#david rasche

Oh, Bushido, my love, you are a nearly perfect Vice episode. Bear with me as I wax far too long and too lyrical.

Olmos directs this episode; it was his directorial debut, and it's so well done. Castillo gets a lot of depth here, and it's quiet and beautiful and heartbreaking and very, very good.

The cold open for this one is a solid five minutes (which is long for a pre-prestige era TV episode) and probably one of my favorite Vice openings; it's dark, moody, and very methodically paced, slowly and cautiously setting the scene and ratcheting up the tension. We pan from Trudy rollerskating to Gina, dressed in ragged clothes, picking through the trash, to Switek setting on a bench, to a DEA agent we haven't previously seen. Bryan Ferry's Boys and Girls, simultaneously driving and melancholy, plays behind the action, whispering ominous lyrics like "No time to kill / When love walks by" and "And who's that crying in the street? / Death is the friend I've yet to meet"

Sonny and Rico watch from a vantage point above the street; Sonny is exceptionally nervous about everything that could go wrong, and Rico is... uh. Practicing his partial arts moves. While seated. Sonny speaks softly, quiet and gravelly, and it feels so real, selling the dark, humid atmosphere perfectly. Throughout their discussion, Rico is exceptionally glib, on the border of inappropriate. He is not taking any of this seriously, even as Sonny tells a cautionary tale of the last time anyone tried to contact this particular criminal. Rico is often sarcastic and glib when he is unfiltered and/or upset or irritated and--

Hmm

I wonder why Rico "Last Week I Almost Died And Became a Zombie" Tubbs might just not be feeling his job this week

I can't think of a reason

Sonny mentions that another DEA agent involved in this case was "chopped into tiny pieces and used as bait," and Rico makes a fairly caustic joke-- "What'd they catch?" Sonny's response is "Cute," which is fascinating to me, because he is genuinely concerned about what terrible things might happen tonight. This response is theoretically dismissing Tubbs' callousness, and in part it is, but Sonny's smile says otherwise. He does think it's funny-- that Rico is being cute-- even though he knows he ought not to.

The drug dealer in question tells the DEA agent "you show me yours, I'll show you mine." They are outside a men's public bathroom.

When the DEA agent utterly fails by way of Mysterious Third Party, losing the money for the deal and getting the drug dealer killed, Sonny looks like he might eat him. Castillo is merely going to kill him in his sleep, regular-like. Everyone else is kind of just avoiding eye contact.

Upon the realization that the Mysterious Third Party is likely Jack Gretzky, Castillo has a quiet monologue in which he truly, undeniably looks like he is heartbroken and on the border of tears. He has the sad wet eyes of a dog in a Sarah McLachlan ASPCA ad and keeps swallowing; much like Sonny talking to Rico about How Much he Can't Talk About Mike Orgel in Evan, his entire affect is screaming do not cry in front of the rest of the cops. He seems to be speaking more to himself than the squad, convincing himself of what he's saying. It's a long, quiet, difficult sequence.

The porn store. Just. Wow. The signs. The decor. I. I'm speechless.

CHEAP

and

TRASHY

Ladies' Wear

"Hourly Rates!" "Sleazy Dive!" The polka-dots. It's just. It's beautiful.

Castillo goes to meet Gretzky at what appears to be an incredibly beautiful Southeast Asian Temple; in the process of trying to determine what kind of temple (Thai? Vietnamese? Laotian??) I learned that the scenes were actually just filmed at a private residence. It's not a temple at all. It's just someone's utterly bonkers house, a home for which there are almost no photos, but which appears to still be there today:

It becomes clear at this point that Castillo doesn't just know Gretzky, but is an incredibly dear friend of his. When he crosses the bridge to see him, the look he gives him is heartbreaking-- it's a long, long stare overflowing with affection, and then a stutter-stop near the end where it seems like he's almost afraid to finish approaching-- not the fear of a man approaching a killer, but the caution of a child approaching a small animal and worrying that it might run away with another step forward. When Jack turns and smiles at him, Martin smiles with genuine eye-crinkling, cheek-dimpling joy in return, and then looks shyly down at the ground like he can't handle another moment of the intensity of their reunion. It is wildly un-Castillo-like. He didn't look at his own wife like he does at Jack.

