In a double-feature finale, Sleepy
Hollow pulled out all the stops: big reunions, big plotcakes, big
trouble, big reveals, big cliffhangers, zombie George Washington, and
Victor Garber literally eating the scenery. What more can you ask
for? (Nothing, there’s literally nothing left.)
Oh,
Sleepy Hollow. The
thirteen-hour B-movie that could has spent the season hurling every
horror reference, fantasy stopgap, Masonic handwave, time-travel
joke, and monster-flick trope it found. The finale goes for
broke (which is saying something), screeching to a cliffhanger you just know everyone in the writers’ room cackled about, and leaves all the principal actors worried about their renewal clauses.
And wow, was this finale a
trip. Its first half was the most National Treasure
the show’s ever skewed, complete with an enormous tomb for George
Washington (who’s dead in there despite taking a brief
holiday from being dead so he could return as a zombie and draft a
map to Purgatory, because of course), and a faceoff with Andy
“Friendzone” Brooks during an escape from the alternate
entrance from a thematic hidden tomb with its own rolling track whose vestibule
contains a secret exit protocol, which is just about how I always
imagined Masons spend their free time and extra money!
The
second episode scoops everything the show’s been heading for into a blender and adds some new things, leading to a final confrontation that feels slightly
like a food fight, except instead of a shoulderful of macaroni
everybody’s miserable for eight months. (“Tune in next fall or
else!” – Sleepy Hollow.)
Is it two hours of plotcakes? You bet.
But it has its moments, and some great character beats. This show has
always prioritized character continuity over plot continuity, and so
that’s how we’re going to break this thing down.
ANDY
The first returning face: Andy, the
kind of guy who in life will offer to watch your house while you’re
on vacation and copy your keys, and who in death will repeatedly show
up and offer to save you by making you his plus-one in hell.
Abbie’s actual line: “We need to
talk about boundaries.”
The rest of the conversation is
conducted with Andy chained to a radiator, because Abbie did not get
to the season finale just to take chances with her personal creeper.
Andy begs for Washington’s Bible, because it leads to a map (of
course) that leads to the gateway between our world and Purgatory.
Shockingly, she’s not into it, and back
in the tunnels he’s so angry that he begs (with a darkly
comic shriek of “Take me seriously!”) to be turned into an
instrument of Moloch’s glory.
It’s probably a tactical error.
So, in a show where there’s not a lot
of moral gray area (even this episode glosses over some things it
shouldn’t, but we’ll get there), Andy’s been the most conflicted
character. His obsession with Abbie is refreshingly framed as Not
Okay, but for a foregone conclusion of a guy he’s often helped Abbie
at cost to himself. And though he’s a go-between, there’s a sense of
him struggling against his bonds that’s even, slowly, made him
sympathetic.
It helps that Nicole Beharie and John
Cho have given them the sense of long acquaintance, a shared history
that goes deeper than Andy’s creeping. Abbie’s never been truly
afraid of Andy; she was wary of him and took him seriously when he
said he couldn’t be trusted, but the most afraid of him she’s ever
been is when he desperately claims Ichabod’s going to abandon her
like her parents did – a shadow of the confidences she’d shared
with him. It’s first time she reacts as if he’s really betrayed her.
When he confronts them in Washington’s
Tomb in his newly gooey form, it’s the first time he’s attacked
Abbie since the pilot, when he knocked her out to keep her out of the
fray. And as soon as he’s momentarily himself, he begs Abbie to kill him already.
He shows up later in her vision in
Purgatory, and it’s striking: Corbin would have been more than enough
draw for her, but Andy’s surrogate-brother mode is clearly something
else she’s missed. They were friends, once; his descent has been one
of the show’s most quietly tragic arcs.
I don’t know how demon death works on
Sleepy Hollow, but I suspect
nothing but low ratings is going to kill John Cho. And that’s just as
well; the show could use more gray areas. Maybe we can just cut down
a little on his hilariously escalating suffering.
THE IRVINGS
Speaking of suffering, the Irvings had
a pretty shitty day!
The good news is, in the wake of
Macey’s demonic possession, the Irvings are once again a cohesive
unit. The bad news is, Sleepy Hollow is the one fictional township
ever to demand real-life answers for supernatural shenanigans;
they’re out to discover who killed Father Doomed and Agent Blandy,
and Irving doesn’t have any explanations to give. (Morales is no
help, given that his fate is aggressively kept in the dark, perhaps
awaiting analysis of his Tumblr popularity.)
