I've come to realize that I haven't delved into the flashbacks featured this season. We've ventured deep into territory reminiscent of Don Draper's fantastical "Little Whorehouse on the Prairie," relentlessly driving home the point that Joe's penchant for homicide stems from an abusive father, a promiscuous mother, and perpetual familial discord. Earlier episodes showcased Joe's haunting memory of his mother abruptly abandoning him on a boardwalk, leaving him for an indeterminate period. Now, amidst his burgeoning connection with Love (progressing to intimate second base while multitasking on the phone with others), Joe finds himself pondering the reason behind these childhood reveries.
Returning once more to the overarching theme—healthy adult siblings certainly do not conduct themselves in such manners: Picture Love giving Joe a hand job while simultaneously chatting with Forty over the phone. It's akin to Zoe Barnes uttering "happy Father’s day" as Frank pleasures her orally. Gross, revolting, a thousand times over. Love justifies their clandestine romance by explaining that Forty becomes fiercely protective whenever she's intimate with someone. Standard, chill sibling dynamics, huh? Frankly, I'd embrace the bizarre if this show took a "Flowers in the Attic"-esque turn, but I suspect that's not our trajectory. Their doomed approach involves showering Forty with kindness, treating him like a child about to discover that mommy and daddy still adore him, just not each other. Supposedly, this will foster goodwill and eliminate suspicion.
Ellie, our savvy teenager, is aware of the spyware on her phone. (And just now, it dawned on me why she seems so familiar—she's the younger Jane from "Jane the Virgin"! Straight out of a telenovela, indeed!) She suspects Delilah's involvement and cleverly conceals her hangouts with Henderson. Joe, privy to their texts thanks to his theft of Henderson's laptop, finds Ellie has shifted their conversations to instant messenger—a testament to her sly ingenuity. With Henderson in New Orleans, Joe decides to break into his house to gather incriminating evidence and ensure his arrest. For someone so determined to bring Henderson to justice conventionally (i.e., not through murder), Joe's reconnaissance efforts are astonishingly half-assed. Specifically, committing crimes like breaking and entering, trespassing, and theft while outing a criminal renders any evidence found inadmissible without a warrant. Joe, however, overlooks this crucial detail, naturally.
Joe informs Will that if he can disable Henderson's security system, it will sufficiently prove his loyalty and secure his freedom. Through some tech wizardry I won't burden you with (I failed to jot it down), Henderson's security system is deactivated, and Joe gains entry. He pulls on a Dickens hardcover on the shelf, and presto: We're descended into the dungeon.
Once again, the manner in which Me Too narratives are awkwardly shoehorned into this narrative feels clunky and downright absurd! In reality, most predators don't have a mattress with handcuffs and a camera hidden in a secret compartment of their mansion. Naturally, Joe stumbles upon a box of Polaroids depicting underage girls, Delilah included, in various stages of undress – a scene straight out of a horror movie like "Get Out." One would think Hendy would've stored such incriminating evidence in a safe. However, none of that matters, as proving the authenticity of the photos, their origin, or the minors' identities seems nearly impossible. Joe's naivete shines through as he fails to consult a professional journalist before botching the entire investigation. Instead, he leaves the photos in an envelope outside Delilah's door, a move as brainless as it gets.
Delilah confides in a cop friend and casual hookup, expressing her desire to bring Henderson down but fearing the loss of credibility if revealed as one of his victims. Apparently, Delilah hasn't read the CNN investigation into Morgan Freeman's inappropriate behavior, co-authored by a reporter who experienced his sexually suggestive remarks firsthand. She hands over the photos to her friend, who later informs her of the futility in tracing their origin or connecting them to Henderson. The culprit who removed them from the house has effectively sabotaged the case.
Love ambushes Joe with a brunch date among her friends, a group skeptical of western medicine. By the meal's end, Joe, somewhat implausibly, is welcomed into this borderline anti-vaxxer tribe. However, Forty's arrival ruins Joe's newfound sense of belonging by pointing out the obvious – Joe and Love's affair, Love's deceit, and their rudeness in excluding him from the brunch. It's hard to refute any of Forty's accusations.
