Overview:

Claude begins training Peter. This involves cynicism, theft and a thirty-storey fall off a rooftop. Isaac’s working for Daddy Bennet, who’s busy trying to stop Sylar from killing his family. Claire’s in no immediate danger, though, because she’s in Kermit meeting her firestarter bio-mom. Claire doesn’t know, but her bio-dad turns out to be Nathan. In other news: Papa Sulu lets Hiro return to his mission, and Jessica walks out of prison. Despite one or two flaws, this is an intensely dramatic and fast-paced hour, and as close to perfect as the show gets.

Review:

There are a ton of reasons to love this show.

Which I guess goes without saying, but when you get an episode like “Distractions”, it’s a reminder of how good the show is, and why it deserves to be so popular.

After two weeks of hints, set-ups and transitional storylines, this was the pay-off.

It’s not that “Distractions” was without flaws. They’re there, and believe me, I’ll rip into them. But where it counted, this episode hit the mark: in the richness of its story, in the portrayal of its characters and in the ideas it explores about what a hero represents, this was a highlight of the show, and one that’s equaled by only a couple of episodes so far.

The opening scene was a neat way to develop the dynamic between Peter and Claude: the relationship finally moves beyond Peter pestering Claude and Claude feigning indifference, and becomes the callous mentor guiding the petulant kid.

Awesome directing with the floating bagel. Subtle Doctor Who reference when Claude steals the scarf. Rapid and fluent delivery of Michael Green’s dialogue, which in the Peter/Claude scenes this week was some of the best on the show.

But the remarkable part of the opening, at least for me, was Eccleston’s performance. This was the scene which sold me on the actor and on the reason for bringing the character onto the show. This was the scene where the difference between Peter and Claude became overt: Peter clings to idealism and high-minded principles; Claude’s experience has effaced those values and left him with realism and practicality.

Is the scarf-stealing funny, even though it’s shameful? Yes.

Is the handbag-snatching comical, even though it’s reprehensible? Yes.

Why? Because it challenges our precept of what a ‘hero’ should be. It’s what makes Claude a complex character, and what gives Eccleston a niche on the show. The character has a shred of moral fiber that drives him to save his city from exploding, but it doesn’t extend to good will or scruples.

The scene at the “Womens [sic] Correctional Facility” was morbidly satisfying. It’s the same reason we’re delighted to see Sylar escape his cell and Peter get thrown off a roof: it promises to move the story forward.

That, and I get a twisted pleasure from seeing Witherson push for Jessica to reappear until she finally does, and until Jessica rips off her chains and taseres the heck out of her.

At this point, I think we can assume Witherson wasn’t an agent for Linderman. Which means she was just annoying and dim for insisting on meeting Jessica. I get that it’s her job when it comes to a split personality, but when Witherson actively tried to provoke a psychotic alter ego into emerging, she pretty much deserves everything she gets.

Niki still doesn’t hold much interest. With anyone, sadly. But the idea that Niki and Jessica will end up coexisting is significant. It seemed like the intention had always been for Niki to exorcize Jessica and regain control of her body. But if we’re now expected to buy the idea that the meek and helpless personality will complement and blend with the corrupt and murderous one, it furthers the debate about what constitutes a hero.

That’s why Niki’s story mirrors Claude’s: both stories explore whether a streak of heroism and integrity can redeem all vices.

Sylar throws Daddy Bennet across the cell, locks him in, takes his wallet and gives him the “Nyah!” face.

Awesome acting from Coleman when he’s screaming “NOOOOO!” The guy rocks. He can be loving and sensitive in his scenes with Hayden. He can be unnerving and menacing when he’s standing over a patient in a lab. And here, he shows how he reacts when he’s trapped and frantic.

Some of you jumped on the rationale behind this scene, saying it was weak writing that Sylar left Bennet alive instead of snapping his neck or slicing his scalp.

It’s a valid argument if you figure that Sylar’s cold-blooded and efficient enough to ensure that no one stops him from hunting down every super-powered individual.