Irving confounded my early suspicions
and became a moustachioed do-gooder when the chips were down;
instead, his burden has been handling the mundane consequences of
supernatural warfare. If he’d never confronted the Horseman, this arc
could have been him out to imprison Ichabod and Abbie for some of the
carnage that’s happened on their watch, but now he’s a believer, and
it’s given him nothing but trouble.
Before they can test the DNA swab they
took from Macey (without a warrant, apparently – thanks, Sleepy
Hollow Commissioner of Jackassery), Irving confesses.
That’s a season wrap on Orlando Jones.
Even though this sidelined Irving at a
crucial time, at least he wasn’t caught in this crossfire, which will
be handy for next season. And in fairness, it really would be hard to
explain why you went to a cabin with guards and a priest to avoid a
threat on your life and came back with two corpses and no alibi, and
I respect that we’re going to be wrestling with that for a little
while next season. (Knowing this show’s pace, “A little while”
will be “Ten minutes until he extricates himself or Jenny busts
him out.”)
JENNY
I mean, if Jenny’s still alive. (Of
course she’s still alive, don’t even think otherwise, if you read
that sentence and thought otherwise you’re a monster.)
Jenny’s arc has been revealing the
sweetheart beneath the badass. She’s still happy to show up at the
scene of even minor conflict toting eight guns, but she’s actually
slowly become the softer of the Mills sisters: cooking Thanksgiving
dinner, terrified at any urge she might have had to ever want to hurt
her sister. Knowing she’s not a Witness could have slotted her into
the resentment of second-best, but instead she’s become a necessary
voice: “You’re talking to the girl who spent a decade in
Tarrytown Psychiatric for telling the truth” about Irving’s
chance at justice was a truth bomb perfectly delivered, topped only
by her aside to Abbie’s concern about having burned the only map to
Purgatory: “Wait for it.”
And in these last few episodes, she’s
become Abbie’s personal-Hell-No advocate when Abbie’s too focused on
the bottom line to advocate Hell No for herself. This episode that
comes up double, as Jenny pulls Abbie aside to check that she’s not
marching into Purgatory just because Ichabod’s asking; Jenny puts
more weight in the prophecy than either of them (smart!), and thinks
it’s a lot easier not to get your soul stuck in Purgatory if you’re
not there to start with.
Another thing Jenny loves now: going in for a hug without fear of rejection.
To prove her point, she brings up that
dollhouse they had when they were little (you remember that
dollhouse, it’s that one they never mentioned before), the place
Abbie promised her they’d always be safe, which is an adorable yet
oddly specific thing to bring up just before a seemingly unrelated
adventure.
Wow, someone’s childhood memories are
on POINT this episode.
Wading through archival tapes, she’s
the first one to discover the importance of the abandoned church,
where she also finds the clue Henry Parrish is a big old liar, which
is great, except for this dude:
Fun fact: I was so busy with everything
else that was happening that this guy hadn’t occurred to me for an
hour, and when he showed up I said out loud, “Oh, right, hi!”
like I’d forgotten a brunch date and not the headless guy.
It doesn’t look great. But luckily for
Jenny, Sleepy Hollow is also the one fictional township to sell cars
that don’t instantly explode on impact, so as soon as she wakes up
from what had better be a flesh wound, she’ll be right back on track
and the Horseman is probably going to regret fucking with her. (The
last time he messed with a Mills she trapped him in a Masonic cell,
you think he’d have learned by now to steer clear.)
KATRINA
On the other hand, maybe he just had
other things on his mind, since he was on his way to pick up his
Cracker Jack prize.
After a season of narrative
water-treading and sub-par flashbacks surrounding declarations of
love that made Katrina sound like an object even to Ichabod, and
hoping Katrina would at any point manifest an active role in the
series and sidestep being the damsel, here’s what happens:
– Abbie and Ichabod storm into
Purgatory to get her to prevent the rising of the second Horseman,
who I thought we’d already seen in Ye Old Roanoke, but apparently
we’re all collectively pretending that episode didn’t exist.
– After two tries, she divines the way
to the Four White Trees:
“Northeast.” Or southwest!
It’s a stick with no defining end! You’re honestly terrible at this!
Why does this show hate you!
– She gets captured by Henry, knocked
out, and given over to the Horseman, who bros up on his horse just in
time to grab her and go.
Good luck next season, Katrina. You’ll
need it.
HENRY
The person who hands Katrina over to
the Horseman? Her son, Henry! OR SHOULD I SAY JEREMY. *crack of
thunder *
Yup. Sin-eating Henry Parrish is
actually the Horseman of War, appointed by Moloch thirteen years ago.