They talk, and it is both warm and familiar and incredibly tense. We already know something is off about Jack, and that he may be doing something that Martin will need to arrest him for, but they are so comfortable together that you almost-- but not entirely-- forget that. The juxtaposition of Marty's mission (and his earlier assertion that he'd do what he needs to do) and his obvious, lifelong, bone-deep friendship with Jack leaves you on tenterhooks, because this is Miami Vice and there's absolutely no way this is going to end well.

It does not help that the overwhelming theme of their discussion is that when you have survived terrible violence and then are asked to Be Normal Again after that, you are incredibly likely to fail. Jack doesn't know how to be a civilian; Martin is only able to fake it because of his elaborate system of rules and morality and his continued societally acceptable proximity to violence as a cop.

When Castillo hugs Gretzky (and this, too, is a seemingly un-Castillo-like moment), it is so, so sad. You know they both know Jack is going to die, and soon, based on what he has just told Martin; it is a hug goodbye for both of them.

The regret when Martin says "It's my duty. It's what I am" is so heavy-- unlike Sonny, he doesn't usually come off as a character living with a lot of self-loathing, but he is borderline disgusted with himself here. On the one hand, it is his strict moral code that allows him to live "in the world" after all he and Jack saw, survived, and perpetrated in Southeast Asia; on the other, the rigidity of this code prevents him from actually doing what he wants (or being who he wants.) He has constructed a persona for himself that allows him to live, but not to thrive.

After Castillo is forced to shoot Gretzky, there is an extremely sudden cut-- presumably there was a commercial here-- and suddenly Sonny and Rico are there.

Sonny gets so so close to Martin and almost whispers, "What do you want me to do?" It's an exceptionally intimate moment (whether you take that in a slashy way or not-- the intimacy cannot be denied), and Rico, framed between them, watches Castillo, has his eyes flit to Sonny when Sonny speaks, and then looks off to the side as if he realizes he has intruded on a private moment. Rico is not a veteran-- there is an unspoken language and understanding between Castillo and Crockett that he is simply not let in on, here. Sonny is offering his help and, against his own usual moral code, implying a willingness to do wrongdoing in Martin's name here; Martin does not accept the offer.

Rico, for his part, looks both awkward about this and somewhat irritated. Sonny is inconsistent about his ability to bend the rules; Rico, who has been a bit checked out and prickly this episode, seems less than fully empathetic about Martin's distress and Sonny's offer. I mentioned the sudden drop-off in Sonny's warmth and intimacy towards Rico at the end of Tale of the Goat (very much a "he's alive and I really freaked out about this so I'm going to back off because the feelings I had about all this are also actually really freaking me out" response); one could certainly read Rico's apparent distance and detachment in this episode as a reaction to Sonny doing the same thing to him. Tubbs is usually very sensitive to Castillo's moods and needs (such as in Golden Triangle, when Sonny tries to make their desire to help Martin transactional, while Rico pleads with him on a personal level); here he seems irked that his partner might currently be more sensitive to Martin's needs than his own.

which could mean nothing

On the second visit to The Polkadot Porn Hut, Sonny and Rico meet an incredibly suspicious man named Surf, better known as insane murder cop Sledge Hammer and Karl from Succession

Surf is actually downright terrifying if you haven't seen Sledge Hammer or Succession (which I had not the first time I watched Vice) and David Rasche is off-putting and weird enough as him that it still almost works even if you have-- however, having now seen both of those shows, a part of me cannot help but picture him lovingly cradling and having a heartfelt conversation with his best friend, his gun

Surf (who is a secret KGB agent pretending to be FBI; he says something about agents going "pinko" on him, wears a Hawiian shirt, and generally presents himself as a laid-back smiling beach-blonde) describes himself as a "Porno Smut Degenerate;" I think there is a possibility he is selling hot pink anal trainers with 80's bangle bracelets and Jibbitz on them.

Yeah man I don't know.

