Reading the In-House: Unprepared (1x08)
Unprepared (a.k.a. Introducing the Infamous Lana Delaney)
Air Date: 17 November 2009
Case of the Week: Stem-cell researcher Ellen Whitton is accused of setting the fire that destroyed her lab, while the guilty party tries to redirect blame by forging threat letters; Peter receives a bail hearing, only to be betrayed at the last minute by the Assistant State’s Attorney; Zach and Grace spy on the unidentified man taking pictures of their apartment.
Kalinda has a remarkably narrow focus in this episode, at least in terms of the case of the week. In her first appearance, more than eight minutes into the episode (plenty of time for Alicia to have begun bonding with Professor Whitton), we find her explaining to Diane that Whitton has received hate mail from left-wing bio-conservatives, religious bio-conservatives, and animal rights activists. Diane dismisses her with a perfunctory “keep up the good work” vel sim. (Kalinda is really their pet detective, isn’t she?), and the PI walks off with Alicia to update her on “Plan B: Religious fanatics.” Only instead of giving her any details whatsoever, Kalinda immediately switches subjects, not-so-subtly noting that “your husband’s appeal starts today.” Getting nothing more than a terse “yep” out of Alicia, Kalinda tries again to prompt any sort of conversation on the topic: “Should be interesting.” But it turns out that Alicia really doesn’t have much to say, one of the first of many signs throughout the episode that she’s entirely unprepared to deal with the subject of her husband. Instead, she deflects with a bit of humor: “I’m kind of nostalgic for when things weren’t so interesting.” Kalinda smiles (script: “likes Alicia”): “You need a drink.” “Probably,” Alicia wryly concedes. (In case you missed it, that’s Kalinda’s way of saying, “I'm taking you out for a drink,” and Alicia being non-committal. Really, Alicia-why can’t you give a girl a straight answer when she asks to get a drink with you, even if that request’s not so much a request as an observation-cum-instruction?)
Our favorite PI may have a narrowly focused role in the case this week, but we’re treated to something much more exciting: a glimpse into part of her life that has (surprise!) nothing to do with Alicia. The next time we see her she’s rounding the corner of a sidewalk in front of the Counterterrorism Division of the FBI, and so we're supposed to assume that that’s an FBI agent with whom she’s conversing (“LANA DELANEY, late 20s, beautiful, focused, currently very swamped”). Only she’s not so much conversing as cajoling, another essential Kalinda skill. We get a better view as Kalinda explains that she’s in a bit of a “time crunch”. The investigator is in a purple jacket (which is becoming a rather common color for her), while the woman she’s talking to has a deep blue coat on over her black dress. The people around them, including the two who turn out to be Lana’s colleagues, are all wearing drab colors: black, brown, grey, tan; even the FBI rainjackets are a dull and muted blue compared to Lana’s coat. The two women are clearly the focus of the shot, even as extras cross the screen around them. It’s equally clear from the start that Kalinda and Lana know each other, and the way they spend the whole scene in step with each other-not quite violating personal space boundaries but certainly pushing the envelope-is terribly reminiscent of Alicia and Kalinda when they’re in sync.
Back to the subject matter: Lana attempts to brush off Kalinda’s request, whatever it was, asking with the faintest hint of snark if Kalinda’s emergency involves anthrax. Keeping up with Lana stride for stride, the PI practically shoves a finger in her face and shoots back: “Hey, FBI bigshot, you owe me a favor.” Her tone is firm, and she means what she says, but there’s a hint of something in it that amuses Lana-a touch of playfulness, maybe, a bit of puckishness that foreshadows what’s to come between them, and perhaps what's already taken place. Script: “A raised eyebrow from Lana. A smile. What’s that about?” Whatever it is, it captures Lana’s attention well enough that she doesn’t interrupt when Kalinda explains she’ll only take 30 seconds and immediately delves into the half-dozen pieces of hate mail from her case. Kalinda slows to a stop as she hands the mail to Lana for consideration, and the agent follows her lead, instructing her colleagues to go on without her. Kalinda has made it seem easy to take control of the situation, to get the attention of this woman, FBI big shot or no.
