in ways she may never be able to forgive: Kalinda and Peter. Yet, at the end of this episode, it’s Alicia’s friends who are turning on her, and the people who make up her support system are (Finn but he’s not here) Kalinda and Peter, the two people she’s treated arguably the worst. That’s got to be messing with her head.

Of course, I am assuming that whatever is in the hand-written letter is kind, and possibly that it explains that Kalinda’s running away (so that Alicia might be feeling a loss, too) (Forgive me if I already said this, but I also think there’s some sort of utility in the letter; K generally doesn’t do things that don’t have a defined purpose). I like this interpretation of Alicia’s breakdown because anything else would feel cheap to me. If Alicia’s breaking down because she’s just so SAD that Kalinda is leaving, that’s not an ending we deserve. If Alicia’s breaking down because it’s just so ironic that Kalinda’s the one being kind, because she’s wasted so much time holding a grudge against a true friend… that almost (haha, well, not ALMOST because nothing can make up for the 50 A/K-less episodes) makes it seem like the story separation of A and K was intentional.

And it’s also not just about Kalinda. It’s also about whatever the particular content of the note is (which is why we need follow-up), but more than that, it’s also about everything else going on in Alicia’s life. She’s shut out of her firm, her reputation’s tarnished, she has nowhere to go, and the dream she built up came crashing down. She’s tired yet again and still spinning; if anything she’s worse off than she was at this time last year. She’s made no progress. And now she’s losing someone else—someone who was once so important to her. It hits her so strongly and suddenly and physically because it’s Kalinda, but she’s already ripe for a breakdown.

That’s why we’ve seen three episodes in the back half of season 6 end with Alicia in tears—613, 619, and 620. She thought she had a plan. She started to waver on the plan. She won and then she lost. Up and down, round and round. Alicia’s had it all figured out this year, and then she’s had nothing figured out. She’s more self-assured than she’s ever been, more ambitious and goal oriented, and yet she’s still been spinning aimlessly. What she wants is an abstract concept, and she’s prioritized winning and herself over everything and everyone—family, friends, ethics, the truth. And what does that leave her with when she loses? A lot of regret, a lot of burnt bridges, the same problems she had before, fatigue, moral dilemmas, and lots and lots of tears.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x17-- Undisclosed Recipients

My thoughts on 6x17 under the cut...

When Alicia arrives at the offices for the first time since the election, everyone’s all smiles. They wait by the elevator to greet her and give her a round of applause. Alicia curtsies (so awkwardly it makes me cringe), receives a hug from David Lee (who I’m sure wants to be on her good side), and then receives a hug from Julius Cain, who clunkily expositions that he’s been closing the New York offices.

This makes no sense on a lot of levels: first, when did he join FAL? Second, when did FAL get Canning & Lee’s New York offices? Third, even assuming that Julius had been there all along and the NY offices were in FAL’s possession… why in the world would Julius be informing name partner Alicia Florrick about this? I would hope she’s not THAT out of the loop that she doesn’t realize she’s running NY offices that are closing.

“Her office is mine,” Julius informs David Lee the second Alicia’s out of earshot. “Already called dibs,” David Lee says. Good to see these two have made so much progress since season three. How about we give that office to Cary?

Alicia’s office is stuffed with gifts—food, booze, flowers, balloons, you name it. Marissa declares that she wants a basket of muffins and “whatever this is” (it’s a small sculpture). I haven’t seen Alicia this ridiculously happy since she made partner in 4x13.

Alicia decides it’s time to start day-drinking and opens a bottle of champagne. Marissa tells her she can’t; it’s expensive champagne and she can’t consume gifts over $75. She’s already opened the bottle, so Marissa smashes it. It “broke.”

Castro is Alicia’s first visitor of the day, wasting no time. Alicia introduces him to Marissa, who appoints herself Alicia’s “executive assistant.” Alicia repeats the phrase. She clears a spot on the sofa for Castro, who requests that they speak alone. But Alicia wants Marissa in the room. And Marissa wants to offer all of Alicia’s visitors muffins, because why not?

Castro’s agenda of the day is getting Alicia to keep Phil Lorie as her Chief Deputy. Now, I have no idea what the hierarchy of the SA’s office looks like. But didn’t we hear about Geneva being “deputy” (as in the position Cary held under Peter) in 6x07? Maybe that was a mistake? My wishful thinking is that the Chief Deputy job will go to Geneva in the end, so she can’t currently BE Chief Deputy for that plotline to work. Here’s hoping I’m right!

“I am going in another direction,” Alicia tells Castro definitively. “So, thank you. But no,” she finishes, with a smile that almost looks like a smirk. Castro also tells her that it’s “customary” for the incoming SA to not investigate the outgoing one. He wants Alicia to keep this in mind, given their “past encounters” (of course Cary’s right outside of Alicia’s office as this meeting takes place, looking at Castro). “You mean the prosecution of my partner?” “Yes. Given that, I thought I would remind you of that rule.” “That unwritten rule,” Alicia corrects. Those can the most dangerous kind, because they don’t have defined consequences. But Alicia doesn’t care: she was just elected SA, and now, she feels, is the time where she can tell off the people she’s been waiting to tell off for the whole campaign. (I see where this is coming from. I don’t fully buy it, though. I buy Alicia refusing to do their bidding. I buy Alicia wanting to set the record straight. I am not sure I buy Alicia dismissing the people powerful enough to hold the office/get her elected the day after the campaign. Alicia’s not stupid; she’s pragmatic and strategic. But you wouldn’t know it from this episode.)

Castro tries to threaten Alicia, but she shuts him down: “You’ll what, James? You’re a lame duck.” This makes Marissa grin. Castro tells her that there’s still stuff he can do—like saddling her with bad cases so her record doesn’t look good. Then he leaves—God, he’s smug—without caring if he knocks over any of the gifts in Alicia’s office, and runs into Cary in the doorway. “Is there a problem?” Cary asks.

“Your friend, Alicia Florrick, she’s playing on a field where she thinks she knows the rules. She doesn’t,” Castro explains. I love that he says her full name despite the fact that they’re both standing right outside of her office. I hate that he’s right about this, not just because it’s a hard truth but because it’s a hard truth that probably shouldn’t even be true, at least not to this extent. The biggest difference to me between Prady’s brand of idealism and Alicia’s brand of idealism is that Prady understood what he was being idealistic about. Alicia has no clue. She’s so wrapped up in her own (jumbled, contradictory) logic about Right and Wrong and Proper Political Behavior (she understands how to apply concepts she’s been taught without quite grasping the logic to think like a strategic politician) that she’s forgotten to try to pay attention to the world around her. Are the rules sort of shitty? Sure! Does that mean Alicia’s approach for not following them is a good one? Nope.

I’ve written before about Alicia as a rule-follower—which she is, was, and likely always will be. That’s her nature. She likes rules and structure. But I’ve also written about the limitations of Alicia’s rule-following ways; namely, that she’ll follow any rule she accepts as legitimate but if she rejects the premise of a rule, she won’t follow it just because it’s a rule. Again: Alicia logic is weird. And weirdly internally consistent in its contradictory nature.

“For the record, you have my permission to hold a grudge,” Cary jokes as he greets Alicia with a hug. Awwww. Remember how these two used to have a friendship and a work relationship before this season, where the writers decided it wasn’t worth developing consistently? Actually, I should say since last season, because lack of development of Florrick/Agos was one of my main problems with season five. The problems with season six do not start in season six. They go back to season five, probably back farther. The writers just did a better job of covering up their weak spots last year.

Alicia’s phone rings—Kalinda. “Kalinda! Good morning,” Alicia says with a smile, as though she were talking to someone other than her ex-best friend she can’t be in the same room with (I mean literally, not as a character motivation) and who slept with her husband. Greeting Kalinda cheerfully?! Inviting Kalinda to join in the celebration?! That’s how you know Alicia’s still on a victory high.

Kalinda relays the information that Bishop wants to talk to Alicia. She says, like it’s not a big deal at all, to tell him to come on in. Now that the campaign’s over, Alicia can tell Bishop to his face she didn’t want his money and won’t do him any favors! Isn’t it glorious?!

Finn’s Alicia’s next visitor, and he asks her if she knocked over a cheese and wine store when he sees her office. And a pizza place, Finn. You forgot to ask if she knocked over a pizzeria. 

“What’s the point of having power if you can’t use it?” Alicia replies. And that’s pretty much where Alicia’s mind is now: what’s the point of having power if you can’t use it the way you want it to, not the way James Castro or Lemond Bishop or Guy Redmayne want you to?

Finn is Alicia’s lawyer for her exit package, which is a usage of Finn that actually makes a lot of sense. She trusts him and he’s not a FAL employee or partner. Alicia’s being offered $350,000, which is $300,000 less than she wants and hahaha if only we all could see $350,000 as an insulting offer.

Alicia threatens to tell her clients to find another firm after she leaves. If she’s not happy with her exit package, the partners won’t be happy with their client list.

“Alicia needs $300,000 more to be happy,” Finn reminds Diane/David Lee/Julius/Cary (I hate that FAL is just L/G without Will and with Alicia and Cary tacked on to the same issues as ever). This makes me laugh.

David Lee and Julius plan to keep the lowball offer because Alicia’s motivated to accept something, but Cary fights for her, saying it’s the practical thing to do (no hard feelings) and that Alicia deserves the money because she built the firm. Alicia built Lockhart/Gardner?! Oh, right, this isn’t Lockhart/Gardner.

David Lee and Julius then start bickering. “Shhh. Let’s not fight,” Diane stops them. Ah, season three memories… (and the earlier seasons but there was so much of this in s3).

COTW time! Another tech case, this one about a peer-to-peer site. FAL’s client, a filmmaker, is suing the site for allowing his film to be illegally downloaded four million times before opening day, which the filmmaker claims depressed box-office turnout.

Redmayne stops by Alicia’s office next, and Alicia isn’t happy to see him. He hugs her a bit too tightly for a bit too long, and she pulls away awkwardly to introduce her “personal assistant” Marissa. Marissa’s very big on her rebranding idea and corrects Alicia: executive assistant.

