This is a review. Thus, it is likely to contain spoilers. If you haven’t, as yet, found yourself at liberty to view this episode then consider yourself apprised of the potential jeopardy and proceed at your peril.
“Anyone but me just tired of the bullshit burdens of Southern hospitality?”—Ava Randolph Crowder
The plotting of a television show is similar to a combination of punches in boxing. Both rely on carefully considered timing to achieve maximum effect, and there’s no way to know in advance for sure which punches you will land and what hits will miss. In boxing, the best combinations include pauses that allow your opponent to drop their guard, not knowing that the biggest blow is yet to come. In hindsight, last week’s lighter and more leisurely than usual episode seems very much like just such a pause.
Without question, this week is the punch.
With six hours gone, this week puts us on the cusp of the halfway point of the season so it is no surprise that “Alive Day” marks not only a turning point chronologically, but dramatically as well. Through twists, turns, and death, all three of our primary story arcs undergo major dramatic change. We will take them in order.
Last week ended on something of a shocker/cliffhanger combo as Raylan not only got smoochy with Ava, but also decided to stick around until Boyd came home. The ensuing scene is the closest we have come to both Raylan and Boyd admitting to each other that they know, or strongly suspect, precisely what the other is up to. It’s a classic Raylan/Boyd conversation which means that it is littered with clever lines, dripping with double entendre, and positively silly with personal history. I found it initially surprising that Boyd would jump so quickly to the idea of Raylan and Ava rekindling their romance, but by the end of the scene I realized how well it worked as a cheap, but effective, opening jab.
For starters, a relationship with Ava is one of the few realms that Boyd can claim outright success over Raylan, so there is an element of re-opening a wound to it. Even more, it leads nicely into Raylan’s continued resistance to relocating to Florida where another troubled relationship is waiting, and the delay certainly hasn’t escaped Boyd’s attention. The scene is also the season’s most overt callback to Season One, as we return to the same table where Raylan shot Boyd while Ava’s famous fried chicken grew cold on their plates. It is the latest reminder that history is, in a sense, repeating itself. Similar events are being replayed but may they may not end the way we remember. Boyd becomes the latest in a string of people to warn Raylan that his lightning draw may not fire the same shot twice. Fittingly, it is Ava, emerging patron saint of desperation, that finally has enough of the posturing and calls both men on it, effectively ending not only the evening but also any tenuous threads of friendship that might have remained between the two men.
It is an important scene because it subtly suggests to the audience that all similarities to the past are over now. Our big three have gotten to sit one last time and size each other up. From here on out, it is a blank slate and anything is possible, perhaps even the unthinkable. Especially the unthinkable.
Second, Boyd and his crew finally venture into the mine. For a show that so often references coal mining, it is curious that this is our first extended view of the act itself, particularly the dangers involved. In just a few shots, the claustrophobic darkness, thin air, and backbreaking labor make it all too clear why Boyd swore to never venture into the deep again. As it turns out, and as is so often the case, the biggest danger is a man. I commented last week that I hoped that Zachariah would turn out to be more than zany comic relief. Jeff Fahey gets his accent under better control this week and is rewarded with richer material as well. His front porch conversation with Ava further solidified that the theme of the night, jumpstarted earlier by Raylan and Boyd, was “communication”. More specifically, the writers want to address what a person means when they can’t find the words, and what the listener is willing, and able, to hear.
Zachariah’s talk with Ava can be seen as an apology, a threat, and possibly a farewell, once we learn that the only reason Zachariah agreed to help Boyd was so that he could kill him as payback for Bowman’s transgressions. Boyd was already playing a game with little-to-no room for error, and it will be interesting to see how he reacts when he only has three men to do a four man job, and one of those men is trying to kill him. If he doesn’t outright know that Zachariah was responsible for SJFM’s death (that would be Square Jawed Former Miner… seriously, did you know what the character’s name was? I didn’t think so), he’s bound to suspect, so once again it becomes a question of how much Boyd is willing to risk at a chance for a fairytale future.
Suspicions and thinly-veiled conversations carry over to the Markham camp as well. In a move that surprised even the immovable Katherine Hale, Markham popped the question. Actually, it was more like two questions: “Will you marry me?” and “Did you rat out your husband?” Each question is intrinsically tied to the other, which can only happen in an Elmore Leonard story. What we (and Katherine) suspect, however, is that Markham’s offer of immunity is really both an offer and a threat. He does want a future with her, but if she A. suspects he may have ratted out Grady and/or B. is involved in any way with Boyd’s plan to rob him then she can take this one time opportunity to abandon those ideas and they can start their new lives together with a clean slate (that seems to keep coming up). If she keeps the ring and says yes, it’s happily ever after but, you know, with a weed empire and the occasional blinding of thieving employees. If she says no, then it is a declaration of war. I don’t think Zales will be putting this in their commercials.