The shot closes in on the two of them as Lana runs through the mail: a couple of women from Wyoming, “crazy but harmless”; Defenders of Natural Life, “boilerplate protest letter”; and finally the Christian Coalition for Bioethics, which she deems legit. Lana explains that she’s only known them to be active on the west coast, which prompts Kalinda to inquire about her definition of “active”. “Protests, vandalism, not arson,” she responds. After a beat she adds, “But hey, people change.” Until this point in the shot both Kalinda and Lana have been focused intently on the letters, neither sparing the other a glance. Nevertheless, there’s an (un)easy familiarity (if that can be said with respect to Kalinda) about their banter, and Lana gives away her double entendre by looking up and finally over at Kalinda. The PI, who had her eyes on Lana during the agent’s final quip, immediately glances back down at the letters. A lesser mortal would have been blushing. Kalinda merely sports a small smile: fond memories? Lana recovers quickly, realizing that she won’t get anything personal out of Kalinda-not here, not on business-and moves on to pointing out that CCB has been known to put coded messages in their letters. The agent’s final warning is that someone at CCB has a “real Zodiac complex,” and she wishes Kalinda “good luck with that” in a gently teasing challenge. They part sharing a reserved but honest smile, their eyes trying to say more (about what, we don't quite know), and the scene ends on a close-up of the CCB letter.
Back at SLG, Kalinda commandeers a conference room in her search for the coded message Lana warned her about. Aside from her ever-present orange notebook, she’s surrounded herself with a Mac laptop, a leather portfolio, and a small army of colored pens, including a highlighter. Alicia pokes her head in to see if she has anything on the CCB letters. Kalinda starts off by responding in a deceptively heavy tone: “Depends.” Alicia focuses on the paper in her hands, ready for some new lead to track down. Kalinda doesn’t disappoint: “Does ‘hidvycilfeteenuc’ mean anything to you?” Amused, Alicia takes the bait, in the mood for some levity: “What’s the context?” They’re sharing a smile over the rhetorical exchange when Kalinda catches sight of someone in the hallway. Alicia follows her gaze to meet Daniel Golden, who looks serious. Kalinda (whose elegant top is way too low cut for any sort of productive concentration here) resolutely ignores him and asks Alicia how witness prep is going. “Not bad. We’ll talk.” Her answer is gentle, even affectionate; Alicia appreciates the out Kalinda is trying to give her, but she brings herself to face the inevitable and moves off to greet her husband’s lawyer. Kalinda glances after her for a moment before returning to the letter in her hands.
Alicia and Cary do most of the detective work themselves this week, starting to suspect there’s something fishy about their witness Walt before Kalinda can deliver the results of her investigation to Alicia. Having apparently given up on the coded message in the CCB letter, or at least switched tactics, the PI has discovered that the letters from Protestant Coalition feature a quote from a Catholic Bible. They stop walking, and Alicia just looks at her, open-mouthed: how does Kalinda know that? She doesn’t even have to say the words. “St. Mary’s. K through twelve,” Kalinda pre-empts, going on to explain the problem with the quote (Isaiah/Isaias 9:18). This is one of the first real pieces of information Alicia (and the viewer) has gotten out of the investigator, whose motto in life seems to be “information in, not out.” It’s immediately suspect on the grounds that Kalinda herself has said it; after all, who has greater reason to keep personal information under wraps than the great PI herself, and how could we possibly know whether she’s telling the truth? But Alicia doesn’t have time to question it-whether she’s more shocked that Kalinda went to St. Mary’s (and for so long) or that she gave up such information of her own volition (and entirely unprompted) is unclear-and I’m inclined to think we shouldn’t spend too long questioning it either. It would have been much easier for Kalinda to have said that she found the discrepancy through her research on the internet, if that were the truth. Instead, she’s almost proud at surprising Alicia (yet again) with her random knowledge, and for once she doesn’t seem at all cagey about revealing the source. (Perhaps one of my commentators can enlighten me as to how revealing the admission “St. Mary’s, K-12” is in terms of identifying the exact school Kalinda attended. Does she mean the one-or one of the ones-in Chicago? I admit I know nothing about religious schools. At any rate, Kalinda wasn’t exactly Kalinda at the time, so it must not have been too revealing in her opinion.) Kalinda finishes by opining rather forcefully that the CCB letters are a red herring, which prompts Alicia to catch onto the fact that Kalinda might have someone in mind. “Well, if I were a cynic,” Kalinda admits, “I’d say our client. She’s the one who found the letter on the windshield.” Alicia is quick to point out that she is a cynic (and hence implicitly suspects their client), which Kalinda confirms, unapologetic in tone but nonetheless visibly willing Alicia to be prepared for the worst. This is precisely why Kalinda’s a cynic: expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. (When the worst is your everyday experience, this attitude is no longer pessimism but realism.) The moment she stopped despising Alicia’s optimism and began trying to protect her from her own wishful thinking was the very moment that she started to care. Much (I'm sure) to her chagrin, she can't stop now.