Redmayne says he sent over a chess board made of human teeth. Gross. He wants to talk to Alicia before anyone else does. He also wants Alicia to sit down next to him, and she refuses. Then she sits on the couch as far away as she possibly can (and crosses her legs). Marissa and Alicia exchange glances, and I wonder how much of Alicia’s behavior here is changed by Marissa’s presence. Alicia doesn’t see herself as Marissa’s role model or anything, but I think it might be harder for her to do things that make her feel uncomfortable when there’s someone else watching, or more tempting to stand up against pervs and bad guys when she has an audience and an ally. The only other person in the room is Crystal, Redmayne’s daughter (granddaughter?) and she may as well not be in the room, because every time Redmayne addresses her, we see her on her phone, not even looking up to acknowledge the question.

In case you didn’t think Redmayne was gross yet, he tells a story about the feet of a prostitute, but in a roundabout way so we get way more information than we wanted. Apparently, Alicia’s feet remind Redmayne of the prostitute. Marissa tries to make the story stop by offering Redmayne a muffin, but it doesn’t work.

But why is Redmayne REALLY there? Because he wants Alicia to appoint Dean Lumber her “Major Deputy” (which I presume is the same as Chief Deputy which may or may not be the same as Deputy). (Speaking of people named Dean, is Dean Levine-Wilkins still a character, or did the writers think we wouldn’t notice if they swapped in Dean for Julius and then Julius for Dean? (Show, you’re really awful sometimes.)

Alicia tells him no, and that’s when Redmayne gets serious. He even threatens to get her out of office. That’s when Bishop (“another suitor,” as Redmayne says) walks in.

“I should’ve known. It’s always the colored guys,” Redmayne says. What the fuck? (Show, fix your actual issues with race. Every time you try to make some sort of commentary about racism I’m just going to tell you to fix your casting problems and your own racial bias because I’m not going to pat you on the back for saying overt racism is BAD!)

“You know, this may seem like power to you, but it isn’t,” Redmayne tells Alicia. “You give me 20 hours, I’ll show you power.” Will Alicia ever understand this? Hopefully, because I feel like the show’s taught me this lesson ten times over, and I’m not experiencing it first-hand like Alicia is.

“Who the hell was that?” Bishop asks Alicia as Redmayne leaves, and… credits.

Alicia doesn’t want the door closed; Bishop does. Marissa closes it, and Bishop starts with his business pitch about how he’s getting out of the business. “I’ll need your help,” he says. “With your son?” Alicia asks, because he was just talking about Dylan. I’d have found that laughable a few weeks ago but now that babysitting is Kalinda’s plotline…

Alicia insists that Marissa stays. Marissa is going to have the most fascinating memoir to write.

Bishop wants Alicia to stop Geneva’s investigation that she knows nothing about. Geneva’s being mentioned a lot lately. I like it. Alicia offers Bishop a deal she knows he won’t take, that he knows she’s offering because he won’t take it. Bishop gets mad because he, like Redmayne, invested money in her. He threatens her and says “this was not a smart move. This was not a smart move at all,” as dramatic music plays (so scaryyyy). He hits the wall of Alicia’s office on his way out, causing concerned glances through the glass walls of the conference room. We transition into the depositions as Bishop storms off.

God bless COTW stuff; it’s so easy to ignore. (It’s interesting but I have nothing to say about it.)

Eli storms into Alicia’s office: “What the hell are you doing?!” Good question, Eli. She’s telling off everyone she’s wanted to tell off for the last few months, everyone she’d decided she’d only keep around until the second she was elected. I thought Eli fixed the “Alicia thinks she knows what she’s talking about” problem in 6x08, but it persists, because the “The writers have forgotten that Alicia is smart and strategic even if her political instincts are shit” problem hasn’t ceased. Anyway, remember how I compared Alicia’s happiness at the start of the episode to 4x13? Remember also that 4x13 chips away at that happiness until it turns to bitterness, resentment, and self-pity. This episode doesn’t do the same thing, but of course the big smiles weren’t going to last.

Alicia doesn’t know what she’s done—and if she does, she doesn’t know why it’s a problem. Exasperated, Alicia uses her usual, “Eli’s in my office acting like some small problem is the end of the world,” tone to address him. But this time, he’s not overreacting. “Guy Redmayne just called me!” Eli exclaims. “You mean the man, Guy Redmayne, who came in here and pressed his groin against me, compared my feet to those of an Arizona prostitute, and then demanded that I hire a deputy SA of his choosing?” Alicia asks, outraged. Eli is not sympathetic. “Yes, his money got me elected, but that didn’t make me his servant,” Alicia states. And this is where something truly amazing happens. Eli rants at Alicia—and at Marissa, who I think I’ve mentioned before usually makes perfect sense but doesn’t always grasp that just because something makes sense to her doesn’t mean it’s going to make sense to the broader world—and takes her down. He screams the complaints I’ve had, that a lot of you have had, all season about Alicia’s lack of instincts at her. And while that doesn’t excuse Alicia being written to have an almost unbelievably limited knowledge of politics, it feels good to see her being called out for being terrible with the show recognizing that they’re writing her to be an awful politician.

“Ugh. Dear God, of course it didn’t make you his servant,” Eli explains. “Yeah, and that’s what I told him,” Alicia responds, not seeing the problem. Eli sits down. “Alicia, I have spent a long time being your confidant and friend. We have disagreed on many things, but I have always respected you, always, until now.”

“Eli. I won’t be like Peter,” Alicia says. What? Won’t be an effective leader? Won’t be able to win multiple elections? Won’t be brought down by a sex scandal? Peter wouldn’t be controlled by James Castro, Guy Redmayne, or Lemond Bishop! He’d control them without them even knowing it. But Peter = bad in Alicia’s current mode of thinking. Oh, and also? Alicia, you don’t know this, but you’re being exactly like Peter. I seem to recall a scene where Peter refused to hire someone because he didn’t want to be “like he was before,” and Eli gave him a very similar talk. And Peter listened. Like Alicia listens.

“Then don’t be,” Eli says, going for the larger point and not allowing Alicia to make this about Peter. “Of course you’re gonna make your own decision; of course you’re not gonna do what Redmayne asks. But you don’t tell him that! You don’t tell him the truth! No—shut up! Listen to me. You know the truth. Here. In your heart. Good. Be a Disney princess, but don’t tell moneymen like Redmayne anything but what they wanna hear.” “Even if it’s a lie?” Alicia, who has still not yet grasped the concept of the partial truth or the impossible to break promise, asks. “Yes, because it won’t be a lie when you tell it. Absence of yes times time equals no. That’s the law. If you’re in doubt, you don’t say no. You say, ‘Thank you for your advice. All options are open to me. I plan to decide in the next 48 hours.’” “Well, what happens in 48 hours?” Oh my God, Alicia.

“You do whatever you like. Or you delay again. But you never, ever say no, because anything could happen,” Eli answers. “Redmayne will get just as angry if she delays,” Marissa chimes in. “No, he won’t. Men like him don’t want you to say yes; they want you to say ‘I’m listening.’ They want to be able to tell their friends, ‘I have the ear of the S.A. She listens to me.’ He’s rich. He’s forgetful. Alicia! Look at me! I know of which I speak, and you don’t. And you [Marissa] don’t either.”

Alicia stops protesting after that. Look, as little as I like the idea of anyone sucking up to Redmayne, there’s the politically savvy move and the “I feel good about myself now!” move. What are Alicia’s goals here? Are they to feel good about herself or to actually be an effective leader? (They’re to feel good about herself, of course—that’s a huge part of the reason she ran!)  Or, rather, how does Alicia’s goal of Doing Good (whatever that means) mesh with the political reality she’s trying to Do Good within? Certainly putting off Doing Good (just one more shady deal! Okay, just one more after this one. No, I swear, last one!) isn’t an effective strategy, but there has to be a middle ground between an insincere promise and making enemies out of her supporters before she even takes office.

“Oh, here we go. Superwoman is back,” the opposing lawyer says as Kalinda goes to show something else on the computer. SuperKalinda!

Targeted advertising is something no one at FAL has heard of. Lucky them, if they’ve never had that cute dress they looked up that one time at Nordstrom but decided against because it was out of their price range (well, I guess that doesn’t happen to Diane) follow them around the internet for the next three months! (Right now, I’m getting TGW-oriented CBS AllAccess ads on EVERYTHING.)

Eli gets Redmayne back in the room with Alicia, and it’s amazing that she can still salvage this. Eli tries to do the talking for Redmayne, but he wants to hear it from Alicia. As she moves closer to him, she picks up a large basket and strategically places it in front of her so that he can’t place himself in front of her. Now you’re thinking, Alicia! “All options… are open to me as SA, and, uh, I… will decide what to do in the next 48 hours,” she says less than elegantly, looking at Eli for approval as she finishes. And that’s what Redmayne—“Guy”—wanted to hear.

“You like Taylor Swift?” Guy asks. LOLWUT? In Redmayne’s world, Taylor Swift is best known for singing, “Shake That Thing.” He asks Crystal if he has the title right, and the one question she actually answers for him is that no, it’s actually “Shake It Off.” Alicia claims to love the song for Redmayne’s benefit. All of these ethical problems, like lying about enjoying Taylor Swift! Anyway, he means the song as a not-so-subtle hint that Alicia should “shake off” an investigation into some problems he’s having.

“Well, all options are open to me, Guy,” Alicia says, this time with confidence. She’s a quick learner. I just wish we didn’t have to watch her learn basic lessons with such frequency.

Alicia shakes Guy’s hand, and… cut to Alicia shaking hands with Castro. She apologizes for their earlier conversation, and feeds him the “All options are open to me and I plan to decide in 48 hours,” line. He buys it, but a new problem arises: Cary observes the friendly meeting between Alicia and Castro, glaring suspiciously at an unsuspecting Alicia and tuning out the deposition he’s in.

