Title: Divestment

Episode M.V.P.: Matthew Rhys
One of the most underrated aspects of a great performance is how an actor reacts to what’s going on around them. Matthew Rhys isn’t a just a great actor; he’s a great reactor, and that is so important on a show that relies on subtlety and nuance as much as The Americans does. In “Divestment,” Philip was mainly reacting to the situations and people around him—from Reuben’s brutal way of killing to Martha’s living room interrogation. And the way those reactions built from silence to a powerful use of rhetoric allowed Rhys to use every weapon in his acting arsenal.

I loved what Rhys was able to do with silence once again in this episode. The set of his jaw and the direction of his gaze in the effective close-ups during the brutal fire scene said so much. And the stunning way he was shot in profile as he listened for news from Afghanistan allowed Rhys to show Philip’s overwhelming worry for his son without needing to spell it out for us. And his powerful silence in that scene made the revelation of his son’s name—his real name—feel as important as it needed to feel for Elizabeth’s request to be believable later in the episode. In just a few lines, Rhys and Keri Russell communicated so much to the audience and showed that Elizabeth and Philip can read each other’s reactions so well without any words.

That powerful silence between Elizabeth and Philip contrasted brilliantly with his final scene with Martha. While Elizabeth and Philip often don’t need any words to understand each other because they’ve built up so much trust together, “Clark” often needs to be a smooth-talker with Martha to keep her happy because that same intimacy isn’t there. As Martha finally confronted “Clark,” I loved that Rhys allowed us to see Philip panic for one barely perceptible moment. This was his worst nightmare coming true, and he needed to think on his feet to keep everything from crashing down around him. Rhys does such a brilliant job of showing the wheels turning in Philip’s head without making it seem obvious, and that was put to great use here, as we saw him grasping at straws to say everything he felt he needed to say to appease Martha and save them both.

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Source: http://www.soundonsight.org

Title: Walter Taffet

Episode M.V.P: Alison Wright
“Poor Martha.” That’s been a common refrain for fans of The Americans for a long time now. However, has it ever been more applicable than it was in this episode? “Walter Taffet” was the episode when Martha’s world began to cave in around her—when the secrets that once seemed exciting and romantic suddenly became overwhelming and terrifying. In this episode, “Poor Martha” wasn’t something I said out of pity; it was something I said out of genuine fear for this woman and what she was immediately going through. I felt Martha’s fear and growing sense of unease about her marriage intensely, and it was all because of the stunning work of Alison Wright.

It seems that every actor on The Americans has the ability to make magic happen in silent moments, and Wright is no exception. Martha didn’t say much in this episode, but it was her story and her emotional turmoil that meant the most to me throughout the hour. From the moment the curtains closed around Agent Gaad’s office to her final moments with “Clark,” I couldn’t have taken my eyes off her face if I wanted to. But why would anyone want to when so much was being conveyed with each breath and blink?

Fear is a difficult emotion to play because it so often leads to overacting—excessive hand-wringing, heavy breathing, looking like a caged animal, etc. And for some people, that’s an honest depiction of fear. But for others, fear manifests itself in quieter ways. I loved that Martha cried more than once in this episode from the weight of the stress she felt. It felt incredibly honest and made Martha once again a tangible link to humanity in this cold world of espionage. Each time Wright wiped her eyes (in the realistic way we as women often do to keep our mascara from running and giving us away), my heart broke for Martha. But watching her fight those tears made me feel something besides heartbreak, too—and that was admiration. For all the realistic, palpable fear Wright put into her performance, she also took great care to show that Martha was strong enough to keep that rising fear at bay when she needed to. It reminded me of the old adage that bravery isn’t the absence of fear; it’s being terrified and choosing to keep going anyway.

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