As in the script, the "two friends" stare at each other at this point. In the scene as shot, Kalinda walks away, and Alicia watches her go, cracking a slight smile. (What is it with these two and their smiles? Seriously, Kalinda’s facial muscles-which I’m sure were atrophied from disuse before the show started-must be killing her by now.) Even better, though, is what they were supposed to have said:
ALICIA: I think Ellen’s innocent.
KALINDA: I know you do. It’s cute.
Too flirty? Maybe. Definitely too revealing, or at least too obvious. Kalinda’s certainly thinking it, and Alicia knows it; the PI also knows she can leave it unsaid.
Kalinda makes one last brief appearance on the phone with Alicia, informing her that the toner from the fake CCB letters is the same rare type used in Ellen Whitton’s office. Alicia admits that’s “disappointing,” and Kalinda solemnly agrees. (This is precisely what Kalinda was trying to warn her about, after all, but the PI can no longer find any pleasure in Alicia's disappointed enlightenment.) The phone call breaks up as Alicia nears the auditorium, revealing that the area from which Walt claimed he called his mother is actually a dead zone. Alicia quickly calls Kalinda back to inquire about the toner used in the Walt’s department, revealing something else: she has the investigator on speed dial. Kalinda confirms that Walt’s department uses the same toner, and Alicia and Cary run with it. In the end it’s Diane who has the pleasure of nailing Walt on the stand, thereby exonerating their client.
Kalinda’s screen time is short and her role rather narrow in the episode, but they really make it count. And we all know it won’t be the last time we see one Lana Delaney.
Air Date: 17 November 2009
Case of the Week: Stem-cell researcher Ellen Whitton is accused of setting the fire that destroyed her lab, while the guilty party tries to redirect blame by forging threat letters; Peter receives a bail hearing, only to be betrayed at the last minute by the Assistant State’s Attorney; Zach and Grace spy on the unidentified man taking pictures of their apartment.
Kalinda has a remarkably narrow focus in this episode, at least in terms of the case of the week. In her first appearance, more than eight minutes into the episode (plenty of time for Alicia to have begun bonding with Professor Whitton), we find her explaining to Diane that Whitton has received hate mail from left-wing bio-conservatives, religious bio-conservatives, and animal rights activists. Diane dismisses her with a perfunctory “keep up the good work” vel sim. (Kalinda is really their pet detective, isn’t she?), and the PI walks off with Alicia to update her on “Plan B: Religious fanatics.” Only instead of giving her any details whatsoever, Kalinda immediately switches subjects, not-so-subtly noting that “your husband’s appeal starts today.” Getting nothing more than a terse “yep” out of Alicia, Kalinda tries again to prompt any sort of conversation on the topic: “Should be interesting.” But it turns out that Alicia really doesn’t have much to say, one of the first of many signs throughout the episode that she’s entirely unprepared to deal with the subject of her husband. Instead, she deflects with a bit of humor: “I’m kind of nostalgic for when things weren’t so interesting.” Kalinda smiles (script: “likes Alicia”): “You need a drink.” “Probably,” Alicia wryly concedes. (In case you missed it, that’s Kalinda’s way of saying, “I'm taking you out for a drink,” and Alicia being non-committal. Really, Alicia-why can’t you give a girl a straight answer when she asks to get a drink with you, even if that request’s not so much a request as an observation-cum-instruction?)
