Overview:

Matt and Daddy Bennet journey through Company Central. They meet Molly and Mohinder, and Thompson meets a bullet. Peter stops himself from going nuclear and plans to skip town with RadioTed and Claire. Their attempt is thwarted when Sylar helps AudreyClea to track down RadioTed. Sylar then intervenes and gives RadioTed a good ol’ scalping. Hiro visits the Samurai Workshop and finds Papa Sulu there. Strenuous training ensues, and Papa Sulu totally kicks Hiro’s butt for most of it. Micah rigs Nathan’s victory in the election. Before Linderman can exploit the kid further or put any more bullets through D.L., D.L. phases a fist through the guy’s brain. I’d add how brilliant this episode is, but that sort of goes without saying.

Review:

Another home run.

On one level, it’s just a pure blast to watch for the shock value.

On another level, it’s just a pleasure to watch because — between samurai training montages and van-flipping pyrotechnics — it’s one of the most visually stunning episodes of the season.

Beyond that, it’s beautifully written, flawlessly directed, exceptionally well performed, and a near-perfect balance between breakneck-pace story and character-oriented revelations. For every confrontation and big-budget stunt, there’s a scene in which one of the mains goes through a defining moment in their character arc.

Then there’s the staggering death toll. Which, yeah, shock value, but which also robs us of two outstanding villains and a super who suddenly came across as a lot more sympathetic. But maybe that’s just the show’s gruesome way of whittling down the cast and making way for new characters. And if it is, it comes with the bonus of advancing several character arcs at the same time. I’ll get to that.

We start out at Superhero Square, where Claire’s again lamenting how life sucks because of the way she’s made life hell for everyone around her. Daddy Bennet shows up with the SuperTrio, and Claire runs into his arms, ignoring the two guys who took her family hostage, shot her, blew up her house, and burnt her to a crisp.

Peter gets the glowing hands, panics, and tells Claire that she knows “what to do.” The bustling crowd of people who were hurrying through the plaza a moment ago disappears, meaning no one’s unsettled by the sight of a guy with glowing hands or a high-school girl pulling a revolver out of her purse.

Peter decides he’s not going to explode today. Because, hey, it’s not the finale. I’d like to say it’s a dramatic moment, but it’s pretty much devoid of tension because, like Hiro trying to behead Sylar a day ahead of the election, we know this stuff will be left until next week. Not because it’s how the 9th Wonders comic says it will happen (although the fatalistic-inevitable angle plays into it), but because that stuff just feels like season-finale material.

Then again, I would have thought killing off the season’s megalomaniac mobster was season-finale material, and the show went ahead and killed him off this week. So the theory that all significantly dramatic developments are left until the final episode goes out the window.

At the Apartment of Clairvoyance, Hiro slips into his everything-sucks-I’m-a-failure-the-world-is-doomed frame of mind. We’re not inclined to disagree, mostly because it would have been great — after a quarter of a season spent searching for Kensei’s sword — to not see it get snapped in half and Hiro go into another funk.

Ando points out that the blade is “still sharp.” Meaning even if it’s not a weapon Hiro could plunge into Sylar’s chest, it’s still the kind of thing he could inflict papercuts with. Or, you know, just take by the handle and bludgeon the b*****d with.

Holy God, Isaac’s scalpless corpse is still on the ground! That’s just grotesque. Couldn’t someone report the murder to the police? Or at least cover the body? Because opening up the Yellow Pages and calling up a bladesmith while a puddle of blood oozes out of Meester Eeezuk? — that’s just … no.

Ando becomes the practical problem-solver of the week, invalidating his Gullible-as-Ando status and effectively turning him into the catalyst for Hiro regaining his confidence. Which he more or less did in “Parasite” when he helped Hiro get the sword, but here it’s even more overt because Ando’s the one who leads Hiro to his destiny.

It’s a cool angle for the character, especially after a season in which Ando went from playing the reluctant companion to the Versa-driving translator to the weak-minded, handbag-retrieving tool. But it’s also awfully fortunate that Papa Sulu’s first-class tickets to Tokyo didn’t sway Ando back in “The Fix,” and it’s incredibly fortunate that Isaac happened to have a copy of the Yellow Pages in his studio containing an ad with the frilly-S. Because if those details hadn’t played out exactly the way they just did, Papa Sulu would’ve been waiting at that bladesmith for a veeeeery long time.