But then, in a way, this is the justification for the way Sylar’s story stagnated over the past two weeks: to show why Sylar hated Bennet so much that he wanted to keep him alive. When Daddy Bennet’s screaming “NOOOOO!”, Sylar is vindicated: the most effective way to make his captor suffer is to impose the same captivity.

Three scenes in, I’m totally lost in the story. I can’t even crack jokes about this stuff because it’s so well crafted and it raises so many central concepts about the show that it’s beyond ridicule.

You know the one character that could ruin this for me?

The one character who could drag this episode down?

Yeah, here she is.

Isaac’s apartment of clairvoyant wonders. Simone visits her ex for a lead on her current beau.

That? … doesn’t bother me as much as other stuff, but we’ll get to it.

Simone chooses not to use her keys to open the door. Isaac’s surprised, but frankly, I can’t figure out why. It’s totally in character. I mean, Simone’s like royalty: why fumble for the keys in your handbag? Why stoop down to the keyhole and make the effort when you can just knock on the door impatiently and get someone to open it for you?

Simone starts off on her disingenuous routine, like, “We’re not together anymore, I don’t deserve the keys to the apartment.” And while Isaac’s wallowing in regret, Simone skips to asking if she can see Isaac’s latest artwork.

She either wants to see the paintings because she’s genuinely concerned about the future of Manhattan. Or because she wants to know if she’ll have enough material at the gallery to finance her latest trip to the beauty parlor.

And even though Isaac doesn’t really say it’s OK for Simone to view his work, she takes a quick inventory anyway. She finds that one painting is another of Isaac’s apocalyptic premonitions: smoke rising above the rubble of New York. An entire city leveled. A barren, lifeless landscape.

Simone’s reaction? “Hey, that’s the building where my dad used to live! I’ve got a lot of good memories of that place! How dare you paint this!”

C’mon, guys. This show can’t seriously think it’s writing a likeable character here. Can it?

I honestly can’t see how it can. I mean, she takes the NUCLEAR DESTRUCTION OF A CITY and makes it about herself and her relationship with Isaac. I know this show likes to play with the concept of an anti-hero, but this is … it’s just … I just can’t understand how …

Ah, you know what? She’s not worth it.

It gets better. Simone’s all, “Well, anyway, let’s not get sidetracked, the REAL reason I’m here is to talk about Peter!” And Isaac’s fighting to keep from bursting into laughter, and just tells her that he’s been trying to paint Peter but can’t.

Which is sort of an unspoken and very cool detail, because it suggests that Isaac can now zoom in on particular scenes and individuals when he’s painting.

Isaac tells Simone how much he cares about her, and how he doesn’t care if she hates him because he just wants her to be safe.

Why would she hate him when he’s trying to save the city?

Why would she hate him when he just kicked a destructive drug habit?

Why would she hate him when he’s desperately trying to stop an explosion that levels a city?

I give up. I give up trying to understand this character and the dialogue that ends up being forced onto the people around her.

And get this: Simone keeps the keys!

We cut from the image of Simone walking away to a close-up of Mr. Muggles. I know which one I’d rather see as a cast regular. And I know which one can emote more believably, and which one behaves more consistently.

Claire suckers her mother into thinking she and Zach are going on a trip to see a manatee. Poor Sandra believes this, and even throws in an invitation for Zach to join them for dinner. I really, really feel for this character.

It’s bad enough that she’s a dog-obsessed, gullible fool.

It’s worse that she’s getting mind-wipes from her husband and being lied to by her daughter and assaulted by psychos.

But when she tries to cook dinner and invites her daughter’s friends over … that’s just heartbreaking.

A helpful caption tells us that we’re at Port Washington Harbor, Long Island, New York. Did Papa Sulu rent this warehouse out? Does he own it? Or was it nearby and suitably cavernous for him to spend an entire episode rebuking his son for being such a let-down, then agree to let him be off on his way?

Who cares? It’s Papa Sulu! He scares the heck out of me. I’m one of the biggest Trek fans out there, folks, but George Takei exudes such menace that I seriously admire how Masi and James got through these scenes without wetting their pants.

