Does anyone hold a vivid recollection of Rob Reiner's film, "North"? It featured a youthful Elijah Wood in the lead role, incurred millions in production costs, and was so abyssmally dreadful that even I, a naive child at the time, deemed it a fruitless endeavor of my precious moments – moments that, as a child, seemed infinitely valuable. (Be warned, spoilers lie ahead for "North," or at least what fragments of it linger in my memory.)
Wood portrayed North, a youngster who divorces his neglectful parents and embarks on a quest across the United States to shop for new guardians. Alas, they all proved to be uncharismatic, I suppose, because all parents have their flaws, leading him to eventually return home. That premise was execrable, yet it somehow managed to deteriorate further. It was all but a dream. He never ventured beyond the borders of his hometown. He never ventured beyond the confines of that accursed mall.
I recall feeling an profound emptiness. No, deceived is a more apt description. I wasn't even witnessing the bad movie I had anticipated. I was ensnared in an entirely different cinematic catastrophe.
Now, "Poker Face" is no "North." "Poker Face" is a delightful and engaging series, and appointing Janicza Bravo (of "Zola" fame) to direct the finale was a brilliant and enjoyable decision. However, when we discover that Charlie was not fleeing for her life but, unbeknownst to her, running away from a lucrative business opportunity, "North" resurfaced from the depths of my bewildered mind. All these weeks, we had been deceived into believing we were watching one show – a tale of a woman so inherently good-hearted that she cannot resist the urge to rectify wrongs, even at great personal peril. For instance, had henchman Cliff captured Charlie immediately after the Doxxology show in episode four, she might already be living a life of affluence. It was all but a mirage. No, a sinister fantasy. And while each episode of "Poker Face" meticulously crafted its own internal suspense, this grand revelation left me with a lingering sense of emptiness.
Of course, Charlie was justified in believing her life was in danger. At the onset of the season finale, "The Hook," the show revisits the fateful phone call from Sterling Senior that ignited this relentless pursuit. And Senior – magnificently portrayed by Ron Perlman, despite bearing no resemblance to a man who could sire Adrien Brody – truly did roar with vengeful intent in the aftermath of his son's demise: "And when I do kill you, you're going to thank me." (Sidenote: Ron Perlman is a national gem; arguably the most underappreciated American actor who can effortlessly address another adult as "kid" and pull off a bolo tie with sheer panache.) Regardless, it seems Senior's murderous determination waned as he uncovered his son's treacherous plot to betray him in favor of his business rivals, information he gleaned from the bug he planted in his own son's office. Senior's quest to find Charlie persisted, but his intentions towards her underwent a transformation.
Ultimately, it takes Sterling & Co. an arduous year to uproot her from her hidden depths. For Charlie, the ordeal was excruciating; she describes being finally apprehended at the Denver Hospital as "a twisted sense of relief." However, the mental toll was even more corrosive for B. Bratt's Cliff. When Sterling orders him to camp out for an additional two months while she recuperates from her stab wounds, it pushes him over the edge. Perhaps he once harbored affection for Sterling Senior, but now Cliff harbors nothing but contempt for his boss. The day Cliff tracks down Chuck coincides with his ill-fated liaison with Beatrix Hasp, the owner of a rival casino and the head of a competing crime syndicate known as The Five Families, whose name sounds almost too bizarre to be true. Sterling will never sell his Nevada business to Hasp, as his son had intended. Enter Rhea Perlman (unrelated to the narrative) voicing Hasp, who needs Cliff to eliminate Sterling.
Still posing as Sterling's faithful subordinate, Cliff collects Charlie from the hospital on her discharge day and embarks on a lengthy yet relatively serene road trip to her hometown, the picturesque Atlantic City, New Jersey. I've always suspected Charlie's Jersey roots, but a Jersey Shore girl? This is perhaps Rian Johnson's most profound glimpse into Charlie's frayed psyche. Her listlessness and tough exterior, which masks a tender heart, now make perfect sense. And let me assure you, no matter how far a Jersey girl wanders, her hair will always retain a hint of that briny touch.
