Joe discovers Kate in an excruciatingly compromising scenario, his thoughts whirling with astonishment: "Wow, being enchanted by a woman capable of stabbing her so-called friend to death... this is so quintessentially me." Kate vehemently denies being the murderer, insisting, much like Joe with Malcolm (unbeknownst to her), that she merely stumbled upon the deceased, clutching a knife seemingly out of nowhere, spontaneously, as if conjured from thin air. Yet, she dare not summon security, fearing her father's overbearing control should he rescue her from this dilemma, "which is worse than any conceivable fate," she laments, an insensitive remark given the recent murder of her acquaintance, whose body still retains a faint warmth.
Kate swiftly turns the tables on Joe, highlighting how incriminating this situation is for him too, thereby binding them in a macabre partnership. It's a modern twist on "You jump, I jump," but with the disposal of a corpse instead of plunging into the ocean. Meanwhile, the rest of the party descends into debauchery, with cocaine abundant and slogans like "fuck democracy!" echoing, while Roald peers eerily into the night, awaiting a private confrontation with Jonathan Moore. Kate and Joe devise a plan amidst their mutual horror and admiration—tinged with renewed horror—at their new accomplice's proficiency in concealing a corpse. It's as if they've done this before! Kate's parting shot at Gemma, branding her an "absolute muppet," is a Britishism she's aptly grasped, thanks to the 1975. They hastily stash Gemma in what appears to be a hope chest, only for Phoebe to burst in uninvited, announcing she's caught Adam with a servant. Joe deftly diverts Phoebe's attention by revealing Adam's unspoken kink, while Kate, in a comic stroke of genius, shoos her friend away so Joe can indulge in carnal pleasures. Women supporting women, indeed!
Unfortunately for Kate and Joe, the trunk's bottom gives way as they lift it, causing Gemma to thud onto the floor once more. Clearly, one can't rely on creaky antiques for such arduous tasks. Joe, inspired by his recent near-fatal fall from a window—everything is a recycled plot!—conceives the ingenious plan to chuck Gemma out the window. They convey her to the eerie game larder, a repository of bloody, pointed implements. As Joe ponders why his "pattern" involves "falling for women and concealing corpses together," Kate places a knife at his throat, understandably curious about his expertise in corpse disposal. I, too, would share her concern, but perhaps prioritizing the disposal might be prudent before indulging in a Q&A session?
Joe confesses to being framed for Malcolm's murder and suspects a similar setup for Kate. She's both intrigued and repelled by the idea of Joe "taking care of it" regarding Malcolm's body. He recounts a highly curated version of his ordeal, revealing stalker-like texts threatening to expose his past, a dark secret that "cost me my son," whose name he refuses to disclose to Kate. I groaned aloud at Kate's realization that Joe was trying to shield her, a maneuver that has previously extricated him from suspicion, much like after the mugging. Could that mugging be linked to this entire saga, one wonders?
Once again, I must apologize for my utter indifference towards Phoebe and Adam's saga, despite admiring Phoebe's open-mindedness regarding her boyfriend's peculiar tastes ("shame has absolutely no place in the bedroom") and her astute insights into their relationship dynamics, highlighted by his fetish and his inability to indulge it with her. I commend her for severing ties with him, but their lack of chemistry was palpable; I never saw them as a viable couple. Let's refocus on the matter at hand – Kate's curiosity about her role in Joe's scheme. Legally bound to disclose, Joe asserts that sleeping with her was never part of his plan. It's at this juncture, mandated by law, that Kate realizes she was wearing a bracelet engraved with her name, which accidentally slipped off in the game larder. Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm utterly baffled! This level of sloppiness borders on amateurish. Part of me hoped she did it deliberately, aiming to rattle Joe, frame him for the murders, and reveal herself as the mastermind. Alas, it seems she was merely careless, a rare lapse in judgment.
Returning to her room, Kate finds Phoebe there, wide-eyed and aghast at the sight of the bloody rug they'd oversightedly left behind, with Gemma's fate hidden within. Kate briefs Phoebe on the developments, and astonishingly, given the circumstances, their conversation flows smoothly. "Gemma was more of a side character," Phoebe remarks nonchalantly, adding, "though I am genuinely upset." Phoebe persuades Kate to keep the staff close by, facilitating "Jonathan's" retrieval of Kate's bracelet without detection. Thankful for her benzodiazepines, Phoebe is oddly enjoying the chaos. Incredibly, she's having quite the evening!