So Papa Sulu admonishes Hiro for “unauthorized vacation” (now we know) and for gorging himself on hamburgers and waffles. And Hiro’s like, “Hey, don’t knock the waffles! We had chilaquiles and cottage cheese too! And I met a flying man! And stole a prop from a museum! And fell in love with a beautiful Texas gal! And scrubbed dishes! And teleported and froze time! And gambled!”

But Hiro only gets as far as the waffles before Papa Sulu’s all, “Kid, you’re getting your ass on a plane to Tokyo and going back to work, STAT!” Hiro starts whining about how his job was “meaningless” because it didn’t extend beyond a cubicle. And instead of berating his son for being so ungrateful and not appreciating what it is to have a job and a roof over his head, Papa Sulu promotes him.

Then Hiro decides to tell his father everything about his ability, Kensei’s sword and the whole destiny thing. Papa Sulu asks Hiro if he wants to see what he thinks about Hiro’s destiny. And for a moment, it looks like he’s going to karate-chop the table with the painting spread out on it. Instead, he starts ripping the painting apart while Hiro watches in dismay.

Correctional Facility of Tasered Shrinks. Bandaged-nose Guy returns, and he gets to thwack Niki. It’s a moment of alternate-body bizarro karma.

Or not.

Witherson gets fried by her own taser, and we’re given to understand that Jessica used the cellphone to call Linderman and tell him to quit screwing around and get her off death row.

Then, even though the implication so far has been that Jessica doesn’t disappear until she either wants to or gets submerged under a strong emotional connection to the people Niki cares about, Niki finds herself unconscious on the floor.

Why? Because it just is. It’s like “The Fix”, when a dozen moments in the plot depended on arbitrary twists in the story which made zero sense but were essential for the story to fit together.

We have a psychotic killer who could bust out of restraints and make a run for it any time she wanted. And once she’s tasered the heck out of a psychiatrist and could seize an opportunity to take a hostage, she decides to hand herself back to Niki.

Did Jessica just figure she’d have some fun beating up the shrink? Or was the idea to grab the phone, call Linderman and ensure that, once she got out, she wouldn’t have a stream of police units behind her?

I’m tempted to think it’s the second of those, purely because Jessica’s violence in the past has always had some kind of deranged logic to it. It’s either to protect the body she’s sharing, or to cover her tracks, or to take out the people she’s threatened by.

I’d like to think this was a consistent example of that, and that Aron Malsky wouldn’t have shown up if it weren’t for the cellphone which the camera zooms in on in this scene. But if that’s true, and if Jessica’s reason for emerging here was to contact Linderman and arrange for her release, it’s made clear by the smallest of details and a lot of fan conjecture. And that’s largely to defend what could otherwise just be weak writing, a flimsy premise and inconsistent characterization.

Street of emotional disposition. Claude suggests that the reason why Peter’s struggling to embrace his role as Spongeman is because he’s sunk under attachments to the people in his life. Claude gets in his “People suck!” speech, and part of us wants to side with Peter by insisting that he’s wrong.

The sad part is that, to a large extent, everything Claude says here is right on. Peter says that Simone’s not like the rest, and that she’s not selfish and deceitful. You know my view on this, but when the story goes on to prove that Claude’s assessment is correct, the message which the show seems to send is that Claude’s perspective is the accurate one: people really DO suck.

The amazing part of this isn’t just that the scene was brilliantly written or that the dialogue was flawlessly delivered by Milo and Eccleston. It’s a given that the show rocks at dialogue and that its actors can consistently give exceptional performances.

Beneath those merits, this scene poses a fundamental question which challenges the premise of the show: what is this motley group of super-powered individuals trying to save? If people suck, why fight to protect them? And if the only way for Peter to save them is by cutting them out of his life, will there be a life for him to return to when his mission is over?

In a show which has so far conveyed a bleak but ultimately hopeful message that the heroes will survive and that the world will be saved, this scene was remarkable for standing that message on its head. That the character responsible for undermining that message is one of the reluctant heroes of the story is a testament to its complexity.

Which is sort of the elaborate way of saying that this was really, really well written.

