Review:

This is an episode that tries to break from the status quo. It's fundamental flaw is it demonstrates the show's fear to go through with it.

The concept is there, and the chance for real change is there: the superpowered villain of the volume is powerless, and one of the staple characters bleeds out while her father moves to kill off a key villain and a beloved recurring character.

On most shows, that would be a turning point in the series. You'd be riveted, wondering how Claire's death would affect the show, how the story would continue after Arthur's lackeys trampled over themselves to kill their former boss, how we'd ever look at Noah the same way after he killed Sylar and Elle. On this show, you know whatever one episode achieves will be undone by the next.

That's especially true of this episode. Friendships and feuds don't resonate: they give way to requirements in the plot. Central characters don't die: they return in the form of twins or spectral ghosts. Villains aren't redeemed: they flipflop between sides and their actions are dictated by circumstances.

It's not a train wreck. The episode has several remarkable moments: Brea does a solid job of playing the freaked-out farm girl who's ashamed of a disability, Hayden displays a commendable performance as she moves from pent-up aggression to self-realization, and Milo and Adrian have what's possibly the most overdue scene since Noah and Claire came clean about their issues in "Out of Time." But whatever its merits, this episode underscores why the show struggles to sustain any tension: by the time we see Noah pointing a sniper rifle at Sylar and Elle, we're less inclined to wonder how their deaths will change the show and more inclined to wonder how Noah will screw it up.

The opening with Arthur's clairvoyant sketching was a neat touch. The sketches themselves are in character -- swift, precise and minimal strokes -- but somehow also very reminiscent of Isaac's paintings in Season One, and of the way Linderman used portentous art as a tool to guide his actions.

Beeman's directing throughout this episode was outstanding, but the opening scenes stand out for the way Beeman keeps the camera moving: we pan over the sketches and up to Arthur, we move over and around Angela as she moves from her desk and looks up at the sun, and we segue from the sun to the eclipse in the 9th Wonders comic. It's a smooth, effortless transition from scene to scene, and, narrative issues aside, the way this episode was shot makes it memorable.

Sylar makes his way through one glass beaker after another in a storage room at Helix Compound. Sylar reveals to Elle that he needs to "prove" himself, then shuts down the conversation because he isn't sure she'd "understand." It's a subtly played scene, largely because of the way Kristen Bell plays Elle's reactions and the way Zach Quinto's expression flits between urgency and resolve. Given that Elle was trying to prove herself to her father long before Sylar was, and given that Sylar's responsible for ensuring Elle will never have a chance to prove herself to her father again, you'd think he'd realize she would understand. Surprisingly, Elle doesn't respond by Ellectrozapping his flesh off ...

... but instead lets the remark roll off her out of sensitivity to the guy she cares about.

^ ^ Expression of Crafty Scheming? It seems like Sylar's genuinely trying to be a dependable son and make his father proud. But then, the assumption that Sylar's trying to become his father's son blows all previous theories about Sylar double-crossing Arthur out of the water. You could justify Sylar's unwillingness to confide in Elle if he doesn't want to reveal he's playing Arthur out of loyalty to Angela; but if Sylar's not playing Arthur, and if he's serious about becoming the model Pinehearst son, the moment he defected to Team Pinehearst suddenly seems a lot less plausible.

Arthur assigns Sylar to retrieve Claire, and Elle's reaction to Sylar going all "Yessirrightawaysirconsideritdonesir" is:

Shock? Panic? Conflicted loyalties? It could be that this look conveys Elle's sense of camaraderie after Claire tried to help her, but it could just as easily be distaste for Sylar's blind obedience. Looking back, it doesn't seem like Elle intended to change her plan at the last minute and help Claire; but then, if Sylar isn't double-crossing Arthur to help Angela, and if Elle isn't double-crossing Arthur and Sylar to help Claire, this scene lacks any complexity or nuance, and the furtive glances between the characters end up meaning nothing. You can read a meaning into them, but when the episode seems to thwart that effort, you almost wonder why you tried.

Angela and Claire stride through Primatech. The expo-dialogue is brief, and we learn that Team Primatech has been divided into separate assignments. Hilariously, Angela doesn't seem to have assigned Peter with anything vital.

Nathan jumps into his assignment and puts aside his hostility towards his mom after learning that she used him as a lab rat. You could speculate that Nathan would put aside his reservations to stop his maniacal dad from splitting the world in half, but Nathan discovering he was genetically altered by his parents, telling Angela to go to hell and then putting that behind him is a jump, and it seems like the show expects us to either accept it or ignore it. Just as we needed a scene to establish Elle's reluctance to betray Claire, we needed a scene to establish why Nathan would overcome his contempt for Angela and agree to help her. Because otherwise, leaps in the plot make the characters look inconsistent.

The cameos from Doyle and Metal-Arm Danny were a nice nod to continuity, but they also remind you what could have been. Doyle's look of crazy fascination at Claire reminds you what a great villain he was, and Noah returning Danny to a cell reminds you how disappointing it was for the partnership between Noah and Meredith to collapse in a graphic novel instead of on-screen. When the episode brings up missed opportunities like this and cuts to 10-year-old Hiro doing the Pee Dance and Mohinder cocooning himself, you can't help wondering if the emphasis is in the right place.

Peter insists that Nathan can't go to Haiti alone because it's "too dangerous." His apprehension, we learn, is because of a Level 5 inmate with the alias "Baron Samedi," who apparently headed straight for Haiti as soon as he escaped from The Basement. The fact that he didn't waste any time with bank heists, revenge or family drama immediately makes me like him.

Peter: "When I found my abilities, I knew who I was supposed to be."

^ ^ Actual dialogue!

^ ^ Delivered with a straight face!

Who was he supposed to be? The guy who explodes? The cad who leaves his girlfriend in the future? The tool who helps a maniac wipe out mankind? The outlaw who shoots his brother to alter history? The psycho who threatens to slice open his mom's head?

We could keep going, but the point of this scene is to emphasize that Peter's abilities helped him discover who he is, even though "who he is" never really became clear. Nathan, being an awesome brother, reassures Peter that he still has a purpose without his abilities. Peter isn't so sure, especially if he can't guilt Nathan into helping him find a purpose by letting him tag along to Haiti. Which is prefaced with much Petrelli Brotherly Bonding, but also raises the same question that's been raised on several occasions: would the characters achieve more by doing nothing? Would Nathan be better off if Peter didn't choose this as his chance to be "useful"? Would Mohinder be better off if he didn't decide to inject himself with an untested serum? Would the world be better off if Hiro wasn't bored and in need of a reason to save it? From that standpoint, in the interests of avoiding global chaos, Angela's Do Nothing assignment is the best option all around.

Helix Compound. Mohinder carves up the guy he was last week forced to euthanize, inadvertently removes scales at the same time as surgical gloves, and demands that Arthur cure him. Arthur resists the impulse to TK-snap Mohinder's neck, pointing out that something is going to happen today. This is another moment when it felt like something was missing. It goes without saying that Arthur would have seen plenty of eclipses over the years. When Arthur asks Mohinder, "WHAT. DOES. IT. MEAN?", you could speculate that he witnessed different effects from different eclipses and just doesn't know what to expect this time. The problem is it isn't clear that Arthur's witnessed an eclipse before. He latches onto Mohinder's theory that everyone's abilities manifested during the last eclipse, but since we know that's garbage because plenty of supers were using their abilities long before that, we're stuck speculating.

So, on the one hand, the disappointment stems from the fact that the superpowered villain -- the guy who's been steeped in superpowered activity for 30 years -- apparently has no clue what effect an eclipse will have on the superpowered population. On the other hand, the disappointment stems from an episode which is entitled "The Eclipse," which involves an eclipse, and which, bizarrely, fails to explain anything about the eclipse. I know, it's only the first part of a two-parter. But come on: even if the show doesn't want to immediately enlighten us about a key part of its mythology, you'd figure the characters who possess abilities and who've seen eclipses before would offer at least some input on the effect it'll have.

Arthur: "'Everything could change today ...' No. Dammit! That's not it! It needs to sound momentous. How about, 'Everything's going to change today?'"

Mohinder: "Damn straight: if The Catalyst dies, I'm @%*#ed!"

Arthur: "Yes, but Mohinder, without The Catalyst and my plan to create superpowered humans everywhere, the world will split in half."

Mohinder: "All I want is to save myself! I'm a scientist, but right now I really couldn't give a rat's ass about you or the world. If Claire dies, any hope of me being cured dies too. So drop everything and help meeeeeeeee!"

Arthur: "Very good. Very expressive. I look forward to our next scene."

Chandra's Crib. Daphne asks how Hiro ties in with The Formula. Does she remember stealing half a formula from Papa Sulu's safe? Because even if she didn't know what she was stealing, she must have at least known to look for a shred of paper with chemical diagrams on it, and she knows that Papa Sulu was Hiro's father. I can't figure out if this was bad dialogue, bad continuity or a bad memory on Daphne's part. Or a Haitian Whammy.

Daphne wonders why Matt keeps her around. "Because I'm going to get laid" isn't an acceptable explanation, so Matt tells Daphne she's "one of the good guys now." Given that he's seen her working for the enemy and involved in the death of a four-year-old boy in the future, I have to question that optimism. Matt's pause before telling Daphne he trusts her completely comes back to haunt him, but who can blame him? He barely knows Daphne, he's seen more of her in spirit walks and nightmare realms than in the real world, and she reminds him in this scene that she betrayed him. I can understand Daphne freaking out and wondering if she rushed into a relationship with a guy she barely knows, but berating Matt because he's not sure if he completely trusts a woman he's only just met and who admits she's a liar in the same scene? Matt gets my sympathy.

Ando shows up and says Matt needs to "fix" Hiro. He supports this decision with a copy of the 9th Wonders comic in which Ando tells Matt he needs to "fix" Hiro. So, let me get this straight: Hiro and Ando have a comic that dictates their actions like stage directions: all they need to do is act out what's in the comic. And yet, somehow, everyone's unsure about what to do next ... except Hiro, who actually reads the step-by-step guide.