God apparently sent Abbie to stop it, but since she was like fourteen
years old and God had not bothered to explain anything, it was not a
triumph, shall we say. In fact, nothing about the roles or powers of
Witnesses has been explained, if you think about it, which this show
is hoping you don’t. Did it mention Henry’s actually Jeremy?
Looking back, there are clues, many of
them stirred into trope soup (his talk about crossword deflections),
and many hilariously overwrought in retrospect: remember when he talked about his dad supporting him when his powers manifested? HIS REAL DAD, ICHABOD, OKAY?
http://io9.com/its-a-dad-dad-dad-dad-world-on-sleepy-hollow-1480428340/@genevievevalentine
These episodes wanted you to figure it
out, though, when he couldn’t touch the rosary without hurting
himself and declared, “There’s a hex on these beads.” Of
course Ichabod and Abbie bought it, because half the stuff in Sleepy
Hollow is covered in hexes by now, but when that wound healed up by
itself and demons just Fosse-d in his general vicinity rather than
attacking, that jig was up.
It’s a loss, because Henry was a great
addition to the series, poignant but wry, and his sin-eater power,
which worked less like traditional sin-eating than it did the Rogue
of Sleepy Hollow, was another grasp at moral complication and the
best exposition delivery system this show could hope for. Now that’s
gone, courtesy of an extremely convoluted and conditional Bondian
plan for revenge that Henry’s very lucky panned out anything like he
wanted (and for which he had to push their immortal connection –
“Remember your bond” – which was probably secretly
hilarious for him). Now we’re slated to come back next season planted
in one of the less interesting subplots of the season. At least maybe
now that he’s a clear and present danger, things will move.
John Noble sold it, of course. Imagine
him in front of the mirror, oozing evil into lines like, “We had
to know that finding a map to Purgatory wouldn’t be easy.” And
they really wouldn’t know! They’ve found everything else they were
ever looking for in under forty minutes. Evil indeed.
(“I trusted you,” Ichabod
bites out, booted toes wriggling with outrage.)
Still, John Noble gives great bad guy.
Hopefully Season Two answers some lingering questions: How long did
Henry really know “old friend” the Horseman, who was asleep
in his tomb when Henry rose and has only been on earth a few months?
Do they visit often? How has Henry been out of the grave only
thirteen years after being put in stasis in his early twenties, yet
is now in his sixties rather than his late thirties? Didn’t we
already see the next Horseman in that other episode, or is the
Horseman of Daddy Issues traditionally second?
ICHABOD
The man, the myth, the Mason.
Amid wrestling with autocorrect, dating
Betsy Ross, missing Yolanda, and briefly forgetting he had
photographic memory, Ichabod had some problems to grapple with:
stumbling into a weekend reenactors’ camp and getting some new duds
while correcting their details with some Romantic Lead Face.
(One of my favorite things about this show is when it historically nitpicks and then uses the magical teapot of Thomas Jefferson to pour holy water to seal the Fissure of Destruction that will inevitably be located just outside town.)
His
other real problem was that Abbie finally called out his myopia about Katrina at the risk of all of humanity. He explains,
“I have waited a very long time for this.” (Dude,
it’s been like six months. You know who’s been waiting a long time
for this? Katrina. Get your head right.)
And there was a flicker of organic,
morally-gray conflict in this finale that did not get its due:
Ichabod, who destroyed the map explicitly as a show of trust in (and
to) Abbie, goes home, remembers he has photographic memory, and drops
Katrina’s necklace the Horseman barfed out of his neck stump one time
so he can draw a recreation.
When Abbie finds out she is, quite
rightly, stricken: “You lied.” But as soon as the
plot’s demanded they get to Purgatory, he’s demanded she tell
him she appreciates what he’s done.
Your Jesus halo is full of shit, Crane.
That he would ask that of Abbie after
explicitly breaking her trust is one of the most jarring moments in
the episode; that she capitulates on this is the other one. From the
very start, trust has been the thing in their relationship that
needed constant proving. The pilot was about establishing it, and any
time they’ve come into conflict with one another—rare, but it’s
happened—it’s been because Abbie couldn’t trust Ichabod to keep his
word on something, as in “Necromancer” when he was losing
his cool. Even at the beginning of the finale, Abbie was struggling
with the instinct to believe Andy when he said Ichabod would abandon
her.
