We Do What We're Told...Burnett episodes part II
Have a headache, and the cat has taken up residence on my chest, which makes typing a challenge. But I'm game.
So while I watch these episodes I just can't get that Peter Gabriel song out of my head, the one they play during the original Hackman episode when Sonny realizes he's been had. The chorus is an eery voice intoning "We do what we're told... to do."
So. Yesterday I meandered through the episode of Season 4 where Caitlin (Sheena Easton) bit the big one, and so did her murderer Hackman, helped along by Sonny Crockett. No one was too sad to see Caitlin go, because A) Sheena Easton while not horrid, was not the best actress and B)because her death ushered in the great great episodes that follow. Forgive me, this has turned more into a recap-with-insights than the analysis I was aiming for, but fangirling has to go somewhere...
The season finale, Mirror Image, starts with Sonny sitting at a cafe, watching a marina, watching the bad guys. He's not eating, though Rico has a big plate of breakfast. Sonny looks beyond tired, barely able to muster up a grin for Rico when he joins him. He expresses annoyance that everyone is smothering him in worry; but there's no tone to his voice. It's hard to tell why he's still doing the Vice gig, why he hasn't set sail, cut all ties. Maybe he's just going through the motions because he doesn't know what else to do.
Rico's concerned. It would be cute if it weren't all so deadly serious. He's worried about Sonny being cold without a coat, out on the water with the baddies. He mentions his doubt about Sonny's readiness to jump back into the undercover world, but lightly; they're guys after all. But he means it. A sloppy cop is a dead cop. Sonny doesn't care enough to be careful, and Rico knows it. Sonny brushes it off. He's going fishing. He says he's fine. Twice, the second time into his coffee cup. Right.
He comes alive out on the water on a yacht, cocky grin back, genuine even. The bad guys don't ask him how he's doing. They don't care.
He notices too late that things aren't kosher. One of the bad dudes, a double-crosser named Alejandro, jumps ship. The yacht goes up in a big ball of orange flame.
Roll credits. Dum dum dum.
Back at OCB, Castillo tells the shattered team that Homicide is taking all of Crockett's files. Tubbs wants to know why VIce isn't taking the case. In typical Castillo fashion, the lieutenant says, "Because Homicide is." A man of few words, Castillo.
Tubbs isn't having that. His partner's missing. Probably dead.
Meanwhile, Sonny wakes up in what looks like an abandoned hospital. Creepy medical staff call him Burnett; that's who they think he is. His face looks flash burned. He's groggy, incoherent. Alejandro is there. He thinks Burnett has information he needs. Later the doctor tries to warn him that he's in deep. Between a rock and a hard place. Awake, Sonny's surly and hiding disorientation. He admits he doesn't know what it is he does, he only knows the name they've told him. Sonny Burnett. The doctor tells him the police are looking for him; that he's probably a drug dealer. It makes sense.
Did I mention Julia Roberts is in this one? She is. Very subdued and icy and pretty.
Sonny is taken to Fort Lauderdale, where he is to meet the big cheese, Manolo. Sonny is uneasy but covering. Whether he's conscious of it or not, he's still playing a role, it's what he knows. He's calm. Cool. Wears his hair brushed back, formal suits. Is he borrowing clothes from someone? He falls into the scene easily, it must seem familiar. It's what he's been doing for ten years - acting on his feet in fluid situations. Manolo asks him to get to the bottom of the yacht explosion. Another familiarity - it's detective work, even if he's playing for the other side. Again, familiar. Nothing to ping any internal sense that something's not right.
Oddly, I'm reminded of The Fisher King - where a man loses his memory after his wife's violent death. Sonny Burnett is diametrically opposite in manner to that character (crazy homeless dude with delusions of grandure) but the parallels are there.