Back at the Superhero Square, Claire tells Daddy Bennet that she and Peter are related. Claire tells her father that she thought Peter was “the only person who could protect [her].” I feel bad for the Haitian, because he didn’t do too bad a job, and at this point no one seems to care a whole lot where he’s gotten to. Not even Bennet.

But then, Daddy Bennet still doesn’t seem too concerned about his wife and son, so maybe we’re supposed to assume that he’s thinking about all these people in his life and just not mentioning them.

The scene between Claire and Daddy Bennet rang true, particularly for Claire, given the way she’s clung to the notion of a normal life all season. It seemed like a moment when she accepted it’ll never turn out that way, and that embracing her ability and her connection to the other supers is something she can’t escape. I don’t think the character will stop longing for a different life, because it’s part of what defined Claire from the start and what sets her apart from the other supers. But judging from this, her expectation of an un-super-powered life appears to be fading.

Peter tells RadioTed that they need to skidaddle before either of them explodes. Matt uses his mindreading to assure RadioTed that Peter’s not talking out of his butt. And, trivial detail, but it’s neat how Matt can now use his ability on Peter without getting a jammed frequency the way he did last time.

The spinning camera worked well. As a way to create the sense that everything’s out of control, and as a way to convey that none of the characters have a moment to get anything in perspective, it’s like a visual complement to the plot. It might have been stronger if it didn’t involve Peter deciding to up and leave the way he’d already been planning to about ten episodes earlier, but the fact that he finally opts to go bury his head in the desert and save New York only loses a little of its nobility as a result.

It’s not Nevada anymore. It’s Nebraska. A small town with a population of 15. That’s great. So, .07% of the population isn’t an acceptable loss by anyone’s count, but .000000000007% is? [Check it! -- Otto]

Also, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that, of those fifteen residents, four of them were newborn kittens, three were abandoned puppies yelping from a box in an alley, six were kids passing through town on a cycling trip, and two were an elderly couple sitting at home, wondering if the tech repair guy would ever show up to fix their black and white television and give them a chance to check out that NBC show they’d heard so much about.

“Nuke ‘em all!”

Claire’s in for the SuperTrio Road Trip. So is Sylar, who somehow also found his way to Superhero Square and listened in on the whole conversation.

At Petrelli Castle, Nathan learns he’s five points down in the polls and about to not become congressman. Which could be a blessing for New York and the super-powered population, but bugs him no end because it scuppers the dreams Linderman put into his head about being president.

Linderman tries to boost Nathan’s spirits, telling him the destruction of New York is what Daddy Petrelli would have wanted. Nathan rebuts this by telling Linderman that Daddy Petrelli would have sent him to the loony bin for entertaining the idea. And Linderman’s like, “Dude, you are SO out of the loop!” And Nathan’s all, “Yeah? What don’t I know?” And Linderman’s like, “Your daddy was a superhero like us — SURPRISE!” And we share Nathan’s shock, because based on the graphic novels, it really didn’t seem like Dallas was the kind of guy with an ability. He was more of the “let’s-blow-stuff-up-and-beat-the-crap-out-of-everyone-until-they-do-what-we-want” variety.

Linderman recounts how Daddy Petrelli “tried to make a difference” (for that, read “beat the crap out of everything in sight”), and how he eventually “just gave up” (i.e., like Stallone, got to the point where he grudgingly accepted that the boxing ring just wasn’t his friend anymore).

Then Linderman tells Nathan that Daddy Petrelli was “weak,” and Pasdar gets the furrowed brow and intense stare that says, “Uh-uh, BIG MISTAKE!”, and whispers that his father was his hero. And as ambiguously as Nathan’s been portrayed, you know this is one sentiment which comes from the character’s heart. Even more than Nathan telling Peter he didn’t know who he’d be without him. As misguided as the character is, you know his heart is in the right place, and a moment like this reemphasizes it, in part because of the way the actor plays it, but in part, perhaps paradoxically, because it’s contrasted by the character acting like a total virran.