But I stray from the narrative. The road trip, though lengthy, passes relatively uneventfully. The true lows arrive when Cliff forces Charlie to hold the gun he used to slay Natalie (a bizarre psychological maneuver) and when he engages in an elongated, melodramatic recitation of "The Hook" by Blues Traveller, a parody of those W Magazine videos of celebrities awkwardly reciting idiotic lyrics to pop songs (an even weirder psychological ploy). In Atlantic City, they part ways, but not before Cliff instructs Charlie to clean up and don a sparkly dress selected by Senior.
And so, we arrive at our pivotal moment. When Charlie and Senior finally sit down together at a card table in Hasp's casino, he reveals that his thirst for vengeance has waned. No longer will he dig a grave for her; he now sees the bigger picture. Junior was a treacherous snake, poised to strike a covert deal with Beatrix behind his back. Senior even produces the tape-recorded evidence he's gathered—a garishly outdated device that screams, "Pay heed to me! I shall play a crucial role later in this tale!" Over time, tensions between The Five Families and Sterling's Southwest Syndicate have escalated. (It's a massive plot dump for a finale episode, I admit, but bear with me.) To ease these tensions, Sterling requests a sit-down meeting and wishes to bring Charlie along to sniff out any deceit. He offers her a lucrative sum of $500,000 per lie-detection session. If not, she's free to cruise into the sunset in the Plymouth Barracuda he's brought east for her.
Charlie opts for the stack of cash concealed behind Door No. 1, ensuring that Senior documents their agreement meticulously on his trusty tape recorder. To cement the pact, Senior presents her with a purple gift box, a sentimental gesture meant to signify the budding camaraderie between them. Inside, he’s tucked away her former Frost Casino employee name tag—a less-than-stellar offering, to be certain. Yet, as Charlie delves into the box, she discovers not just a token but the very gun that terminated Natalie’s life, the same one Cliff had coerced her to accept during their fateful road trip—a gesture even more appallingly insensitive.
It's at the precise moment she lifts the weapon that the casino's neon lights flicker and plunge into darkness, accompanied by two resounding gunshots. When illumination returns mere moments later, Sterling lies lifeless on the casino floor of his adversary, marking our week’s murder with stark clarity.
The FBI team finds the case an open-and-shut affair. Eyewitnesses place the gun in Charlie’s grasp, forensic evidence in the form of her fingerprints adorns the weapon, and her motive to eliminate the mob boss is plain as day. Fortunately for Charlie, the team is led by Luca, the nascent federal agent whose path was destined to recross hers since he bestowed his digits upon her in episode five. Now a rising star thanks to Charlie’s tip about Kazimir Caine in episode one, Luca hasn’t forgotten those who aided him in his ascent. When Charlie reaches out, he delivers a stark warning: flee, immediately.
In return for her compliance, Charlie urges Luca to listen to both sides of Senior’s tape recorder—not merely the section detailing their arrangement, but also the countless hours of idle chatter between Cliff and Junior. Somewhere within those recordings, there must lie a fragment of evidence capable of extricating her from this quagmire.
Meanwhile, Charlie hitches a ride aboard a bachelorette party bus, weaving her way through suburban streets until she arrives at her sister Em’s residence. As a stark testament to her familial neglect, we learn that she has scarcely met her niece, Shasta, Em’s daughter. Em, portrayed by Clea Duvall, is already disturbed by the police stakeout at her home, anticipating Charlie’s arrival. When Charlie actually shows up, Em’s consternation deepens.