A note - Don Johnson really carries this off. It's perfectly underplayed - no '80's melodrama or theatrics. He plays Burnett slightly different from Crockett - but not so much that they're not still the same guy underneath. It's all in his pauses, before he speaks. Burnett is careful, cautious, smooth. He calculates before every move. He doesn't look people in the eye often, and when he does, they start to worry. He doesn't grin. Deep down, he knows he's missing something. And Johnson manages to convey this in minimal strokes. Maybe he was taking lessons from Edward James Olmos - there's something of Castillo in this incarnation of Burnett.
So. Burnett sets out to solve the mystery set before him. Who planted the bomb that was supposed to kill Manolo. And Alejandro is no match - Sonny sees through his act within minutes. Besides, Sonny remembers Alejandro, at the hospital. Uninjured, even if he sports a sling for show now.
Meanwhile, Rico's on the case. He loves Sonny, and there's no body. Nothing. What else is a partner gonna do?
Sonny's already moving in on Manolo's assistant. Julia Roberts. They're pretty together. His suits don't quite fit, despite their designer lines. In cars he never sits in the driver's seat. He's not in charge here, not at home in his skin - little visual signs drive it home. But he goes through the motions, does what makes sense given the situation. He was a good cop, maybe the best. He's a good henchman. Efficient. He does his job.
I also forgot to mention that Daniel Sackheim was a writer on this episode. He would later direct some of my favorite eps of the X-Files, as well as House. Yes, I collect the names of tv writers and directors somewhere in the back of my brain. Like I said. Nerd.
Castillo catches Rico sneaking in the dark at OCB. Rico puts in for vacation. In a note - he didn't want to face Castillo in person. Castillo tries to tell him it's out of their hands. He tries to reign in Tubbs, but he doesn't try hard. He acknowledges that they need to find a body, to be able to let things rest. He must be carrying as much guilt as Tubbs, though it's always hard to tell with Castillo. He lets Tubbs go to Lauderdale.
Out on his first deal as Burnett, Sonny acts out of instinct, without conscience. If there's a threat, he takes it out. No questions asked. Even his fellow thugs are startled by his cold brutality. No, brutality somehow implies emotional involvement, when there is none. Even the doublecrosses are familiar; but he does what he couldn't as a cop and takes care of business.
Morning. He's wearing the same suit as the night before. Cleaning his gun at the breakfast table. It's clear he's had Julia Roberts, that she's falling, just a bit, for Burnett, in her own cool way. There's no sign of her patented grin here.
Tubbs is on Sonny's trail, though he doesn't know it yet.
Sonny, in the passenger seat again, waits in a car with Alejandro for a deal. He sits staring out with dead eyes at the beach. Only there's no deal, and Alejandro knows it. Manolo has given the word; Burnett is to wipe out Manolo's competition. Alejandro tries to bargain. When that didn't work, he starts to draw on Sonny. Sonny's become a paid assassin - exactly what he didn't want back when he tried to resign from Vice. Before Alejandro can pull his weapon, Sonny blows him away. He's in deep now.
Later he takes an envelope of money from Manolo. In the chicken coop, while Manolo is feeding his prize fighting cocks. Blink and you'll miss it - but Sonny takes an envelope from the table and subtly counts it while they talk. Blood money.
Tubbs makes contact with Manolo. He manages to twist the arm of local law to supply him with front money, under the condition that he'll wear a vest to the meet. But Manolo knows Tubbs is a cop - there's a bad apple on the Lauderdale force, who gives away Rico and Sonny alike. So Manolo decides to give Sonny a test.
A dark, creepy alley, and the episode's only overplayed touch - fake thunder and lightning. But that's not enough to distract from the drama of the scene. Tubbs walks into the alley, no backup, thinking he's gonna meet Manolo. Through the shadows and fog (why is there fog? Oh, for the atmosphere. My bad.) Rico watches a dark silouette approach. A familiar gait. And then without a word, before he's fully visible to Rico, the shadow fires. Twice. The shots knock Rico into a pile of trash. Sonny stands a moment, staring down at his handiwork. He doesn't give Rico the finishing headshot like he did the goon earlier; it's probably only luck on Rico's part. Because there's nothing there - no pause, no hesitation, nothing. Bang Bang. Then he holsters his gun and walks away.