Rena Sofer wheels down the corridor and bemoans the fact that Nathan hasn’t paid enough attention to his kids on the big day. I’d pay more attention to the dialogue, and to how annoying I find the character, but I’m lost in those dreamy eyes. Which might have been the idea, in which case Heidi could spend this scene discussing the ingredients Angela used in the faux-brunch and I wouldn’t notice.

Linderman holds Heidi’s hand and gazes at her for so long that Rena mentally adds him to the list of people who’ve drowned in her eyes. He of course uses this opportunity to work the be-superhealed whammy and get her out of the wheelchair — which, you’ll recall, he put her into in the first place.

But then, it’s really not clear here whether Linderman heals Heidi to awake a sense of gratitude in Nathan, or purely out of the goodness of his heart. I’m guessing the first of those, but McDowell plays his scenes with such twisted benevolence that you can never be sure. The obvious exception to that, of course, is the showdown with Jessica and D.L. this week.

So Heidi’s back on her feet. She and Nathan embrace, and everyone’s thankful for this miracle. Except Nathan, who gets an expression that’s sort of, “That b*****d! Now I have to go along with his plan!”, but also, “Oh %*@#, my cheating days in luxury suites are SO over!”

How much did that night cost Nathan, again?

Ah, here it is. $7,973.58. Yeah, you know Nathan’s devastated by the thought that those days are behind him.

The New SuperTrio makes its way through downtown Manhattan. Claire contemplates how she’ll “go on patrol” once she’s done saving the world. Buffy shout-out? I think it’s a coincidence that they used the word patrol, but if it is a reference, it’s kind of a respectful nod to Whedon’s contribution to superhero lore, especially when it’s side-by-side with a Superman reference.

Milo wearing a cape and underwear over his pants? That’s something which can never be unseen. If you’re going to put the idea into our heads, show, you pretty much have to go ahead with it now.

“Why can’t we just fly to Nebraska? … in a plane?”

Oh, Lord, there’s another image we’ll never unsee. And with RadioTed scalped, that leaves Peter and Claire flying across the sky by themselves. And Paire ’shippers, rejoice, because there’s only one other instance of romantic superhero flight which would come anywhere close to this.

And this time, when the superhero drops the love of his life and watches her plummet to the world below, he can let her fall, knowing she’ll regenerate after her brain splatters all over the sidewalk.

Sylar superhears RadioTed mention he’s one of the FBI’s Most Wanted. Peter mindreads Sylar and realizes he’s following the New SuperTrio. Amazing geek moment: both of the supers are now so attuned to their abilities that they can filter out a million sounds around them and zero in on specific voices and thoughts.

The camera spins round the New SuperTrio, which decides the best place to hide from an ice-cream-chomping Sylar is … Hotspur!

[Ooh, nerd note: Hotspur Car Rental is the company Hiro and Ando rented their Versa from in "One Giant Leap."]

Elsewhere on the streets, Hiro and Ando head to the Samurai Workshop to see if Kensei’s pride and joy can be welded back together. Nathan’s outside a polling station, and courteous enough to give Hiro a handshake and ask him what’s been happening since the last time they met. Hiro implores Nathan to help stop zee beeg bomb and not become a bad pahson. And Nathan says thanks but no thanks, but thanks for voting. The brilliant thing about this scene is the way it turns out to be hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time. Nathan thanks Hiro for his support for the sake of the cameras, which is almost as hilarious as Hiro calling Nathan a virran is heartbreaking. The scene pulls you in two emotional directions, and I think that enhances the conflicted emotions of the characters. Hiro watches a guy he’s looked up to since the first moment they met walk away and apparently not care about the city’s destruction. Masi Oka knocks the scene out of the park; part of it’s in the dialogue, but I think it’s more in the expression on the actor’s face, which conveys how Hiro’s notions of innate heroism and nobility have been shattered. It’s heartbreaking to see Hiro’s look of disillusionment, but it’s even more heartbreaking when you recall how much Hiro looked up to Nathan, and how convinced Hiro was that Nathan would eventually join the quest to save the city.

Aaaaand it’s an instant teleportation from Vegas to New York for Jessica and D.L.

I’d say that even last-minute booking wouldn’t make it possible, but when a minor plothole lends itself to such radiant excellence as this one does this week, I honestly wouldn’t care if Jessica and D.L. had just caught a shuttle from Mars.

