The Writers' Room

The Writers' Room
ReCape: “Kozmo”

Elizabeth Grunewald | 18 Jan 2011 22:30
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Seems like a good time to visit Dana, see how she's doing at her new job. Join me, won't you?

The crazy skewed camera angle tells us how crazy Dana's job is, but they didn't need to go to all that trouble: She's about to tell us herself. By "us," I mean "her boss;" she complains that in ARK's new police state, arrests are up 200%, which means no one has a shot at a non-shoddy defense. She's swamped! Too many cases! More crazy camera tilting!

After a brief and unfunny discussion of a public urination case, Dana's boss leaves her to her daunting stack of case files. She sighs and flips one open, only to gasp aloud when she dramatically spots the scene of the Chess showdown, pointing at it in the file and voicing the words, just in case we weren't looking:

"Palm City freight yard."

Well, looks like Dana's pretty busy. Who haven't we had any screentime with yet? Hrm. How about Peter Fleming? Old Pete is video-chatting someone up on his fancy floating holographic screen, asking if there's any better news and fiddling with a little wooden chest. We find out he's looking for his daughter. Oh, so Fleming has a family. Huh. It's odd, because we haven't yet met a wealthy, dark-haired, mysterious young woman with an aversion to revealing her name and an affinity for fancy floating holographic screens. (We find out for sure later, but really, if the showrunners were hoping for this to be a revelation, they were out of luck.)

Marty comes in to interrupt Fleming's parental reverie. They've locked onto Orwell's signal! They found him! Except Marty uses fewer exclamation points, because by the time ARK forces got there, "the place was toast." Fleming pronounces Orwell a threat to Palm City's cleanliness and safety, and so orders a doubling of the Find Orwell Task Force. In case anyone had any doubts as to the level of dislike Fleming has for the shadowy blogger, he thoughtfully orders, "I want Orwell gone... permanently."

Cut to Orwell: "This won't work out." She's in Vince's lair, as she bailed on her own hideout moments before the ARK team showed up. She says she needs a place to stay for 24 hours, and that their working relationship isn't working. After all, he almost killed that cop. Vince gets defensive and turns the argument around on Orwell, asking who bankrolls her crazy tech? Who the hell is she, anyway? (Oh, I know! I know! Pick me, TV, I know this one!) She snaps back, asking if he really knows who Max is, and if he knows that Gregor has left a big body trail in his wake. Vince assures her that Gregor won't get his hands on the cape, and looks damned unsure of himself as he says it. Anyway, to bed. Vince allows Orwell to stay, saying "The Comfort Inn it is not," and hitting the hay in his wooden suspended hammock-y bed, which does look pretty kickass. He pulls out the latest issue of The Cape comic and begins reading. Across town, Trip's doing the same thing, and both their voices are heard reading in unison. (From my notes: "Show, don't tell, kiddies. Heavy handed.")

Gregor goes out into the exotic underworld of Palm City, wearing a conspicuously ugly hat so we know he means business. Vince is following him, in a less business-like hoodie, and sees Mr. Molotov buying a bottle of booze in a paper bag. Once Gregor exits the liquor store, he bumps into a passerby and we see it isn't Gregor at all! To whom did he give his ugly hat?

Gregor has escaped indoors, and is now in the middle of a poker game. He takes some ribbing for playing so well, but says he's not looking for trouble, just a cape. The gentlemen sitting at the table with him look uncomfortable, then begin to offer up information: "Some stories going around.. about a cape..." "Does things. Unnatural things." "They say it could kill a man."

Gregor presses on: "Who has it? He have a name?"

"The Cape." "He's a hero, like in the comic books." Man, I wish this hero and his main shtick were two different words. This conversation just sounds silly.

Anyway, this was all the info they have, but it didn't really help our pal Gregor a good deal. He agrees with my assessment, and kills his new poker buddies with some rapidly flung playing cards to the jugular. Some of these deaths are much less realistic than the others. I'm looking at you, big guy.

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