Only it wasn't nothing. Sonny walks along a bleached out beach, wearing white. He passes Castillo, standing still, hands clasped in front of him. Black sunglasses, black suit. Barefoot. A sentinel. Sonny pauses, looks back. Avoids looking at Castillo at first, until he can't stop himself. The sound of wind. Walks on. There's something on his face now, when there wasn't before. Confusion. He stops. Looks back again. Walks past Castillo, past another faceless black-suited man (Larry?) then pauses before Switek, in black, who stares down. Creepy. You know that ending scene in Blue Velvet where Kyle MacLachlan finds a guy up in Dorothy's apartment, dead, but standing there still? It's like that.
He sees black veiled women in widow's weeds. Gina and Trudy? Odd that their faces are hidden. Others stand along the beach. He walks up to a wood coffin with a glass front, leaning upright. Tubbs is inside. He pounds on the coffin, he's screaming Sonny's name, but there's no sound. For the first time, Sonny gets agitated. He takes a step back, he looks around. He knows something is very wrong. He doesn't quite recognize these people. He walks away from the coffin - it's leaning against Tubbs' blue caddie. He goes to Castillo. Points back at the coffin. Castillo doesn't respond, stares straight ahead.
There's a rectangular hole in the sand. Six Feet Deep. Sonny walks up to the edge to look inside. Sees himself in the coffin, resting peacefully. He loses his balance and falls.
Only to wake, panting, half-panicked, in Sonny Burnett's bed, with Julia Roberts beside him.
If this comes across as a bit cheesy and hackneyed and obviously nightmarish, well, somehow it isn't while you're watching. It's creepy. Because sometimes the worst nightmares are the ones that seem cheesy when you try to tell them out loud.
He wakes up. He doesn't know where he is. Doesn't know who the hell is asking him if he's okay. Disturbed for the first time, he flees to the bathroom, all black and white and mirrors; and in another great visual moment, he stares at his doubled reflection, reaches out to touch the mirror. The screen is neatly split in half. If you pause the image, the reflected Sonny is set against deep black, peering out at himself (out of the frame), reaching out to the other half of the screen, which is white. All very visual and nonverbal and forwarding the theme without going anvilly on your ass. Plus, reflections and Vice go waaay back. Someday I'm gonna do that visual essay I'm always talking about.
Meanwhile Rico is reeling. He saw his partner blow him away. Only the local sergeant's insistence that he wear a vest saved him. Doesn't seem to know whether to be worried or angry, still too in shock. He puts in a call to Castillo. Says something's really wrong with Sonny. The dirty cop calls Manolo. Confirms that Burnett must be a cop, since Tubbs is still breathing. Julia Roberts, hearing that Burnett is a cop, is cold. "Pity," she says. It's the last we'll see of her, which I think is too bad.
Burnett's more agitated. Paces. Impatient. He doesn't know why. Manolo sends him to meet the dirty cop. More of the charmer comes out when Burnett meets the cop, more of Sonny. He's not as cold - a little chatty, even. Thawing. He realizes the guy is there to finish him. He fingers the guy for a cop - "I don't deal with dirty cops." Cop shoots back - "Look who's talking." That's gotta be a shock; nothing shows on Burnett's face. "You're good, Crockett, but you're not that good." Sonny doesn't react. "Name's Burnett," he says. But there must be doubt, now. Which makes the rest of it that much worse.
Tubbs races toward the marina. He'll be too late.
Burnett starts up the boat. In the driver's seat for the first time, on a boat, appropriately. Sonny's always most at home on water. "That's B-U-R-N-E-Double Tee," he says, and blows the dirty cop into the water. Doesn't look back as he guns the boat and drives away, Tubbs screaming his name from a balcony above. He's killed a cop. A dirty cop, but still a cop, and in the Vice universe that's the ultimate sin. He's fully Burnett now.