I can’t explain to you why Kalinda would be using Howard Lyman’s laptop for anything, but she’s using Howard Lyman’s laptop for the case. It is truly amazing, the amount of effort these writers spend on finding new ways to make the same old Howard Lyman jokes. (It seems it’s a communal laptop that people use for all the things they don’t want traced back to them, but it’s still traceable to Howard so…)

Howard Lyman is there to prove a point about targeted advertisement. And to be comic relief, but he’s really not funny anymore.

Diane sees Alicia and Finn walk towards her office and puts a stop to the deposition. In exit package negotiations, the partners are willing to offer Alicia another $50,000, which Finn reacts to as though it’s insulting. Cary glares at Alicia, and Alicia somehow understands that he’s mad at her, even though he was on good terms with her this morning and she didn’t notice him observing the second meeting with Castro. I don’t buy for a second that Cary would take his anger out on Alicia in this context. I don’t buy for a second that Alicia would be able to pick up on it, unless there’s a huge amount of pre-existing tension the show has forgotten to show us. Alicia’s able to identify that the problem is that Cary’s pissed at her (her words) but… I am not entirely sure why Alicia’s able to sense this. Couldn’t she put these wonderful powers of observation and people skills to a better purpose?

“I’ll have two kids in college; an SA’s salary will never cover that,” Alicia laments. Alicia. You’re getting a $400,000 exit package. You MUST have savings, or you’re not the woman I thought you were. You’re married to the governor. Your in-laws are loaded. Your mom seems to have plenty of money, too. And you know what the SA’s salary is, the real Cook County SA’s salary? $192,789. What Alicia means is not that an SA’s salary will never cover tuition but rather that she won’t be able to cover tuition on her own (because she’s not interested in getting help from anyone, which takes a certain amount of entitlement in the first place) while living the lifestyle she wants to live. Either that, or the writers are just awful at math.

But this scene’s not done infuriating me yet: Alicia goes and offers Finn the Chief/Major Deputy job! Apparently, he knows the job better than she does and they work well together. Oh, Alicia. This is a bad move. It’s not politically smart, it’s probably not going to work well for your friendship, and it’s not the slightest bit based on merit, which is not to say that Finn doesn’t merit the job (I don’t think he does but I also don’t know what the job is or how good Finn is) but rather to say that Alicia’s hiring process basically amounts to, “hey, wouldn’t it be cool if…?” First with Prady, now with Finn. If this is how Alicia makes decisions—and I’m not convinced it is, because this reminds me of Will’s colossally bad idea to offer Alicia name partnership at L/G—then she’ll make a terrible State’s Attorney.

Yeah, I have problems with Alicia’s characterization right now. We’re at that point. Fix this, show. There are lots of mistakes the writers can make, but losing sight of Alicia for the sake of plot is probably the most unforgivable to me. Lose Alicia and you lose the show. Right now, she just seems to be an exaggerated collection of her worst traits (idealism to the point of ignorance; living by her own logic) with none of the balanced, considered pragmatism I usually expect from her.

Finn, thankfully, does not seem to be interested in the position. I assume this is for a variety of reasons, ranging from personal (does he want Alicia to be his boss?) to professional (he just started his own thing and maybe he’s not down with switching jobs every five seconds the way Alicia seems to be) to political (he knows the office well enough to know he’ll be resented).

At home, Alicia is making thank you calls. We only hear one, but I think, given the number of gifts and the fact that she thanks a woman for the wine when she was sent biscotti, it’s safe to infer that this is one of many. Grace wants her attention. She was googling—ChumHumming just doesn’t roll off the tongue—coverage of the election, and found a site posting leaked Florrick/Agos/Lockhart emails. The one Grace is looking at is from D. Lockhart to C. Agos, subject “Alicia’s Exit Package,” and says, “Alicia has full plate. String out negotiations best strategy. Let’s frustrate into accepting initial offer.” Alicia’d already guessed as much, but here it is, on the Web, on her daughter’s computer. And there’s more. “Are there any from me?” Alicia asks. And, commercials!

David Lee gleefully reads through leaked emails at work: “Cary Agos to Carey Zepps: ‘Fourth consecutive case Diane refuses to settle. Clearly a senior moment. Need to loosen her up.” He laughs loudly, and Julius, in Diane’s office, finishes reading: “Maybe we could ask McVeigh to do a better job in the sack, get the stick out of her ass.” Diane stares at him. Would Cary write this? Debatable. There was that frat boy Cary/Carey prank in 5x04, so there’s precedent. On the other hand, I had my problems with that being out of character, too. Diane thinks David Lee’s the source on that one and is shocked to learn it’s Cary. (She doesn’t ask which Cary.)

Then Diane decides to share one about Julius, from January 8th: “Julius is coming back from New York. Great, more affirmative action bs.” Now Julius is horrified.

Kalinda reads: “Did you see what she wore? Ten bucks says she’s noisy.” Cary asks who wrote it. Kalinda says Carey Zepps did, because he thinks Kalinda and Cary are sleeping together. That gets a grin from Cary. (They are sleeping together, or at least they were, I don’t know what’s going on now because this show’s character development is currently a mess.)

“And you apparently called David Lee a ‘racist fruitcake,’ Diane informs Julius. Julius doesn’t deny thinking it—only writing it. “Well, that’s nothing compared to Kalinda,” Diane continues, laughing. Good to see these adults at the top of their game aren’t above acting slightly less mature than my friends and I did when we were in middle school!

Cary explains what Diane means (I love the way this sequence is written, with the crosscutting allowing us to see the scope of the hack and give us a sense of all the interesting tidbits in the emails without wasting time). Howard Lyman is claiming Kalinda gave him a blow job in a supply closet. What? Gross. Kalinda would never. Kalinda looks wounded by these accusations.

“The good Mr. Lee has done Gilbert & Sullivan. The question is, has he done Gilbert or Sullivan?” Howard Lyman reads. David Lee looks hurt, too. Interesting tidbit: if you look at the first mention of David Lee in the script for whatever season one episode he first appears in, he’s described as “gay before gay was ok” or something like that. It’s amazing how long it can take for things to pay off in TGW-land.

Apparently, Diane wrote in an email to David Lee: “Cary good lawyer, not great lawyer.  Going to prison not total loss for us.” I reject this email. First of all, timeline. As you all know, TGW and timeline don’t get along very well. But this is a particularly glaring mistake. At no point during the prison arc were Cary, Diane, and David Lee in any business arrangement resembling an “us.” At the start of this arc, which is when I assume this was sent, Diane was trying to make an exit from Lockhart/Gardner & Canning, and Cary going to prison wouldn’t have affected them directly. I can buy Diane saying that Cary is a good lawyer not a great one because she did seem to turn on him after 5x05, she didn’t seem to respect his opinions at all in early season six (and in fact wanted Florrick/Agos to be a firm run by women), and we’ve seen her try to devalue Cary’s skills as a lawyer before to make a point (that’s what prompts Diane to refer to Florrick/Agos as “Florrick and Associates” (which of course I’m going to remember her saying!) in 5x06. I can’t buy her ever saying that Cary going to prison might not be a huge loss for the firm, even if that did make sense timeline wise (David Lee isn’t hired back until 6x12, an episode after the charges against Cary are dropped). Diane is pragmatic and was perhaps angry, but I can’t imagine her ever sitting down and writing out that she thinks someone she mentored (and was representing…????!!!!????) spending years in prison might not be a loss for the firm. Nope.

Diane tries to call a meeting, but, good luck to her. Kalinda’s techie friend we’ve seen a bunch this season announces that he’s taken their email offline and needs all their cell phones. No one is happy about this. David Lee takes this opportunity to demand the attention of the room to say the following: “There seems to be a misunderstanding here that I am gay. I am not gay. I am dating a woman, in fact, and I will sue anyone here…” “Who suggests that I was hired because of affirmative action,” Julius interrupts. “That’s what you people always do!” David Lee screams at him. WHOA. All of this—WHOA. It’s a mix of entertaining and terrifying.

Because it wouldn’t be TGW without some random humor, there is also a man insisting that he DOES NOT PICK HIS NOSE DURING CLIENT MEETINGS. May that be the worst thing about you in the emails.

“We all said things that we didn’t mean!” Cary tries to calm the room down, but he can’t resist adding in a little dig: “Even things, Diane, that we should take back.” “What, like removing a stick from my ass?” “Excuse me, you said I wasn’t much of a lawyer.” Um, yeah, Diane, I think joking about you being uptight is nothing compared to you insulting Cary’s skills as a lawyer and then saying maybe his going to prison won’t affect your business much!

“Every single partner had their emails hacked except you. How is that possible?” Marissa asks Alicia, standing outside of the conference room. “Because they only released them from the last four months. I was using my campaign email,” Alicia explains. “Wow. Lucky,” Marissa says. Yeah, or they’re just waiting for the right moment to release more after firing their warning shot.

Diane tries to restore order among the senior partners and Kalinda (well, among whichever familiar faces they got for this episode; I am not sure why Howard Lyman ranks in this meeting but not Carey Zepps and the other partners aside from actor availability) and talks about how they all said things that weren’t what they really felt. Kalinda, surprisingly upset by Howard’s allegations (I say surprisingly because Kalinda usually shrugs off rumors and she seems to feel the need to defend her honor here), adds that some people made things up. Howard denies that he made it up, and Kalinda goes, “What planet are you living on?!” and it’s a wonderful line delivery but I’m still not sure why these words are coming out of Kalinda’s mouth other than to illustrate that no one is immune from the office gossip.

Oh, while I’m thinking of it: where were all of these emails and intra-office tensions all season? All of the plotlines missing from earlier this season—like substantial development of Diane and Cary’s relationship, of Diane’s character more broadly speaking, of the dynamics at F/A, and presumably about Alicia’s campaign (though we don’t hear what they had to say about Alicia, likely only because the writers wanted to keep Alicia out of the space in the episode that belonged to the other characters and not because they weren’t badmouthing her)—have just been hanging out on an email server somewhere? Not cool, writers. (And think of how much better these emails would land if we had concrete points of timeline reference for them!)  (I just used timeline and concrete in the same sentence while discussing TGW; I’m losing it.)

