The sheer delight of "Poker Face" lies in witnessing the series meticulously unfold the constraints and ramifications of Charlie's uncanny ability to discern truth from falsehood. In the pilot, we discovered her talent extends to video recordings; whereas in "The Stall," we learn it falters when relying solely on sound waves. Charlie's extensive road trips through Texas have acquainted her with an array of talk-radio shows, ranging from a QAnon-sympathetic, Texas-accented knockoff of The Blaze to a knitting circle hosted by a benign elderly aunt. Ironically, despite her auditory immersion, she remains oblivious to the fact that these diverse programs are actually solo endeavors helmed by a young Black college theater major who discredits the MAGA hate he spews and is as clueless about knitting needles as he is about crochet hooks. In this episode, actor Shane Paul McGhie brings to life Hanky T. Pickins, a shock-jock emcee of a soulful jazz hour, and Austin, a talented yet jaded radio producer in a land seemingly forgotten by "Friday Night Lights."
By now, the series' formula is unmistakable: first, a crime is introduced; subsequently, Charlie, seemingly unrelated to the scenario, is revealed as a pivotal figure; and then, we observe her incrementally unraveling the central mystery. Perhaps at some juncture, the recurring demise of those in her sphere will begin to weigh on me, but thus far, I've embraced these grim coincidences with a grain of salt. "The Stall" commences with a false confession. George and Taffy Boyle (played by Larry Brown and Lil Rel Howery) are sibling barbecue joint owners, with pitmaster George undergoing a spiritual crisis. He's come to believe meat equals murder and vegans are animals' saviors. Taffy, devoid of culinary prowess but sharp in business acumen, is on the phone bragging about a lucrative beef-rub deal with McCormick, oblivious to the perilous loan shark he's borrowed from (Dallas-based, no less).
Unsurprisingly, Taffy is horrified by George's intentions to quit, particularly since he lacks the funds to buy out his brother. It transpires that while George has honed his brisket craft, Taffy has been cooking the books. To cement the beef-rub deal and preserve their venture, Taffy devises a multi-faceted, multi-hour, multi-player plot to murder George, involving Ambien-induced slumber, trailer confinement (made to appear self-imposed from the inside), and ultimately suffocation via a meat smoker hose rigged into the trailer window. Onlookers would witness an ironic suicide: a penitent man killed by the very industry he devoted his life to. Taffy's alibi is watertight; he commits the murder during his purportedly live BBQ&A radio show, but in reality, he uses a prerecorded response planted by George's wife, Mandy, equally reluctant to relinquish the sausage fortune. It's so seamless that one wonders what could possibly go awry—until Taffy savagely beats a stray dog that interrupts his scheme. In TV morality, fratricide may pass unnoticed, but animal cruelty is unforgivable.
Fifteen minutes elapse before Charlie enters the fray, having been accosted by the same stray dog a couple of days prior to George's demise at a local gas station. The mutt leaps into her car and refuses to budge (Can animals deceive? Can Charlie detect their dishonesty?). The dog turns out to be quite Trump-aligned in canine terms. Its incessant barking is soothed only by Hanky T. Pickins' melodious voice—and barbecue, of course. The pup begs to be let out at Boyle's, where it promptly helps itself to diners' plates. Taffy demands Charlie pay for the damage, but George intervenes as the good cop, offering her to work it off in the pit. It's neither a convincing nor distracting meet-cute. One challenge the series grapples with is justifying Charlie's frequent roadside stops while on the lam. It can't be her interest in the crimes themselves, as her stops precede any incidents. In episode two, her car broke down—a plausible occurrence. Now, the series grows more inventive: Charlie is serving time in lieu of a racist puppy.