Matt reads Hiro's mind and gets ...

... delightful subtitles!

Despite any reservations I have with Hiro's character arc (or lack thereof), props to Masi Oka for the way he's throwing himself into this thankless role. The guy does a terrific job of becoming a wide-eyed kid, making every mannerism more clueless and neurotic.

Daphne wonders why Ando didn't die. Nice nod to continuity.

Hiro bobs his head along with the turtle. It's cute, but we went from Charlie getting scalped and Papa Sulu getting pulled over a rooftop to this? This is what two and a half seasons have come to?

Daphne bails. Matt tries to dissuade her, and, to be fair, Daphne's assertion that Matt doesn't know what she's "been through" seems as insensitive as Sylar telling Elle she wouldn't understand proving oneself to a parent. Between his ex-wife's affair, getting shot, the revelation that his dad's alive and evil, the revelation that his dad's dead and then getting banished to Africa, I'd say Matt's seen and experienced his share of horrors.

Hotspur! The company that Hiro and Ando used for the Versa in "One Giant Leap," and the company that Peter, Claire and RadioTed went to for an escape vehicle in "Landslide." Again, good continuity. I have to wonder how the show comes up with stuff like this and then, in the same episode, seems to forget when Nathan first flew.

Sylar learns from Arthur that Claire's with Noah. This, coupled with Sylar's ability to understand Noah and "how he thinks," leads Sylar and Elle to the Vortex Safe House. Really? Really, show?

Elle groans at the prospect of an encounter with "Glasses Himself." I'd harp on about the way Noah saved her life by trapping Sylar in a cell when he was scalp-happy in "The Butterfly Effect," but, hey: (1) "Glasses Himself," and (2) Kristen's roll of the tongue when she says "Uuurrrgh." I don't care what the show does with her, Elle has never not been awesome this season.

Sylar's willingness to become a model son and Pinehearst stooge concerns Elle. You could argue that, with her father dead and years of regimented routines and procedures behind her, she's enjoying the sense of liberty to use her ability as recklessly as she wants. But then, I'm not sure how Elle would want Sylar to behave any differently.

Sylar tells Elle he's trying to be "responsible," and Elle punches the air and gives this little sneer as she repeats the word back to him. Again, awesome performance from Kristen. Elle then reveals that she told the rental car employee that Sylar's a serial killer who kidnapped her, and the look of delight she gets when she recounts it ...

... is beyond awesome. It's a world away from the complex conscience-stricken agent in "Villains" and the vengeful daughter in "It's Coming," but it's so funny that I almost don't care.

Sylar doesn't find it as funny as I do, and there is a serious dimension to the scene because it raises several questions about the way Elle's being written. The transition from sane-and-stable agent to sociopathic sex kitten to neglected daughter still doesn't make sense, but there's a hint of Elle's playful nature here which recalls the character she played in Season Two. It could be a coincidence, or it could indicate that Elle's method of rebelling against authority involves channelling the more childish part of her personality. Between Bob's role at Primatech NY last season and Elle's recruitment into another organization this season, you could speculate that Elle's bouts of craziness are a reaction to the pressure of adhering to regulations.

Or Elle wanted to turn Sylar back into a killer and felt like doing something silly. You decide.

"I hate heroes."

Or is it, "I hate Heroes"? They're either acknowledging that Sylar's redemption arc failed, or that the characters hate their own show. Either way, I'm inclined to take it as self-parody.

Noah brings Claire to the Vortex Safe House. It's either good continuity or a cheap re-use of an old set.

How much does Noah know at this point? Does he know Claire accompanied Elle to Pinehearst? Does he know about Pinehearst? Does he know Arthur's alive? Does he know Sylar defected to Team Pinehearst to be with his dad? I guess none of it's essential to the story, but when Noah says he's trying to protect Claire, we wonder whether he realizes what he's protecting her from.

Noah tells Claire she's being stupid and careless and behaving as if she has a "license to act like a brat." Good dialogue, and a reminder of why Noah's absence has been missed so much throughout this volume, because he voices exactly what's been on our mind since the start of the season.

Midas Study. Tracy wins a *PING!* Dumb As Peter Award for taking a seat in Angela's chair and fingering her photo of the Petrellis WHILE SECRETLY ON THE PHONE TO ARTHUR. It's in Tracy's nature to manipulate and backstab. You would have thought she'd be more discreet when it comes to reporting to the enemy.

The reference to the Parris Island facility was an interesting detail. Future-Nathan was lobbying to create a superpowered army in "I Am Become Death," but the implication seems to be that Arthur's looking to pull it off several years in advance. Again, it seems like a part of the plot that needed to be fleshed out: we don't know how this fits in with Arthur's larger plans, who he expects his army to be fighting in the "war" he's anticipating, or how he thinks this will stop the planet from splitting in half. There's suspenseful and intriguing, and then there's underdeveloped and exasperating.

Angela overhears Tracy's half of the conversation, and apparently now knows enough to call the Marine Corps Recruit Depot and warn them about a slimy, scaly, monologue-spouting bug-dude who'll pull up to their base and try to peddle injections. It's also worth noting that Angela doesn't immediately call Tracy on her betrayal, but instead seems to reconcile this with her nightmare of at least one of Ali Larter's personalities turning evil.

Chandra's Crib. Am I the only one who wonders how it falls to a 10 year old to read a prophetic comic while the adults in the scene pace back and forth and wonder what to do next?

Hiro teleports Matt, Ando and himself to Daphne's farm in Lawrence, Kansas. There's no chyron to help us, but it's established in the dialogue, and it's impossible to mistake the location based on the geographical accuracy:

Kansas has mountains!

Whatever, show.

The eclipse was beautifully shot. And even though the effect of the eclipse hasn't been explained, and it's absurd that people can see it in Kansas and Haiti at the same time, and the eclipse lasts a lot longer than it should, and it's a b**ch to screencap because everything's so dark ... it is well executed.

The entire montage coming after it was nicely done, but two moments stuck out as remarkable: Arthur sweeping his sketches off the table with frustration -- which, except for his agitation when he was poisoned, is the only time we've seen him even slightly rattled; and Elle and Sylar swiping a convertible from the Hotspur parking lot -- which is kind of cool in itself, but worth noting for the reflection of the eclipse in the windshield, which should earn the visual effects team a bouquet.

In the Midas Study, Angela goes back to scrutinizing the Petrelli family photo, and the symbolism when the eclipse covers half of it up ...

... speaks -- or rather screams -- for itself.

Nathan loses his flight over Haiti, and he and Peter come crashing down in a lake.

Peter: "Wasn't there an eclipse that first day you flew?"

Nathan: "Yeah."

I guess you could argue that catching Peter when he jumped off the rooftop was the first time Peter saw Nathan fly, or that it's the first time Nathan intentionally flew. But the way this was worded, it's as if the show forgot how Nathan launched out of his car when Linderman's goons tried to ram him, and it's a plothole that pulls viewers who remember the backstory out of the narrative, because they now spend the rest of the scene halfheartedly trying to think up an explanation.

The brothers launch into the strongest scene of the episode, with Nathan chastising Peter for being a helpless wimp and Peter writing Nathan off as a tool for their dad. It's a confrontation which thrives on the way it draws elements from the show's backstory, but which, more importantly, involves the characters saying what they think. It resonates because you can appreciate why both of them would be angry at the other.

Peter effectively tells Nathan he'll become evil in the future, which seems like a deductive leap if he's basing that on the future he saw in "I Am Become Death," especially when -- paradoxically -- Peter was the one slicing Nathan's head open. The fact that Nathan becomes president and seems to run Pinehearst doesn't necessarily make him evil, even if he didn't seem fazed by the sight of Future-Claire hacking into Present-Peter or the sight of his dead brother on a gurney in front of him. In any case, Nathan takes this news surprisingly well, dismissing potential futures with the resolution to do the best he can in the present. Which might make Nathan an idealistic fool, but somehow, to me, Nathan's sincerity ends up making him noble and Peter even more of a judgmental d*%k for doubting his brother's integrity.

Speedster Farm. Papa Millbrook turns out to be Ray Baker, which is all kinds of awesome, not least because he uses a handful of scenes to establish the character as a warm-hearted but slightly old-fashioned dad.

Matt attempting to Parkman-whammy his way past Papa Millbrook is hilarious, for the way it confuses Daphne's father and for the way it makes Matt look like an idiot. But on some level, it takes you back to the way Matt used his mind-reading to trick Janice. He's apparently still such an upstanding guy that, if the love of his life doesn't want to see him, he's willing to use coercion to bypass her father and ignore her wish. It's not a big deal in the scene, and it might just be me, but somehow it seemed disrespectful towards Daphne's father to be falling back on the Parkman Whammy within a minute of meeting him. I would have preferred to see him introduce himself, explain why he'd come to see Daphne, and try to convince the guy to let Matt see Daphne without his ability.

Brea Grant plays all of her scenes on the farm with subtlety, but the way Daphne hugs her legs in this scene -- because she's feeling vulnerable and insecure, but also because she knows she's about to lose control over her legs -- was a particularly neat detail.

Vortex Safe House. Claire continues bashing wood against the walls, then channels Badass Future-Claire when she reveals that nothing ever made her angrier than Daddy Bennet leaving her to go on business trips. Her anger's sufficient to trip Noah up and put him on the receiving end of a sharper plank of wood, and Noah's expression in that moment ...

... demonstrates why Jack Coleman is one of the most dynamic actors on the show. I could be wrong, but it looks like he's afraid of the animal he released. Another shade of the expression looks like guilt, probably because he realizes how he hurt Claire and how he's forcing her to dredge up that pain, but perhaps also because he realizes he's turning his daughter into the character we've seen her become several years down the line.

Elle and Sylar show up. I'm sorry, but I still call BS on the likelihood of them tracking Claire and Noah to this location. Anyway, Elle twigs that her EllectroBolts aren't working, Sylar gets to look as dumb as Matt by waving his fingers in the air and wondering why nothing happens, and Noah gets to beat the life out of Sylar.