As everyone’s ready to get to work finding the hacker, Diane gets a threatening email. Two years’ worth of Florrick Agos Lockhart emails are going to hit the Web the next day. The only thing surprising about this is that Florrick Agos Lockhart has two years’ worth of emails to be released. How does that work? The firm’s only existed a few months, and even if FAL has the same server as FA, it doesn’t have the same one as LG, as established in 6x05’s terrible subplot where Diane enters the wrong email account. Whoever is responsible for the hack must’ve done a lot of research into turnover at the firm. Or are we to assume that there is no difference between FAL and LG? Because there’s virtually none at this point other than the position of the letters on the sign and the absence of Will. Every single thing Alicia and Cary tried to get away from is there, with no fallout lasting more than five seconds. They’re in the same office space. They’re suffering from the same problems. They have the same clients. Congratulations, writers. You took the show in an interesting direction, got attached to a new idea, and didn’t even bother to address the lasting implications of your last great idea. You wanted to make things come full circle, fine. But that’s a plot, not a thing that happens in the background. Even if we have to have the current set up, the characters should still all behave in ways informed by the tension of season 5. And they should behave in those ways all of the time, not when it’s suddenly convenient for them to harbor resentment.

Cary tells Alicia about the two years of emails about to be released. Good thing Alicia stopped sleeping with Will over THREE years ago and is a very cautious person, right?! A fight breaks out in the hallway; the emails are causing chaos. (Well. They’re not causing it. It’s not the hacker’s fault that people wrote awful things about each other; it’s the hacker’s fault all the emails are released at once absent of context.)

“Do you have any problems over the last two years?” Cary asks. “Yes,” Alicia says, as though to say, OF COURSE. That I believe. No one’s perfect, and anything can be misconstrued. “Me too. And just to warn you, I probably said some things while we were arguing at the firm,” Cary says. “Same here,” Alicia admits. “Let’s agree: you see any emails from me about you, delete it.” “Yes. And you too,” Cary agrees. Awww. See!? Continuity when it’s convenient! Now we hear that Alicia and Cary have their differences about the firm, but we rarely got the chance to see them play out! And we were just told that Florrick/Agos/Lockhart = Florrick/Agos = Lockhart/Gardner & Canning = Lockhart/Gardner. Also, “delete it”? What are they going to delete it from, their memories?

Alicia asks Marissa to go through all of her emails from the last two years and find anything problematic. Ooh, Alicia, let me do this job for you!!!! But also: how does Alicia have two years’ worth of emails from different accounts stored on her computer?

Marissa asks if she can do a word search. Alicia closes the door to give her the keywords, as though these emails aren’t going to be read by everyone the next day. “Anything with Will or…” Alicia starts. Um, Alicia? Have you ever tried to search for messages about Will? Because I have tried to search for messages about people named Will—and I don’t mean Gardner—in my inbox, and all I find are all the times I’ve used the word “will” (“Will you go with me?” “I will be there at four!”). I guess she means emails to and from Will? Still a lot of messages. And this is all assuming that the emails she and Will sent each other are the biggest threat to her, not that there might be rumors and spottings in other people’s emails!

“Elfman?” Marissa finishes Alicia’s sentence. Girl’s got good powers of observation and also it couldn’t have been more obvious. Oh, wait, it could have: it could have been Will’s puppy eyes. “No, that wouldn’t be on my work email,” Alicia says matter-of-factly, not really caring that Marissa knows or trying to deny anything. I really, really, really appreciate that Alicia is unapologetic—as she should be!!!—about her sex life. She won’t be shamed for its existence. She doesn’t feel bad for having sex. She isn’t embarrassed by her own sexuality. Of course it will hurt her if it gets out, and she may feel uncomfortable about this topic around Grace and Zach, but she doesn’t start slut shaming herself when confronted with questions from people like Marissa.

Alicia’s next word to look for is “Bishop,” which prompts Marissa to exclaim, “REALLY?” and prompts me to get a weird visual in my head (not helped at all by the existence of the Sweeney/Alicia/Bishop threesome cartoon in 6x09!). “Not sexual, business,” Alicia clarifies. “And Peter! Anything with Peter, not just his…”

Eli interrupts before she can finish that last sentence. “TELL ME IT’S NOT TRUE!” Alicia reassures him that they’re on top of the emails, the emails Eli somehow is unaware of. What Eli’s upset about is that somehow people know Alicia offered the deputy job to Finn (still trying to figure out who would’ve shared that information). “He would make an excellent deputy, and how did you even hear?” Alicia questions. “Don’t you get it? When to say yes is just as important as when to say no,” Eli explains. Why does he have to explain so much? He asks about the email briefly, as an afterthought, and Alicia dismisses him even though, um, BIG FUCKING DEAL.

“Alicia. You offered Finn the job because you like him and he’s maybe even a good lawyer, but he doesn’t do anything important for you,” Eli says. “You mean he doesn’t do anything important for you,” Alicia replies. And while that’s partially true, Alicia needs Eli’s support, and by extension Peter’s, to work well. And if not their support, someone else’s. Alicia cannot just decide that the SA’s office is an island, immune from all external forces, and alienate everyone. She can’t make politics stop by refusing to play the game. She has to know the game to stop the game, to make the right moves to have room to breathe. She wants to be reelected, doesn’t she? The voters will hold her accountable and vote based on her successes, in theory, but campaigns aren’t just about merit, and her track record as SA won’t just be based on her skills.

“Giving Finn the job will be seen as a slap in the face by every senior attorney in your office who is passed over. Every woman, every… (and he whispers this part) African-American,” Eli warns. Alicia looks annoyed and leaves. He’s right, though. Finn worked there for what, a year? And was brought in because he was a friend of Castro’s, a fact that surely went unnoticed by no one? And of course, Eli’s also right to note that Finn is a white man. The only place where he’s wrong is that he himself is bad at understanding race and racial issues in a meaningful way (he only grasps the political implications), and that he doesn’t understand that there are more races than white and black. (The former problem is something the writers seem to be aiming to demonstrate with Eli; the latter problem is, I think, a problem the writers have. This is not the first time the show has done this, and it’s not always with Eli.)

The screen with Kalinda’s email says her email address is @florrickagosandassociates. I give up. I just give up.

Grace and Marissa talk about Israel on Alicia’s sofa. Oooh, I love this. More, please! Grace asks if she’d like living there, and Marissa says no, but not for religious reasons, just because it’s hot. Israel holds religious significance for Grace that it doesn’t seem to hold for Marissa.

Alicia enters the room, and Grace catches her up (in a tone that sounds like classic Grace), “Marissa’s trying to convince me not to live in Israel.” “Really?” Alicia asks. (Has Grace been talking about living in Israel? I’d kind of love it if she heard someone mention that Marissa had lived there for a while and then gotten it in her mind that she could, too.) (Marissa is doing her job as Alicia-approved influence on Grace by convincing her against the idea.)

Alicia asks for a moment alone with Marissa to discuss the emails. Marissa begins to share her findings, but Alicia has her wait a moment to hear Grace’s door close. Now that’s the Alicia I know and love. Also: Marissa told Grace she wasn’t trying to replace her, and I think this makes it absolutely clear that Alicia does not view Marissa as a daughter, or anything close to that. If I had to compare Alicia’s relationship with Marissa to something within the family (or related to the family), it’d be longtime baby sitter. Clearly several steps below the parent, but trusted, attuned to the adult goings-on in the house, perhaps a little too aware of some of the parents’ behaviors, and never treated as a child because she’s the one taking care of the kids. That doesn’t mean Grace would view Marissa that way, but I don’t see Alicia being very maternal around Marissa, and she also doesn’t treat her as a peer.

Here are the offending emails: Calling a donor “the worst kind of sexist pig—a pompous sexist pig” (a donor?). Telling Cary that Finn is “soft and malleable with a spine of cottage cheese” which is a terrific insult but also a harsh thing to say about a friend, even one who was your enemy at the time who you were taking down to build up another friend’s self-esteem. And there’s a question for Alicia’s gynecologist about the reliability of pregnancy tests. “I was late,” Alicia explains. Hey, writers? There are some things in these emails I wish you’d been talking about all along. This is one I’m glad you never mentioned before. (Is this bad because it’s personal or bad because it’s found along with emails about affairs?) Alicia takes these emails in stride—“these aren’t good, but they’re not overly awful,” she says. But that’s because they’re they questionable ones, and there’s a stack of “bad” emails awaiting her.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE IT SAYS LOCKHART & GARDNER IN HUGE LETTERS ON THE SEXYSMUTTY ALICIA AND WILL EMAILS ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME THEY WERE AWARE OF THIS SHIT ENOUGH TO GET IT RIGHT THERE BUT GOD FORBID THERE BE ANY SORT OF CONTINUITY ON THE SHOW

There’s one from Will, right after “some New York Conference” (gonna take that to mean after balcony sex happened because that’s a well-established Willicia point of reference).

And there’s one Marissa calls “unexpected”: “Relax. It was just a one night stand, albeit a great one.” Of course Alicia wrote “albeit” in her email about a one night stand. Of course she did. THAT sounds like Alicia to me. It’s to Elfman, whom Alicia never emailed from her work account. Except she did, when she sent this email (which probably should’ve been released with the first round of emails, yeah?), because she accidentally selected the wrong account. Now that I believe. I’ve done that many times. I believe everything about this email—the implication that Elfman sent her an email apologizing and worrying that he’d made the wrong move, Alicia playing it cool and telling him to relax in response, Alicia viewing their relationship as having a little bit of fun but only one time… that all sounds right to me.

The next step? Stop the emails from getting out.

Alicia walks into Diane’s office and demands that they settle the case (which is why the firm’s being hacked) for the sake of the firm’s reputation. “The firm’s reputation, Ms. State’s Attorney?” Cary asks. Fair point.  

A woman spits on the glass door—wtf?—and Diane screams, “YOU’RE GOING TO CLEAN THAT UP!” at her. Lol.