Reunion of the possible-supers. Hiro’s sister, Kimiko, asks Papa Sulu to take a shot at persuading Hiro to return home. Papa Sulu grunts in agreement. So Kimiko’s all, “Things ain’t great at Yamagato, and you’re acting like the wayward son that Papa Sulu can’t control!” And Hiro’s like, “Listen, sis, he totally doesn’t need me. My brain ain’t wired for business and corporate life.” And Kimiko’s like, “But you’re bringing shame to the family!”, and Hiro’s all, “Didn’t mean to, but you’re the smart one, and I’m the weird one, and the mission beckons. Sorry, sis, but that’s how I roll!”

I have to admit that I completely buy into the theory that Kimiko and Papa Sulu are hiding super-powers of their own. The implication from the show and from interviews with Kring is that it’s a hereditary affliction. Meaning that, like Claire and Micah, Hiro’s probably the product of super-powered parents, and Kimiko’s probably hiding an ability of her own.

That said, the other point which the show seems to make is that half of the people with abilities go through their life without realizing it. It’s implied that Nathan only discovered his ability when he was floating above the car in “Six Months Ago,” when the guy’s in his early thirties. By that token, you could argue that Kimiko has an ability which she hasn’t cottoned onto, and that Papa Sulu doesn’t have a clue that he inadvertently gave birth to two superheroes.

A twist to that, I guess, is Meredith unknowingly bestowing an ability on her daughter, and said ability turning out to be the exact one that will save the baby’s life. It seems like the nature of the ability depends on environmental factors, because otherwise, it’s mighty convenient that Claire’s ability is just what she needed to survive the fire which her bio-mom probably caused.

Claire meeting Meredith was beautifully acted out. I’ll sound like a broken record if I heap praise on Hayden again, but she and Jessalyn Gilsig knocked these scenes out of the park. Neither of them strays into sentimentality; the nervous smiles and tear-filled eyes are poignant, but the performances never feel overdone.

One detail that’s still unclear is how much Meredith knows about Daddy Bennet, and whether Bennet even knows that Meredith is alive. Based on last week, my guess is he doesn’t, and Meredith’s story here about how she “stared running” after the fire would probably explain why Bennet never found her. Moreover, it’s unlikely that Bennet would have let a liability like his adopted daughter’s bio-mom remain alive with her memories intact.

So Meredith’s making a joke about a girl being entitled to secrets, and Claire takes this as a cue to demonstrate why she’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Let’s bleed out in the trailer!

Ooh, good idea!

NOT!

I swear, one of these days Claire’s batteries will go dead the way Hiro’s did, and Claire’s gonna look so stupid when she pulls one of these stunts and ends up losing a limb or an internal organ or something. Couldn’t she just have DESCRIBED her ability?

Claire insta-heals and Jessalyn Gilsig brings this incredible nuance to Meredith’s reaction: there’s her initial shock, but then there’s also this half-smile and the “I should’ve known” look. And suddenly she’s holding out a flaming hand, and we can see the flames reflected in her eyes and a wisp of smoke when she closes her fist. Every aspect of this scene was flawless.

At Canine Central, Sylar dresses up as a Primatech delivery guy. I don’t know how Zachary Quinto pulled these scenes off. He works with Ashley Crow’s dumb-as-a-post mom gig and makes the whole thing hilarious, but at the same time he’s so deeply disturbing as the murderer-in-your-home that you wonder why you’re laughing at some of this stuff.

When Sylar picked up Mr. Muggles and was all, “Hi, little fluffy,” I was sure he was going to work the scalp treatment on the dog. Instead, Quinto delivers this amazing charade where Sylar gets a southern accent and starts pretending to work for Bennet. And he even takes off his cap and gives this cheeky grin when he greets Sandra.

And dumb-as-a-post mom doesn’t even realize something’s up, because she’s obviously had so many mind-wipes that this show can put a telekinetic serial killer in her kitchen and play the whole sketch for laughs without it feeling ridiculous.

The moment when Sandra’s about to tell us Bennet’s first name and gets cut off chiding Mr. Muggles was a cute moment. The self-parody dosn’t always work for this show, but this was one of the moments when it totally does.