Tragically for Joe, Roald, whose hatred for him burns with the fervor of a cartoon villain, overhears their entire conversation. Egged on by Adam, who seeks Jonathan Moore's demise for being a "snitchy little spy," Roald armed with a rifle, storms the game larder, taking Joe hostage. Sparing Joe's life momentarily, Roald brings him back to the group (excluding Kate and Phoebe, conveniently absent) and, in a 'Clue'-like revelation, announces that Jonathan was found in the game larder with Gemma's lifeless body.
This episode is an oddity in terms of energy, as it unfolds with a multitude of theoretically thrilling and terrifying occurrences. Yet, the majority of the characters barely register their significance. Stranger still, and what truly deflates the narrative momentum, is that the events of this episode don't seem to carry much weight with them either. The atmosphere is thick with a sense of drug-induced haze, and Roald's dramatic proclamation falls on deaf ears. I understand their character archetype as wealthy, self-absorbed idiots, but one would think the prospect of a friend summarily executing someone right in front of them might elicit at least a modicum of concern. Add to this mix a serial killer on the loose! Surely, such a scenario would pep up anyone's step? How are we supposed to feel any excitement when the stakes feel so non-existent and the mood so flat?
Roald, ever the imaginative narcissist, decides to grant Joe a head start (a move reminiscent of The Menu!) before embarking on his peculiar "peasant" expedition. You can just picture him gleefully perfecting that pun hunting in his mind, utterly pleased with his cleverness. Joe, for his part, flees for his life into the woods, opting to dash blindly into the unknown rather than, say, shouting Kate's name and seeking refuge with her upstairs, where she could potentially vouch for him and secure his exit. It's a basic idea, but panic clouds clear thinking.
Once Roald departs, Phoebe and Kate descend the stairs to seek an update from their friends, who remain eerily immobile, draped languidly over the furniture. Kate insists that security locate Roald.
Meanwhile, Joe manages to overpower his attacker, who evidently underestimated the likelihood of being disarmed. But just as Joe tightens his grip around Roald's neck, who should appear but Rhys. "Hello, Joe," he says calmly before knocking Joe unconscious. (I'll take this as a victory; Rhys was among my top picks!)
Joe awakens chained in a dungeon adorned with creepily lifelike dolls. Of course, this castle boasts such a chamber, albeit one unknown to Phoebe. My heart aches for the days of the human aquarium!
As Roald slumbers off his alcoholic binge, Rhys embarks on a typical villainous monologue, laying bare his entire sinister scheme: to frame Roald for all the murders ("portraying him as a neo-fascist with an extensive knife collection"), culminating in Rhys' demand that Joe eliminate Roald. Joe feigns agreement, but once Rhys departs, he silently mourns the revelation that the one individual who seemed genuinely decent is, in reality, a monster. Despite Joe's belief that Roald deserves his fate, he steadfastly refuses to be manipulated by another. Unfortunately, Rhys catches Joe attempting to liberate himself, bringing Joe's charade of alliance to an abrupt end.
Amusingly, Rhys' desire to emulate Batman strikes me as hilarious. He even adopts the famous catchphrase, intoning, "My way is the only way, and you know it," before toppling a lantern and igniting the dungeon in flames.
Back at the house, the acrid smell of smoke alerts everyone to the impending danger, prompting an urgent evacuation. Roald stirs from his slumber, greeted by a harsh awakening. Miraculously, Joe manages to free himself from his shackles and then smashes Roald's chains with a rock. (I confess, I'm not overly familiar with Titanic references, but surely this scene evokes a similar sense of urgency and escape.) All seems lost until Kate arrives at the eleventh hour to rescue them. They stumble away from the burning castle, Hampsie's fate sealed in the flames.
In London, the fire and Gemma's demise have understandably garnered media attention. Joe hasn't heard from Rhys since his return, likely because Rhys is preoccupied with formally announcing his mayoral candidacy. (Really, Joe, why don't you just...leave London?) Kate visits, bringing clothes Malcolm never wore and expressing gratitude for Joe's help in hiding a body and nearly dying because of her loved ones' madness. Joe, wary of endangering Kate, rejects her closeness (a wise decision). Undeterred, she asserts that his past doesn't frighten her, and I scribble in my notes, "Well, it should!" She takes his rejection poorly.
Joe, however, has more pressing concerns. Chief among them is stopping Rhys. By murder, perhaps? Or could there be another way? Perhaps exposing him as a serial killer? I'm intrigued to see how the show navigates this predicament but also sense that in this episode, we're losing focus. We've abandoned much of what made "You" unique. Joe's obsession now hinges on a man who hates the same people Joe despises. What do you think? Are you still captivated enough for part two?