“Our interests are aligned here,” Alicia says. Also a fair point. “Respectfully, Alicia,” Diane starts, “our interests have not been aligned since you used our office as a staging ground for your political career.” Well, that would be a fair point if we’d seen any evidence before 6x12 that Diane minded! Instead we saw Diane offer Alicia her office to make her feel comfortable and give her the opportunity to avoid Will’s space even though she was planning to leave the firm in a few months. But whatever you say, writers! Rewrite history! Retroactively write the plotlines you failed to write when you were distracted by “shiny objects” of your own. (Though the office stuff was in 6x06 and my joke doesn’t work as well because of it!)  

Another email, November 12th 2013, from Will to Alicia. But first, let’s check out the timeline. November 12th 2013 was the Tuesday after The Next Week aired, and season five played out in real-time (I’d go back and find dated papers and things but: too much effort AND I have no desire to rewatch 5x07 for a whole lot of reasons).  Okay. So Will emailed Alicia after the firm’s split. And what did he have to say? “Alicia, can you meet with Sweeney tomorrow at 3:00? Our favorite wife-killing psycho has requested your presence.” Ok. That one sounds like Will, except for it being clearly sent to Alicia as an employee of LG a week after she left LG. Possibly excusable; the time’s not off by THAT much.

Diane, June 2013: “Let’s huddle about the Connolly billings. I want to head that geriatric blimp off at the pass.” Who knew our favorite lawyers were so good at finding innovative ways to insult people?!

The client won’t settle and he won’t let FAL drop him as a client.

Eli flips through the smutty Alicia/Will emails, exclaiming, “Oh my God,” repeatedly.

Now let’s break this down. Email #1, Alicia to Peter, dated April 15th 2014 (between A Material World and All Tapped Out), subject Castro Report, reads: “Hi Peter, I figured it out. You know what Castro is? An arrogant sweaty misanthrope! My God, I cannot fathom who that idiot thinks he is that he can possibly hope to stay in his office when he treats people like us like so much trash. Again, sorry to drag you into this, Peter.” This email sounds about right to me. Alicia’s outraged (though was Peter involved in this point or only later? I can’t remember, but I think only later, but again, the difference is a matter of weeks, not years, so I won’t complain too much. But come to think of it, can anyone recall what Castro did that was against both Alicia and Peter that both Alicia and Peter were aware of? The blackmail photos in 5x21?! That seems like a stretch but I’m probably forgetting something.) She works with Peter because they have a common enemy. She and Peter become an “us” when she finds a “them” to go up against, even though she and Peter aren’t on good terms. PEOPLE LIKE US. PEOPLE LIKE US. Good guys and bad guys, clearly defined. She and Peter, for this moment, are good. Castro is bad (he’s always bad).

Email #2, Will to Alicia, May 19th 2013 (a bit after What’s in the Box?), subject New York Conference. Timeline first! This just makes no sense. The New York Conference is a reference to the Ashbaugh meeting, unless there’s another NY Conference we’ve never heard about. And May makes sense for that, since that places it “in the Spring,” during the happy times of the A/W affair (but the passage of time between 2x23 and 3x01 is its own problem!). But 2013? Will was sending smutty emails to Alicia at 10:57 pm on a Sunday from his work email in 2013? Either Alicia was sleeping with Will after she’d decided to leave LG (though again, time between seasons is weird and 4x22 is technically dated in August like 5x01 (Alicia’s phone in the opening scene says it’s August 23rd) even though it’s also April), which would make season five play out very differently and be a retcon that absolutely wouldn’t fit with any of the characterizations in late s4/early s5, or the writers fucked up and wrote 2013 where they meant 2011.

Anyway. The email: “Let me tell you how you sent me to heaven this weekend. The feel of your soft lips against mine, your inner thighs against my cheeks… My only purpose? To be a servant to your body. Thinking about kissing you… Everywhere… You leave me exhausted, baby[.] [-]Will.” What?! WHAT IS THIS?! What did I just type out?! What sick person on the writing staff decided to have Will use the phrase sent me to heaven? Who the fuck wrote “My only purpose? To be a servant to your body.” And “You leave me exhausted, baby.” I can buy Will not being the most gifted sexytalk writer and I can buy Will being careless about sending things via work email (he’s the boss; he isn’t always thinking about risks) but that’s just terrible!

Email #3, Alicia to Will, October 4th 2013 (between Everything is Ending and The Bit Bucket), subject Linguistics. “I can’t stand it… phone sex isn’t enough… I wish I could have your tongue to chain around my hips so that I could get those delicious linguistics whenever I want! Thought you should know… -A” ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

WHAT? Alicia, WHAT? Writers, WHAT? I don’t believe that Alicia would write sexy emails late night on a Friday from her work email. I don’t buy that Alicia would write sexy emails from her work email. (Maybe there’s only one because she forgot to toggle accounts again?) I don’t buy that Alicia would leave any sort of trace of her affair with Will; she’s much too cautious for that. And considering she—like all of these lawyers who’ve made stupid, careless mistakes in their emails—knows very well that work emails can easily be used against companies because she’s used work emails against companies and already had hers hacked and traced (that season 2 episode with Canning but really it’s Bond tracking things), this can’t be chalked up to technological ineptness. Unless, again, it’s the account toggling thing. And again, the timeline is batshit. But what is Alicia writing? I find it deeply disturbing, but maybe I’m weird for imagining a disembodied tongue on a chain someone’s wearing like a necklace for their hips. “Delicious linguistics”?!?! The exclamation point at the end of the third sentence?! It’s so embarrassing.

So, here are the three ways I’d buy this smutty A/W email plotline (aside from “can you guys not write better smut?” and timeline nonsense): (1) the toggling mishap; this is the only bad email from Alicia in the stack (2) No emails from Alicia; a handful from Will because he’s not being as careful (3) Emails that are clearly of a flirty nature written in some form of shorthand or code (even as simple as “lunch” as in 3x07) that seem incriminating when paired with dozens of emails from other lawyers speculating about Alicia sleeping with the boss.

Delicious linguistics, guys. DELICIOUS LINGUISTICS.

Oh, the one thing about this that is 100% in character, 100% in touch with TGW? Both Alicia and Will write about Will eating Alicia out. It doesn’t get more TGW sexytime than that!

Alicia asks Eli (she has the sense to ask Eli—yay!) if she should apologize before the emails surface. Eli has an objection (and a good one)—you never know what’s going to happen. Marissa disagrees, and Eli calls her inexperienced. “In the real world, where real people live, not politicians, there’s something to be said for preparing a client to hear that you called them an ‘arrogant sweaty misanthrope,’” she elaborates. “You put that in an email?” Eli marvels. Yes, Eli. It’s how she describes Castro in the email I just transcribed as you were reading it.

Eli explains why it’s bad to do something when she doesn’t have to, and Alicia gets up to leave. “No! No! Whatever you’re going to do, no!” Eli calls after her. God bless Eli Gold, voice of reason.

My grandparents have a magnet on their refrigerator that used to amuse me a lot when I was little. It’s a body-builder, and when you press the button on the magnet, it says, “STOP! STEP AWAY FROM THE REFRIGERATOR!” I think Alicia needs one of these magnets, but with Eli on it, attached to the door of her office, screaming, “No! No! Whatever you’re going to do, no!” at her every time she tries to leave.

Eli probably won’t care all that much about what Alicia’s decided to do, which is to apologize in advance to Finn, her friend (and pick for deputy), for the cottage cheese spine email. Finn is busy at work (catching up after all that Halo!) and asks if she’s trying to rescind the offer? She goes out of his way to make it clear that the offer still stands. “Okay then,” he says disinterestedly and goes back to working. (Methinks he’s trying to get out of the offer, that he was hoping she’d take it back so he wouldn’t have to turn it down or something, or that the offer’s made it weird because he knows he doesn’t want to accept it. Or that he’s just busy.) He says the email’s fine. She didn’t mean it, he doesn’t care, it’s fine.

Bishop finds Alicia on Finn’s floor; I guess someone must have told him to go there to find her. He wants a second chance at meeting with her, too, but unlike the others, he’s not there because she’s invited him. He’s there because he’s had time to strategize and prepare a threat. He controls the space this time—remember how before, Alicia wanted the door open and appeased him because she had the power to appease, invited him to her office, insisted that Marissa stay in the room? He will have some of his people act as official volunteers, if anyone asks, directly tying his organization to Alicia’s campaign.

She delivers the 48 hours line, and Bishop buys it. He “appreciates her openness.”

Everything’s still a mess at FAL; Howard Lyman now thinks it’s cute to tease Kalinda about being into him.

Diane et al think they’ve made some progress with the COTW, thanks to Kalinda, but nope! The other side won’t budge. Then there’s some monologuing about the future of the internet.

And now their client wants to settle because his company’s been hacked too, and that’s worse than losing out on some money.

Exhausted, Diane returns to her office, leans back in her chair, and closes her eyes. Cary walks in to say that the hackers succeeded in stirring up trouble. Then he sits down and says, “So, I think an apology is in order.” “From whom to whom?” Diane deadpans. Cary grins. “Take your pick.” Diane laughs. Awwww. More from these two, always.

Julius and David Lee are apologizing to each other in the hall—seems everyone’s had enough of the fighting. Well, Julius is apologizing to David Lee. David Lee just looks at Julius incredulously: “A fruitcake?”

Cary tells Alicia the good news. Then he says, “It’s not a pretty picture when you see what people really think of you.” Alicia’s more optimistic: “I don’t think it is, really, what people think of you. I think sometimes you just have to let off steam, say something nasty.” “And sometimes the nasty thing is what people really think.” “Sometimes.”

The new offer, post-hacking scandal, for Alicia’s exit package is $250,000. “I’ll consider it,” she says pleasantly, “and I want you all to know that this offer does not in any way impact my consideration of your criminal cases when I’m SA.” Now that’s a threat! And Alicia came up with that one all on her own! Big girl!

The partners don’t know what to do about the threat: take the risk or pay up now? (What happened to moral clarity, Alicia?! Abuse of office is a-ok when it’s for your kids’ college fund? Actually, wait, that sounds like Alicia.