Our favorite PI may have a narrowly focused role in the case this week, but we’re treated to something much more exciting: a glimpse into part of her life that has (surprise!) nothing to do with Alicia. The next time we see her she’s rounding the corner of a sidewalk in front of the Counterterrorism Division of the FBI, and so we're supposed to assume that that’s an FBI agent with whom she’s conversing (“LANA DELANEY, late 20s, beautiful, focused, currently very swamped”). Only she’s not so much conversing as cajoling, another essential Kalinda skill. We get a better view as Kalinda explains that she’s in a bit of a “time crunch”. The investigator is in a purple jacket (which is becoming a rather common color for her), while the woman she’s talking to has a deep blue coat on over her black dress. The people around them, including the two who turn out to be Lana’s colleagues, are all wearing drab colors: black, brown, grey, tan; even the FBI rainjackets are a dull and muted blue compared to Lana’s coat. The two women are clearly the focus of the shot, even as extras cross the screen around them. It’s equally clear from the start that Kalinda and Lana know each other, and the way they spend the whole scene in step with each other-not quite violating personal space boundaries but certainly pushing the envelope-is terribly reminiscent of Alicia and Kalinda when they’re in sync.
Back to the subject matter: Lana attempts to brush off Kalinda’s request, whatever it was, asking with the faintest hint of snark if Kalinda’s emergency involves anthrax. Keeping up with Lana stride for stride, the PI practically shoves a finger in her face and shoots back: “Hey, FBI bigshot, you owe me a favor.” Her tone is firm, and she means what she says, but there’s a hint of something in it that amuses Lana-a touch of playfulness, maybe, a bit of puckishness that foreshadows what’s to come between them, and perhaps what's already taken place. Script: “A raised eyebrow from Lana. A smile. What’s that about?” Whatever it is, it captures Lana’s attention well enough that she doesn’t interrupt when Kalinda explains she’ll only take 30 seconds and immediately delves into the half-dozen pieces of hate mail from her case. Kalinda slows to a stop as she hands the mail to Lana for consideration, and the agent follows her lead, instructing her colleagues to go on without her. Kalinda has made it seem easy to take control of the situation, to get the attention of this woman, FBI big shot or no.
The shot closes in on the two of them as Lana runs through the mail: a couple of women from Wyoming, “crazy but harmless”; Defenders of Natural Life, “boilerplate protest letter”; and finally the Christian Coalition for Bioethics, which she deems legit. Lana explains that she’s only known them to be active on the west coast, which prompts Kalinda to inquire about her definition of “active”. “Protests, vandalism, not arson,” she responds. After a beat she adds, “But hey, people change.” Until this point in the shot both Kalinda and Lana have been focused intently on the letters, neither sparing the other a glance. Nevertheless, there’s an (un)easy familiarity (if that can be said with respect to Kalinda) about their banter, and Lana gives away her double entendre by looking up and finally over at Kalinda. The PI, who had her eyes on Lana during the agent’s final quip, immediately glances back down at the letters. A lesser mortal would have been blushing. Kalinda merely sports a small smile: fond memories? Lana recovers quickly, realizing that she won’t get anything personal out of Kalinda-not here, not on business-and moves on to pointing out that CCB has been known to put coded messages in their letters. The agent’s final warning is that someone at CCB has a “real Zodiac complex,” and she wishes Kalinda “good luck with that” in a gently teasing challenge. They part sharing a reserved but honest smile, their eyes trying to say more (about what, we don't quite know), and the scene ends on a close-up of the CCB letter.
Back at SLG, Kalinda commandeers a conference room in her search for the coded message Lana warned her about. Aside from her ever-present orange notebook, she’s surrounded herself with a Mac laptop, a leather portfolio, and a small army of colored pens, including a highlighter. Alicia pokes her head in to see if she has anything on the CCB letters. Kalinda starts off by responding in a deceptively heavy tone: “Depends.” Alicia focuses on the paper in her hands, ready for some new lead to track down. Kalinda doesn’t disappoint: “Does ‘hidvycilfeteenuc’ mean anything to you?” Amused, Alicia takes the bait, in the mood for some levity: “What’s the context?” They’re sharing a smile over the rhetorical exchange when Kalinda catches sight of someone in the hallway. Alicia follows her gaze to meet Daniel Golden, who looks serious. Kalinda (whose elegant top is way too low cut for any sort of productive concentration here) resolutely ignores him and asks Alicia how witness prep is going. “Not bad. We’ll talk.” Her answer is gentle, even affectionate; Alicia appreciates the out Kalinda is trying to give her, but she brings herself to face the inevitable and moves off to greet her husband’s lawyer. Kalinda glances after her for a moment before returning to the letter in her hands.