Regardless, it's heartening to witness George's resurgence, his spirit untouched by vegan propaganda. His guidance to Charlie unfolds as a love letter to barbecue—a harmonious orchestra of pure, unpretentious flavors, as he describes it. (The revolting cinnamon floss Taffy insists on placing on every table? That's akin to a blaring horn, an abrupt and jarring conclusion to a culinary masterpiece.) George harbors a deep affection for meat, even going so far as to cook tongues over pecan wood, honoring every aspect of the animal. So devoted is he to his craft that he resides alone in a trailer on the property's premises while Mandy (Danielle MacDonald) sleeps separately at their townhouse. To alleviate George's solitude, Charlie gifts him DVDs she believes he'll appreciate. Titles such as "Babe," a film exploring the intricate bond between a pig and a farmer, "Charlotte's Web," a tale of the complex relationship between a pig and a spider, and "Okja," a Bong Joon Ho action flick depicting the entangled fate of a genetically modified super-pig and a young girl. These movies shake the very foundations of George's carnivorous beliefs, compelling him to seek solace in the arms of the PETA deities. Little does Charlie realize that her well-intentioned gesture not only fails to solve this week's murder but inadvertently triggers it.
Charlie's cover story about George's suicide unravels swiftly. When Taffy gathers the pit staff to declare that honoring George's life means keeping Boyles BBQ open, Charlie senses his duplicity. However, people resort to lies for myriad reasons, and she chalks this one up to financial expediency. As she prepares to leave, she encounters the MAGA dog again, this time with a head wound inflicted by Taffy. Charlie rushes the injured animal to a vet, who reveals that he's part jackal and extracts a piece of wood from his wound—pecan wood, as Charlie soon discovers, the same wood George reserves solely for smoking tongues near his personal trailer. Furthermore, one of the dog's odd jackal teeth is found in the smoker.
Charlie employs her usual detective work—loitering and posing peculiar questions—until the killer confronts her. At this juncture, she freely shares all her suspicions without much subterfuge. She confides in Taffy her belief that the assault on the MAGA dog and George's death are more than mere tragedies; they're mysteriously intertwined. She then tells Mandy she suspects Taffy, even entrusting her archenemy with her superpower, for Charlie is blissfully unaware of the scent of conspiracy.
What sets this mystery apart from "The Night Shift" is the presence of a team working just as diligently against Charlie as she strives to uncover the truth. Taffy informs her that from this moment onward, she's considered a trespasser on Boyle BBQ land, with trespassers facing Texas justice—a gun. Being known to her adversary spices up the chase, adding an element of playful intrigue. It's amusing to observe Mandy, aware of Charlie's internal lie detector, struggle to maintain her innocence by meticulously steering clear of falsehoods.
Ultimately, Taffy's alibi crumbles at a pace rivaling that of a speeding locomotive. His prerecorded response on his BBQ&A broadcast is notably devoid of the familiar blare of the cargo train that punctuates the town's hourly rhythm. It was meant to thunder through the airwaves mid-show, yet the expected roar of the horn is conspicuously absent from the interview. Personally, I find the most damning evidence of Taffy's culpability in their hasty conclusion of the lucrative McCormick deal, brokered amidst what should have been a time of mourning for Mandy and himself. However, it is for the district attorney to weigh this.
Charlie, it must be acknowledged, is honing a remarkable talent for this line of work, morphing into an increasingly astute and enterprising detective. In the absence of overt indications of wrongdoing on "The Stall," she creates them. It is during her visit to the radio station to obtain a copy of the BBQ&A broadcast from the night George passed that Charlie's world shifts; she realizes that everything she had heard on AM radio was but a falsehood – Austin had been the voice behind the microphone nearly every time. Fortunately for Charlie, Austin's dissatisfaction with his day job prompts him to impersonate Taffy, luring Mandy into a confession that they tape over the phone and air on the radio, neatly tying up the loose ends.
And as is par for the course with Rian Johnson, not a single detail is overlooked. Even the MAGA dog finds a happy resolution, rehomed with Hanky T. Pickins, the only man capable of taming the fierce beast. I interpret this episode, which sidesteps the larger narrative of the goons targeting Charlie in "Poker Face," as yet another Johnson allegory championing animal rights. Those complicit in the exploitation of meat, including George on the brink of enlightenment, cannot escape justice. All of God's creatures, great and small (and even those with a hint of jackal), deserve their dignity and respect.