Alicia’s safe from the emails for the moment (interesting choice to tie this ep up with a bow when the promo suggests the emails are still at play—all the random things they never come back to they choose to cliffhanger on, and then they don’t use this as a cliffhanger?! I don’t understand you sometimes, writers.) and Redmayne and Castro are happy, so Eli’s happy.

“So what did we learn?” Eli asks Alicia. (THE EDUCATION OF ALICIA FLORRICK.)

“Hell if I know,” Alicia responds. “Go slow. Choose carefully,” he reminds her. Then he pitches his own candidate, and Alicia gives him the canned 48 hours response. At first, I read Eli’s reaction as annoyance that the tables have turned on him, but @kiki1788 had a different interpretation and I’m inclined to agree with her on rewatch. I’m not sure if Eli makes the offer seriously or as a test (as Kiki suggested), but no matter which it is, he seems to be proud that she’s learned.

[florrickandassociates]

TGW Thoughts: 6x02-- Trust Issues

My take on 6x02 "Trust Issues" is under the cut. 

Standard disclaimer: I write a lot. 

Liveblog + Comments:

Cool way to start an episode: Alicia staring off into space, distracted and slightly sad, with the Plexiglas wall fading in as Cary arrives. It’s a fun visual trick, but it also serves as a quick way of reminding the viewers that Cary’s in jail and there’s a barrier (a line, one might say…) between Cary and Alicia. (There’s no previously on! I’m happy!)

“She feels more comfortable with men in charge,” Cary says of Deena Lampard (Mrs. ChumHum), eliciting an eyeroll from Alicia.

Cary and Alicia chat (urgently) about ChumHum and business matters—life goes on. If the case they’re currently working on goes south, ChumHum will leave for Lockhart/Gardner.

Alicia asks if Deena knows that Diane is coming to F/A. Cary doesn’t even know that! He thinks Alicia’s moving without him (he’ll be out in 24 hours, he believes), but Alicia insists that they need to move quickly. Last week, everything could come to a halt to deal with a pressing problem. This week, Alicia et al don’t have that luxury.

Diane’s arguing against Finn in bond court to get Cary released. Kalinda sits on a bench and tries to communicate with Cary through supportive glances, hand gestures, and short written messages. Awwww. There’s so much going on in this scene: Diane and Finn making their cases, various extras shuffling around as though nothing’s going on, people sitting down and chatting about other topics, Cary waiting behind the glass wall, and Kalinda trying to find a way around the barrier. A very different feel than most of the court scenes on this show—it really does feel like a routine matter that’s only important because it’s a big charge and it’s our characters.

Diane and Finn are reminded yet again to step back behind the bar. Strangely, 6x02 feels like its own episode and not just a continuation of 6x01. That’s a good thing to me, but I’m not sure how they accomplished it!

Finn calls Alicia to the stand for the source of funds hearing because she’ll tell the truth no matter what. Uh oh.

“That’s good! I didn’t tell Bishop’s crew how to break the law,” Cary says when he finds out about the evidence. “What?” he continues when he sees Kalinda and Diane look suspicious. “You did,” Kalinda states. As it turns out, Cary answered their hypothetical questions and the tape was possibly edited to make him look guilty. But that’s still something. These charges aren’t unfounded—at least, they’re not as unfounded as it’s tempting to believe.

Other Carey, who’s on this case because he’s male (essentially), calls Deena “Mrs. Gross.” “Ms. Lampard,” Alicia corrects before Deena can. They’re about to get to work when Bishop shows up—both of the firm’s top clients in the same room at the same time! (And they’re at risk of losing both clients, too.)

“You need an office with a door,” Bishop comments after Robyn (finally) leaves Alicia’s desk area. And we’re back to the comments about the F/A floor plan! Alicia happily says that they’re having doors installed. About time!

There’s a lot of construction going on in the background, adding some comedy to an otherwise serious scene while simultaneously offering an explanation for the set changes we’re sure to see as Diane and the rest of the former LG crew settle in.

“If they make me testify, the bail money goes away,” Bishop threatens, telling Alicia that her testimony is important and encouraging her to present a version of the truth that protects him.

Peter’s doing an interview on CBS This Morning about violent crime. What’s that? TGW actually finally starting to address actual issues in Chicago? (I was convinced he was going to mention Jeffery Grant somewhere in here, but in retrospect, I’m glad he didn’t: the violent crime problem in Chicago/Illinois goes way, way beyond that incident.)

Back stage, Valerie Jarrett (!!!!!!!!) and Eli bicker about politics and about a job in DC that Eli was supposed to get back in ’08. He’s still bitter. Heh. I like little details like this—that Eli was in the network of Chicago political figures during Obama’s first campaign, that he wanted to go to DC, that he was left behind… It makes a lot of sense. (Even though I still can’t take the idea of any of the TGW characters in Washington seriously.)

The interview topic turns to Alicia—what are her views on violent crime, since she’s represented criminals? Peter deflects the question by saying he can’t speak for her (and wouldn’t want to) and that she’s represented “sinners and saints.” New TGW drinking game for the word “saint”? Who’s with me?

Eli asks Ms. Jarrett to help him convince Alicia to run for SA. Aaand, cut to Alicia herself. We see her from Cary’s POV (that is, through the scratched glass), and she hardly looks like the ideal political candidate. The lighting’s harsh, she’s trying to get her partner out of jail, the hearing is calling attention to her unsavory roster of clients… the best thing she has going for her here is that she’s the one being seen through the glass, not the one trapped by it.

At first, Alicia does well on the stand. She knows how to answer the questions, she knows how to keep her cool, and it seems like she even finds it slightly fun to go head to head with Finn. We’ve seen Alicia on the stand (or being deposed) a lot of times at this point, and each time she has a slightly different demeanor based on who’s doing the questioning. This is probably the most similar to 5x19, when Alicia’s on the stand trying to help Sweeney and Diane’s looking to discredit her testimony. Alicia always takes testifying seriously, but she’s a little more playful about it when she’s on good terms with her opponent. (I’ve seen comments calling Alicia/Finn here flirty. I see friendly. YMMV.)

That is, until Bishop walks in and Finn produces the most damning evidence he has (after a brief pause that I read the first time around as hesitation but seems to be more like amusement and knowledge that things are going his way), the evidence he called Alicia to the stand to be able to discuss.

The score here, as Finn successfully gets Bishop called to the stand (at which point he takes back the bail money) and the episode goes to credits/commercials, sounds like it has hints of something really familiar to me but I can’t place it. Help!? (I need volume 2 of the soundtrack ASAP!)

After the commercial break, we’re at L/G welcoming back a character we’ve never seen before: Taye Diggs’ Dean Levine-Wilkins. Apparently he’s been at the NYC office this whole time (the NYC office that just opened a year ago and seems to conveniently house guest stars that either didn’t exist before or weren’t available for long periods of time—speaking of, where’d Julius go? Back to NY?). The first thing I notice about Dean, other than that he’s Taye Diggs, is that his style is impeccable. Like, I know nothing about men’s fashion and I can tell that he’s well-dressed.

Diane announces her retirement (she’s been at LG for thirteen years, she says, but I could’ve sworn it was only nine or ten in season 5… I will not pick apart the timeline, I will not pick apart the timeline…). She uses the “I’m married,” excuse again, so that’s two episodes of season six and two references to Kurt!

Dean’s upset by Diane’s announcement and the two walk into the LG elevator (where else?) to talk. A man asks them to hold the elevator for him, and Diane makes a point of pushing the “close door” button.  (I’m not sure how, but Diane makes this look very elegant.) She asks Dean to come with her to F/A, and he trusts Diane enough to look into it even though he doesn’t think highly of F/A.

(Is the music a slowed down version of Countdown to Execution? This is driving me crazy!)

Without Bishop’s money, Alicia’s back to looking into a second mortgage. Cary protests, but Alicia cuts him off: “Stop it. You would do the same thing.” I love this partnership, even though I have a feeling the real threat to their relationship is going to be taking Diane on as a partner and not this business with Bishop. Here, they’re united and the differences between them pale in comparison. But what happens next?

Alicia has to continue to work on the ChumHum case, which now involves a deposition that can’t be rescheduled where she’s working against Lorraine Joy (last seen in 5x14), the woman who not only didn’t hire her but brought her in to mock her for the entire office to have a little fun. She’s all about the passive-aggression here, calling Alicia’s offices “perfectly adorable.” Ugh.

As Alicia’s in the deposition, she’s getting fake advice from Carey (“I’m whispering something that looks important so Deena thinks I’m in control”) while taking real advice from Cary (it’s his case, after all). There’s a little bit of cross-cutting between Cary in prison talking about the case and Alicia asking questions in the deposition—anything to make the case more interesting; a lower key version of Cary advising Jeff on what to say in 5x18 —and somehow it all ends up with Alicia saying the word “sexts” and now I’m thinking of Julianna on Jimmy Fallon’s show so it all comes full circle. Why you gotta text those nudes?

Kalinda goes to ask Bishop for permission to talk to his crew. Bishop’s at one of his son’s soccer games, getting upset at bad calls (and getting suspicious looks from the white soccer moms sitting a few feet away) while holding a conversation with Kalinda. (Can you imagine how much strength it must take for Kalinda to go back to Bishop and ask him for permission to do something he’s already forbade her from doing?! And how much strength it takes to lie to him about not knowing about the tape?) 

The deposition goes well and Alicia and Carey high five. Awww!

Someone from the bank calls for Alicia. Robyn’s answering the phones now, which is not something that would be a responsibility of the in-house investigator. I’ll handwave it away by saying that F/A needs all the help it can get right now, that Robyn’s very invested in the firm and in pitching in any way she can, and that she’s sociable and cheerful and has good phone skills. Also, I would totally believe it if F/A fired their receptionist and was in the process of finding a new one—the one that let Damian and his “rental company” in should’ve been fired long ago. Anyway, there’s a bit of confusion on Alicia’s end as to whether she’s talking to a Mr. or a Mrs. (she messes it up after being corrected—we’ve seen her make this type of mistake before, and I think we’ve seen other characters make this type of mistake before, too (Cary and the ChumHum/Scabbit mixup in 5x09) so I’m tempted to think this is just how the writers like to write “overwhelmed and distracted.”)