It's morbidly satisfying to watch Noah beat on the guy who terrorized his daughter, but, at the same time, that twisted pleasure never extends to uncertainty over whether Noah will actually kill Sylar, and it's part of what undermines the horror of the scene. Noah gets an opportunity to make good on his promise to kill Sylar, so you have to wonder why he wastes so much time knocking the life out of the guy instead of snapping his neck right away. The inevitable conclusion is that it's not because Elle gets in the way and shoots Claire, but because the show can't bear to let Noah make good on his vow to kill Sylar.

Elle moves to shoot Noah, and Claire gets inbetween them. The scene plays out with such earnestness that you know it's intended to be a Very Serious Moment. Noah hits Elle so hard that it actually makes me wince. It reinforces how Noah doesn't have any issue resorting to violence and kicking everyone's ass, but also how ferociously he'll lash out when he needs to protect his daughter.

Was the slo-mo too much? I'd say no. Even the ominous percussion and discordant strings don't feel too overplayed. The focus seems to be more on Noah's panic that Claire isn't immediately healing than on the prospect of Claire dying. Which helps, because, as with Noah hypothetically killing Sylar, Claire dying feels like a non-issue.

Noah brings Claire home, Sandra freaks out, and Noah forbids her to call the hospital for fear of alerting the cops. I guess Noah doesn't want to draw attention to Claire's injury if she's suddenly going to regain her ability and regenerate, but this eclipse -- besides covering everyone and everything at the same time -- seems to last for a length of time defying all laws of the universe, so Noah's assumption that Claire will inevitably instaheal back to health seems like an error in judgment, and that's before we know he's lying about the seriousness of Claire's wound.

Nicely played by Hayden. You see and feel her pain, but also her delight in getting to feel that pain, and her regret when she tells her dad she was wrong to think she was invulnerable. If you're optimistic, it's a moment that unlocks potential for change: the experience could broaden the character's perspective, and it could set up why Claire stops trusting anyone after her father lets her bleed out instead of calling an ambulance. If you're cynical, it's another instance that'll be forgotten the next time we hop on the Love-Noah/Hate-Noah/Forgive-Noah merry-go-round.

Speedster Farm. Matt asks Hiro how he's supposed to get his abilities back. I find it telling that Matt's calling on a 10 year old for advice on winning the love of his life, but it also underscores why Hiro's the smartest person in this storyline for actually bothering to read the 9th Wonders comic.

Matt admits he never thought he'd miss his ability. It's an interesting admission, but was Matt the right choice for the dialogue? He's been comfortable with his ability since the end of the first season; he adapted to it and uses it on a regular basis to get what he wants. The prospect of a character enjoying a respite from their ability is covered by Sylar in the final scene of the episode, and it might have streamlined the episode to limit this dialogue to one of them instead of both.

Hiro throws corn at Matt and urges him to win Daphne back by following the Hero's Quest and triumphing without his powers. Then:

Which is as limited in its humor as anything else in this story thread, but it's made adorable by Hiro's deferential bow and the way Matt glowers over him.

The current comic reaches its last page, but there is, of course, another issue. Isaac's contribution to comic-book lore -- and to this show -- has no limits.

Hiro references the Greek oracle at Delphi, the Library of Alexandria and the Hall of Justice. To Hiro's credit, he doesn't need Wiki for this, and, perhaps alarmingly, he comes across as a lot more intelligent as a 10 year old than he does as his mid-twenties counterpart.

Helix Compound. Mohinder's scales and psychosis disappear, and he's back to his old, pre-Season Three self. You're thinking it must be some kind of miracle for the character -- and for us. But then ...

Oh, CRAP! No, show, NO! Don't even think about it!

Oh God, SHE'S IN NEW JERSEY. So the show can dangle this threat over our heads anytime it wants? What's it going to take? Bribery, petitions, more viewers jumping ship?

Arthur and Flint show up. I've never been happier to see either of them. Arthur instructs Mohinder to park his ass back down and figure out a way to bring everyone's abilities back. I'd point out that locking Mohinder in his lab and forcing him to figure out how to reverse an astronomical phenomenon would take Mohinder a loooooong time, so long he'd never have a chance to head over to New Jersey to visit Ma-... Ohhh, I see! Clever, Arthur. Very clever.

The Haitian shows up in the jungle and starts leading Nathan and Petrelli back to their village, and then we meet Baron Samedi. Baron Samedi makes the Haitian look like a shrimp. His voice is so deep that I wonder if the ground rumbles when he talks. He makes Arthur look decrepit. He makes Sylar, Adam and Maury look like sissies. Seriously, folks:

This guy? ... scares me. And even if he didn't have that whole "impenetrable skin" thing, I can't figure out why he'd ever take orders from Arthur. Even with Arthur's TK-snapping and coercion and civilized menace, he's completely outmenaced by this guy. It's only one scene and one K.O. when he knocks Nathan down like a feather, but Demetrius Grosse owns the scene. Great casting.

Speedster Farm. Matt sings Daphne's praises and tells her he's in love with her, which, aww, even though you can hear Janice and L'il Matthew weeping while he says it.

Heartbreaking. It fits with the references to her "old life," with her love for her ability, and with her fear of Arthur snatching it away.

Props to Grunberg, because he manages to capture Matt's reaction without letting it stray towards false sympathy or indifference. You don't doubt for a moment that Matt will love her no matter what, but at the same time you see him realizing that Daphne was right, and that he had no idea who she was before he met her.

And props again to Brea for nailing this scene, because she steers clear of self-pity or bitterness and evokes our sympathy through her sense of shame. The camera lingers on the crutches for a moment, but avoids focusing on them so long that it would feel sentimental. It's the focus on the look between the characters that makes the moment as poignant as it is.

Canine Central.

Brilliantly shot. I love how the focus shifts from the glasses to Claire, as if Claire's becoming an extension to the icon that personifies The Company. Nicely done.

Noah promises to figure out what's happening to her. Claire tells Noah she loves him. Noah calls her "ClaireBear." It's the most moving aww of the episode, and it reminds you how rarely we get moments like this anymore: emotional, moving, human moments between the characters.

The only thing undercutting it is that, looking back, you realize Noah's lying through his teeth because the first thing he plans to do is NOT figure out what's happening to her, but instead go back to the Vortex Safe House and blow Sylar and Elle's brains out.

Again, superbly shot. I love how the smile he puts on for Claire vanishes the moment the glasses go on, and -- get this -- how Noah adjusts his tie as he's leaving the room. He's planning to haul out a sniper rifle and kill the people who shot his daughter, and he actually straightens his tie before he does that. It's such an amazing nuance, and it's so in character, and I'm willing to bet it's a Coleman improv, because only he could think up a detail like that.

Presumably, Noah knew Claire was bleeding to death. And he lied to and abandoned his daughter because revenge outweighed his readiness to watch her die while the killers got away. There's moral ambiguity, there's emotional detachment, and then there's plain heart-of-stone ruthlessness. And it's probably to Noah's credit that, after Claire gets shot, we can't tell where any of those ends or begins for the character.

Dun-dun-DUN!

Even if he doesn't go through with it, Noah this week brings new meaning to the word "badass."

This one's essentially a set-up episode, so, like "The Hard Part" without "Landslide," it's hard to judge the episode without seeing the follow-up. It has some strong moments, particularly in Claire and Daphne's storylines. You want to believe the show will change after this: that Matt and Daphne will become closer, and that Claire's near-death experience will affect her perspective. But then, in line with this season's focus on plot above character, you can't help wondering if large chunks of potential character development will just as easily be effaced or ignored.

As a set-up episode, part one of "The Eclipse" suffers from an inability to capitalize on its concept: the characters lose their abilities, but we learn nothing about why, and we spend most of our time on characters who were either already powerless or who rarely used their powers anyway. Why make an episode in which the characters lose their abilities and focus on an already-powerless Peter? Why focus on Hiro when the predicament in his storyline -- the loss of his memories -- has nothing to do with the eclipse? Both of those threads were well executed this week, but they sap time that could have been used to explore how the episode's predicament affects other characters: how does Angela react to the prospect of dreaming without horrifying prophecies? How does Knox's role as a minion change when his leader's strength disappears at the same time as his own? How do supers all over the world who love their abilities and use them for everyday purposes -- including long-forgotten supers like Monica and Micah -- react to the prospect of normality? It's possible a lot of this will emerge in the second part, but at this point, with the exception of Daphne and Claire, there's very little in this episode that couldn't have been achieved without an eclipse.

The episode also fails to generate any real sense of anticipation or foreboding. It seems like none of the potential developments will be as ominous or far-reaching as they should be. We know the show won't dare to kill Claire off; we know Noah won't end up shooting Sylar or Elle; we know no one in Team Pinehearst will think to turn on Arthur while he's vulnerable -- even though it would make sense.

The gist in the media seems to be that a major character's about to be killed off. Despite the mutiny it'll inevitably cause among portions of the fanbase, I hope that's true. Not because the show should delight in killing characters we love -- or, conversely, because it should bow down to pressure from fans to thin the herd -- but because the show seems afraid to shake itself up and thwart our expectations. When Hiro provides comic relief, I'd like to wonder -- just once -- if it won't go on like this for the rest of the show's run. When Claire is wounded, I'd like to wonder -- just once -- if the show has the courage to ignore our attachment to the character and refuse to write their way out of it.

Which isn't to say that death is the only way to sustain tension on the show; just that several of the characters are in near-death peril in this week's episode, and that it was impossible to feel invested in any of those moments. I'm not advocating the death of a main character for ratings or shock value: I'm advocating it because it'll help episodes like this to carry real weight and real tension -- two things this episode was predicated on, and two things it lacked.

Whether the characters' abilities return next week or the week after, this episode struggles because its concept isn't supported by any sense of tension. It fails to resonate, and it lacks substance. We know -- mostly from previous experience on this show -- that any calamity can be fixed, undone or rewound, or, in some cases, rewritten altogether.

Here's hoping the show bucks that trend and surprises us.

2.5 out of 5

Review:

The next time the word coincidence is updated in dictionaries, Greg Yaitanes should get a mention. Something along the lines of, "Coincidence -- noun: an instance in which the same director helms the ninth episode of both the second and third seasons of a show and on both occasions produces something that is the height of awesome."