It would, I think, have been another
matter if he’d just remembered the way, but to write it down in
another easily-stolen form is actually Ichabod playing more directly
into the forces of evil than the show seems to think, and for me this
is the sourest note of the finale. (It would have been fine to have
tension over this right up until they hit Purgatory; it could have
actually worked better! Double guilt for Ichabod!)
But into Purgatory they go. His vision falls a little flat, since his dad’s just a
distant dickweed on the winds of history. But if you’re going to get
someone for a single scene, make it Victor Garber in a powdered
wig and muffin hat, and if you’re going to have him do something
supernatural, make it literally eating the scenery as he screams
Ichabod right out of town.
Purgatory itself was kind of great. The
creepy plunk piano-soundtrack being played in situ is perfect, and
there’s always room for a Purgatory that looks like a
Cirque du Soleil number.
And the fist-bump ID verification was
one of the best callbacks of the season, re-establishing their
rapport just in time to decide who’s going to stay behind for Katrina in Purgatory. Abbie volunteers to stay to face Moloch, and though both of them are aware they’re fulfilling
the prophecy by doing it, Ichabod agrees.
And then, in a tonally interesting move, they intensely hug as they promise each
other their trust and aid in these darkest times, as Ichabod swears
he’ll come back for Abbie right away, probably much sooner than he
came for Katrina, just, he’ll be back instantly, remember the bond,
he’s already on his way back, just think of him and count to one
hundred and he’ll be right back to get you, as poor Katrina stands
vaguely at the edge of the frame.
Yikes.
After the pent-up emotion of this doomed parting, it’s somehow
an afterthought that he gets trapped against a tree and forced to
listen to his son’s bad-guy monologue.
Losing Katrina and losing
Abbie within a few minutes of such a huge betrayal has him
reeling, and when Henry throws him to the ground Ichabod doesn’t have
it in him to fight. And so after all this, he ends the season where
he started it: in the grave.
ABBIE
So, let’s talk about Abbie Mills,
because despite being on a show that routinely asks its characters to
talk very seriously about lanterns made of human heads, Abbie is one
of the most important characters on the TV landscape this season.
She’s definitely working in partnership
with Ichabod, and some of her appeal is their fantastic rapport. But
over the season, Ichabod is delightful but often serves largely as someone who was around when groundwork was laid; he provides
topical information, moral support, and good company. Abbie’s been
the person to struggle with her place, to actively recruit help, to manage iffy circumstances, and to get the results she wants. She is this
season’s hero, and when she goes down, she goes down fighting, in a
tiny dollhouse. (Forget that last part.)
Her concerns about the map in the face
of Ichabod’s single-mindedness reflect her supreme internal question
since accepting she’s a Witness: “What are we willing to do
to keep everyone – everything – safe?” It’s one of the
reasons Jenny has to make a side plea to make sure she’s not throwing
herself on a bullet for Crane. (Jenny and Ichabod are going to
have such an awkward reunion after this.) It’s the reason she’s concerned about Irving, Henry, Andy. She even gets to monologue
about Cincinattus, the Emperor who didn’t want power and gave it up
when his war was over.
It makes her time in Purgatory even
more telling. Corbin’s cabin is a heartbreaking battlefield for her;
Corbin’s every inch the caring dad, and it’s an even bigger sting
that the other figure in it is Andy. When she embraces Corbin and
whispers, “I miss you so much,” you forgive her for
forgetting. And her carefree mien at the table – reciting Corbin’s pie axiom, stealing from Andy’s plate – is great work by Nicole Beharie.
Damn you, show, you know how much I wanted their reunion. BUT NOT LIKE THIS, SHOW. Not like this.
As I’d hoped, when confronted by
Moloch, she punches the apocalypse in the face and runs for it,
ending up in the safety of her childhood dollhouse (good thing we planted that seed
early), meeting up with the memories Moloch robbed them of that day
in the woods. From them, she learns about Henry’s treachery, and that
the plot doorway to Purgatory has closed, leaving her with no way
out.
Hey, here’s a fun thing:
Moloch locking Abbie and Jenny’s memories in means that even in such
a desolate place, they’ve been able to support and lean on each other
in a way the aboveworld Abbie and Jenny missed out on for thirteen
years. You’re welcome.
And though I expect this captivity to
be swiftly dealt with when the show returns, Abbie, too, ends up where she started: forever trapped in the moment with the Four
White Trees.
Thanks for the season, Sleepy
Hollow. It’s been
beautifully-cast, hilarious, plotcakey, and occasionally sublime. See
you in the fall.
