Evil's Season 4, Episode 4, entitled "How to Build a Coffin," kicks off with the eerie fulfillment of Kristen's (Katja Herbers) prophecy to Leland (Michael Emerson) from the season's dawn. Amid a peaceful slumber, glasses perched atop his nose like a madman's emblem, Leland is rudely yanked from his dreams by the piercing wails of the infant Antichrist. A haunting melody emanating from an ominous mobile briefly hushes the demonic tot, only for him to promptly soil his diaper. Leland's subsequent comedic struggle with the soiled diaper is abruptly halted by a projectile vomit assault from the baby, which later disrupts a virtual meeting with fellow executives, eliciting peals of laughter. Desperate, Leland reaches out to Sheryl (Christine Lahti), who barters her aid with a conditional agreement.
Meanwhile, reporter Stuart Lawry (Joe Carroll) grapples with words in this week's episode, his speech slurring and sentences tripping during a live broadcast. Kristen, David (Mike Colter), and Ben (Aasif Mandvi) initially suspect head trauma, but Stuart's wife, Jennifer (Kate Arrington), disputes this, citing normal medical reports. Kristen's personal test, posing questions like "What day follows Monday?", sees Stuart ace it, yet upon glimpsing an image of a church, he lunges at her, gibbering uncontrollably. Despite Kristen's lingering belief in neurological issues or a tick-borne malady, the truth lurks beneath the surface.
Kristen and her team soon find themselves plagued by the same linguistic curse, each struggling with "tip-of-the-tongue" moments, words eluding them at crucial instants. Even Father Ignatius (Wallace Shawn) isn't spared this affliction. Desperate for answers, Kristen takes an online Aphasia Cognitive Impairment Analysis test, the results bleak. Dr. Kurt (Kurt Fuller), though more composed than his previous season self, assures her that this is a byproduct of the post-pandemic era—excessive screen time, dwindling human interaction. When queried about the younger generation's digital addiction, Dr. Kurt quips, "Oh, they're doomed."
Amidst this chaos, Sister Andrea (Andrea Martin), the laundry maven for the priests, notices a peculiar hole in Father Ignatius' robes. Her inquiry meets with hostility, but in a stunning revelation, as he answers a call, Father Ignatius inadvertently raises his arm, unveiling a gaping hole in his left side—and from it, a gremlin-esque demon snarls at Sister Andrea, marking one of the series' most jaw-dropping "what the hell?" moments.
Upon Sheryl's arrival at Leland's abode, she's greeted by a cacophony of blaring music, a landscape littered with soiled diapers, and the Antichrist nestled incongruously in a laundry hamper within the bizarrely named "People Juice Room." Leland himself is a veritable mountain of towels and bedding, submerged in his bathtub, a picture of domestic chaos. Sheryl, ever the pragmatist, agrees to lend a hand with the infant, but only on the condition of receiving some precious jars of that elusive elixir—People Juice, affectionately dubbed "transfusion bottles" in her heart.
Incidentally, I can't help but marvel at how the show 'Evil' has deftly elevated the running gag about skipping the intro, now brandishing dire consequences for those who dare. This week's warning, etched at the bottom of the screen, chillingly recounts the tale of Jenny Park of Sun Valley, Utah, who ignored the prologue and was met with the grim fate of losing all her hair. I eagerly anticipate the escalation of these dire predictions in the episodes to come.
Ben's djinn has grown increasingly relentless, infiltrating his mind with seductive whispers of Kristen's desire for him and his own yearning for her. This mental invasion culminates in a surreal moment where, through Ben's gaze, we catch a fleeting exchange of longing glances between him and Kristen as their eyes lock amidst the chaos. To drown out the voices, Ben cranks up the music to deafening levels, only to be unexpectedly joined by Renee (Gia Crovatin), a familiar face from Season 3's "The Demon of Cults," bearing a bottle of tequila and an offer of shared intimacy. Ben is left baffled, with no recollection of summoning her—was it the djinn's doing?—but their passion overrides reason, and they surrender to the moment.
In the aftermath, as they ponder the origins of Ben's djinn, Renee fleetingly alludes to the Many-Worlds multiverse theory, speculating that the particle collider's beam may have fragmented Ben into parallel realities, each with its own distinct outcome. This tantalizing hypothesis, briefly glimpsed yet rich with potential, serves as a tantalizing teaser for deeper explorations to come. If you haven't delved into the mysteries of the Many-Worlds theory, now might be the perfect time.