Marty, meanwhile, who has gone missing, shows up at Jack's house; he knows Erendira, Jack's.... housekeeper? Bodyguard? Personal army? But has never met his wife. Jack's wife, Laura, is former KGB; she was expecting Jack to come home and is crushed to learn that he "went on ahead," as Castillo describes his death in front of their young son. (I wonder-- we learn that Jack was so "riddled" with cancer that he would've died shortly anyway, even if Castillo hadn't shot him-- the implication being that he knew that and chose to die at the hands of someone he loved rather than from the disease-- did he not tell Laura about this?)

Upon learning that Martin killed Jack, Laura asks him: "Did you hold him?"

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. What? Did you hold him?

So like. Did she know, then, or intuit at least, that her husband loved this man? They they had the kind of relationship that might've involved holding? She must've known. She recognized Castillo before he introduced himself because she carries a photo of Martin that Jack gave her, and like, her son is named Martin after this phantom Old Bestie her husband had, so... kinda seems like Laura must've suspected something was Up between the two of them. (And maybe what was "up" was just being an untouchable and impermeable island of two and not "maybe in love," but the intensity of their bond is greater than average either way, and she knows it.)

Castillo silently appears to go through every stage of grief and does not answer her question; this is fascinating both a) in terms of the fact that he can't possibly know what the right answer is (is he actively calculating the chances that she capital-k Knew about him and Jack and is fine with it?) and b) because it adds a new layer to the missing moments between Castillo shooting Jack and Sonny and Rico showing up-- for all we know, maybe he did hold him.

Small Russian Child Marty is a sweet little boy but where the fuck did dark-haired Laura and Jack get this blonde baby

It's played very seriously and is very easy to take seriously because it's meticulously and beautifully acted and directed, but when you stop for a moment to think about it, it is extremely funny that Marty is like. "Hmm. How do you talk to children? Ah! Let us couch everything in metaphors about the Japanese feudal system and the bonds between the sword-wielding vassals of dangerous warlords. Fucking nailed it. I am so good with kids."

Sonny and Rico chase after Martin and a beat cop says he passed that way but "can't go anywhere, there's only one road" about the peninsula they're on. Presumably this man who lives in Miami has briefly forgotten about boats

Meanwhile, Martin and Laura talk. (Have I ever mentioned that I am of the opinion that Martin is autistic? He is the king of minimal distractions in his work space/wearing the same outfit every day/no eye contact/hyperfixated on historical Japan/hypercompetent in many regards but clearly very uncomfortable with many social cues and small talk and people-pleasing/must always follow his own complicated rules to the letter/etc. When Laura needs comforting he like, fails at mechanically patting her on the head until she pulls him in for the hug. There's not a lot of Neuroatypical Hispanic Samurai rep out there but there is Castillo, and Castillo counts for a lot.) We learn Laura has the same "I have done bad things and therefore can ultimately only ever be a bad person" pathology that Jack and Martin (aaaaaand Sonny) share, and it becomes very clear that she and Martin are very similar-- they have similar coloring, similarly piercing eyes, are both wearing black and white, both lived histories of violence, and have complexes about their moral worth, and both loved Jack. Sort of seems like Jack might've had a type.

After their discussion, Marty gives Laura a very non-romantic kiss on the cheek; I hadn't really thought about it previously, but my recollection is that cheek-kisses aren't really ever romantic in Vice. Sonny kisses Trudy on the cheek in Dutch Oven to comfort her; he kisses Gina on the cheek only after they've broken up. The show seems to reserve a kiss on the cheek for connection and warmth, for extending comfort when words aren't quite enough-- but not as a representation of repressed desire or a want for different physical contact.

Marty tells Little Marty more about the samurai; his story, which is an obvious metaphor for himself and Jack, involves the phrases "planned to send his best friend, a man closer than a brother to him," "they loved each other very much," and "but his friend's heart was broken." Little Marty is neither aware that his father is dead nor than Castillo might be the killing kind, so he just kind of listens like "okay, cool, swordsmen."

There are rats in the basement of the safehouse; they are extremely clean, well-fed, domesticated rats with domesticated rat coat colors. Oh no! How terrifying(ly adorable!)