Samurai Workshop. Hiro and Ando admire the pointy swords, see the frilly-S tapestry, and greet the store owner, who’s a giant, burly, bearded tribute to Chris Claremont. Which, yeah, TOTALLY FRICKIN’ AWESOME!

Claremont sees the state of Kensei’s pride and joy and fights the temptation to give Hiro a mighty whoopin’ for letting the thing get snapped in half. But this, it’s revealed, is a privilege reserved for Papa Sulu!

We go to commercials, but you can imagine the guy growling in the meantime.

Hiro wonders what his father’s still doing in New York.

“I remained here. To watch your progress.”

(And eat waffles. Woo-hoo.)

Ando shuts up for most of this scene, but you know he’s just dying to ask where Kimiko got to. Back at Yamagato and netting the company a few billion, probably.

This is a neat character moment for Ando, though, because the guy again finds himself in a situation where he needs to steer Hiro along his path. Ando begging Hiro to remember his mission and save the city (and him) from Sylar underlines how the character has changed since the time he and Hiro were thrown into a van and offered first-class tickets home. The fact that it’s now Ando telling Hiro not to be tempted by the prospect of an end to the mission conveys how Ando’s visit to the future has changed him.

But Hiro’s not hearing any of it, because he wants to head into the inner sanctum of the Samurai Workshop and find out why Papa Sulu’s still in New York.

It turns out that Papa Sulu waited to see whether Hiro would prove himself worthy, both of his power and of his legacy as a Nakamura. Hiro accepts this rather easily. I mean, if it was me, I’d at least want to know whether ripping the dino-painting to shreds was absolutely necessary. Or whether Papa Sulu knew all along that Hiro and Ando would refuse to return to Japan. Or whether destiny would just happen to lead Hiro to Sylar and get his sword cut in half, forcing him to visit the bladesmith where Papa Sulu was waiting for him.

Hiro admits that he broke Kensei’s sword. Papa Sulu insists that the sword is –

– and this is critical! –

“NOT IMPORTANT.”

(^^ Actual dialogue!)

To which eleven million people collectively scream, “YEAH, NO S*%#! YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO WATCH HIM SEARCH FOR IT!”

It’s self-parody. It’s got to be.

Hiro realizes the startling truth: “You knew about everything?”

There it is! It’s barely audible, but the Papa Sulu growl is there!

That’s it. Automatic 5 out of 5.

Papa Sulu gives his version of the Big Backstory. It seems to involve everyone turning evil except Papa Sulu. Which I’m tempted to believe, because between Papa Sulu, Malcolm McDowell, Simone’s dad, Neanderthal Dallas and sock-stealing Mommy Petrelli, I know where my sympathies lie.

Papa Sulu tells Hiro that evil must be stopped. So must sock-stealing. Waffle-gorging, however, can stay. Hiro asks what a CEO of a big company — and a guy who works in an office — would know about killing. Which, as anyone who ever worked for a major corporation can attest, is an unintentionally hilarious gag. And as huge a Star Trek fan as Hiro pretends to be, he’s clearly never seen this episode.

Papa Sulu pulls out a sword and works the samurai moves in front of his son. Which, yay for Papa Sulu, because the way his eyebrows arch and the way he gives the “Gotcha!” smile is priceless, but also yay for George Takei, because I could totally believe — even before I read it — that he did the majority of these stunts himself.

And Hiro’s as impressed as I am, because he gets the “I-just-won-the-lottery” smile he got when he saw Nathan come skidding to a stop outside the Fly By Night diner.

At the Casa d’Illusion, Micah notices that Candice is munching on a vast amount of food for someone so slim. The following dialogue, in which Candice reveals she’s as “huge” as Micah’s cousin and emotionally scarred by people judging her for what she looks like, seems to imply that Candice’s true form is an obese and possibly disfigured individual.

I didn’t read into this scene as much as a lot of people did. I think you could dismiss it as throwaway dialogue played for laughs as easily as you could interpret it as a character-defining moment for Candice.

Alternatively, you could argue that it doesn’t change the fact that she’s a devious, lying, treacherous b**ch, and ignore it altogether.

But then, I’ve always liked Candice, and I’ve always liked the way Missy Peregrym played her, so for me, the attempt to put a personality behind the miniskirt and the snark didn’t make her as suddenly sympathetic as it did for people who’d previously hated her.