There are flaws. I'll say that now. There's some weak dialogue. There are a couple of scenes that even Yaitanes couldn't save. And there's a 10-year-old Hiro playing pranks in a bowling alley, which sounds abysmal on paper and turns out only slightly better on screen.

But there's also Elle going Ellectric on Sylar. There's Tracy defecting to Team Pinehearst. There's Angela and Arthur getting nostalgic in a nightmare version of the Midas Study. It's not a perfect episode, but where it counts -- in the development it brings to the story, and in the flair the cast bring to their scenes -- it's an episode that rises above its flaws.

We start out with V.O. Mohinder ... which I realize immediately undermines this episode's claim to excellence. It's a throwback to Season One, using footage from the pilot, particularly of the mains when the eclipse took place. V.O. Mohinder speechifies about how "anything is possible." You want to believe he's right. You want to believe the show can go back to the brilliance it borrows from here. And when you get a monologue like this -- one which expounds on some deep significance -- you want to believe it's a sign of a remarkable episode.

The only thing that could undermine it -- besides V.O. Mohinder -- would be something like ...

... that.

Self-parody? I'm not complaining. It's almost as hilarious as Hiro getting hit over the head. But the V.O. Mohinder monologue seemed to bring meaning to the episode, and when it's followed by a shot of Hiro bellowing at the top of his lungs, you have to wonder if the show is intentionally undermining itself.

Then there's the fact that Hiro gets to exercise his lungs at all. We get a gratuitous shot of Usutu's severed head on the ground ... which, ew, but also, Huh? Arthur snaps Maury's neck and beheads Usutu, but when it comes to the guy who knows everything that happened in the previous episode, he opts for turning his victim into a vegetable? Beyond the plot contrivance, it's also a little odd that Arthur suddenly wastes so much effort -- TK'ing Ando away and taking the time to wipe Hiro's memories -- when he could have killed them both in half the time. It's an error in judgment that earns Arthur his first *PING!* Dumb As Peter Award, because Hiro will inevitably regain his memories and this will inevitably come back to bite Arthur in the ass. Arthur should have killed Hiro right away. And I'm only half-joking. If this episode proves anything about Hiro, it's that he's more tolerable when he doesn't change or develop in any way.

Arthur gets distracted by Ando leaping at him, then by the painting of an eclipse on a boulder. Ando knocks Hiro into a semi-coherent state while Arthur admires Usutu's painting of the eclipse. You'd figure Arthur would be smart enough to freeze time while browsing, or at least TK Hiro and Ando to the ground so they couldn't escape.

Hiro and Ando teleport to a bowling alley, or, as we'll refer to it, the Superhero Nursery. I was anticipating having to rip into these scenes, and I'm pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed them. Between the absurdity of the mentally-prepubescent Hiro and the way the tone in these scenes jars with the others, I still wonder why this storyline didn't derail the episode. Its nostalgic value saves it, because the light-heartedness in these scenes takes us back to what made Hiro's thread so appealing in the first place: Hiro's infectious exuberance, the simplicity of his motives, and his everyman relatability. The point which Hiro's thread emphasizes this week is that the guy was an ordinary kid who discovered an extraordinary ability. In a season largely set in underground cells and top-secret labs where everyone possesses an ability, normality is a novelty.

Helix Compound. The camera pans around Sylar in one long, smooth shot. Arthur teleports back, and in contrast to the abrupt pop when Hiro or Peter teleport, it's a smooth, progressive effect. It's in service to character because it demonstrates how gracefully Arthur uses his abilities. Nice detail.

Arthur and Sylar contemplate how Peter survived getting TK'd out of a seventh-story window, and as effective as the "Ooh, I wonder!" moment is, it feels like an overplayed twist when it's brought up again two episodes later.

Arthur explains to Sylar that The Hunger isn't about killing so much as power. And although this part flies because Sylar's scalp-happy M.O. was always a means to an end, it's bizarre that Sylar now turns out to have what's essentially Peter's empath-absorption. On a basic logistical level, it clashes with Sylar's intuitive aptitude, which up until now (and even in the future) was defined as a distinct ability. It also implies that Sylar became a villain because he didn't know any better; on the basis of what we learn this week, Sylar could have become the same good-natured and sensitive man Peter was, if only he'd been as kind at heart and hadn't been made to feel like a failure by Mama Gray.

Sylar looks incredulous, and so do I, because as with many developments this season, it feels like something hatched for the sake of the current story instead of something that made sense for the character. Part of what made the tension between Peter and Sylar so effective was the perception that they were two sides of the same coin. The conclusion to draw from this revelation is that they're essentially the same side of the same coin, and that our interpretation of the other side of that coin was a misconception. We're left wondering whether we ever understood the villain we felt so invested in during the first season, which is less compelling than it is disappointing.

Arthur shuts Sylar in a dark and empty cell, and Greg Yaitanes and Charlie Lieberman's collective genius begins to emerge.

The sparse lighting, the dank, clammy, cavernous atmosphere, the sense of a place that's been forgotten ...

... the focus on specific details: the Ellectrobolt that forms in Elle's hands, the chains on her feet ...

... the hatred building up behind her eyes ...

... and something resembling your average Jackson Pollock.

We cut from a scene as intense as that, go to the opening sequence, and reach a part of the episode that struggles to match the rest. Paire shippers, do NOT rejoice!

Peter and Claire plan to leave the Apartment of Hospice Luxury. Only not together, because Peter wants to go "someplace where they can't find [him]" ...

... Such as the Company's New York facility? Yeah, no one's going to think to look for him there.

Peter wants Claire to go home, because the man who brings new meaning to "morally gray" is sure to prevent Claire from becoming the badass who Peter meets in the future.

The problem with this scene isn't the premise -- it's the acting. And it pains me to say that, because for the most part I've never had any issue with Hayden or Milo's acting, and there've been occasions when I thought they excelled in their roles. This was beyond less-than-stellar. This was wooden.

"Youdon'thaveyourpowersyourfather'stryingtokillyou."

All in one monotonal breath. No inflections. No feeling. No concern. Not even a sense of ownership in the words. Just hollow delivery of dialogue on a page.

Peter: "I need you to stay ... innocent."

Clunk ... clunk ... clunk. I cover my ears because the dialogue's so bad, but even the visual half of the scene fails because it's impossible to tell what Peter's feeling. He's the one driving this storyline forward, knowing how Claire turns out and wanting to alter the path she's on. The problem is you don't get a sense of that here at all.

Is Peter worried? Is he anxious or upset? Is he determined? I couldn't get a thing from his expression besides "obstinate." Like, "I've seen the future happen but that doesn't mean I have to let it happen." When Flint's idiot smile is more expressive than Peter's concern for Claire, something's wrong.

Knox and Flint break down the door to the apartment and find Claire ...

... wearing another smug smile. This is painful, people. The handheld camera is good and the window sequence is excellent, but when the performance from the actors bounces between "wooden" and "smug," it's hard to appreciate anything connected to it.

Claire: "Don't you know? I'm the defensive player of the year."

I'm trying to figure out what that line was supposed to convey. No matter how hard I try, all I get from it is "overconfident," "arrogant," "cocky" and "self-assured." The show this week made me despise a character whose scenes I used to look forward to.

Helix Compound. Mohinder tests The Formula on some random guy, turning him into a monster. This elicits sympathy and sadness from the audience, but also gives Mohinder a chance to express that he's Very Upset.

Arthur notices a monitor Mohinder's working from.

Mohinder: "It seems most of the powers I've documented took place during the last total annular eclipse."

Which means what, exactly? That the supers he identified had abilities during the last eclipse, or that they were using abilities during it, or only that they developed abilities after it? "Took place" is so vague that it's meaningless. This line makes a connection between abilities and the eclipse, but it's such a tenuous connection that we're not even sure what it is.

Mohinder explains that The Formula requires "some kind of catalyst that allows the blah-bla-blah-bla-blah-bla-blah-bla-blah ..." It boils down to Arthur figuring out that the key to The Formula isn't someone but something, and that Papa Sulu hid The Catalyst. Between this and sleeping with his wife, I'm sensing that Arthur really hated that guy. I'm also curious to see the look on Papa Sulu's face after learning that the baby he chose as the host and handed over to Noah back in the day was close to invulnerable. It's great if Papa Sulu wanted the third piece of The Formula to last forever -- long after everyone Papa Sulu knew and worked with was dead -- but it also defies all logic when you consider that Papa Sulu wanted to prevent anyone resuming work on The Formula. If Papa Sulu wanted to keep The Formula out of enemy hands, it would have made more sense to shred the blueprints and stick The Catalyst in someone who wouldn't sustain almost any injury.

Matt and Daphne find Company Medical deserted. Matt discovers Angela and resolves to get in her head and help her wake up. He does this either because he's out of options and doesn't know who to turn to for help against Team Pinehearst, or -- as I'd prefer to believe -- because his first instinct when someone's trapped and suffering is to help them. It's one of the subtler moments to character, but it's essentially an "incredibly-brave-or-incredibly-stupid" moment of heroism for Matt, because it doesn't seem like he thinks twice about helping Angela.

Daphne twigs that Arthur's responsible for putting Angela into a coma and speedyzips to the Helix Compound to report back.

Yaitanes seems to be playing around with camera focus in this scene in order to shift our sympathy between characters. The focus is on Arthur, with Daphne a slightly-blurred interruption to his thought process and the little voice that annoys him, but it's interesting that our sympathy skips over Arthur and onto that background figure when Arthur dismisses Angela's state of mind and threatens to send Daphne back to her "previous life." When Arthur says Angela "will be fine," it's not delivered with regret or worry so much as grim resignation, whereas Daphne's concern for Angela and for Matt -- as confused and peripheral as it is when it's shunted into the background of this shot -- comes off in waves. The shot's perfectly set up, but the real beauty's in the way it supports the emotional undercurrent of the scene.

