Embracing the perfect tempo for bingeing "Poker Face" entails savoring one episode per sitting; any surplus sends my thoughts wandering aimlessly. As I navigated through an entire season of this intriguing series, I realized that reviewing it in bite-sized chunks of a few episodes at a time captures its essence best. One of the series' chief delights lies in its radical transformation each week—a fresh crime, an entirely new ensemble, and even a universe unfurled for Charlie to decode and triumph over. (Unlike Columbo, who, as far as my memory serves, never strayed from L.A.) While quality varied among episodes, there's an undeniable joy in witnessing the murder-mystery formula—kill, rinse, repeat—being honed to perfection.
Then came "Escape From Shit Mountain," the maiden episode post-premiere that delivered an unexpectedly gratifying denouement. Even the episodes I adored the most—featuring the talents of Chloë Sevigny and Judith Light—didn't match this sense of completeness. It crackles with suspense, electrifies with frights, and introduces a shirtless hunk whose nudity serves no purpose other than to add an extra layer of allure. The guest stars burst with chaotic vitality. Joseph Gordon-Levitt shines as Trey, the big shot reduced to a small-town fish with an ankle monitor for insider trading. His role in "Poker Face" is a step up from his dress rehearsal days in the "Uber" series.
David Castañeda plays Jimmy, the high-school buddy whose number Trey only dials in times of distress, with the innocence of a puppy dog. Furthermore, Stephanie Hsu steals the scene as Morty, a kleptomaniac ski bum yearning to escape the mountains and return to Denver, her feverish excitement mirroring Charlie's own, a refreshing contrast since Charlie spends most of the episode reclined on a motel-lobby couch.
Despite the series' reliable braided narrative suggesting otherwise, one plot dominates this week. When a snowstorm disables the electronic ankle monitors of wealthy miscreants, Trey trades his cushy home-prisoner routine—Peloton rides, smoothies, video games, GrubHub feasts—for a sip of cheap Malibu and a thrilling joyride in his sleek Giallo Auge Lamborghini Urus, the actions of a small-town crook seeking anonymity. This same snowstorm strands Charlie and Morty, who secured a ride down the mountain in a Barracuda using a stolen credit card to fill the gas tank, accidentally parked in a snowdrift. Charlie, awaiting Morty's (perhaps) impending return with a tow truck for hours in the freezing cold, decides to abandon the car and hitch a ride back to town. Trey's side-view mirror sends her flipping through the air until she crashes to the ground, fracturing her leg. Mistaking Charlie for deceased, Trey brings her to his buddy Jimmy's house, where the bro-brain trust decides to bury her in the same secret grave where they've already interred Chloe, the last girl whose murder they conspired to cover up.
Yet, Charlie isn't deceased. Utilizing Chloe's tibia as an impromptu shovel, she digs her way out of the icy, obscure depths of the earth, inching toward the flickering neon glow of Jimmy's dilapidated motel. Jimmy and Trey are on the brink of terminating her existence for a second time when, fortuitously, Morty pulls up in the 'cuda that Charlie had intended to pilfer from Charlie, thereby rescuing her from impending doom. This dramatic twist unfolds like a meticulously crafted Agatha Christie narrative. Four individuals, acquaintances rather than strangers, find themselves marooned in a secluded woodland cabin, isolated from civilization by a relentless blizzard. Roads are impassable, phone lines silent, and even electricity flickers intermittently.
Charlie swiftly deduces that her makeshift "shovel" once belonged to the ill-fated Chloe, whose disappearance a decade prior still haunts the town, with posters offering a $75,000 reward for any information about her whereabouts dotting every corner. However, the specifics of Chloe's fate remain a mystery to Charlie, her memories hazy after being struck and the vivid image of a jarringly yellow car that ran her down fuzzy at best. Had she not emerged from beneath the earth with Chloe's leg in her grasp, Jimmy and Trey might have been lenient enough to spare her.
But when Morty, who isn't her true moniker, catches wind of the lucrative bounty and assumes everyone else in the room harbors the same intentions, alliances shift like the sands of time. Unbeknownst to Morty, she alone amongst them would willingly summon the authorities into their turbulent lives.