To me, the scene’s a success for the way it shows Micah reflecting on the world around him, and the way Linderman’s made out to be some kind of faux-savior. Noah Gray-Cabey rocks in this scene; when Micah says he “didn’t know [the world] was sick,” there’s something knowing and self-assured in the tone, like it’s not the first time Micah’s thought about the state of the world, or what heroes can do to change it. It may or may not have been a conscious choice of delivery by Cabey, or by Beeman when he directed it, but the way the actor delivered the line seemed to say a lot about the character.

Linderman appears at the door and promises Micah that, by using his “incredible ability,” Micah will save a lot of lives.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What comes naturally …”

“Oh, um … NerdLiman!”

“What?”

“It’s an abbreviated version of ‘Nerdy Lying Man,’ but there’s only so much I could do with ‘Linderman.’”

“Insolence! Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“How senile are you? I wasn’t even born when you killed Kirk.”

“That was the scaffolding! And Rick Berman! Not me! And if you talk to the machines, I’ll send you a copy of every film I’ve ever starred in! I’ll also give you and your family enough money to live happily ever after!”

“Bah, forget that! I got a PS3 delivered to my house before the console was even in stores, and I could wire a few million to mom’s bank account in seconds — you think THAT comes more naturally to me than playing Scrabble?”

“Micah!”

“Back off, NeCcida Mama! The comics won’t make me like you unless the towel stays ON!”

“But if Mr. Linderman makes you a sandwich — like he promised — and if I take you in a car to see Democracy In Action … then will you do what we ask?”

Micah thinks about this, because a sandwich from pro-chef McDowell and a trip with Candice sound like more fun than staying stuck in the Casa d’Illusion for another episode.

Meanwhile, the New SuperTrio emerges from Hotspur with the keys to a brand new Sentra. Before they have a chance to slip in a product placement, the FBI shows up to tackle RadioTed to the ground.

AudreyClea returns, barking at the suspects to get onto their knees. And, you know, it just occurred to me that, by using the word “barking,” I’m indirectly supporting the conversation between Matt and AudreyClea about the animals working in law enforcement. I’d just like to say this is entirely coincidental, and in no way a reflection of the way I feel towards Audrey or Clea DuVall.

What astonished me here was the way Peter works the Dr. Fantastic invisibility, takes Claire with him, and pretty much abandons the guy he’d drawn at the center of a nuclear explosion. It’s not like there’s much he could have done (although TK’ing the wheels off the FBI van, pinning the guards to the ground and flying RadioTed to a rooftop while invisible springs to mind), but the way he puts Claire in a car and starts driving out of New York with the intention of leaving RadioTed to his fate seemed out of character. After Peter insisted on remaining in New York and visiting the Superhero Square to find the guy he’d drawn, you have to wonder how Peter could suddenly decide it’s enough for him and Claire to leave by themselves. Peter wouldn’t give up trying to save the city, but that’s more or less the way this comes across: it seems like Peter’s getting out of New York in case the bomb turns out to be him, and if it turns out to be RadioTed instead — well, apparently, Peter doesn’t think there’s anything he can do about that anymore.

Which isn’t how Peter’s been portrayed over the season.

But it gets better: ironically, “the guy who gives up because he doesn’t think he can stop what’s happening” isn’t a far-off description from –

Yep …

Nathan.

Coincidence? Ingeniously intricate writing? Peter subconsciously reacting the way his brother does? Or a part of the plot which isn’t supposed to be read into beyond a straightforward, “Peter and Claire get away from the FBI, Ted gets caught.” You decide.

RadioTed gets hauled off to Guantanamo Bay. And even though the guy burned a nurse’s arm, pointed a gun at Sandra, and repeatedly kicked Bennet when he was on the ground in front of his family, I can’t help feeling sorry for him. Not because he was abandoned by the other members of the New SuperTrio, and not just because he’s about to be wrongfully locked up, but because, even when he’s being detained, he’s warning AudreyClea to get him a concrete cell and lead lining so that he won’t nuke the inmates. That’s a hero. Not the hostage-taking, ends-justify-the-means pseudo-terrorist which RadioTed was depicted as for most of the season, but a guy whose first thought when he’s pinned to the ground, cuffed and led away by the FBI is the safety of the people around him.