Daphne speedyzips back to Company Medical and leaves Arthur to study his files on Papa Sulu and Claire, scuppering our hopes that Claire won't again become the pivotal figure in the story.

Sewer of Revelations. Peter refuses to abandon the We Must Separate Plan. I can't argue with this because, given the quality of their scenes together this week, I think it's best for the actors and their characters if their storylines permanently diverge.

Peter reveals that the alley he and Claire just ran through is the alley where Future-Claire shoots Future-Peter. It's good that the show didn't opt to drag it out, but when Peter tells Claire she's becoming "a killer," Claire's reaction ...

... is delivered with as little inspiration as her dialogue in the previous scene. Is Claire shocked? Is she skeptical? Is she horrified?

Is Peter haunted by the memory of what Claire becomes? Is he frightened by it? Milo's performance is so hollow in this scene that it's laughable: it looks like he's forcing each syllable out like he's choking on it. It doesn't evoke grief or trauma so much as the image of an actor regurgitating dialogue. It's unthinkable that Yaitanes would let a scene slide the way this one does, so I'm tempted to think this is some kind of statement about Kring's script.

Knox and Flint show up in the sewer. Claire tells Peter to run, then puffs herself up and tries to look as menacing as she can.

Claire: "You want him, you're gonna have to go through me."

I realize it's not Hayden's fault, but when you give a petite actress a line like that and ask her to deliver it next to two guys twice her size, it's unintentionally hilarious.

We cut to the Superhero Nursery.

Forget the spitballs. "Time-space continuum"? I don't even need to comment. The show is officially reviewing itself.

Ando gives Hiro a demonstration of the scrunched-up face.

Hiro: "That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

Self-parody? It's big of the show to admit its idiocy, even when the admission is sandwiched between the image of a guy in his twenties playing spitball with schoolgirls and the sequence of pranks Hiro pulls in the bowling alley.

Hiro freezes time.

The fact that I can't remember the last time we heard that is a good sign. The fact that it doesn't immediately grate is even better. Two and a half seasons in, what becomes clear is that Hiro didn't need to change or evolve as a character at all, and that his contribution to the show is still limited to adolescent humor and an exuberant outlook on life.

It's funny, but the fact that we're content to watch Hiro being a 10-year-old prankster -- when the character deserved more -- is a sign that Hiro's emotional growth since the pilot episode has counted for very little. A subplot as pointless and absurd as this should not be entertaining: it should be an insult to the depth of Hiro's character arc. The fact that it isn't demonstrates how little depth that character arc has had, and how little we expect from the character and his storyline.

Now, compare that to this ...

... which is effective because of its technical brilliance, but also because we care whether or not the villain survives. And this ...

... which is astounding because of Kristen Bell's phenomenal performance, but also because we care whether or not Elle's rage ends up consuming her.

The difference between Hiro and these characters is that Sylar and Elle have evolved, and that -- issues with Sylar's redemption arc aside -- we care for the characters now more than when they were introduced. Bizarrely -- and perhaps tragically -- Hiro's storyline this week demonstrates that he's more entertaining with zero character development than he is with the context of his entire storyline over the course of the show.

Sylar gets burnt to a crisp and regenerates. You know the character isn't in any real danger, and, in a curious contrast to Claire getting shot in "Dying of the Light," you want to see how far the concept can go: you watch with grotesque fascination because you want to see how extensive the injuries can be.

What makes this one of the darkest and most gripping moments of the show is Kristen Bell. When you hear Elle let out those bloodcurdling shrieks, you wonder how the actress threw herself into the performance so convincingly. Kristen sells her performance this week in a way that few actors on the show have before.

If there's a level of ambiguity to these scenes, it's in Elle's need to avenge Bob in the first place. Elle's visceral need for revenge is understandable, but at the same time the context almost calls it into doubt: it's not like he ever showed he loved her, or that they were ever particularly close. The impression was that Elle was exploited by Bob, and that, where any father would have offered love and support, Bob offered disapproval and disappointment. One question this scene raises is whether Elle's furious assault on Sylar stems from hatred towards herself as much as towards him; self-hatred because of the way her father made her feel, but also because a part of Elle doesn't grieve the way it should, either because it's never been cultivated or because the absence of warmth between Elle and Bob means it was never there to begin with. It's possible Elle's rage also ties in with the realization that she'll never have a chance to earn her father's love. With her life at The Company over and her father dead, Elle's robbed of what little in her life made sense. Like Sylar, she's now faced with the prospect of forging a new path and discovering a new purpose. It's a solid explanation to why the actress got scenes with an off-camera friend, but it's also a character arc with remarkable depth given the way Elle started out last season.

Sylar accepts responsibility for Bob's murder but tells Elle he "didn't want to kill him." I'm tempted to question that when he got such a perverse delight out of flaunting Bob's ability in front of Elle, but the show seems determined to emphasize that Sylar's Hunger was forced onto him. Maybe I've been suckered by the show's single-minded attempt to convince us it's true, but this was the first week I actually bought it. Sylar counters Elle's hysteria with such stoicism, you believe he's willing to suffer for his crimes, and, moreover, you believe he wants to suffer for his crimes.

Which isn't to say the character's atonement has now been realized, or that the show's necessarily even pushing for him to atone completely. When Elle collapses and begs Sylar to put her out of her misery, Sylar gives a little flick of the hand, and for a moment, you wonder if he's going to slice her head open and grant her that plea. The fact that we wonder is a testament to the tension and suspense in the scene, and it underscores that Sylar may yet challenge our assumptions and surprise us.

In the meantime, Nathan and Tracy visit the Helix Compound. Nathan gets nostalgic about the way Papa Petrelli used to take him fishing. This, we learn, is where the name "Pinehearst" originated. Funny, if another nod to self-parody.

Nathan and Tracy reach Arthur's office, and I feel obligated to point out the gargantuan *GULP* Nathan takes when he opens the door and sees his dad.

If there's a way to capture "floored" with one expression, Pasdar finds it.

Nathan: "Do you have any idea what you've done to this family -- what you've done to me?"

Good dialogue. Simple but effective. It complements the outrage and hostility the other sons showed Arthur, but it's also a rare moment when Nathan's feelings center on himself. Peter's and Sylar's first concerns were what Arthur had done to Angela and what Arthur was doing at Pinehearst. Nathan's first concern is how his father's actions affected him.

Arthur speechifies about Nathan's "destiny," and I love how Nathan gives a reflexive flinch the moment Arthur tries to lay a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. Terrific nuance, but also worth noting for the way it bridges the changing dynamic in the scene: we go from the father and son on opposite sides of the room to an uncertain proximity ...

... to the focus on Nathan as he tries to put everything into perspective ...

... to the focus on Arthur as he tries to impress his plan onto the "favorite son." Again, evidence of Yaitanes using elements of direction to push the audience's sympathy from one character to another from one moment to the next. The drawn-out close-ups give you a deeper sense of everything the characters are feeling -- more so than either of the previous father-son reunions -- but the shift in focus also brings out the uncertainty throughout the scene.

Arthur emphasizes that The Formula can "stop" the apocalypse and that he and Nathan can "save the world together." Forster delivers the lines with a measure of sincerity, but they sound as disingenuous now as they did when he told Peter he wouldn't let the future turn out the way his son saw it. It could be that, as the show's villain, Arthur's supposed to come across as untrustworthy and fake; but for whatever reason, his motive for wanting to save the world -- or even for wanting to end it -- remains exasperatingly cryptic. His altruism doesn't come through, but neither does his malevolence. The outcome is that we have no idea what Arthur's thinking or feeling. We can believe he's glad to see Nathan, but at the same time we don't get a sense of what Arthur planned to do if Nathan had been on board with his father's plan. We know Arthur says he wants to save the world, but his motives are so underdeveloped that we never get a sense of whether -- if the world did end -- he'd actually care one way or the other.

Nathan dismisses Arthur's delusion as "the same crap Linderman spouted." Again, good dialogue, and to character, because, in a contrast to Hiro's appeal being predicated on a lack of development, this underlines how Nathan has learned from experience and become a more rewarding character to follow because of it.

EllectroCavern. Sylar TK's Elle's chains off and tells her he's not going to kill her. And, again, props to Kristen, because this performance ...

... is beyond phenomenal. The character's physical and emotional exhaustion radiate off the screen, to the point where you buy her resignation as the loss of will to live instead of just a theatrical gesture.

It's interesting that Sylar reminds Elle of her wish to be "normal" and tells her they're the same. The scenes between Sylar and Elle underscore how much they have in common, but this stuck out to me, mostly because of the irony: Sylar wants acceptance from the people around him, but he also desperately wants to be special. You could argue that his desire to be special stems from a need for acceptance, and that Sylar and Elle tried to win parental approval in order to feel validated; but then, Elle showing Sylar how to harness the Ellectrobolt isn't about embracing normality so much as sharing a sense of superhuman solidarity. When Sylar tells Elle to forgive herself, and when her pain fades away, it's about Elle's acceptance of who she is as much as it is her reconciliation to Bob's death and her longing for his affection.

Sylar, by contrast, now learns he can be even more "special." And although I doubt anyone ever predicted we'd see Sylar cry because he's overwhelmed with emotions, this felt like such an organic development and such a believably overwrought scene that Sylar's tears, and his nervous laugh of relief when he rediscovers a part of his humanity, come across as believable reactions.

The episode momentarily shifts down a gear as Paire shippers once again grit their teeth. Peter intercepts Knox and Flint and hears Claire's uninspired "uuurrrgghlemmeGO!", then submits his own Emmy-worthy moment by telling Knox and Flint, "Let her go or you die!" This is some truly thankless material. How we can go from a scene where Elle begs Sylar to kill him to a scene like this is beyond me.

Peter uses a gas pipe against Flint. Uncharacteristically resourceful, but also worth noting for the way the explosion prompts Flint to instinctively dive for cover. I guess the theory that your own ability can't harm you doesn't extend to an external source.

Peter and Claire run, the flame dies down, Knox and Flint climb to their feet, and then ... they just stand there. *PING!* Knox and Flint win a combined Dumb As Peter Award, mostly because I was counting on them to capture at least one of those two so we wouldn't have to endure another scene between them again.