Charlie, the prodigal sister, begs Em for the keys to their father’s boat, recounting a tale to Shasta about how he’d force them to leap off and swim ashore, a vivid illustration of parental shortcomings, as North knows all too well. Em offers a convoluted rationale for her disinterest in reigniting their bond, essentially resenting Charlie for portraying herself as a victim when she’s clearly chosen a life of chaos. Yet, her grievance seems more petty than poignant. What’s truly astonishing is her refusal to offer Charlie a change of clothes. Charlie departs, clutching the boat keys, still clad in the sparkly ensemble chosen by a now-deceased man.
As Charlie steps onto the marina, a solitary figure against the backdrop of bustling vessels, a gnawing doubt creeps into my mind about her ability to survive this ordeal with her wits intact. What state did you envision your father's boat being in? Hardly seaworthy, one would think! Inevitably, Charlie resorts to her customary course of action, adhering to the unyielding tenets of this saga: placing her trust in the wrong individual. She reaches out to Cliff, imploring him for her innocence, blissfully unaware that he might be the very architect of her downfall. Ironically, he lounges aboard his yacht in the very same marina, a vessel bought with the ill-gotten gains from betraying Sterling Senior.
By now, the truth has unfolded like a meticulously woven tapestry. We are privy to the moment when, as Charlie primped for her meeting with Sterling, Cliff substituted the employee name tag in the gift box with a gun bearing an uncanny resemblance to the one that ended Natalie's life. He strategically placed a blacklight poker chip on the table, knowing that Sterling, enchanted by his fidget spinner, would unwittingly pick it up, thereby illuminating Cliff's intended target even as Hasp's men plunged the casino into darkness. In a cold-blooded act, the treacherous consigliere dispatched his don with the murder weapon itself, swiftly swapping it for the one Charlie, startled, had discarded.
Cliff's plan is meticulously orchestrated; he invites Charlie to inspect his sinister new aquatic toy and alerts the police to her whereabouts. Why not tidy up the mess himself? But if they know where to find her, they'll lead right to him. Soon, Charlie stumbles upon an open container of blacklight poker chips, realizing Cliff's hand in Sterling's demise. Fortunately, Luca arrives just in time to apprehend Cliff for Natalie's murder, thanks to those incriminating tapes. Amidst the chaos, Charlie plunges off the boat, swimming for freedom, her strokes echoing the lessons her father once imparted before she opted for the open road over family ties.
It's all wrapped up with a neat bow, characteristic of Rian Johnson's work. He prioritizes neatness, even if it necessitates minor embellishments, like why a meticulous planner like Cliff would retain the incriminating chips or why a ruthless figure like Sterling would meet Charlie on enemy turf in the first place. Once apprehended, Cliff turns on Beatrix Hasp, thereby vindicating Charlie.
In the climactic moments of the episode, Luca and Charlie converge at the iconic Ireland Corners General Store in Gardiner, New York, where Luca hands over the 'Cuda and imparts the exhilarating news. Charlie stands at a crossroads: she could embark on an FBI career, wielding her lie-detection abilities to combat crime, much like the legendary Columbo, or she could reconcile with Em and forge a new path. Both narratives present viable conclusions, yet neither aligns seamlessly with Johnson's meticulous penchant for a tidy resolution.
Instead, fate interventions in the form of a phone call from Beatrix, a fugitive from justice and consumed by vengefulness, alter Charlie's trajectory. Beatrix presents Charlie with a proposition reminiscent of those offered by the Sterlings—join the Hasps or spend her days eluding their relentless pursuit. The choice for Charlie is as predictable as it is inevitable. Thus, episode ten concludes in a similar vein to episode one, with Charlie steeling herself for a life lived off the grid, her resolve unwavering.
Personally, I find this denouement most satisfying. "Poker Face," billed as a "ten-part mystery series," cleverly leaves the door ajar, hinting at Charlie's continued adventures. Perhaps Johnson and Natasha Lyonne will draw inspiration from Columbo, a show that spanned 14 episodes between 1990 and 2003, with gaps of years in between. Charlie might very well become a character we occasionally revisit over the next decade, a testament to her enduring spirit and her claim to be a person who does just enough, always on the move, always doing good.