You have to wonder if the show’s going to go through its entire run without naming him. Because any name they give him now is going to feel like a disappointment.

So Sandra’s enjoying the chitchat, and she invites Sylar to dinner. Sylar gets this priceless expression that’s like, “Wow, this is working SO much better than I thought it would!” and, “Oh, really, Mrs. B! I couldn’t!” and, “Could anyone really be this dim?” Amazing acting from the Zach Quinto, especially when he’s trying to balance comedy and horror with the same expression.

Sandra FINALLY twigs that this guy might be a loony and gets TK’d against the trophy case. Sylar does the slo-mo walk until he’s standing over her. Creepy percussion accompanies. Props to whoever came up with that music.

Then Daddy Bennet kicks open the front door and charges in firing bullets at Sylar. Jack Bauer shout-out? It’s sort of, “Eat THAT, 24! We’re gonna kick your ass in the ratings!”

I can’t figure out how this scene played out. I thought we’d established in “One Giant Leap” that Sylar was impervious to bullets and that he could fly. He’s obviously lacking the insta-heal factor or he wouldn’t be so determined to hunt down Claire. But then, if he doesn’t regenerate, does he reel backwards when shot so that he can DODGE the bullets, or so that he can absorb the impact?

There’s mystery. There’s cryptic characterization and slow-revelatory story development. But there’s also just plain incoherence in the plot which drags viewers out of the story.

Sandra gets the Haitian memory treatment again. Poor woman. At this rate she’s going to be a vegetable before we get to the second season.

Oddly, though, this comes across as an instance when wiping her memory seems like the generous thing to do. I mean, between blissful ignorance and the memory of a murderer who insinuated his way into her home and threatened to kill her daughter, Sandra’s memory wipe isn’t so unethical. Bennet’s wrong to make that decision, sure, but when his motive is arguably as straightforward as sparing his wife the trauma of this experience, it makes him even more ambiguous than he was before.

So here I am again, stunned by phenomenal writing and acting on the show.

You know what I need to bring me down to Earth?

Yeah, you guessed it.

Oh, joy.

Simone’s back to unlocking the door to Isaac’s apartment, but judging by the way she barks his name, you know she only let herself in because she didn’t have the time to stand at the door waiting.

She sees a beautifully-painted depiction of herself and Isaac on the Deveaux Rooftop of Pigeonly Delight. Only she isn’t too delighted. She sees this painting of her and Isaac pressing their foreheads together, and gets this wistful expression that’s like, “Oh no, he doesn’t really think my hips are that wide, does he?” So she shakes her head disapprovingly and storms off to scold him.

Deveaux Rooftop of Pigeonly Delight. The pigeons cover their ears in agony. This scene is basically a riff on the Mr. Creosote scene in Monty Python and the Meaning of Life. You know, that moment when Creosote walks into the restaurant and the fish in the aquarium go berserk? This show probably had to edit out all of the pigeons squawking.

Simone remarks to Isaac that they haven’t been up here in a long time. Isaac’s trying to tell her that there’s something significant about this location, but Simone’s more interested in how the pigeons found their way to the roof, and how Charles Deveaux said to “let ‘em be.”

Which sounds like Simone trying to justify why she never fed them, but it sort of sets Simone up as a fatalist.

Isaac tells Simone that the painting of them on the rooftop is the future he still hopes for. Why he’d wish such torture on himself is beyond me, but for whatever reason, he feels some undefinable attachment to this character. He goes on to say that New York is where everything important in his life happened to him: “good … bad … you.”

Ha! Self-parody at its finest. Even Isaac knows that Simone is beyond concepts of good and bad. She’s something else altogether.

Then Simone gives Isaac a pep talk. She starts telling him that he “can’t lose hope,” and that there’s a reason he’s been given this gift.

And it isn’t to paint Simone with wide hips.

Simone holds Isaac’s hands and tells him that she believes in him. Which is pretty much what she said about Peter at the hospital.

Coincidence? Or a way to lower Simone even further in our eyes at the same time as lowering her in Peter’s eyes when he witnesses this scene? It probably is a coincidence that it’s the same dialogue, but the fact that she’s repeating the same words and redirecting her belief at someone else highlights how fickle she is.