Love retreats home to bake in frustration, while Joe rightfully suggests that the twins need some boundaries. However, his solution contradicts his inner thoughts: "Forty wants to be included, so let's include him!" Joe vows to help Forty come up with a project, keeping him too busy to meddle in their potential half-incestuous throuple. That night, Joe dreams of his mother abandoning him at the deli counter for a grocery store stranger, waking up to an empty, cold bed as Love cuts her brother's hair in the living room. Forty, sensing Joe's passive nature, mocks him with the moniker "old sport," perhaps inspired by Leonardo DiCaprio's portrayal in the remake of "The Great Gatsby."
Joe, eavesdropping on Ellie's plans to visit Henderson that evening, finds himself wondering—like a blundering fool—why Delilah hasn't already had Henderson apprehended. He abruptly terminates his creative brainstorming session with Forty, whose movie pitch culminated in a chilling line: "Our protagonist must murder all three women." Joe praises it as "genius" and urges Forty to catch the red-eye to SXSW to pitch it. With a Bond villain's flair, Joe heads to the storage locker for inspiration from Will, and to unveil his grand scheme: extracting a confession from Henderson on video. My internal monologue screams, "Joe, you idiot! Coerced confessions are as inadmissible in court as stolen photographs!" Yet, I am merely another woman whose cries fall on deaf ears. Will's words echo in Joe's mind, advising that the only way Joe can prove his own goodness is by setting Will free. Joe will have to ponder this wisdom amidst his ill-conceived quest. Additionally, Love is off to SXSW as Forty's sober companion, leaving one to wonder if he lacks friends or if Anavrin runs itself on autopilot.
Ellie arrives at Henderson's, only to discover, to her astonishment, that there is no screening. Henderson employs reverse psychology—or is it a verb now?—to lure Ellie inside, praising her short film. Though his expertise in the field is questionable given his stand-up comedian background, Ellie beams with pride. He offers her watermelon juice, laced subtly with GHB, while Joe, unbeknownst to her, spikes Henderson's drink with a far more potent dose. As Ellie dozes on the couch, Henderson awakens, bound to a chair in his clandestine underground lair.
Henderson insists that his modus operandi involves only drugging and photographing girls, never touching them, hence causing no harm. Joe, unimpressed, yearns to record his confession. But when Henderson boldly proclaims, "We're the same," Joe, whose identity hinges on being the Good Guy who isn't like the Bad Guys, loses his composure, ripping off his mask. Realizing Henderson has seen and recognized him, Joe concludes that murder is now a necessity. After a brief scuffle, Henderson attempts to flee, grappling with Joe before tumbling down the stairs and expiring in a gruesome pool of his own blood.
Joe meticulously weaves a tale designed to absolve himself of guilt: Henderson, driven to attempt suicide, reconsidered his fateful decision only to unfortunately plummet down the stairs moments later. The Roomba, in its incessant pursuit of cleanliness, complicates Joe's efforts to tidy up the mess, yet as ever, Joe manages to slip away from the crime scene, seemingly erasing all traces of his presence. This scenario promises to complicate matters immensely for Ellie when she discovers she was present in Joe's house during his staged "suicide"! Especially considering she hadn't been invited in the first place! Joe then returns to his storage locker, adopting the grandeur of a Pharaoh, ready to release his burdens. Will, putting on his shoes with a lingering slowness that tests one's patience to the limit, inches closer to reclaiming his freedom. Joe can finally exhale, content in the knowledge that as a paragon of virtue, he committed but a solitary murder today—a deed that could generously be construed as manslaughter under closer scrutiny.
Meanwhile, in Austin, Forty regales his sister with tales of encountering a "knockout" and finding himself smitten with a complete stranger. And who might this enigmatic beauty be? None other than Candace, masquerading under the alias Amy! Once again, I find myself unconvinced that anyone involved grasps the most efficient method to apprehend criminals or serial killers, their haphazard approaches only serving to heighten the stakes and peril for everyone involved. Nevertheless, I eagerly anticipate the spectacle of someone, anyone besides Joe, complicating Joe's life further.