Meanwhile, in the motel room, the boys conspire, their faces illuminated by the glow of their schemes. Jimmy, with a soft heart, urges Trey, a high-profile financier, to bribe Charlie and Morty into silence, just as Trey had bribed Jimmy a decade ago to aid in Chloe's concealment. This plan, to my mind, isn't without merit. Morty cares naught for justice for Chloe's family; her sole interest lies in the cold, hard cash. And her scattered state ensures she won't be returning to Colorado anytime soon in search of more hush money. Trey, however, craves a more permanent solution—murder. It's cleaner, and the taste of blood lingers on his lips.
Elsewhere, in the over-thematically adorned motel lobby, the women squabble. Charlie's instincts scream danger, fueled by a litany of suspicious circumstances. She notices Trey's ankle monitor, a telltale sign of moral turpitude. The phone's silence, despite Trey's claim of having called the police, heightens her unease. Then, there's the revelation that takes Charlie longer to discern, a delay I chalk up to blood loss, concussion, or both. Whoever dug her grave knew its location, for they had also entombed Chloe there. With the snow imprisoning them all, the list of suspects narrows: Trey or Jimmy must be her assailant.
Unfortunately, Charlie's leg is shattered in numerous places, rendering her utterly reliant on Morty, a man who has filched her wallet no fewer than three times. Despite the evidence crying out for them to flee from these individuals with all haste, Morty remains steadfastly unpersuadable, refusing to depart without Charlie's substantial sum of $75,000. She finds herself outdoors, lens in hand, documenting Chloe's unmarked grave when Trey discovers her. The two seem to broker a deal; Morty can abscond with the Lamborghini, a vehicle worth far more than the bounty – sans police involvement. It seems a mutually beneficial arrangement. Yet, Trey is somewhat more circumspect. He snaps her neck and propels her lifeless form over a cliff in her dream ride, considering this method to be neater.
However, Charlie was always the greater peril. While Trey was preoccupied with Morty, Charlie forged a bond with Jimmy. Charlie possesses a unique talent for connecting with anyone. Her profound interest in people fosters an aura of safety around her. Jimmy harbored a semblance of affection for Chloe. He assisted Trey in concealing her body, believing her demise to be at least partially his fault. It was Jimmy who sold her the lethal batch of coke on the fateful night she plunged to her death. But the fabrication about the tainted coke gradually unravels as Jimmy confronts his long-held suspicions, and Charlie shouts "bullshit" after each of Trey's falsehoods. Trey either struck Chloe, shoved her, or committed some other violent, entitled act.
Amidst their climactic confrontation, the gun Jimmy loaded at the episode's onset to terminate Charlie finally discharges. Trey slays the "brother" who shielded him from Chloe's murder. After a scuffle in which Charlie lands a ferocious slash across the back of Trey's leg, he retaliates by plunging a blade into her chest, terminating her life. He dumps their bodies into Chloe's grave, which is becoming increasingly cramped, cleans the motel floor of bloodstains, and manages to sneak back into his mansion, adorned with large windows, mere moments before his 7 AM check-in with his parole officer.
At this juncture, Trey is gleefully cackling. His demeanor exudes ecstatic chaos. "That is precisely how you accomplish it!" he exclaims with joy. No trace of guilt. This man is overjoyed. For a person desperate to feel empowered, this outcome is preferable to never having confronted Charlie in the first place. Now, Trey can assuredly declare his invincibility. He is the one who scaled Shit Mountain and survived, only to remain silent about it.
Alas, the king of Shit Mountain is a false monarch without his crown. Trey's electronic ankle monitor is missing. When authorities discover it, it will faintly beep within the warm embrace of Charlie, barely clinging to life beneath the earth. By morning, police will presume the deceased woman in the Lamborghini, who possessed her wallet, to be Charlie Cale, rendering our Charlie a Jane Doe. She is more than just off the grid; she is officially deceased. Alas, Benjamin Bratt, whose character's name I have forgotten due to his prolonged absence, is at least more astute than the average officer. Charlie lies recovering in a hospital bed, but for what purpose? Sterling's henchman lounges just outside Denver General, poised to dig her an exclusive grave.