Alicia and Cary do most of the detective work themselves this week, starting to suspect there’s something fishy about their witness Walt before Kalinda can deliver the results of her investigation to Alicia. Having apparently given up on the coded message in the CCB letter, or at least switched tactics, the PI has discovered that the letters from Protestant Coalition feature a quote from a Catholic Bible. They stop walking, and Alicia just looks at her, open-mouthed: how does Kalinda know that? She doesn’t even have to say the words. “St. Mary’s. K through twelve,” Kalinda pre-empts, going on to explain the problem with the quote (Isaiah/Isaias 9:18). This is one of the first real pieces of information Alicia (and the viewer) has gotten out of the investigator, whose motto in life seems to be “information in, not out.” It’s immediately suspect on the grounds that Kalinda herself has said it; after all, who has greater reason to keep personal information under wraps than the great PI herself, and how could we possibly know whether she’s telling the truth? But Alicia doesn’t have time to question it-whether she’s more shocked that Kalinda went to St. Mary’s (and for so long) or that she gave up such information of her own volition (and entirely unprompted) is unclear-and I’m inclined to think we shouldn’t spend too long questioning it either. It would have been much easier for Kalinda to have said that she found the discrepancy through her research on the internet, if that were the truth. Instead, she’s almost proud at surprising Alicia (yet again) with her random knowledge, and for once she doesn’t seem at all cagey about revealing the source. (Perhaps one of my commentators can enlighten me as to how revealing the admission “St. Mary’s, K-12” is in terms of identifying the exact school Kalinda attended. Does she mean the one-or one of the ones-in Chicago? I admit I know nothing about religious schools. At any rate, Kalinda wasn’t exactly Kalinda at the time, so it must not have been too revealing in her opinion.) Kalinda finishes by opining rather forcefully that the CCB letters are a red herring, which prompts Alicia to catch onto the fact that Kalinda might have someone in mind. “Well, if I were a cynic,” Kalinda admits, “I’d say our client. She’s the one who found the letter on the windshield.” Alicia is quick to point out that she is a cynic (and hence implicitly suspects their client), which Kalinda confirms, unapologetic in tone but nonetheless visibly willing Alicia to be prepared for the worst. This is precisely why Kalinda’s a cynic: expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. (When the worst is your everyday experience, this attitude is no longer pessimism but realism.) The moment she stopped despising Alicia’s optimism and began trying to protect her from her own wishful thinking was the very moment that she started to care. Much (I'm sure) to her chagrin, she can't stop now.
As in the script, the "two friends" stare at each other at this point. In the scene as shot, Kalinda walks away, and Alicia watches her go, cracking a slight smile. (What is it with these two and their smiles? Seriously, Kalinda’s facial muscles-which I’m sure were atrophied from disuse before the show started-must be killing her by now.) Even better, though, is what they were supposed to have said:
ALICIA: I think Ellen’s innocent.
KALINDA: I know you do. It’s cute.
Too flirty? Maybe. Definitely too revealing, or at least too obvious. Kalinda’s certainly thinking it, and Alicia knows it; the PI also knows she can leave it unsaid.
Kalinda makes one last brief appearance on the phone with Alicia, informing her that the toner from the fake CCB letters is the same rare type used in Ellen Whitton’s office. Alicia admits that’s “disappointing,” and Kalinda solemnly agrees. (This is precisely what Kalinda was trying to warn her about, after all, but the PI can no longer find any pleasure in Alicia's disappointed enlightenment.) The phone call breaks up as Alicia nears the auditorium, revealing that the area from which Walt claimed he called his mother is actually a dead zone. Alicia quickly calls Kalinda back to inquire about the toner used in the Walt’s department, revealing something else: she has the investigator on speed dial. Kalinda confirms that Walt’s department uses the same toner, and Alicia and Cary run with it. In the end it’s Diane who has the pleasure of nailing Walt on the stand, thereby exonerating their client.
Kalinda’s screen time is short and her role rather narrow in the episode, but they really make it count. And we all know it won’t be the last time we see one Lana Delaney.