This week, we embark on our analysis with a quote from the iconic rock band Loverboy: "Everyone's watching! To see what you will do! Everyone's looking! At you!" Indeed, as we press play on each new episode, the world is a stage where every move is scrutinized. This is as true when NBC's TracyCam tracks the Space Shuttle launch live on TV as it is in the granular, interpersonal dynamics of our characters.
Karen is keeping a watchful eye on Ed's next career move, which will inevitably lead to Molly's highly visible role at NASA. Ed and Dani are navigating Gordo's anxiety and (wobbly but genuine) renewed ambition. Tom is laser-focused on Ellen and her political future, while the eyes of the world will soon be on a joint PR mission between the U.S. and USSR. Let's delve into this rich tapestry of narrative and themes, shall we?
The morning after their family's near-collapse over Kelly's desire to attend the Naval Academy, Karen and Ed have a heart-to-heart about their future plans. It's really more Karen talking, with Ed's head spinning at how well his wife sees and understands him. He eventually catches up, acknowledging that he isn't satisfied with staying on Earth. He regards it as a sacrifice, and while she's glad that his presence has given him a chance to grow into a better father and husband than he was before, Kelly is heading to college, and Karen has the Outpost to run. He can return to following his dreams, so why wouldn't he? It seems like taking command of Pathfinder's inaugural flight would be a perfect fit for him. So why doesn't he just do that? Once again, the women in Ed's life run rings around him. You love to see it.
His fellow crew members on Pathfinder will be Gary Piscotty (a name I can never hear without thinking about biscotti) and Sally Ride, yes, that one! Ed's mission-commander pep talk at their first team meeting in Pathfinder's hangar is an aerospace nerd's dream, all about identifying and fixing every bug they can find and culminating in this show's version of the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V: "We're going to train our asses off!" Let's hear it for triple-checking every calculation!
Speaking of Pathfinder and other new space-flight advances of the last nine years, they might be getting swept up in the fallout from the recent international-relations drama stirred up by the solar storm and the Soviets' attempted takeover of NASA's lithium-mining site. The American Space PR Dudes think it would be simply lovely to invite the Soviets to dock one of their spacecraft with one of ours for a bracing handshake of international... well, "friendship" is a strong word, so let's call this dynamic "acceptable levels of mutual enmity" instead.
At NASA, everyone but Tom Paine thinks this is a terrible idea and a waste of time. But nobody has been investing much energy in thinking about it because it's all going to come to nothing, anyway. The Soviets will see it for the pointless PR stunt that it is, and they're too paranoid to want to do anything the U.S. suggests. Except this time, those wily Soviets have called the Americans' bluff, and now our heroes have to figure out a way to pull this off without also precipitating several new international incidents. The thought of letting the Soviets see our fancy new space-flight technology is, understandably, galling to Margo. So when Ellen suggests using one of the old Apollo modules instead, thereby preventing the cosmonauts from seeing any new-to-them technology, everyone embraces her elegant solution. No fuss, no muss... for now.
In his final act as chief of the Astronaut Office, Ed surprisingly nominated Dani for the commander role in the handshake mission, mere minutes after Dani had passionately pleaded in his office for the same assignment. This sudden shift was triggered by a profound encounter Dani had with her late husband's sister, which left her with a renewed sense of self-worth and a realization of the disrespect she had endured from an institution that hadn't valued her as much as she deserved. In this interaction, Ed appeared defensive, trying to excuse himself and NASA from any blame. This sudden change in his mind was not something Past Ed would have done, as he anticipated resistance from Tom (and he was right). However, there's a freedom in not having to bear the consequences of making a principled decision, and Dani (using words from her sister-in-law and her own) was indeed right. Considering the 205 members of the astronaut corps (11 of whom are Black), it's both shameful and nonsensical that, so far into the program's history, there hasn't yet been a mission led by a Black woman. Dani's professional experience and excellence make her an ideal candidate for this overdue historic milestone. The world is always watching NASA missions, and this would send a message that they're modernizing with the times. Plus, young girls of every race in America would look at Dani and think that they could be her someday. Ed holds firm, and Bradford is immediately supportive, even going so far as to offer to get the Secretary of Defense onboard to help Tom ensure Dani's assignment is approved.
Tom is frustrated with Ed for being blindsided by his sudden recommendation and drops by his nearly empty office afterward to register his irritation. He has to let it go, though, as he has his sights set on a new protégé: Ellen. In what appears to be a venting session about her frustration with yet another delay on the Mars project, Tom briefly and unwittingly makes Ellen feel like a butterfly being pinned to the felt. Absolute dread crosses Ellen's face when Tom announces that she's not fooling anyone, but he's not referring to her mutual beard situation with Larry. Instead, he advises her to develop a better poker face so she can successfully deploy various personas in her dealings with politicians, colleagues, and the public—all in the name of the gamesmanship required to ensure NASA continues to thrive. It turns out that Tom isn't just a Nixon and Reagan-era political lackey; he's also a space nerd with just as much enthusiasm for the Mars project as Ellen. These two characters, beginning to see each other in new light and with fresh eyes, could be on the cusp of a beautiful (and politically savvy) friendship.
Ellen's story line mirrors Ed's trade-offs. While he chose Karen and Kelly regardless of the cost to his career, she has done the opposite, sacrificing an authentic romantic and sex life to fulfill her professional dreams. The conversation with Tom has Ellen's mind racing; if she masters this compartmentalization thing, maybe there's a chance at a long-term relationship out there, after all. Maybe with Pam, the Outpost bartender turned poet she loved in season one? Pam did just send Ellen a chapbook of her latest work, including a flirty inscription. Possibilities!
Not to end this on a negative note, but things aren't going great for Gordo, and Ed isn't helping. Gordo keeps thinking he's hallucinating like during his last mission at Jamestown, but he isn't: The red lights he sees are just LEDs on his VCR, and the ants he sees turn out to just be ants. Gross, but not necessarily a problem. More concerning is how being in his spacesuit with the helmet attached is triggering his anxiety so badly that he can't breathe normally—that's a problem. Gordo appeals to Ed for advice and support, but Ed tears into him mercilessly, berating and taunting his best friend with an unforgivable viciousness and disgust. It does the trick, though, and once in the air, Gordo's confidence is right back up to cocky-bastard levels. He wins an all-in-good-fun dogfight with Ed, but one of Ed's engines bursts into flames, forcing him to eject over the Gulf of Mexico. The romance of flight—right? Right?