Sylar uses Isaac’s name to report RadioTed to the FBI. It’s in keeping with the guy who took on Zane’s identity, and in keeping with the guy who’s so hollow inside that he needs other identities and abilities to create himself.

But when AudreyClea watches “Isaac” vanish and begins to wonder who the guy was, you wonder if the show won’t connect this story with events in “Don’t Look Back”: anyone remember how the cops came charging through Isaac’s door right when Hiro found the corpse and the gun? and how it seemed very odd, because it really wasn’t clear who called the cops?

What if AudreyClea now realizes that something’s up with “Isaac Mendez,” realizes he’s Sylar, and turns out to be the one who sends the cops to Isaac’s apartment in “Don’t Look Back”?

Probably wishful thinking to explain a detail that made zero sense at the time, but if it turns out to be the explanation to why cops came pouring through the door at the moment Hiro was standing over Isaac’s corpse with a gun in his hands, it’ll be one of the most amazing details all season.

At an anonymous polling station, Candice morphs into Ms. Baker and asks if her son can accompany her into the booth to see Democracy In Action. The poll worker considers this “a lovely thought.” I guess it is. And I don’t think I’m able to give the Gullible As Ando Award to an anonymous extra.

Micah and Candice enter a booth which, you’ll note, is flanked by two others, both occupied by fellow voters. Apparently, the paper-thin walls dividing the booths prevent those individuals from hearing Candice telling Micah to rig the election. Or they do hear it, and they’re too dim to realize what’s happening. And I’m not sure I can give the Dumb As Mohinder Award to unnamed characters either.

Either way, (a) Duh!, and (b) just how suspicious does Candice think a landslide’s going to look after Nathan was down five points in the polls?

Not at all, it seems.

Jessica and D.L. visit Nathan at Petrelli HQ. There’s a moment of recognition as Nathan remembers the woman he slept with, the woman who warned him that Linderman knew about the FBI agents, and the woman who told Nathan to deck her. Some of which, obviously, they wouldn’t want D.L. to know about right now. But the key parts of the backstory are communicated.

Nathan seems totally unfazed by the fact that he just became a congressman, and totally terrified at the prospect of driving along a highway with his family and getting rammed off the road again, and totally not indebted to Linderman for the fact that the guy just helped Heidi out of her wheelchair. But maybe that’s part of the ambiguity, because we don’t know whether Nathan betrayed Linderman solely to protect his family, or to overturn events leading to the explosion, or to control his own rise to political power. Or to achieve all three of those.

At the Samurai Workshop, Hiro and Papa Sulu engage in wooden-staff sparring. Papa Sulu dons a hachimaki and kicks Hiro’s butt. Hiro recounts a story which Papa Sulu used to tell him about Kensei learning to use his sword after training with a dragon, then being asked by the dragon to give up the life of his princess, and Kensei cutting out his heart and offering it up to the dragon because it was where the dragon would find his love. Which, ew, but also, Huh? It was a beautifully-realized montage, and a hundred times more effective than Papa Sulu narrating the same story in English (which, the way Beeman tells it in his blog, was the original plan). But if Hiro’s not going to cut out his heart rather than sacrifice the princess, is Hiro’s princess Ando?

And, you know, re-reading that last sentence doesn’t make it sound any less stupid.

As tragic as the possibility is, the parallel also made me wonder why there’s no mention of Charlie; she’s the closest thing to Hiro’s princess, and the person who Hiro’s currently training himself to kill happens to be her murderer. But the way Hiro drew on that story and realized he needed to cut out his own heart, it seemed like there was an implication that he’d need to make a sacrifice of his own. And if it’s not Hiro himself, it looks like it’s going to be Ando.

Matt and Daddy Bennet step into Company Central. Matt maneuvers his way past security at the plaza by reading the guard’s thoughts and humiliating him. Nice. At least this time it’s not Matt getting humiliated. Plus points, also, for the way Matt’s now using his ability on a regular basis and depending on it to navigate through situations.

The SuperDuo sees Jessica and D.L., and Matt gets The Fear, because “that blonde” works for Linderman. And she threw Matt out of a window. And slaughtered one of Linderman’s minions. So when Jessica recalls the throwing-Matt-out-of-a-window incident, what can Matt do besides get the look that says, “Yeah, that’s me — but I’m not bitter!”

