Throughout Its First Season, The Old Man Has Been a Masterclass in Making Small Moments Feel Big
Photo Courtesy of FX
In FX’s new drama, The Old Man, there’s a moment in Episode 2 that stands out for its nuance and quiet melancholy. In it, the protagonist, Dan Chase (Jeff Bridges), grabs a pan to make some scrambled eggs for a woman he just met. Zoe (Amy Brenneman) is in distress because of something embarrassing that happened to her son, for which she was responsible. Earlier in the episode, she told Chase that when she was a kid and was having a moment, her mom used to drop everything and cook some scrambled eggs to make her feel better. It always worked.
Chase remembers this and thinks quickly. Instead of talking to express his support and understanding, he starts cooking. No words are being said. The act is thoughtful and deeply moving. Zoe is touched—visibly. She steps closer to the man who just walked into her life and rests her head on his shoulder. Perfect tranquillity.
This bit excellently demonstrates the quality of writing that the creators (Robert Levine and Jonathan E. Steinberg) employ repeatedly in Season 1. Moments like these aren’t something you normally see in an intense TV show about spies. But that’s precisely why The Old Man stands out in the genre. It has kindness and vulnerability and isn’t afraid to show it.
The plot follows two men (Dan Chase, an ex-CIA operative, and Harold Halper (John Lithgow), an FBI Assistant Director for Counterintelligence) who became frenemies 30 years ago when they were heavily involved in the Soviet-Afghan War. Their shared past is riddled with complicated relationships, losses, and regrets they both prefer to leave buried. Chase and Halper saw and did things (violence, torture, assassination, and murder, among others) that made them hard men. They learned to contain and hide their emotions to stay efficient and survive the most dangerous assignments. But now, as they’re well into their 60s, the number of traumas they carefully compartmentalized begin to eat at them as someone from their past re-emerges.
Instead of only displaying their toughness, The Old Man separates itself by putting an emphasis on the two men’s internal struggles. We witness how they grapple with feelings, crack under emotional weight, and make overwhelming sacrifices for their loved ones.
When we first meet Halper in the pilot, he’s at home playing with his grandson. On first impression, he seems like a retired, somewhat fragile man. As grandfather and grandson build a LEGO house, we learn that the boy’s parents are gone. The child says he wishes someone could figure out how to bring them back one day. What we see next is Halper devastated, crying in his bathroom. We think he’s a broken father consumed with grief until his wife appears, telling him he’s got a phone call. It’s the bureau. In a few seconds, Halper turns from a grieving dad to a commanding and dominant superior. The tears are gone—there’s no space for them. Lithgow is fantastic playing Halper with a domineering finesse and authority. But he really comes alive in those moments when his character can’t disguise (or control) what’s in his heart.