Remember how, in 4x13, Alicia tries to do something with the finances on her apartment and it turns out that Peter co-signed the mortgage? That comes back here—Alicia needs Peter’s signature to get the money for Cary’s bail. Well, at least there’s continuity on the nonsense? Alicia’s surprised to hear that Peter needs to sign because it’s only a technicality, but she can’t say that Peter doesn’t live in the apartment at all. She rolls her eyes as she tries to explain that he’s only a “part time occupant,” (presumably because he spends so much time in Springfield) and fails to come up with a good reason that Peter’s signature shouldn’t be required.

And Valerie Jarrett’s on line three. Well, that’s a surprise! “Valerie Jarrett, at the White House Valerie Jarrett?” Alicia asks Robyn, stunned. “She didn’t say. You want me to ask?” GOD NO, ROBYN!

Alicia’s completely baffled by Ms. Jarrett’s call. She’s being fed lines by Eli (of course) and refuses to say she admires the way Alicia stuck by her husband (good call—couldn’t Eli have phrased it differently in a way where Alicia’s main action isn’t standing around but is rather being resilient or something?).  Ms. Jarrett mentions the SA race, and Alicia knows instantly that Eli’s behind this. “Actually, it’s the furthest thing from my mind,” Alicia explains. “Why is that, Alicia?” Ms. Jarrett asks, and now Alicia’s in a position where she has to explain “I just don’t!” in other words. She goes with “I hate politics,” but apparently that’s a selling point. Alicia promises she’ll think about it, and hangs up the phone. She blinks a few times, unable to believe that just happened and thinking about the idea of running in a new way. It’s much easier to turn down Eli at her dining room table than it is to turn down Valerie Jarrett and a lot of huge (if stilted) compliments.

“She wanted me to run,” Alicia tells Robyn, as though that means anything to her. “Run where?” Robyn asks. (Heh!) “I have no idea,” Alicia says still shocked and unable to process. She knows that Eli’s behind this, but that doesn’t (entirely) discount the fact that Valerie Jarrett just called her office and told her to run for State’s Attorney.

Dean visits F/A, riding up in the elevator with a homeless man named Gunter who uses F/A’s sinks to bathe—I thought this was the most ridiculous bit of TGW humor yet until the writers tweeted that it really happened in one of their writers’ former law firms—  and walking into the middle of a construction site. Dean asks when Cary will be back; Robyn says, “five to ten.” (HA! I love you, Robyn.) She goes on to explain the situation with Gunter and the sink as though it’s the most commonplace thing in the world and describes F/A as a “funky coffeehouse.” That’s… not a selling point for everyone.

At LG, Diane and Kalinda are interviewing Bishop’s crew. They explain that Cary was talking in hypotheticals only, and from their voices, Kalinda’s able to determine that Trey is the CI. Diane and Kalinda decide not to tell Bishop so that Trey isn’t killed—I’m not sure whether this is out of the goodness of their hearts or because it would screw up an ongoing police investigation and create a bigger mess, but I’d like to think that neither Kalinda nor Diane wants responsibility for a young man’s death.

At Alicia’s apartment, things are tense. Even though it’s a “formality,” as Alicia puts it, Peter’s not willing to sign off on the second mortgage. “It’s not about what he is; it’s about what he looks like,” Peter explains. It wouldn’t look good for the governor to put his signature on this (though how this isn’t already causing Peter problems is beyond me!) and it’d be a direct tie to Cary. (More direct than promoting him to Deputy ASA and more direct than Cary being the other name partner of Florrick/Agos, I guess. How this show decides what things grab media attention and what things don’t is really anyone’s guess; I read this scene as Peter having a fair point about not wanting any paper ties to Cary and especially to Cary’s alleged crime.)

Alicia accuses Peter of punishing her for how things have been going the last few months (what’s that? The open marriage is causing tension? Really, I never would have predicted that.), and while I don’t think he’s trying to punish her, I do think that if they were on better terms  he’d be helping her strategize and come up with an alternative method. But that’s not the same as punishing.

Peter tries to walk away, but Alicia’s infuriated. It doesn’t help matters any that Peter says, “I can’t sign off on your loan. And neither should you. It’s just not a smart move.” Oh, Peter. You mean well, but telling Alicia what to do and what’s smart to do is the last straw.

“Maybe I just wanted to believe you’d do the right thing,” Alicia starts, defining “right” as helping Cary and “wrong” as doing anything else. “Because the man I married would’ve.”  A lot to unpack there. It’s an insult—a highly personal one, at that—and an attack. Alicia’s calling Peter corrupt and unrecognizable, trying to guilt trip him into helping. She’s also referring to Peter as her husband, twisting the knife. But what interests me the most about this isn’t that Alicia’s quick to anger but rather that she explicitly states that there’s a right thing to do. To Alicia, it’s right to help Cary, and not only is it right to help Cary, but it’s right that others should be working to help Cary as well. Yet, this situation lies firmly in the gray area. Cary is innocent (mostly) and Alicia’s loyalty is admirable, but they are representing and advising a drug dealer. Cary’s arrest was unfair and the system is broken (especially in some of the day to day treatment he receives in prison), but it’s not even close to being as simple as right and wrong.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Peter retorts, seizing the opportunity to insult Alicia right back. (Oh, Peter, why do you always fall for this? You would be able to avoid so many problems in so many areas of your life if you could just take an insult and brush it off. A lot of people—Alicia included—are fond of trying to one-up their opponents during verbal fights, but Peter often seems to have an especially hard time keeping himself from making situations worse. )“Because the woman I married never would have asked,” Peter finishes. Damn. That line could mean any number of things, but I interpret it as Peter telling Alicia she’s smarter than this, continuing what he was saying when Alicia lashed out. Alicia says Peter’s corrupt and uncaring; Peter says Alicia’s careless and not thinking strategically. I love it when Alicia and Peter fight because their fights are the only moments when all their problems are out in the open and all the underlying tensions surface, but also because it’s almost always impossible to root for either of them when they’re fighting (and this is one of their less, er, passionate fights!). It’s never about who’s right and who’s wrong (or who’s more right/more wrong); it’s about how they make their points and the people they turn into when they’re angry with each other. (It’s futile in general, with this show, to try to figure out who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy.)

“Forget what Florrick/Agos looks like now. What can it turn into? I mean, a firm with a mission, with a real minority initiative, with women and people of color in authority. All you’re seeing are road blocks. See an opportunity to build our future exactly how we want it to be,” Diane tries to convince Dean. Is it me, or does it sound like she wants to use F/A’s infrastructure to execute her goals? To be sure, a minority initiative is extremely important and it would be inexcusable if Florrick/Agos didn’t already have one. But has Diane discussed this with Alicia or Cary? Does she care what vision they have for the firm they started? In any case, now that the writers have introduced this minority initiative idea, it will be all the more indefensible if they continue to do things like, say, cast new white male series regulars for no apparent reason. If the writers can make the cast more diverse while also looking at office politics and conflicts among the F/A/L partners, that’d be wonderful.

The case is now somehow about emoticons because why not?

A man shows up with lots of money and compliments the F/A office space. She’s suspicious. Mr. Nolan wants to speak alone, but Alicia explains that Robyn is her “most valued confidant” (uh huh, sure) so he’ll have to talk to both of them. Alicia’s saying that in order to establish control of the situation, mostly, but Robyn takes her seriously and smiles to herself. It’s sort of like Valerie Jarrett telling Alicia to run and Alicia being amazed by the compliments even though she knows Eli’s responsible for them. It still means something to hear the words.

Mr. Nolan wants to pay “Curtis Agos”’s bail, interest free. He’s clearly very invested in the situation! He’s there to try to get on Alicia’s good side for when she announces her candidacy. “I’m never running. Ever. I’m not a politician,” Alicia says, rejecting the money. Robyn has no idea what’s happening—“you told him you’re not running; it’s not corrupt,” she argues. … yep. Especially considering Alicia had no qualms about using Bishop’s drug money, Robyn has a valid point.

“Unless you secretly want to run,” Robyn accuses. “What?” “The only reason to reject that check is if you think it’ll hurt your campaign,” she explains. Right again. And I see what you’re doing there, writers, having Robyn explain to me that Alicia secretly wants to run. But I’m not buying it. You need to tell me why she wants to run and why she’s unable to shake the idea or get out of the mindset that it’s a possibility, not tell me that she wants power because she does.

This makes Alicia furious, and rather than confronting the issue, she goes to yell at Eli and declare a few more times that she’s not! running! ever! But she’s making a lot of good points: “I have no interest in running. There’s no wrong I want corrected; there’s no mountain I wanna climb.” Yes. Exactly. That’s my entire problem with the SA plot—that and the invasion of privacy issues I’m guessing we’ll get into next week when Grace is back. Alicia has neither a cause nor political ambition! Maybe she has a secret desire for power and maybe the idea’s starting to sound good now that it’s within her reach and has stopped sounding so outlandish, but it’s still not enough to get her to run. (I can buy the SA plot as long as it addresses all my issues and Alicia’s motivations end up being more substantial than “she secretly wants it.” Also, starting it off with Alicia saying “I’m not running” a dozen times is a very good way of convincing me that the writers haven’t lost sight of Alicia as a character and are self-aware.)

Dean decides to follow Diane to F/A… and gets a number of other LG partners on board, too. (Lots of minorities in the group!) The promotion for this arc made it seem like Dean would be hard to convince or that there would be some scheming going on before Diane found her way to F/A. We haven’t seen Diane and Dean working out of the F/A office space yet, but I think it’s safe to say that didn’t happen— and that’s for the better. Office politics are fun, but sometimes there’s more dramatic potential in moving forward and building up alliances.

Over at F/A, Carey’s wondering where these six department heads are going to go. “That’s a pretty high-class problem,” Diane responds. Yeah. Most of your problems tend to be high class problems, TGW characters.

Oh look, it’s Patric Edelstein.

The best witness in support of Cary is found dead. Bishop had him killed because he thought he was the CI. Oh, God.

