I'm absolutely delighted to witness Peacock abandon the binge-watching model in favor of weekly episode releases for the remainder of "Poker Face." For starters, the series isn't tailored for marathon viewing. The episodes blend into one another with such uniformity, and Charlie Cale's frenetic dash to evade peril more closely resembles a lively jog than a sprint. As I binged the initial four installments, the straightforward, rhythmic charm of the whodunit formula began to lose its sheen. "That's a red herring, Charlie!" I found myself yearning to shout at our protagonist, whose leisurely detective work wasn't progressing as swiftly as my armchair quarterbacking on a Monday morning. But "Time of the Monkey" wasn't merely the sole episode of "Poker Face" I watched this week; it was the sole television episode I indulged in, period. (Admittedly, it's been an odd week for me, a TV critic who earns a living by discussing the shows I watch.) However, the brief absence has only deepened my affection for this series, with its dependable twists and turns.
So, here's how a weekly release schedule, where episodes trickle out at a pace akin to Charlie's wandering crime-solving escapades, has allowed me to savor the show once more. It's the gentle slant of sunlight filtering through the open, curtained window; the camera's gradual retreat to reveal Ben, portrayed by Reed Birney, his face eternally frozen in the throes of sudden death; it's Rian Johnson's mastery in bathing the Mossy Oaks nursing facility in a warm yellow hue, as though, ultimately, we all converge upon resembling the sepia-toned photographs of our ancestors. Even when "Poker Face" isn't heart-pounding television, it's meticulously crafted entertainment. Peacock's decision to give each episode a bit more breathing room has enabled me to appreciate its finer nuances.
Judith Light, beloved as everyone's favorite boss, dominates the episode as Irene, a particular, profane, wheelchair-bound septuagenarian whose bucket list likely harbors but a single ambition: to make a racket. She and her criminal compatriot, "Law & Order" star S. Epatha Merkerson as Joyce, cultivate an extracurricular marijuana crop in their nursing home closet. Irene steadfastly refuses to charge the medical FitBit nurses use to monitor her vitals (a plot twist in the making, indeed). However, when Ben takes up residence at Mossy Oaks—a community for the elderly inching toward their final days, interspersed with field trips—Irene and Joyce transform from crotchety old maids into ruthless murderers.
Utilizing her remarkable arm strength, Irene scales the nursing home's tasteful rose trellis and injects Ben in the neck with a homemade poison, immediately after swapping his medical wearable for her own. Subsequently, to pass off the poisoning as a heart attack, she allows Joyce to tase her while wearing Ben's monitor, a scene so bold and badass to witness, akin to "The Golden Girls" joining "Fight Club." To shore up their alibi, Irene and Joyce embark on a celebratory field trip to the zoo. Along the journey, Irene drops the first hint as to why Ben met his demise. "I'm so glad you came back," she tells him, her voice dripping with villainy as she plunges the needle into him.
Charlie finds herself more deeply enmeshed in the Ben and Mossy Oaks murder mystery than ever before. As the facility's freshest orderly, she should heed the warnings of busy-bodied Betty, who has self-appointed herself as the social chair and advises Charlie to steer clear of Thelma & Louise. Yet, Charlie is instantaneously drawn to them. It turns out that even before embarking on their murderous spree, they were radical members of the Weather Underground — anti-fascist domestic Terrorists prepared to combat authority using homemade IEDs crafted from pressure cookers. Irene and Joyce, college sweethearts and sexual partners of Gabriel, the charismatic leader of their political cult, shared a prison sentence due to their vaguely defined political crimes. Though they are sketchy with the specifics, they reveal the wild, storied contours of their lives to Charlie, who looks upon them and their unwavering commitment to each other with a sense of awe.
When federal agents raided their safe house and shot Irene, leaving her paralyzed, Irene and Joyce's bond only grew stronger. Thanks to Mossy Oaks, it seems they will remain together until death do they part.
The intricacies of the casework Charlie faces can be overwhelming, but this episode offers a more diverse array of delights. The nursing home serves as the perfect setting for a director adept at assembling an eccentric ensemble of satisfying characters. This week introduces us to Billy the nurse, a frequent target of Irene's wrath whose insights into the human heart Charlie eventually taps into, Pervy Pete, whose expertise in sexual fetishes Charlie similarly exploits, and three elderly ladies obsessed with Nordic murder mysteries — their extensive knowledge of natural poisons absolutely points towards their potential culpability.