It's all gone very, very wrong.
So while I watch these episodes I just can't get that Peter Gabriel song out of my head, the one they play during the original Hackman episode when Sonny realizes he's been had. The chorus is an eery voice intoning "We do what we're told... to do."
So. Yesterday I meandered through the episode of Season 4 where Caitlin (Sheena Easton) bit the big one, and so did her murderer Hackman, helped along by Sonny Crockett. No one was too sad to see Caitlin go, because A) Sheena Easton while not horrid, was not the best actress and B)because her death ushered in the great great episodes that follow. Forgive me, this has turned more into a recap-with-insights than the analysis I was aiming for, but fangirling has to go somewhere...
The season finale, Mirror Image, starts with Sonny sitting at a cafe, watching a marina, watching the bad guys. He's not eating, though Rico has a big plate of breakfast. Sonny looks beyond tired, barely able to muster up a grin for Rico when he joins him. He expresses annoyance that everyone is smothering him in worry; but there's no tone to his voice. It's hard to tell why he's still doing the Vice gig, why he hasn't set sail, cut all ties. Maybe he's just going through the motions because he doesn't know what else to do.
Rico's concerned. It would be cute if it weren't all so deadly serious. He's worried about Sonny being cold without a coat, out on the water with the baddies. He mentions his doubt about Sonny's readiness to jump back into the undercover world, but lightly; they're guys after all. But he means it. A sloppy cop is a dead cop. Sonny doesn't care enough to be careful, and Rico knows it. Sonny brushes it off. He's going fishing. He says he's fine. Twice, the second time into his coffee cup. Right.
He comes alive out on the water on a yacht, cocky grin back, genuine even. The bad guys don't ask him how he's doing. They don't care.
He notices too late that things aren't kosher. One of the bad dudes, a double-crosser named Alejandro, jumps ship. The yacht goes up in a big ball of orange flame.
Roll credits. Dum dum dum.
Back at OCB, Castillo tells the shattered team that Homicide is taking all of Crockett's files. Tubbs wants to know why VIce isn't taking the case. In typical Castillo fashion, the lieutenant says, "Because Homicide is." A man of few words, Castillo.
Tubbs isn't having that. His partner's missing. Probably dead.
Meanwhile, Sonny wakes up in what looks like an abandoned hospital. Creepy medical staff call him Burnett; that's who they think he is. His face looks flash burned. He's groggy, incoherent. Alejandro is there. He thinks Burnett has information he needs. Later the doctor tries to warn him that he's in deep. Between a rock and a hard place. Awake, Sonny's surly and hiding disorientation. He admits he doesn't know what it is he does, he only knows the name they've told him. Sonny Burnett. The doctor tells him the police are looking for him; that he's probably a drug dealer. It makes sense.
Did I mention Julia Roberts is in this one? She is. Very subdued and icy and pretty.
Sonny is taken to Fort Lauderdale, where he is to meet the big cheese, Manolo. Sonny is uneasy but covering. Whether he's conscious of it or not, he's still playing a role, it's what he knows. He's calm. Cool. Wears his hair brushed back, formal suits. Is he borrowing clothes from someone? He falls into the scene easily, it must seem familiar. It's what he's been doing for ten years - acting on his feet in fluid situations. Manolo asks him to get to the bottom of the yacht explosion. Another familiarity - it's detective work, even if he's playing for the other side. Again, familiar. Nothing to ping any internal sense that something's not right.
Oddly, I'm reminded of The Fisher King - where a man loses his memory after his wife's violent death. Sonny Burnett is diametrically opposite in manner to that character (crazy homeless dude with delusions of grandure) but the parallels are there.