Warehouse of crazy-ass business talk. Hiro takes up his position as the new Exec Vice Pres of Yamagato. His first decision is to “restructure” and consolidate management. Kimiko looks thunder-struck. Papa Sulu can’t believe what he’s hearing. And Hiro’s all, “OK, sis, you think you know better? You tell me what we should do instead!” And Kimiko’s like, “Bro, we need to invest in aviation and biotech R&D and recapitalize,” and Hiro’s all, “The how in the what and the who?” But he’s smiling like a doofus because he just showed himself up as Sandra’s second-in-command for the dumb-as-a-post brigade while his sister came out looking like a genius.

Papa Sulu’s shocked at Kimiko’s outburst, though, and he’s like, “That’s it, girl, you’re scrubbing the warp core for the rest of your career!” But Hiro’s thrilled because he just demonstrated why Papa Sulu should promote Kimiko and let Hiro continue gallivanting back and forth between New York and Las Vegas.

Now, I really wanted to rip into this, because on a number of levels it bothered me. It bothered me that Hiro made himself look like an idiot and that his father believed it. It bothered me that this is all it took to persuade Papa Sulu to promote his daughter when she was clearly the right person for the job from the start. And it bothered me that this entire set-up with Papa Sulu now leads to Hiro saying, “Alrighty then, I’ll be on my way,” and Papa Sulu basically pats his son on the back and wishes him a safe journey. It means that Papa Sulu’s appearance on the show hasn’t achieved anything.

But then Hiro tells his father that Kimiko’s his obvious successor, and I swear I’m not making this up: Papa Sulu growls.

Watch that scene again and listen out for it. I’ve watched it about ten times now, and it’s the most hilarious moment of the episode, above even Claude punching Peter. George Takei, the pilot of the Enterprise, the captain of the Excelsior, the guy who saved Kirk’s ass a million times, GROWLS.

At this point I write in my notes that, even if the rest of the episode sucks, it’s getting a 5. Because there’s just no room for discussion when George Takei makes a noise like that. It’s awesome.

Aron Malsky showing up was a nice nod to continuity. Linderman’s circle of minions is going to start looking pretty limited if it’s always the same guy pulling strings for him, but I guess we’re supposed to assume that this is the guy that Linderman assigned to ensure that D.L. and Jessica go free so that he can manipulate them later.

But then, if Linderman is powerful enough to bend the law, bribe convicts and waive charges which the D.A. brought forward, you have to wonder what possible use he’d have for a dual-personality stripper and an unemployed phasing ex-gang member.

Rooftop of invisible disillusionment. The pigeons are happy to have the bearded British one back.

Peter calls Claude on the hermit crap, protesting that the people in his life aren’t “distractions,” and that he doesn’t want to spend his life on the Rooftop of Pigeonly Delight.

So Claude throws him off the rooftop.

Peter falls thirty storeys and crashes onto the hood of a taxi. He’s dead, as per “Homecoming”.

Only this is a million times better than the fall in “Homecoming”.

Not just because the fall was higher and because the suspense was a million times greater.

Not just because the crash onto the taxi was so much more intense and the shock was a million times greater.

What makes it work is the horrific reality of the image we get when Peter’s lying on the crushed roof of the car, a metal rod through his chest, blood pouring out of his nostrils.

It’s like Claire on the autopsy table, only more morbid.

It’s like Niki unconscious on the floor, only more macabre.

It’s like everything about this show that gives it such an intense, in-your-face, epic scope. You can’t believe the show would kill off its central character, but for a split second, you begin to wonder.

These are the kind of moments that make the show extraordinary. These are the moments that make it a phenomenon.

Peter sputters back to life and hauls himself across the car’s hood. He survived by thinking of the girl he met in Texas with the “sad little smile.”

Well, if you’re plummeting thirty storeys and your life’s flashing before you, I guess you’re more likely to think of Hayden than, say, your brother or your mom.

Hayden can do that to a guy.