We cut back to the EllectroCavern, where Sylar and Elle ...

... cosy up to one another. Elle thanks Sylar for doing what no one's ever done for her before. In our defense, Elle: none of us would have lived to brag about it. Also in our defense, Elle: there are plenty of us who'd gladly be fried alive to help you reclaim your peace of mind.

Was the transition from hellbent out-of-control animal to thankful-and-forgiving friend too sudden? It's Elle, so I guess mood swings and insanity are in character; and it's Season Three, so I guess breakneck pace and haphazard storylines are to be expected. Still, hearing Sylar tell Elle that being "at war with ourselves [is] what it means to be human" drives home how bizarre this shift in the story was. Sylar helping Elle towards her reconciliation just about flies, but this:

... seemed like too much of a jump. It's disturbing, appalling and bizarrely sexy, but it's also so messed up that it makes you wonder what we're witnessing. Sylar did kill her father, and no matter what Elle's issues with Bob might have been, laughing and flirting with her father's killer so soon after she was ready to flay him alive seems a little too sudden.

Superhero Nursery. Hiro decides he's ready to move beyond time-freezing and onto teleportation.

Oh, no.

Please, God, no.

He's going to end up in feudal Japan again, isn't he? Only this time with amnesia. And he'll need to join an Irish gang and rob an armored car, and it'll be a hideous amalgamation of all the worst storylines the show ever came up with, and PLEASE, SHOW, NO!

I'M NOT READY TO REVIEW THAT GARBAGE AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR ME?

OK, breathe, breathe. Deep breaths. Stay calm.

Don't help him, Ando! Stop him!

Hiro teleports behind Ando, then in front of him, and says it was even more fun than stopping time. One can only imagine.

Helix Compound. Nathan relays Arthur's superpowers-for-all campaign and tells Tracy he doesn't know what to believe. In the first indication that Tracy runs out of patience and decides to go her own way, she tells Nathan to "snap the hell out of this."

^ ^ Actual dialogue!

I LOVE this character. She's so direct and crafty and manipulative ... and it makes so much sense that she's joining the less virtuous team because, given all of these attributes, she'd be squandered as a hero. Even the sight of Nathan zipping up his Members Only jacket and launching into the sky isn't enough to sway her from defecting to Team Pinehearst.

It could be Angela who put Tracy off. Or it's that Arthur was so suave and charming and Tracy couldn't resist the allure of villainy. Or maybe she just has a thing for influential men, and the prospect of Nathan dithering over what to do is such a turn-off to Tracy that she'd rather hang out with his dad. Whichever it is, Tracy's apparently now Head of Marketing for Team Pinehearst.

Matt works the Parkman Whammy and goes from the real Company Medical to a nightmare Company Medical. Although judging from the look of it, they're exactly the same.

Is this Angela's version of the nightmare that Matt trapped his dad in? It could be that Arthur trapped Angela where her prophetic dream took place; but in a way, Angela's inability to help herself in this dream mirrors her inability to avert what she dreams when she returns to the real world. If this isn't Angela's greatest nightmare -- locked in a facility she helped to create and unable to save herself or anyone else -- it's got to be pretty close.

Yaitanes does an amazing job distinguishing the real and nightmare environments. The rapid cuts do a lot of the work as Matt walks through corridors, finds Angela and tries to break her chains, but I also love the way the sound gets mangled: you hear the wind in the hall and the clank of Angela's handcuffs, but you don't hear Daphne's footsteps or the rattle of the doorknobs that Matt tries to open.

Nightmare-Daphne shows up to stab Matt in the chest. Real-Daphne joins Dream-Matt, and Brea Grant runs with the material and demonstrates that she can go well beyond the Hiro "nemesis" banter and scare the heck out of us, but also ...

... that she can play opposite herself fairly convincingly, to the point where we cut back and forth between the two Daphnes and immediately know -- from the expression, tone of voice and posture -- which Daphne is which.

Real-Daphne tells Matt she loves him. Which, aww, even though they barely know one another and there's no way to be sure if they're only projecting what they think they feel because they're supposed to fall in love. Who cares. In a surreal, artificially-induced nightmare, it's heartwarming.

Nightmare-Daphne turns into Arthur, which is all kinds of messed up, not least because Matt can never hug Daphne again without wondering whether she'll stab him and turn into a dude. But it allows Angela to confront her husband with the memory of how they "were once like that." I think Angela was a little taller and Arthur was a little cooler, but it's the thought that counts. And, really, in this family, does attempted murder count for anything? In an episode in which a character forgives and flirts with her father's killer, is it out of the realm of possibility for Angela to forgive Arthur after he tried to kill their son? It would probably depend on whether he forgives her for poisoning him, and for sleeping with one of their associates, who went behind both of their backs and planted a portion of their research in a human being who then turned out to be their granddau-

OK, headache.

Arthur, Angela, Matt and Daphne relocate to the Midas Study, which looks like it's been cleaned out except for the ElderSuper files, a globe and a couple of swords. There's regrettably no sign of Bob's cello.

Even sadder is the way Angela persists with reminding Arthur that he loved her, and that there's "a part of [him] that still does."

And when Mr. You-Need-To-Freeze-The-Frame-And-Scrutinize-Every-Nuance-To-Figure-Out-What-I'm-Thinking gets the puppy-dog eyes, it's hard to argue with Angela's observation. For a moment, you almost forget the context; you forget that Arthur's the Daddy Villain, about to lead the planet to annihilation. The character-based familial drama supersedes the fantastical plot. It's nothing groundbreaking, but it's affecting, and it's what Heroes does better than almost anyone else.

Angela implores Arthur to let them out of the nightmare ... and he does.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Sentimentality clouding Arthur's better judgment? Crafty scheming because he knows he'll manipulate them more effectively in the real world than he could here? Nausea after Daphne professed her love for Matt? You decide.

Everyone wakes up. Matt and Daphne meet Peter and Claire in the hall, and Matt's still mightily peeved about the time Future-Peter banished him to Africa, although he seems to overlook the fact that this experience helped him to find true love. So, really, regardless of which Peter this is, shouldn't Matt be shaking his hand and slapping him on the back instead of pinning him to a wall?

Helix Compound. I think it's telling that Mohinder's not included in the hero/villain montage we're about to see. I choose to believe it's not because Mohinder's too useless to choose a side, but rather because he's an impartial scientist and too caught up in research. Said research culminates in his test subject begging to be put out of his misery. I don't see Mohinder bonding with this guy over Ellectrobolts, but some contemplation would be nice, because Mohinder just took a life which won't be saved with Magik Blood.

Hiro and Ando teleport to Sam's Comics. The Japanese cover to the 9th Wonders comic was cool, but also the source of a serious WHAAAAAAT?!?, because, come on: unless Isaac painted this stuff six months in advance, passed the sketches on and oversaw their publication from the grave, this is ridiculous. It's possible, especially after we saw him hand his sketchbook to Nerdeo, but it feels less like a carefully planned twist and more like a contrived set-up for the plot.

Company Medical. Peter kisses his mom (aww) and thanks God she's alive ... and, presumably, Arthur, who helped him get over the urge to rip his mom's head open. Then Nathan shows up, and I realize this is the first time in a while that we've had so many mains in a room together. This is an ideal opportunity to discover who knows what, but the conversation immediately turns to the third and crucial part of The Formula being stored in a human host. I love how everyone's shuddering at the thought of the future they have to prevent and wondering what their part will be in stopping this calamity; and how, throughout it all ...

... Claire's thought process never waivers from me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-OMFG-DO-YOU-THINK-I-MIGHT-BE-THE-CATALYST?!

If she isn't, she's still the center of the Heroes group shot.

And although I realize I might be channeling some antipathy towards a couple of heroes after their scenes this week, Team Pinehearst is most definitely a whole lot more exciting than Team Primatech. And I can't help wondering what that says about the show. When the villains turn out to be better realized, more consistent and more compelling than the heroes, is it a sign that the show's in trouble? Or is it a sign that the volume's preoccupation with moral ambiguity has turned everything on its head? Because that's what this episode reinforces: that everything has changed.

This episode was atrociously bad in parts and limitless in its genius in others. I've gone from devout Paire shipping to hoping Hayden and Milo never have a scene together again. I've gone from lamenting Ali Larter's thankless material to wondering when her story arc suddenly took on a life of its own. And I've gone from despising Elle to adoring her, and from wondering what all the fuss over Kristen Bell was about to wishing she was a cast regular.

I've even been successfully suckered into thinking the Sylar redemption arc's not as impossible as it seemed.

Overall, a mixed bag, but one that featured some spectacular performances from Kristen and Zach, some exquisite character work for Elle and Tracy, some brilliant visual touches by Yaitanes, and the sense that the show has regained its focus and direction.

4 out of 5

Review:

I want to make sure I've got this right:

Previously on Heroes: the show started. Then there was a flashback episode set before it started. Then it moved onto a season that fast-forwarded four months. Then there was another flashback episode that rewound four months. Between this, there were episodes set in the past and the future, myriad graphic novels depicting events before, during and after the on-screen story, and a tie-in novel embellishing the story we got a glimpse of in the original flashback.

With all of that in mind, it's hardly surprising that internal consistency is an issue. If the prospect of the show undoing what little continuity there was until now doesn't appeal to you, brace yourself, because this episode butchers several key parts of the backstory. If you're also not especially eager to watch characters rewritten and villains redeemed, chances are this episode will again fall flat on its face for you.

If that wasn't enough to put you off, this is possibly the strongest episode of the season so far. The show's essentially asking you to let the backstory and consistency go for the sake of the current story and characters. If you're willing to go along with that -- and that's a big "if" -- this is a defining episode for several characters, and one of the best the show has to offer.

V.O. Mohinder rambles about an individual's capacity for good and the fork in the road between heroism and villainy. It's lucid enough, and, for once, relevant to the episode. Chandra's appearance in the recap makes his absence in the episode all the more mystifying, but never mind. Claire's appearance at the moment the monologue hits the word "light" also seems like an ominous confirmation to what's hinted at in the episode, and in the preview for next week's episode -- that Claire's the Chosen One that Papa Sulu mentioned in his video for Hiro.