Self-parody? I mean, if destiny didn’t want the character to stick around on the show, he would have died when Jessica threw him out of the window. The fact that it’s now turned into a punchline seems like the show’s poking fun at its own shock tactics. Grunberg works the comedy so well that it is amusing, though.

So, for a time, the SuperDuo becomes the SuperQuartet. Then they part ways because Daddy Bennet knows exactly which floor Linderman is on. How, when Daddy Bennet never even knew that Linderman was connected to The Company until about a day earlier?

The SuperDuo gets into a shoot-out with Thompson. Poor Matt gets used as bait to lure Thompson in — and then:

“What am I thinking now, Parkman?”

“Your last thought!” — *BAM* *BAM*

Goodnight, Thompson. Casualty of the Week #1.

It’s a great moment for Bennet. And if we’re cheering when one character puts a bullet through another, I guess it’s a sign that the show’s doing a solid job developing the characters into likable heroes and despicable villains. When it’s a scene which involves two of the most “morally gray” characters, though, it’s even more commendable, because it shows how far our perception of Bennet has changed since the start of the season, when he was basically the same character Thompson was now. The fact that he shot Thompson to protect his daughter reemphasizes his determination to keep Claire safe, but it also makes Bennet a murderer, which, until now (as far as we know), he hadn’t been. It’s a two-fold step for the character because it takes him to both ends of the “morally gray” spectrum: he’ll go to villainous lengths out of pure love for his daughter.

The SuperDuo continues on to Company Medical. Daddy Bennet finds himself pointing a gun at Molly, which should bother me as much as RadioTed pointing a gun at Sandra. Somehow, it doesn’t. Probably because we know Bennet’s never going to pull the trigger, even if he thinks it’s the only way to prevent The Company from using the tracking system to find Claire.

And that’s why this scene doesn’t work for me. It’s why the whole “let’s-go-to-New-York-to-take-out-the-tracking-system” arc lost its suspense the moment we saw Molly. We know the Mexican standoff between Mohinder and Daddy Bennet will end with zero fatalities. We know Molly’s traumatized, but that, like Claire, she’s a brave kid who’ll rise to the situation and save the day.

Bennet, Mohinder and Matt getting a scene together? That’s awesome. Bennet as the possible-child-killer? That fails, because we know he’s not, not even to protect Claire. And it’s why this whole standoff loses the impact it should have had.

Now, here’s the same dilemma from the opposite side: Sylar TK’s the FBI van and gives RadioTed the scalp treatment.

Goodnight, RadioTed. Casualty of the Night #2.

We know Sylar’s going to kill Ted, and we know he’s going to take Ted’s power and counter Peter’s own radioactive ability.

The thing is, the scene doesn’t lose its dramatic impact by the audience knowing that. Why? Because we’re morbidly anticipating it. We want to see Sylar’s villainy grow, just as we want to see Bennet’s heroism grow. The difference is that Sylar’s scene, though equally predictable, is conducive to his character arc. It’s why we can “enjoy” (for want of a better word) a scene which we know will end in Ted’s death, and why a scene which we know won’t end in Molly’s death falls flat. The difference is in the nature of the people doing the killing.

Now, Linderman’s death? That genuinely surprised me. Not because I didn’t think it would happen eventually, or that I didn’t think D.L. or Jessica (or even Niki) would kill Linderman in an instant, but because I never thought it would happen before the season finale, if it happened this season at all.

The way it happened? Grotesquely awesome.

The stuff leading up to it? Not so great.

D.L. and Jessica phase into Linderman’s office and begin pummeling the guy. It’s almost as satisfying as watching Bennet shoot Thompson’s brains out.

At the same time, I can’t help wondering if it undermines Linderman as the arch-villain. Here’s a guy who made pot pie quips when Nathan was pointing a gun at him. Here’s a guy who smiled and said “dear” when he met the psychotic personality he’d sent after Malsky to rip the guy limb from limb. Here’s a guy who put the fear of God into mobsters and crime bosses across the world.

And then some thug gets into his office and can throw the guy from one end of the room to the other.