A note - Don Johnson really carries this off. It's perfectly underplayed - no '80's melodrama or theatrics. He plays Burnett slightly different from Crockett - but not so much that they're not still the same guy underneath. It's all in his pauses, before he speaks. Burnett is careful, cautious, smooth. He calculates before every move. He doesn't look people in the eye often, and when he does, they start to worry. He doesn't grin. Deep down, he knows he's missing something. And Johnson manages to convey this in minimal strokes. Maybe he was taking lessons from Edward James Olmos - there's something of Castillo in this incarnation of Burnett.
So. Burnett sets out to solve the mystery set before him. Who planted the bomb that was supposed to kill Manolo. And Alejandro is no match - Sonny sees through his act within minutes. Besides, Sonny remembers Alejandro, at the hospital. Uninjured, even if he sports a sling for show now.
Meanwhile, Rico's on the case. He loves Sonny, and there's no body. Nothing. What else is a partner gonna do?
Sonny's already moving in on Manolo's assistant. Julia Roberts. They're pretty together. His suits don't quite fit, despite their designer lines. In cars he never sits in the driver's seat. He's not in charge here, not at home in his skin - little visual signs drive it home. But he goes through the motions, does what makes sense given the situation. He was a good cop, maybe the best. He's a good henchman. Efficient. He does his job.
I also forgot to mention that Daniel Sackheim was a writer on this episode. He would later direct some of my favorite eps of the X-Files, as well as House. Yes, I collect the names of tv writers and directors somewhere in the back of my brain. Like I said. Nerd.
Castillo catches Rico sneaking in the dark at OCB. Rico puts in for vacation. In a note - he didn't want to face Castillo in person. Castillo tries to tell him it's out of their hands. He tries to reign in Tubbs, but he doesn't try hard. He acknowledges that they need to find a body, to be able to let things rest. He must be carrying as much guilt as Tubbs, though it's always hard to tell with Castillo. He lets Tubbs go to Lauderdale.
Out on his first deal as Burnett, Sonny acts out of instinct, without conscience. If there's a threat, he takes it out. No questions asked. Even his fellow thugs are startled by his cold brutality. No, brutality somehow implies emotional involvement, when there is none. Even the doublecrosses are familiar; but he does what he couldn't as a cop and takes care of business.
Morning. He's wearing the same suit as the night before. Cleaning his gun at the breakfast table. It's clear he's had Julia Roberts, that she's falling, just a bit, for Burnett, in her own cool way. There's no sign of her patented grin here.
Tubbs is on Sonny's trail, though he doesn't know it yet.
Sonny, in the passenger seat again, waits in a car with Alejandro for a deal. He sits staring out with dead eyes at the beach. Only there's no deal, and Alejandro knows it. Manolo has given the word; Burnett is to wipe out Manolo's competition. Alejandro tries to bargain. When that didn't work, he starts to draw on Sonny. Sonny's become a paid assassin - exactly what he didn't want back when he tried to resign from Vice. Before Alejandro can pull his weapon, Sonny blows him away. He's in deep now.
Later he takes an envelope of money from Manolo. In the chicken coop, while Manolo is feeding his prize fighting cocks. Blink and you'll miss it - but Sonny takes an envelope from the table and subtly counts it while they talk. Blood money.
Tubbs makes contact with Manolo. He manages to twist the arm of local law to supply him with front money, under the condition that he'll wear a vest to the meet. But Manolo knows Tubbs is a cop - there's a bad apple on the Lauderdale force, who gives away Rico and Sonny alike. So Manolo decides to give Sonny a test.
A dark, creepy alley, and the episode's only overplayed touch - fake thunder and lightning. But that's not enough to distract from the drama of the scene. Tubbs walks into the alley, no backup, thinking he's gonna meet Manolo. Through the shadows and fog (why is there fog? Oh, for the atmosphere. My bad.) Rico watches a dark silouette approach. A familiar gait. And then without a word, before he's fully visible to Rico, the shadow fires. Twice. The shots knock Rico into a pile of trash. Sonny stands a moment, staring down at his handiwork. He doesn't give Rico the finishing headshot like he did the goon earlier; it's probably only luck on Rico's part. Because there's nothing there - no pause, no hesitation, nothing. Bang Bang. Then he holsters his gun and walks away.