So Peter starts thinking about how each of the heroes made him feel when he met them, and we get this incredible montage of super-powers flowing through Peter: he’s turning invisible, he’s channeling Matt’s telepathy, he’s getting Isaac’s glazed-over eyes, he’s seeing the nuclear fireball in his eye, and

BAM!

Claude decks him and delivers (with perfect deadpan tone from Eccleston): “Well, it’s a start.”

Awesome. Top to bottom, awesome. And a strong contender for the most hilarious moment of the series.

Isaac’s now relaying information about his paintings to Bennet. Surprising, given the way he escaped in “Fallout”, but in a way plausible because from Isaac’s perspective, Bennet really isn’t such a bad guy. Between helping him kick his drug habit and trying to stop a killer, Bennet’s organization probably comes across as well-intentioned.

Daddy Bennet calls Claude “an old friend.” Probably with an ironic undertone because there’s no way Claude would ever have bought into what Bennet’s organization stands for. But the connection between the characters, and the past history that’s hinted at, is begging for a “Fourteen Years Ago” flashback.

Papa Sulu’s car reg is NCC-1701. Very cute. Nice nod to Star Trek fans, and a respectful homage to the show which Takei was a part of.

Ultimately, it doesn’t overcome the sad fact that this was the slowest part of the episode. After an entire episode leading up to Hiro and Ando meeting Papa Sulu, it feels like there was very little point. Hiro’s perspective hasn’t changed. His story hasn’t developed or been enhanced by this detour. His character arc hasn’t become any more complex.

The one redeeming point of this thread was the way it put Hiro in a position to choose between two paths: the one which promised him material comfort and corporate power or the path which Hiro believes he needs to follow to be a hero.

That’s remarkable because it makes Hiro one of the few characters (the other two being Isaac and Peter) who actively embrace their power and choose to forsake a life without their ability. Nathan, by contrast, is the guy who’s denying his power in favor of pursuing political power. It’s why the scenes between Hiro and Nathan work so well: they’re polar opposites in terms of how they approach their ability and how they choose to explore it.

Jessica regains control and dumps Niki in the bedroom mirror. That’s promising. Or at least it would be if we hadn’t already seen this routine once, and if we didn’t know that all it takes for Niki to reappear is a moment of sad reflection. Jessica’s generally a more entertaining character to watch than Niki, but it feels like this arc just went in a circle and brought us back to the point when Jessica was all set to put a bullet through D.L.’s head and run with Micah.

Only this time she wants to play Scrabble with her kid.

And she probably wouldn’t be averse to visiting a few ATMs.

And then the big reveal: Nathan is Claire’s father.

I guess it’s not surprising. I mean, if Claire had to be the daughter of one of the mains or recurring cast, it could have been Matt, or, at a stretch, Linderman or Sylar.

But Nathan was always the obvious choice.

*Sigh*

It’s a sad day for the Claire/Peter ’shippers, who just watched their dreams get annihilated by the prospect of Claire dating her uncle.

Aw, dammit, Heroes, how could you? I can never look at those scenes in “Homecoming” and “Fallout” the same way again.

Small complaint in such a stellar episode, though. And this really was stellar. “Distractions” basically strings together its strongest characters and story threads and weaves them into one episode. In its use of only half the cast, it’s one-sided: there’s no Matt, no Mohinder, no D.L., and virtually no Nathan or Micah.

And not even a Voice-over from Mohinder? I’m not complaining, but is that for good? Did they throw that concept out?

For the characters who were a part of the episode this week, though, the extent of the change to their story arcs is such that you forgive the absence of the rest of the cast.

The Niki/Jessica arc is going in circles. Hiro’s mission is taking him back the way he came. And George Takei is so under-utilized that he ends up peripheral.

But when the quality of the writing and the pace of the episode are so extraordinary, you forgive it.

This is a centerpiece in the season, encapsulating everything that makes the show epic: carefully crafted characters, an unpredictable and tightly-scripted plot, strong performances from the cast, and above all a story which defies convention and challenges our perception of heroism.

And truthfully, I was never in any doubt about the score I was going to give this one. But if I had been, Papa Sulu growling would have been the deciding factor.

5 out of 5

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