IT’S ALICIA’S BEDROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  A reporter’s calling her at 7 am (I’m pretty sure Alicia’s in the same pajamas from 1x02) to ask her about her candidacy. Alicia hangs up on her.

The first time through, I was so busy trying to figure out how Castro would know that Eli wanted Alicia to run that I didn’t notice that Eli’s got that “I’m totally lying and scheming right now” voice on when he blames Castro for the poll. It’s a real testament to Alan Cumming’s acting skills that he plays this scene in a way that doesn’t make it obvious that Eli’s up to something while also staying true to character and how well Eli Gold would be able to pull off a lie like this.

“People think you’re important enough to bribe,” Eli says. That’s probably the biggest compliment one can get from Eli Gold. It’s also a great line!

Eli’s not done trying to sell, but Alicia’s done with the conversation and gets in the elevator. We jump inside the elevator after the doors close, and something inside Alicia shifts from annoyed to contemplative. She seems to consider the idea for a moment, startling herself with how appealing parts of it sound, but quickly shakes the idea away. But the seeds are planted… nice move, Eli.

Castro says he wasn’t responsible for the push poll when Alicia confronts him, but he does make a point of threatening her with the bad optics of a partner in jail. Well, even if the poll is a fiction Eli concocted, Castro’s just made it clear that he’s an enemy, so…

“She wasn’t listening to surrogates. I needed to create enemy surrogates,” Eli tells Peter. Eli was behind the push poll (which made me gasp the first time through because I thought Castro was exactly the type of person who would do something like this. I mean, he did go to Peter for an endorsement the second Finn entered the race), and damn is he good at strategizing. This is exactly how you get Alicia to do something. She gets Zach a car and lets him spend time with Nisa because Jackie pisses her off; she encourages Peter to run because Kresteva lies about her; she initiates a rebellion of the fourth-years because she’s promised something and it’s taken away. Alicia needs enemies to want to break the status quo. (And the introduction of an enemy can often catalyze something that’s already been building in her mind. We’ll see if that’s what happens here, but I can get on board with Alicia having a growing desire to see if the SA thing could work and then getting pissed off enough by enemy surrogates—and actual enemies—that she wants to run. There’s still a lot of character work to be done here, though, so 6x03 had better be good.)

“Do what you have to do, but don’t do this,” Peter cautions (trust issues, maybe?), not wanting Alicia to be manipulated. Yeah, Eli. This is more than a little extreme…

Apparently Deena used to date Edelstein. I do not care.

“I should’ve hired you. You’re an assassin,” Lorraine marvels after Alicia gets the settlement she wants on the case and refuses to budge. Hey, remember when Alicia was almost fired from her first firm for lacking a killer instinct? Congrats, Alicia! You’ve graduated to “assassin” level! (But really, this goes back to the idea of enemies and enemy surrogates and the implication that Alicia needs to be fighting either for or against something in order to be motivated enough to act. Without knowing the specifics of Alicia’s first firm, I’d imagine that the pressure she was under to change and go on the attack at L/G was much more intense. And she also spent more time there—she didn’t quit that job after two years. And she was around people who essentially told her she needed to harden herself.  So it makes sense that she once lacked a “killer instinct” and then became an “assassin”.)

(And yes, you should’ve hired her. Caitlins often surprise you.)

Bishop puts Kalinda in a position where she has to give up the name of the CI or he’ll have both witnesses killed and Cary will be screwed. And then we cut to a commercial break before we can find out how she handled this! AAARGH!

The F/A partners vote on bringing Diane and her people on board. The promos made it seem like Cary wasn’t going to be a part of this vote, but thankfully, he’s there on speakerphone. He’s there—outvoted, but he’s there. The vote is 10 to 5 in favor, so…

“We are now Florrick, Agos, and Lockhart.” EEEE! I would like to know how the conversation that led to Diane’s name being added last went down. Did Diane volunteer, did Alicia push…? Also, who could’ve predicted from the pilot that this was where we’d end up in season 6—and who could’ve predicted that it wouldn’t even seem farfetched?

Cary gets disconnected because you don’t get unlimited phone privileges in prison, and Alicia moves to use the advance on the ChumHum money to pay Cary’s bail. Robyn seconds, but she can’t second because she’s not a partner, so Carey is the one to second the motion. Nice touch—he was the one not wanting to sacrifice his own money for Cary’s bail in 6x01.

Over at LGC, Diane stares at her watch, waiting for exactly 5 p.m. to leave her office for the last time. She walks slowly and deliberately, then takes a step back for the framed picture of her with Hillary Clinton. That’s the one thing she takes from that gorgeous, spacious office.

As Diane walks through the offices, she nods to Dean and the six others leaving with them all follow Diane’s lead. It’s calm and dignified and nothing like the splashy, messy fallout of Hitting the Fan. Diane leaves on her own time on her own terms with her own possessions in hand (Alicia doesn’t even get to keep her Blackberry). It was her firm to run and now it’s hers to leave. The contrast to Alicia in Hitting the Fan is the obvious one, since both scenes are visually similar and depict a main character leaving the firm for the last time as a partner, but it also makes for a nice contrast—in plot if not in visuals—to what was supposed to be Diane’s exit in Outside the Bubble. In that episode, the Diane/HRC picture is sitting in a box, Diane’s office is being picked apart hostilely by her former coworkers, Viola sits down at Diane’s desk, and Diane’s constantly dragged back into the office she left not-so-voluntarily by a lingering case. Her exit there gets overshadowed by the case and by Alicia and Cary’s plans, and before she knows it, it’s not even an exit anymore. This is different. Diane isn’t the enemy of the partners who are giving her an insulting exit package; she’s making a clean exit with seven people right behind her (literally—and it’s eight if you include Kalinda). She gets her moment to say goodbye to the firm she built (and, though it’s not emphasized, to the person she built it with). The elevator doors close and it’s bittersweet. The end of an era and the start of a new one. Everything’s ending—beginning, too.

Over at F/A, Alicia’s in the elevator with Gunter. She asks how he’s doing and he says he’s good if they have hot water. When he asks how she’s doing, she says, “the future’s weird.” Yeah. This is just the start. The SA race is looming, her relationship with Cary is uncertain, her firm just skyrocketed in status…

Cary’s standing in reception at F/A when the elevator doors open, and Alicia’s thrilled to see him. She looks so genuinely happy that he’s there; it’s very sweet. They hug, both reaching for each other at the same time. “This is the first time we’ve done this, isn’t it?” Cary remarks. “I think so,” Alicia laughs, holding him tight, looking like she’s on the verge of tears, and exhaling. And the episode ends. What a fantastic ending! Of course the Alicia/Cary partnership isn’t out of the woods yet, but the good moments are as important to show as the bad. The fights mean more when we see how strong the partnership is. I appreciate that this episode, with all of its murky morality and strained relationships, ends on a happy, relaxed note. It seems fitting and deserved, subtle and true to character.

Speaking of character, how meaningful is it that Alicia goes in for the hug!? I don’t get the impression that she’s much of a hugger except when there’s nothing else to do or when she’s around her kids or people she trusts deeply, so it seems significant to me that Cary’s now on the list of people she feels comfortable around.

And another thought on this scene:  the moment belongs to both Alicia and Cary, but the episode ends with Alicia’s face in view.  This “should be” more of Cary’s moment since he was just released from jail and all, but the writers and the director chose to give it to Alicia. Sounds about right for this show.

Overall: It’s nearly impossible to read anything about season 5, or about season 6 so far, that doesn’t go out of its way to talk about how rare it is for a show to hit its stride in its later seasons. Many of these articles act like it’s a mystery that the show suddenly got good in season 5—how does that happen?! Well, first of all, it was good all along: different, but good. It was different in a way that enabled the show to branch out and reinvent itself and grow alongside its characters and its world.  Looking at season six and seeing these same headlines again, I’m left wondering if perhaps the secret behind TGW “suddenly getting good” isn’t just that it evolved but rather that the age of the show is a strength rather than an obstacle to quality.

This episode demonstrates the advantages of having a show that’s been on the air for five years well. It doesn’t start off with a previously, which is a sign of confidence in storytelling and the network’s confidence in the writing (earned over the years). The conflicts arise from past plot points and relationships. As the Kings said, having Bishop as a client coming back to cause harm was inevitable (Bishop’s been a recurring player since the middle of season 1).  I could list specific examples, but I won’t, because I want to focus on the case of the week.

I was totally bored by the ChumHum stuff. So Deena and Patric were a thing once—who cares? But despite my boredom, the case worked for me. To start off, we have continuity (dating back to 4x13) with ChumHum being Cary’s client more than Alicia’s, so the idea that Alicia’s stepping in for Cary because life’s going on without him becomes more important than the case itself. Thus, the COTW feels like it’s there because Alicia would be working on it, not because it needs to be particularly engaging or memorable. The clients are established clients of the firm and almost everyone involved is a recurring player. Patric Edelstein? We first saw him in 2x14. Deena’s been around since 4x13 and ChumHum’s been around even longer. The COTW looks more like business as usual than anything else, and whether or not that’s what the writers were going for, I liked that sense. And as if that wasn’t enough, the opposing lawyer is Lorraine Joy, whom we’ve only seen once before (5x14) but adds some personal drama for Alicia to the proceedings.

As I said, age is an advantage here: it’s easier to do a case like this—an episode like this—when you have five years of world building working in your favor. The writers can use procedural structure to construct their episodes, but they’ve also earned the ability to toy with that structure as much as they want. They can do elaborate cases or they can do cases that have nothing to them but still hold an episode together and seem relevant to the characters. The writers have 114 episodes of material under their belts, and they can use that material to keep moving forward and building. I trust them to make the most of it.

(BECAUSE THE TITLE OF THE EPISODE IS TRUST ISSUES, GET IT? Sorry, that was lame. It’s late…)

The Season So Far: In an attempt not to be too hyperbolic about the quality of this season or its potential, I’ll just say that 601/602 are the strongest premiere/episode 2 of all six seasons and that the new, more serialized storytelling approach is working well.