Only it wasn't nothing. Sonny walks along a bleached out beach, wearing white. He passes Castillo, standing still, hands clasped in front of him. Black sunglasses, black suit. Barefoot. A sentinel. Sonny pauses, looks back. Avoids looking at Castillo at first, until he can't stop himself. The sound of wind. Walks on. There's something on his face now, when there wasn't before. Confusion. He stops. Looks back again. Walks past Castillo, past another faceless black-suited man (Larry?) then pauses before Switek, in black, who stares down. Creepy. You know that ending scene in Blue Velvet where Kyle MacLachlan finds a guy up in Dorothy's apartment, dead, but standing there still? It's like that.
He sees black veiled women in widow's weeds. Gina and Trudy? Odd that their faces are hidden. Others stand along the beach. He walks up to a wood coffin with a glass front, leaning upright. Tubbs is inside. He pounds on the coffin, he's screaming Sonny's name, but there's no sound. For the first time, Sonny gets agitated. He takes a step back, he looks around. He knows something is very wrong. He doesn't quite recognize these people. He walks away from the coffin - it's leaning against Tubbs' blue caddie. He goes to Castillo. Points back at the coffin. Castillo doesn't respond, stares straight ahead.
There's a rectangular hole in the sand. Six Feet Deep. Sonny walks up to the edge to look inside. Sees himself in the coffin, resting peacefully. He loses his balance and falls.
Only to wake, panting, half-panicked, in Sonny Burnett's bed, with Julia Roberts beside him.
If this comes across as a bit cheesy and hackneyed and obviously nightmarish, well, somehow it isn't while you're watching. It's creepy. Because sometimes the worst nightmares are the ones that seem cheesy when you try to tell them out loud.
He wakes up. He doesn't know where he is. Doesn't know who the hell is asking him if he's okay. Disturbed for the first time, he flees to the bathroom, all black and white and mirrors; and in another great visual moment, he stares at his doubled reflection, reaches out to touch the mirror. The screen is neatly split in half. If you pause the image, the reflected Sonny is set against deep black, peering out at himself (out of the frame), reaching out to the other half of the screen, which is white. All very visual and nonverbal and forwarding the theme without going anvilly on your ass. Plus, reflections and Vice go waaay back. Someday I'm gonna do that visual essay I'm always talking about.
Meanwhile Rico is reeling. He saw his partner blow him away. Only the local sergeant's insistence that he wear a vest saved him. Doesn't seem to know whether to be worried or angry, still too in shock. He puts in a call to Castillo. Says something's really wrong with Sonny. The dirty cop calls Manolo. Confirms that Burnett must be a cop, since Tubbs is still breathing. Julia Roberts, hearing that Burnett is a cop, is cold. "Pity," she says. It's the last we'll see of her, which I think is too bad.
Burnett's more agitated. Paces. Impatient. He doesn't know why. Manolo sends him to meet the dirty cop. More of the charmer comes out when Burnett meets the cop, more of Sonny. He's not as cold - a little chatty, even. Thawing. He realizes the guy is there to finish him. He fingers the guy for a cop - "I don't deal with dirty cops." Cop shoots back - "Look who's talking." That's gotta be a shock; nothing shows on Burnett's face. "You're good, Crockett, but you're not that good." Sonny doesn't react. "Name's Burnett," he says. But there must be doubt, now. Which makes the rest of it that much worse.
Tubbs races toward the marina. He'll be too late.
Burnett starts up the boat. In the driver's seat for the first time, on a boat, appropriately. Sonny's always most at home on water. "That's B-U-R-N-E-Double Tee," he says, and blows the dirty cop into the water. Doesn't look back as he guns the boat and drives away, Tubbs screaming his name from a balcony above. He's killed a cop. A dirty cop, but still a cop, and in the Vice universe that's the ultimate sin. He's fully Burnett now.
It's all gone very, very wrong.