This week, Sister Andrea's narrative arc has undeniably emerged as one of the most captivating chapters in her character's journey thus far. Transforming into a demon-slaying dynamo, she exudes peak Andrea as she maneuvers nimbly over pews, wielding garden shears with fierce determination against a menacing demon. Later, her fearless prowess is showcased as she single-handedly grapples with Father Ignatius' gremlin demon, tail in tow, and pins it within the confines of a wardrobe with nothing more than a humble plunger—a testament to her unwavering bravery that inspires us all.
Moreover, the narrative repeatedly underscores Sister Andrea's exceptional ability to perceive demons, a gift that sets her apart from most and foreshadows her pivotal role in the impending battle against darkness. Her boldness extends to piercing the Demon of Words' stomach with a crucifix, a move that resonates with awe-inspiring ferocity.
As she triumphantly confines the gremlin demon, a poignant revelation unfolds. The demon, with a tinge of contempt, dismisses her efforts as futile, reminding her that the children she once nurtured have strayed from Catholicism's fold, and casually drops the name "Paul"—a name that evokes bittersweet memories of a fleeting romance now reduced to shattered heartache, a sacrifice Sister Andrea made for her faith. This realization dawns on her: the gremlin is none other than the Demon of Grief, personifying the very emotion that's been consuming Father Ignatius.
Earlier scenes artfully hint at the Demon of Grief's influence, as Father Ignatius' gradual descent into lethargy and despair becomes evident. His body, invaded by the demon, is transformed into a grotesque canvas of flesh and stone, symbolizing the heavy burden of grief over the loss of the Monsignor. When Sister Andrea attempts to confront this pain, Father Ignatius initially reacts with hostility, shunning any mention of his sorrow. However, her ingenuity prevails as she employs humor to breach his defenses, reminiscing about the Monsignor's antics and favorite tunes. This heartfelt exchange melts the ice, as Father Ignatius finally acknowledges his grief, smiling through tears and embracing his pain. In this moment of catharsis, the Demon of Grief is expelled, sneering at Sister Andrea before being swiftly vanquished under her heel, marking a triumphant victory over despair.
As Andy (Patrick Brammall) delved deeper into the home's expansion, a phone call once more disrupted his work, setting in motion a chilling sequence. Merely the melody of the "Feliz Navidad" fiesta doll's song cast him into a trance-like spell, compelling him to abandon the house and embark on a journey to Leland's lair. In the enigmatic People Juice Room, Leland plotted Andy's fate, instructing him to infiltrate the girls' bedroom under the cover of darkness and inject Laura with a syringe, triggering a fatal cardiac arrest. The mere thought of this scene sends shivers down one's spine, but the act of Andy obeying those orders borders on the realm of pure horror.
Before tucking the girls in with a spine-tingling bedtime story, Andy returned to carry out the heinous deed. Yet, in a surprising turn of events, he couldn't bring himself to harm Laura; instead, he plunged the syringe into his own arm. Though I had a premonition of this self-sacrifice, the direction of the scene was excruciatingly tense, gripping me to the very edge of my seat.
Miraculously, Andy survived, finding himself in the hospital where Kristen, still under the misconception of a drug issue, struggled to comprehend. Andy, insistent that something sinister lurked beneath the surface, acknowledged the urgent need to distance himself from his family, fearing he might harm them. His desire to seek refuge in a psychiatric hospital far from home was palpable. My heart skips a beat at the mere thought of Nurse Bloch's potential presence there.
Amidst their tearful embrace, the Demon of Grief perched ominously outside their hospital room, observing their every move. The stage was now set for the climactic exorcism. Our protagonists had unequivocally concluded that a demonic entity plagued Stuart, necessitating an exorcism. The scene unfolded with an intensity rivaled only by the raging nighttime storm outside, its flashes of lightning illuminating the tense atmosphere within.
But it was Sister Andrea, armed with her trusty garden shears, who stole the show. With a swift and decisive strike, she punctured the bloated Demon of Words, causing it to deflate with a sickening pop, splattering her and the surrounding walls with grotesque remnants. In an instant, the demon was vanquished, and those afflicted by the speaking curse were miraculously cured.
I found immense joy in this week's episode, particularly in the deft handling of the Demon of Grief and Sister Andrea's demon-slaying prowess. The crescendo, where Andy hovered perilously close to taking his daughter's life, stands as one of the most heart-stopping moments in Evil's storied run. Reflecting on past seasons, I'm eager to reassess this episode's place among my personal favorites. Undeniably, it marks the pinnacle of this season thus far, leaving an indelible mark as the most memorable installment. Until next week, adieu!