We cut to the Desert of Clairvoyance. Hiro nibbles at Usutu's paste and goes clairvoyant. This involves Hiro getting the glazed eyes and falling flat on his back -- duplicating what we saw in the previous episode -- and a questionable visual effect to convey that Hiro's mind is "floating" through space and time.

Did any of this need to be here? It's as if the show didn't dare make another flashback episode without a pretext. The three or four occasions when we cut to Hiro in the desert do nothing for the storylines the episode focuses on. If anything, they slow them down. Establishing that we're seeing the story through the eyes of a character creates more problems than it solves: what would Hiro make of scenes populated with characters he barely knows or never met? More importantly, if he's about to be whammied by Arthur and regress to the mental state of a 10 year old, does the fact that we see this story through Hiro's eyes even matter? "Six Months Ago" didn't justify its purpose with any kind of a narrative framework. It didn't need to. I can't help thinking this screen time could have been used to either expand on the ElderSuper backstory -- particularly Adam's role in it, which we'll get to -- or to incorporate the Matt/Knox thread which Beeman this week mentions in his blog.

We cut to Petrelli Castle, 18 months ago. The timeframe, we learn, is important, firstly because this predates everything in "Six Months Ago," and secondly because other parts of Hiro's flashback only date back a year. This is apparently a flashback with a mind of its own and which carefully selects the timeframes Hiro needs to see. Whatever, show.

Arthur stands on the gargantuan Petrelli staircase, thanks a bunch of unknown guests, praises Nathan and a once-again-floppy-haired Peter, and toasts to "the love of his life." And amazingly ...

... the way they look at one another, and the way Forster delivers that line, you can believe the sentiment went both ways.

Linderman: "My king, my queen, congratulations."

Angela: "Thank you, Daniel."

First time it's been established on-screen that Linderman deferred to Arthur beyond legal ties, and the first time Linderman's been called by his first name by anyone on-screen.

An attempt to shift the balance of power from Linderman to Arthur? An attempt to humanize the mobster mastermind behind the bomb plot in the first season? An attempt to emphasize Arthur as the Daddy Villain this season? You decide. For me, it's one of the few retcons in this episode that's difficult to get over.

It just about fits with the graphic novels if this is the kid who took orders from Sergeant Petrelli in Vietnam; but even then, it doesn't fit with the way Linderman later showed up to offer Arthur a role within The Company. The balance of power from that point was always in Linderman's favor, and even if you discard the graphic novels and stick with the show's canon, it never seemed like Linderman was anyone's lackey -- which is essentially how he's written here. By the time Nathan confronted him in "Parasite," Linderman was the guy pulling all the strings.

To be fair, we don't know if Nathan and Linderman met again before the confrontation at the Corinthian. But we go from Nathan threatening the chafe of handcuffs and Linderman's palpable concern here ...

... to the pot pie scene in "Parasite," when Linderman's close to untouchable and Nathan's trembling under the guy's menace. Like Meredith and Elle, Linderman was rewritten for this episode to work. Does that drag his scenes down? In no way. But it underlines one of this season's biggest flaws: that character behavior's being tailored to fit the requirements of the story.

Arthur mind-reads Nathan and realizes he'll go down with Linderman if Nathan goes ahead with the prosecution. Neat effect: I love how it's so much smoother and less choppy a cut-cut-cut than it is with Maury or Matt. It's consistent with the guy who sucked up Sylar's intuitive aptitude without worrying about The Hunger, and who took on the Tears of Death without wondering if he'd be able to control them. I was hoping this episode would establish if Arthur absorbs abilities without leaving the original host dry, but we're left to speculate about whether Arthur really does "take it all and leave nothing behind": if he didn't get the mind-reading and mind-control from Maury, it seems like he sucked the whammy out of some other poor sucker over the past couple of decades, and Maury coming along with the same power was a coincidence.

Arthur assures Linderman that dissuading someone as single-minded as Nathan is a lost cause, and Linderman asks, "What do we do?" Again, it fits with the directionless miracle-healer kid who looked up to his confident commanding officer. But Linderman? The guy with unfathomable resources and enormous finances and clairvoyant paintings spanning centuries? Linderman is asking what he needs to do? I don't buy it.

Arthur calmly decides to kill his son.

^ ^ Appalled!

And this is the guy who later rationally explains to Nathan that killing off .07% of the population is an acceptable loss. You could argue that Linderman distinguishes genocide from killing one's own child; or simply that his perspective changed. But this character has a conscience. He's not the character who later lets Nathan in on the plan to nuke New York.

Memphis, Tennessee. If you didn't catch the license plate on the truck, a helpful chyron establishes the location. I find it amusing that the show expects us to follow elaborate time-jumping storylines but doesn't think we'll catch a location on a license plate. And, thinking about it for a second, I wonder if Hiro can see these chyrons. If he can't, does he know this is only set one year ago instead of 18 months ago? There's another reason why the framework around the episode doesn't work.

Meredith and Flint hold up a convenience store. Meredith goes straight for the cash register. Flint goes for the microwavable popcorn. I'm still trying to figure out if we were supposed to find Flint this entertaining from the moment he was introduced. Judging from the way his blue-pyro reign of terror was included in the recap -- accompanied by a monologue about people going "horribly wrong" -- I'm guessing not. It's not exactly objectionable if the show uses a Level 5 villain for comic relief; I recall a moment at the bank when Blake Shields came across as too eminently likable to ever play a convincing villain. But the Level 5 inmates were conceived as the most vicious villains alive. Call me crazy, but doesn't microwavable popcorn undermine that?

Welcome back, Eric Roberts!

Thompson shows up to hose Flint.

Roberts looks like he can barely conceal how much he's enjoying playing the action hero ...

... and Blake Shields definitely looks like he prefers playing a big dumb kid to a ruthless psychokiller.

Meredith diverts Thompson's attention and tells Flint to run. Flint, spectacularly obedient to his sister, complies.

"Brooklyn, New York, one year ago." The way the shots move between mirrors and magnifying glasses is perfect. The ticking clock and the broken piano theme in the background are superb. And Zach's ability to slip into the neurotic, nerdy watchmaker's son is as flawless as ever.

The show's reluctance to rely on our memory and common sense isn't so admirable. We're inundated with shots of Sylar conking Brian over the head with a slab of quartz. The show would have you believe this is to emphasize Sylar's intense distress over his first kill. If you're cynical, you realize it's because the show doesn't expect us to remember that without repeated visual aids.

Sylar prepares the noose and pushes the chair aside.

Beautiful shot. Very precise, and very carefully thought out. A lot of shots in this episode display Allan Arkush and Nate Goodman's trademark precision and technical wizardry, but I love how elements of the direction and photography support the story: a surreal shot like this sets up why Sylar believes Elle's an angel when she saves him.

Elle tells Sylar that "everything's gonna be OK." She tells him that "everybody does bad things," that she's "felt exactly how [Sylar's] feeling right now," and that sometimes it helps to "talk about it."

Humor me: read that last paragraph again. The next time we see this character ...

... she'll be stroking Peter's earlobes, fondling his hair, Ellectrozapping him for kicks and playing the unhinged-and-dangerously-unstable sex-kitten role to perfection.

My point isn't that the way Elle's written here doesn't make sense. It does -- as much as Elle's role in the Company storyline in Season Two did. I vastly prefer the way Elle's written here to the way she was written in Season Two, so I can't hold this particular course correction against the episode; and, to be fair, the performance Kristen gave during Season Two -- even when she was whiny and pouty and obnoxious and when I hated her with the passion of a thousand fiery suns -- was as complex as the performance she gives here. My point is that Elle shouldn't have been written one way, then another, and then the first way again. This episode reestablishes that's Elle a Company cautionary tale, but it also portrays her as sensitive, charming and perceptive. She's putting on an act, but only up to a point: the implication is that she genuinely cared about Sylar and didn't want to watch The Company destroy his life. Within the show's continuity, that's then effaced by the Season Two sociopathic Ellectrozap-happy brat with the mental age of an eight year old, only for Elle to then bizarrely rediscover the complexity she had at this point in the show's chronology at the start of Season Three.

I guess we can write this off if it turns out Elle has a moral crisis, turns against The Company and gets lobotomized. But the question is whether we should need to speculate that far. The character here -- and the character throughout Season Three so far -- is a polar opposite to the character we met in Season Two.

Elle leaves Gray & Sons. As she walks away we get a glimpse of the clock outside the shop. The time on the clock is ...

Oh, show. Clever, clever show. For that, I forgive inconsistent characterization.

The Primatech Van? Very cute.

Elle asks why she and Noah can't B&T Sylar and analyze his ability with the standard vivisection. Noah (although, at this point, I guess he's not "Noah," or even "Daddy Bennet": he's "Anonymous Evil Trenchcoat Guy") exposits that whales won't sing in captivity. Given the way we've watched Sylar snack on Bridget Bailey in captivity, I'd say that theory's been refuted. In Noah's defense, there's no way he could have known that at this point.

Props to all of the cast for climbing back into their characters two years earlier. Coleman does a particularly stellar job. He's fortunate because his material in this episode is wholly assignment-oriented -- the way it was in the pilot -- allowing him to slip into his early-Season-One character gracefully. Noah walks with a more confident stride; his tone of voice becomes level and less emotional; his eyes convey resolve instead of anxiety. You can believe this is the guy who taunts Mohinder in the cab and lies so convincingly to his family.

Noah: "Pie!"

Pushing Daisies shout-out? It was written and filmed long before the drama over the past week, but if there's a subtext to that line, it screams, "Only you can save us, Bryan!"

Primatech Fun Factory. Meredith asks if they can skip the bulls**t and go right to the deal Thompson wants to cut with her. It's remarkable for the way Jessalyn Gilsig gets it across: it's more shrewd and to-the-point than it is b**chy, which is in line with the character she played all along.

