Season 1, Episode 7: “Blind Spot”
Seems like everybody’s trying to tell everybody else something. Something important. Something hard to say just right. Johnny Crowder for instance says he’s just trying to warn Ava, says all it is is he doesn’t want a pretty girl to get hurt. Except instead of being decent and straightforward about it he chooses to make a loud shopping list, duct tape and a chainsaw and plastic sheeting, yeah, in case there’s a mess. Thank goodness for Aunt Helen, that beacon of directness who ends the farce by dint of a shotgun pointed at Johnny’s nethers. Ava seems fairly capable of handling herself, except she’s constantly got the eyes of the town on her, and trying to do anything under that amount of scrutiny is going to feel precarious. Even if it’s a thing as simple as living. Even if it’s a thing of sorting out how she feels about the fact that, right. She’s killed a man. “‘s a big deal, innit?” she says and Raylan “I am not completely unaware of my motivations in life” Givens doesn’t try to tell her anything. And she says, to his silence: “Hmm.”
Art is trying to tell Raylan something, and he’s doing it with shouting. I like seeing Raylan get yelled at, I like the way he sucks lemons but won’t lie when asked a direct question. Except something Art hasn’t learned is that yelling is not the way to get at Raylan, he’s clearly had enough of that in his life and the noise in that man’s head cannot be turned up any further. Only way to get to Raylan, it seems, is to be Boyd, quietly quoting Romans 12:19: “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place to wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, said the Lord.” Raylan slamming Boyd against the prison wall is both an excellent fanfic prompt and Raylan’s way of weeping uncontrollably. He is trying to tell Boyd something, in his coming to visit him over and over like Boyd is his legit crimefighting sidekick, the Mulder to his Scully, or more accurately, the Neal Caffrey to his Peter Burke. You start to get to wondering how it is that Raylan ever solved a crime without Boyd nearby. It didn’t occur to you at all, Raylan, that the shooter might be after you? I guess, yeah, I guess that’s the blind spot. But from back here it almost seems like an excuse. Which might be what Boyd was trying to say.
Winona’s trying to tell Ava something, or maybe she’s trying to tell herself something. Don’t get involved with a Leo, sorry, a L(aw)E(nforcement)O(fficer), or do, it’s your funeral, what am I even saying, ha ha ha ha ha. Is Winona feeling softer toward Raylan ever since he tore the labels off of some beers and gave to her a tiny piece of his honest heart? Does she miss him, is she jealous. It’s a hell of a fun scene to watch, I’ll admit (“You a lawyer yourself, Winona?”), though the last thing you want for your show with your two smart female characters is Bechdel disapproval. So therefore, giving the benefit of the doubt, this scene is about Winona’s doubt plus also another example of Ava having people give her unsolicited, un-useful advice. For god’s sake, she shot her husband. And her support system currently consists of a man who gets pissy about Bible verses and an old woman who’s quick with a shotgun. Someone better put out a hand for Ava Crowder, and soon.
The monster of the week has a fair twist, good casting (really liked our Marc Maron-looking hitman), an excellent piece of episode-ending violence, and the news that Raylan’s got another enemy, the Flordia cartel. Sheriff Hunter stars in the Parable of The Man Who Liked Revenge Too Much, And Also Was a Lawman In Case You Thought They Were Above It. Except of course Raylan’s not going to learn that lesson, not yet. If we’re talking about a blind spot, let’s talk about his likely inability to see himself in Sheriff Hunter, because after all, Sheriff Hunter turned out bad. Got himself involved with lawbreakers. Would Raylan ever do that, I can’t say never. We’ve met his father. But the way he talks to Sheriff Hunter in the car, sassing him like what Hunter’s doing is the dumbest dumbest dumbest thing ever, really? If you think you’re that far above it, your fall is going to hurt bad.
And, oh Boyd. We have a new ally in believing he’s full of it, where “it” is a nefarious plan, and that ally is none other then Bo Crowder. Pop spends the whole episode getting talked about and arrives just as his boy’s clerical collar begins to run askew: “I might be a man of the cloth…BUT I SURE AS HELL AIN’T NO LAAAAAAAAMB!” Perversely, Boyd’s in a spot reminiscent of Ava’s: he’s protected so long as his protection is around, but his protection won’t make promises. Bo will be free of prison soon, and Raylan, as Art points out, is not likely to stay by Ava’s side for the rest of her life. Meanwhile, Bo hasn’t the slightest idea what Boyd’s game is, which tells us first that Boyd has a game and second that Boyd’s game is good enough to keep his father off his back and third that Boyd doesn’t trust his father. In an episode of people talking in circles, Boyd is the unparalleled champ, with his mouth that doesn’t quit and his close-cut words of faith. You know the rule. Men of God are not to be touched. But the hell of it is, you might not believe him, we might none of us believe him, but back there, up in Romans 12:19, that’s about the best advice a man could give Raylan, or Bo, or Hunter. Leave the vengeance to God, or Whomever. Only the lucky ones get away, and there aren’t many of them.