And then there's Ben, the newcomer, who is actually Gabriel. His presence at Mossy Oaks is no coincidence; he seeks forgiveness from Irene and Joyce, who never truly deserted his cult. While they languished behind bars for the crimes he orchestrated, Gabe enjoyed the tranquility of witness protection. Unbeknownst to Irene and Joyce for decades, Gabe was the one who betrayed them to the authorities. When he confronts them to confess his treachery, it is for his own redemption. Haunted by nightmares of the women rejecting his apology, his quest for forgiveness is ultimately self-serving. These women sacrificed their freedom for his cause, leaving little sympathy for his plight.
Charlie chauffeurs the busload of seniors to the local zoo, unwittingly becoming Irene and Joyce's getaway driver. She overhears their lies, which she quickly discounts, revealing another intriguing flaw in her lie-detecting prowess: the more Charlie likes someone, the less effective her lie detector becomes. In this instance, she acknowledges their falsehoods but immediately dismisses them. For instance, when Joyce and Irene claim allergies to skip the chimp show, Charlie assumes they're planning to get high and explore the petting zoo instead. Trust blurs the lines of scrutiny.
It was Ben's pretend nephew who ultimately sounded the alarm for Charlie, revealing the existence of a case begging to be solved. At the solemn funeral rites, Luca, under his real name, confessed to being the discontented FBI agent assigned to Gabe's WITSEC detail, though his heart yearned to wield his Urdu skills against international terrorism. (My trust in this individual remains non-existent.) Moreover, his professionalism left much to be desired. It was Charlie who enlightened Luca that Gabe's former comrades also resided within the confines of Mossy Oaks. The pieces fell into place for her when, amidst the mourning, she caught sight of a photograph depicting a younger Gabe from the '70s by a pulpit—the very era when he had befriended her elderly confidantes.
In return for this revelation, Luca imparted to Charlie the true nature of Irene and Joyce's college protest escapades, which were far from peaceful marches. Their intention, when the FBI intervened, had been to bomb a Model United Nations competition—a deadly plot targeting innocent high school students. This bombshell about their aborted terrorist scheme was pivotal, as it affirmed their capacity for murder. Gabe had already fallen victim to their wrath. What then, if they turned their attention to Charlie, whom they already suspected of collaborating with law enforcement?
This week, the dominoes tumbled with meticulous precision. The murderesses informed Charlie that sodium nitrate made for an inconspicuous and natural heart-stopping agent, while the gardener who supplied Joyce with her grow room essentials confirmed she had amassed a significant quantity of it. Charlie deduced that Irene must have swapped Gabe's vital signs bracelets, and it was Pervy Pete who educated her on the lethal art of "sexual zapping" with Tasers—a method employed by the ladies to mimic heart attacks. Their thirst for blood had only grown more insatiable. When Betty gossiped about their grow room and their general hostility, they transformed her beloved Instant Pot—a versatile kitchen gadget used for everything from cheesecake to boeuf bourguignon—into the weapon that claimed her life.
This led us to the climactic confrontation: the moment when Charlie laid bare her strategy to outsmart her adversaries, praying she would emerge unscathed. Typically, such scenes irritate me more as a reflection of my own expectations than as a critique of the show, which strives diligently to adapt detective genre clichés to its outrageous premise. (They mean to harm you! You're in grave danger!) However, this week's encounter was both genuinely amusing and menacing. It might very well have been the first instance where I genuinely feared for Charlie's safety, grappling with women old enough to wield knitting needles as lethal weapons. Charlie suffered a wound to her calf and a blow to the head with a frying pan. Yet, to her credit, she adeptly employed a cloud of talcum powder in her defense.
The royal rumble concludes dramatically as Charlie electrocutes herself, triggering the vital sign monitor she wears, and alerting Billy and Luca to her perilous plight. Just as they did half a century ago, the federal agents descend upon Irene and Joyce with relentless force. However, this time, Charlie, not Gabe, holds the title of turncoat. The moral of the story, which I suppose I’d also impart to Charlie, is to beware of swift friendships. She hastily sides with the authorities, a behavior that feels out of character, despite her weekly encounters with them. On this occasion, Luca offers her his business card, commends her keen instincts (mere seconds after she narrowly escapes being obliterated by a golf-cart bomb), and extends an invitation to stay connected. Ultimately, much depends on Sterling Frost Sr.’s intentions for Charlie once he locates her. Having an FBI insider might somehow prove beneficial to Charlie, but it seems more plausible that two steadfast women, with a history of defying authority, could emerge as valuable, albeit questionable, allies.