Castillo, despite having been stabbed, reveals that he is fucking Spiderman and can lurk on a ceiling only to drop down on unaware bad guys, because he is the coolest man on the planet

The use of music in the final escape/action sequence is pristine; we start with Kate Bush's Hello Earth, which is a track that contains an extended sequence of what I'll describe as "monastic synth organ." The scenes of Martin attempting to get Laura and Little Marty out of the house as Surf and his men pursue them are initially backed by the vocal section of the song, but then part of the through we get to the organ section, to the point that it almost sounds like the song subtly changes to a different track in the middle of the scene, underscoring the increasing danger and desperation of the characters. When they get outside, there is an abrupt cut to regular Jan Hammer music alongside the palm trees and ocean vistas. A seemingly "nice" environment (a well-kept lawn, palm trees, sun and surf) is transformed into a nightmarish battlefield because it is so exposed; there is no hiding from Surf on this manicured lawn.

I do really love to hate Surf; he is a terrifying, merciless man whose constant attempts at mild Dad Humor render him even scarier. He describes something as "far out," and then is like. "They still say that? Far out? Hard to keep up," and then declares that he will be driving Rico's Caddy "back to Moscow." Attempting to taunt Marty, he asks, "you and Gretzky were Comrades, right?"

that's not a euphemism or anything

After Surf is shot Sonny gives Marty a "WHAT in god's name is going on here" look, and Martin stares back at him like a covered animal. There is a very clearly overdubbed answer to Sonny's unspoken question that Surf is "still alive." Sure he is.

As Castillo sends Laura and Little Marty off on a boat to escape the KGB and the CIA, Rico, seemingly back to his normal self after chasing the KGB, being nearly exploded, and then thrown off a pier, basically says he's fine with just pretending they don't know what happened to the money that was stolen from the DEA agent at the beginning of the episode (and which was used to finance Laura & Little Marty's escape). Rico generally has a level of moral flexibility that Martin and Sonny do not (although as previously stated, Sonny is inconsistent about this), likely because unlike Sonny and Martin, Rico doesn't see himself as inherently broken or bad and therefore doesn't have to give himself strict black and white guidelines to live by. Castillo declines, as he did with Sonny's offer earlier; he says the money will be returned by tomorrow (....how? Martin, did you invest in like, Fujitsu's semiconductor business or something?). After Castillo starts to wander away, Rico looks at Sonny and asks, "Castillo doesn't budge an inch, does he?" And Sonny very earnestly, and a little sadly, responds, "He can't."

I think this is a watershed moment for Sonny and Rico, because it's a conversation about Sonny as much as it is a conversation about Martin. Sonny, who has been professionally distant since the end of Tale of the Goat, can't either. He can't bend the rules as easily as Rico, can't be emotionally available in the same way, can't do things that don't align with his rigid and fragile sense of self, be it his sense of morality or his sense of masculinity. This conversation is Rico acknowledging that he sees and understands this, both about Martin and Sonny, and Sonny acknowledging that Rico knows that and gently expressing his difficulty with the same sort of cognitive quandaries. Let me put on my slash goggles for a moment here rather than just do straight (hurr, hurr) analysis: if you think there's a possibility of a hinted-at/canon-adjacent romantic and/or sexual Sonny/Rico relationship, it seems very feasible that it is after this episode that it begins. You could read this conversation as the first step leading there. Sonny and Rico had some kind of realization of how much they mean to one another in Tale of the Goat, but it was either left unaddressed, addressed perfunctorily, or addressed and dismissed; they then get a little weird and tense for much of this episode, until they have this quiet reckoning with Martin as the lens for why that realization went untouched. Martin, who loved Jack (platonically or romantically), could not be anything but a cop and had to kill him; Sonny, who loves Rico (platonically or romantically), nearly watched him die and now has to grapple with what that means for what he "can" or "cannot" do about those feelings. I'm of the opinion that, after this (at least until Season Three when he starts panicking about being enough of a man) Sonny decides that he can-- he and Rico don't want to be Martin and Jack.

Martin, for his part, saunters away with a still bleeding stab wound, a bill for half a million dollars due tomorrow, a small child named after him he will never see again, and a dead best friend. And, lest we forget, Edward James Olmos directed this episode. So... what's our over-under on EJO being a H/C fanfic writer?