Thompson asks Meredith why she hates The Company. Her reasons come out before the episode's over, so I'm not sure the melodramatic pause here was necessary. But the intriguing question is why Thompson doesn't already know what Meredith's reasons are. Meredith obviously knows it was Company agents who broke into her home 14 years earlier. It's not clear how she knows, but given that Thompson's reading Meredith's history out to her, and given that we've seen Thompson hand Claire over to Noah, the question is why Thompson doesn't immediately make the connection between Meredith and Claire. The only explanation is he doesn't know Meredith is Claire's mother; and if Noah and Claude tried to B&T a firestarter, brought the woman's baby back to The Company and never once mentioned the identity of the firestarter they were trying to take down in the first place, you really have to wonder how an organization with such serious communication issues lasted so long.

Petrelli Castle. Nathan shows up, Arthur implores Nathan to drop the Linderman case, and Nathan insists he's going to free the family from Linderman's "toxic" influence.

It's difficult to say what's running through Arthur's mind in this moment. Forster plays his scenes with enigmatic brilliance, but I think you could argue this look conveys admiration for Nathan's resolve as much as it does resigned acceptance about what he now needs to do.

Adrian channels the confident, steely-eyed gaze he delivered so well throughout the first season, and reminds me why I'm still looking forward to Nathan's scenes with Arthur in the present more than anything else for the rest of this volume.

The repeat of the crash from "Six Months Ago" is brief and manages not to come across as an attempt to harvest scenes from earlier episodes. Looking back, I wish we could have gotten a reaction from Angela or Arthur about Nathan manifesting an ability. We now know they were waiting to gauge whether his synthetic ability was successful; you'd think whatever details Linderman's goons fed back about their target launching into the air would be worth a line or two in the next scene.

Nathan waits outside Heidi's room at the hospital and learns she's paralyzed. Adrian delivers what remains one of his most earnest and compelling performances. It doesn't borrow from the show's early brilliance any more than the car chase did, but, perhaps unfortunately, it reminds us that a lot of recent material on the show doesn't come close to topping this early brilliance.

The little gasp of horror Angela lets out when they find out Heidi's spine is broken was well played by Cristine. Angela looks like she starts to connect the dots right away, so the fact that she doesn't immediately order Linderman to work the Be-Healed Whammy on Heidi just about flies. But then, Adam's locked up at the Hartsdale facility at this point, so it's not like the Magik Blood wasn't an option worth considering. I'm surprised there wasn't any mention of this. It was an ideal opportunity to bring Adam into the story, and the guy was effectively erased from the backstory this week.

Again, beautifully shot. I love how Angela's like a blurry backdrop to the drama between the brothers, but I think it's also interesting that Arthur's kept out of this particular shot, as if he's peripheral to the family unit. He's responsible for this accident, so I guess a shot like this reinforces that it's now "them" against him.

Arthur and Angela return to Petrelli Castle. Arthur insists Linderman wouldn't dare go after Nathan on his own. I think the Season-One Linderman most definitely would, but perhaps this wimpier lapdog Linderman wouldn't.

Angela's expression ...

... more or less sets up her doubt, but also conveys how much she wants to push back her suspicion and fool herself into trusting the man she loves. When Angela tells Arthur she loves him, you can believe it. And when Arthur removes his glasses, looks at his wife ...

... and lies to her face about an attempt to murder their son, you're hard-pressed not to sympathize with the woman for poisoning him and wanting him dumped in a Company incinerator.

Thompson and Meredith visit a ramshackle shelter to apprehend a superpowered war veteran named Danny Pine. Thompson introduces himself as a Veterans Affairs official. Danny wants to know what happened to Scofield.

Scofield?

Fox River? Panama?

The metal arm is a neat touch, as is ...

... the little smile Meredith gets when she captures her first target. It's a fateful irony that, barely a year later, her daughter gets the same smile when she captures her first target.

Queens, New York. I wanted to call this place the Pie Hole, but the ABC lawyers would probably come after me, so I'm settling for the Morally Gray Apartment. Whatever we call it, it's a testament to the detail that goes into making the show, from Papa Gray's company-headed paper to the SuperMap Eden and Mohinder find in "One Giant Leap."

Again, plus points for continuity; it dovetails perfectly with Sylar's first batch of victims in Season One, and with the reveal in the graphic novels that Sylar was working from a fragment of Chandra's list.

Elle shows up with pie and tells Sylar she's been thinking about him. She shows an interest in Sylar's list, and Sylar -- determined to be special in Elle's eyes -- snatches it from her. Sylar demonstrates his ability. Elle wonders about the people with abilities like Sylar's, and Sylar -- determined to be special in Elle's eyes -- immediately shuts down the conversation and asks about the pie. It's one of the more consistent parts of Sylar's character arc, and Rob Fresco brings it out with remarkable subtlety.

Primatech Fun Factory. It's worth noting that Meredith goes along with her assignment and seems pretty enthused about the prospect of becoming an agent. I'm not sure I buy a character with this kind of integrity turning corrupt enough to extort $100,000 out of Nathan less than a year later, but it's interesting that, per the graphic novels, a character who lacked a stable environment during childhood and moved between adoptive homes during adolescence would latch onto a regimented life of structure and procedure.

Flint: "An invisible man tackled me in the alley!"

Claude shout-out? It's a funny line, even if it isn't. Chances are Claude's off the Company radar after Noah shot him six years earlier, but you could speculate that if Claude isn't tackling fellow supers for kicks, it's simply another invisible super. That, or the show's rewriting this part of the backstory as well, and Claude's still a Company agent a year before Peter finds him in New York.

Flint's enthusiasm about becoming a Company agent is so pathetic it's funny. I'm not sure what it means when one of the volume's most allegedly merciless villains turns out to be pathetic or funny, but the salute Flint gives Thompson is so adorably naive that it's endearing.

Morally Gray Apartment.

Beautiful set, and beautifully shot. The plastic-covered chair; the perfectly-made bed; the antiquated lamp and rug and wooden furniture; the fact that Sylar and Elle have to eat on the floor because Sylar never has guests and wouldn't have a table to eat at. You don't know whether to laugh or cry for the guy.

Sylar describes himself as "an addict" who's after "a drug that [he] can't get enough of." I think the analogy was more effective as part of the subtext rather than part of the dialogue, but, in the show's defense, this is at least an attempt to connect the current Season Three storyline with the origin of the villain: alongside Sylar's final phonecall to Chandra in "Don't Look Back" and the "forgive me" scrawling in "One Giant Leap," it becomes apparent that Sylar was aware he was turning into a monster. This episode doesn't redeem the character any more than the previous episodes have, but it gives Sylar a level of self-awareness, and it lays out how, on top of being a victim of circumstances, Sylar was actively pushed into becoming a killer.

Sylar: "Maybe I don't have to be so special. Maybe I can just be Gabriel again."

Word for word, it's almost identical to what he later tells Mama Gray. It seems like Sylar wants from Elle exactly what he later wants from Mama Gray and Angela: to be accepted the way he is.

Outside, Noah looks like he's about to throw up from the sentimentality of the scene. He realizes Elle's not just throwing herself into a performance, and gives ...

... possibly the cruelest smile he'll ever give anyone on this show. I figured at first that this came down to Noah being uncharacteristically vicious towards Elle, but it could be that Noah was so good at compartmentalizing work from family that an emotional attachment in his work inspired a reflexive reaction.

Petrelli Mansion. Angela overhears the plot to kill Nathan, looks thunderstruck, and Arthur Parkman- AND Haitian-whammies Angela into submission. Which makes us despise Arthur even more and makes Angela even less of an equal partner in the ElderSuper hierarchy, but also quite elegantly sets up her distaste for Matt's ability at the police precinct in Season Two, and explains why she was reluctant to let the Haitian inflict any mind-wiping on Claire in "Fallout."

Desert of Clairvoyance. Hiro goes catatonic, Usutu and Ando mix a gaseous version of the clairvoyant goop, and Hiro gets put under again. I'm at a loss to explain why this scene was here. This is about a minute of screen time that could have been used for any other storyline.

Primatech Fun Factory. Meredith springs Flint out, helps him escape on a freight train and tells him he can't ever trust The Company. As with every Flint scene this week, it's hilarious, mostly because of Flint's insistence that The Company's "been nice" to him, but also because Meredith finally loses patience with Flint and tells him they're tricking him because he's dumb. I love the petulant look Flint gets when Meredith says this. He can't disagree with it, but he also trusts Meredith enough to make decisions for him, which leads very consistently into Flint always needing a crewrunner like Knox or Arthur to tell him what to do. It also sets up an inevitable scene in which Meredith and Flint discover they're working for opposing companies, and in which Flint wonders how Meredith could rejoin the organization she told him not to go anywhere near.

The cut from the flaming carriage to the flame on the stove at Petrelli Castle was a neat touch. It's amazing how this episode cuts from an explosive, high-octane scene to an intimate, character-based scene without losing any tension or momentum. Whatever issues the episode has with continuity and internal consistency, its pacing and flow are impeccable.

It's an Arthur Whammy, so you'd figure it's as slick and insurmountable as they get. The fact that Angela's able to overcome it at all -- if only enough to look disturbed about something she can't put her finger on -- is a credit to her strength of will. I think it's also enormously to Cristine's credit that she switches so effortlessly from self-deluding wife to mind-rape victim to vengeful mother to liberated widow in the space of one episode; and that she takes the character who helped orchestrate the bomb plot and makes us feel as bad for her as we felt for Sandra after she was Haitian-whammied into debilitation.

Linderman: "That smells good! Almost as good as my pot pies."

Nice throwback, but also worth noting for the way McDowell delivers it. It's the one way you can reconcile the Linderman we see here with the one we see at the Corinthian.

Linderman works the Be-Healed Whammy on Angela, and the little half-smile he gives after restoring her memories ...

... could easily be the same smile Arthur had after removing Maya's ability; that's to say, the Good Deed smile. But I don't think Linderman would take any pleasure in small deeds; his smile here is because he helped someone he cared about, and more importantly because he realizes it's the first step to overthrowing Arthur's empire. The focus on challenging blind obedience makes for a neat thematic tie to M