Jesse exclaimed, "'Knock 'em down' translates to murder in cold blood." Judy chimed in, "And by murder, we mean homicide, plain and simple." Kelvin added, "Which, ultimately, leads to death." As the possibility of a spinoff for "The Righteous Gemstones" looms, tonight's episode hints at immense potential for "The Gemstone Mysteries." The Gemstone siblings temporarily shelve their grievances to unravel the mystery of whether their father has slaughtered a journalist. The law enforcement officers already have valid grounds to scrutinize Eli, especially since Thaniel Block, a Peabody Award-winning reporter, had been probing into his affairs. However, Jesse, Judy, and Kelvin possess even more incriminating details: The bloodstains on their father's trousers after he emerged late that night, the phone he meticulously shielded and concealed as he drove them back to the crime scene, and the unanswered calls from his sketchy Memphis accomplice, Junior. B.J. catches Eli repeatedly riding a rollercoaster, a scene that "The Righteous Gemstones" milks for comedic gold, reveling in the absurdity akin to a wine connoisseur savoring the complexity of a rare Cabernet Sauvignon.
One of the show's strengths, particularly among TV comedies, lies in its directorial prowess, often helmed by David Gordon Green or Jody Hill, filmmakers renowned for their cinematic flair. Green, whose debut film "George Washington" garnered comparisons to Terrence Malick for its dreamy aesthetics, and Jody Hill, who launched Danny McBride's career with "The Foot Fist Way" and later crafted the stylishly dark comedy "Observe and Report," bring their A-game. Green employs slow-motion and split-screen techniques in a sequence where B.J. rollerblades through an abandoned theme park, adorned in matching pastel helmet, kneepads, and ski poles. ("It's my workout routine to stay in shape," he justifies.)
This moment offers a glimpse into B.J.'s eccentric psyche. Yet, from a narrative standpoint, B.J.'s observation of Eli on the rollercoaster is a comically futile lead, reminiscent of the Dude and Walter's chase after the kid with a failing grade in "The Big Lebowski." Red herrings are a staple in any investigation, but "The Righteous Gemstones" spotlights the collective idiocy of the Gemstone offspring, who dutifully venture to the park as if meaningful clues to their father's guilt were hidden amidst the thrill rides. Judy posits a theory: Eli would never ride the rollercoaster with her because it triggers his "bubble guts," thus his solitary ride signifies psychopathic behavior, propelling him into a "murderous frenzy." It's a lampoon of moral panic akin to "Reefer Madness," but set in the context of theme parks.
The inquiry that looms over them (and us) is this profound question: What depths of capability does Eli Gemstone possess? Season two kicks off with an extended sojourn in Memphis, unearthing Eli's past as both an amateur wrestler and a ruthless enforcer known for breaking thumbs. This peculiar blend of brutality and theatricality, coupled with the divine aura surrounding the Gemstone family, forms the bedrock of his ministry's success. In light of these revelations, it's scarcely surprising that the Gemstone siblings (and ourselves) harbor doubts about the manner in which Eli wields his power.
Indeed, this very topic arises during a lunch outing at Fancy Nancy’s Chicken, where Jesse and Amber take their sons. (A side note: The soda machine–inspired gravy dispenser set an unsettling benchmark for bizarre imagery in 2022.) Amber is aghast to overhear Pontius and Gideon openly speculating about their grandfather's role in the journalist's murder—they eventually conclude that he would hire an assassin rather than dirty his own hands—while Jesse silently concurs, convinced that his father personally pulled the trigger.
However, the truth proves even more chilling. Prompted by their inquisitive offspring, Eli finally comes clean about the bloodstained khakis and his subsequent plea to his chief enforcer, Martin, for secrecy. After a bowling session with Junior and three local women eager for companionship, Eli followed one of them back for an illicit encounter, only to accidentally slice through his scrotum in a disastrous attempt at "manscaping." (A cringe-worthy comedic moment reminiscent of the opening scene in "There's Something About Mary.") When faced with the choice between Eli shooting a Brooklyn journalist or botching a grooming session in honor of their deceased mother, the Gemstone siblings find murder a far lesser evil.
Elsewhere, Kelvin's endeavors to mold himself into a Jim Jones-esque leader of an agrarian cult comprising Bible-thumping musclemen hit a comedic roadblock. Adam DeVine's voice, lending life to Kelvin, bears an uncanny resemblance to George W. Bush's lilting tone, and the God Squad emerges as one of those catastrophic ventures Bush himself might have attempted to rationalize in a dimly lit room. When a children's performance takes a turn for the worse, Kelvin's leadership descends into paranoia and demagoguery, signaling a weakening grip on power. Keefe warns him that the peril of assembling a group of alpha males lies in their inevitable defiance as they grow stronger. Kelvin's solution? To "summon the men to the fire pit" and transform into a sadistic Jeff Probst, forcing a turncoat through a humiliating ritual to restore order.
Eli scorns Kelvin for his foolishness, which has invited a lawsuit amidst the myriad threats menacing the Gemstone empire. Yet, how much reverence can Eli expect to command under these circumstances? If he were a murderer, the answer would be resounding respect. As a failed manscaper, however, his authority dwindles significantly.