Maybe that was the intention; maybe the idea was to show that, behind his menace, Linderman was a misguided old man who’d fall back on bribing people and pulling a gun on anyone he wanted dead. But somehow, the way McDowell played him, Linderman always struck me as more terrifying than that. He struck me as the guy who’d make his enemies tremble with words and influence rather than wealth or guns.

If we hadn’t seen it, the idea of Linderman using a gun wouldn’t even have occurred to me. He never struck me as the kind of villain who’d need a gun. He was a cerebral villain — the kind who was scary because of his ideas rather than his actions. He relied on a million thugs and security guards to handle the “action” part; it was the minions who went after Niki and Nathan, not Linderman himself. Linderman was too “civilized” for that.

And by putting a gun in Linderman’s hand, I can’t help thinking that, somehow, the show reduced him to the same level as his minions. He turned into the “uncivilized” thugs who worked for him.

Now, that detail aside, did this scene work? Heck, yes. Jessica handing herself over to Niki? Awesome. D.L. phasing his fist through Linderman’s brain until his eyes bled? That’s disturbingly cool.

And really, there’s nothing that could have dragged that scene down. Not Linderman holding a gun, not the idea that Jessica would be tempted to abandon Micah for money, and not the hokey editing that made us wonder how D.L. could crawl behind Linderman and catch him off guard.

Goodnight, Linderman. Casualty of the Night #3.

Goodnight, D.L.? It’s unclear, although based on previews, it looks like the guy will be back next week.

But, hey, if D.L. had died, there’d be a heck of a eulogy here about how the brain-phasing totally redeemed a season of non-characterization, because that absolutely frickin’ rocked.

Nathan steps up to a podium and makes his victory speech. Balloons come down around the family. And Angela’s looking as much of an ice queen as ever. Oddly, none of the audience bring rotten tomatoes, and none of them are carrying placards which read, “DIE, ICE QUEEN — DIE!”

Not that I’d carry such a placard. Mine still says, “CLAIRE — LET ME BE YOUR TEDDY BEAR!” Only Claire’s not attending the victory speech, and nobody wonders. And Peter’s not attending the victory speech, and nobody wonders.

And weren’t Angela and Claire supposed to be boarding a flight to Paris right about now? What happened to that plan?

Nathan delivers an uplifting speech about how we have a responsibility to use the gifts God gave us, how we need to make a difference, and how we need to inspire our children by example and heal everything with our love. Which, you know, would actually be a really moving sentiment, and would make a really great speech, if it wasn’t being delivered by such a virran and such a horribly bad pahson.

We get a montage of images to clue us in to where everyone will be when the finale begins.

Hiro’s finished his training, and discovered that Ando’s gone to slay Sylar himself. But chances are Ando will find himself a Manhattan-based caffeine haven to compete with the Burnt Toast Diner.

Micah’s back at the Casa d’Illusion. Which is becoming the new Montecito parking garage — the location which one or more of the mains is unable to escape until the requirements of the plot allow it.

And, hilariously, Peter and Claire’s efforts to prevent/escape the destruction of New York have been foiled by RadioTed’s upturned FBI van and the resulting traffic jam. It’s sort of RadioTed’s way of saying, “Thought you’d leave me behind, eh? Chew on this, suckers!”

And Sylar’s on a rooftop, making fireballs with his new-found ability. And to go from the neurotic inferiority complex last week to the brazen-as-hell nuclear guy this week must have been a lot of fun for Zach Quinto, because the guy pulls it off with remarkable panache.

This is an episode which works for the same reason that “Homecoming” and “Fallout” did: it’s edge-of-the-seat entertainment, it delivers an unpredictable and at times thrilling story, but at the same time it also has deeply thought-provoking moments for several of the main characters.

Does it have flaws? Sure; the plot which conveniently leads up to Hiro meeting his father, the way Peter and Claire abandon Ted, and the way Linderman suddenly becomes a desperate, gun-toting victim.

But when that’s bookended by Hiro’s training, by the dialogue in the scenes with Matt and Bennet at Kirby Plaza, and by the sheer energy and momentum as the season draws to a conclusion, it’s impossible for minor details to impede the quality of the episode.

One of the finest of the season.

5 out of 5

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 17th, 2007 at 8:23 PM and is filed under Season 1. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.