Source: spoilertv.com

Title: The Magic of David Copperfield V: The Statue of Liberty Disappears

Episode M.V.P.: Keri Russell
In a just world, this would be the episode that earns Keri Russell an overdue Emmy for playing one of the most complex, compelling female characters on television. (But since this is not a just world, I’m already preparing the post I’ll write when she and the show are once again so rudely snubbed.) In one hour, Russell was given the opportunity to unleash her entire arsenal of acting skills in a way most actresses are unable to do in the course of their entire career. Masterfully shifting from understanding to frustration to rage to numb shock, Russell was able to take the reins off this characters whose emotions are so often compartmentalized and shown only in the tiniest reactions. And what happened when she showed the full extent of Elizabeth’s power was a thing of terrifying beauty.

Russell’s performance in this episode will be remembered (and, mark my words, it will be remembered) because of two volcanic eruptions of emotion. But what shouldn’t be lost when talking about her brilliance is the way she—much like Matthew Rhys in his similarly astounding performance in Season Two’s “Martial Eagle”—showed the mounting stress that pushed Elizabeth to her breaking point.

What amazed me about Elizabeth in this episode was how much I felt for her at the beginning of it—especially considering how terrified I was of her by the end of it. Russell did such a great job of showing how hard Elizabeth was trying to be there for Philip, and her reactions to Philip shutting her out felt so uncomfortably realistic. I felt her frustration, her desire to understand her husband, and her jealousy on a level that surprised me. I never expected to be angry with Philip for being sad about Martha leaving, but something about Russell’s understatedly vulnerable performance in those early scenes resonated so strongly with me that I found myself wanting Philip to stop moping around and talk to his wife.

As the episode went on, Russell’s performance kept building like a symphony. For so much of this season, we’ve seen the cracks in Philip, but Elizabeth is cracking, too. Her flippant tone when responding to Philip’s statement that Martha wasn’t simple was so human and relatable. But then her flippant attitude about Martha turned into deep-rooted anger, and it was like the wrath of a vengeful god raining down on Philip. Watching Russell in that fight scene with Rhys was like watching a prize fighter in her glory, fearless and fierce. And the way Russell showed Elizabeth still holding on to that anger even in Gabriel’s presence was perfect. She was petty and snarky and decidedly un-Elizabeth, and it worked so well to show us her deteriorating control over her emotions.

Elizabeth’s lack of control culminated in that downright frightening takedown of Paige in the kitchen. If I was being even more specific with my M.V.P. award, I’d give it to the veins in Russell’s face, which were on full display as she made Elizabeth’s fury something real and physical, which made it all the more frightening. This is how Elizabeth falls apart—not crumbling from the inside like Philip but exploding with a force that destroys everyone around her, and Russell made sure we all felt the force of that explosion.

It felt right that this acting tour de force by Russell happened under Rhys’s direction. The two are partners, and you could feel his respect for her talent and her trust in his direction in every scene. They always create magic together onscreen, so it’s nice to know that they can continue to create something special together from opposite sides of the camera, too.

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Source: tv.com

Title: Travel Agents

Episode M.V.P.: Alison Wright
This is the third week in a row that Alison Wright has been the episode’s standout performer, and it’s because just when I think she can’t get better, she does. And just when I think she can’t break my heart any more than it’s already been broken by Martha’s tragic story, she delivers another line with so much naked vulnerability that it feels like a KGB agent just punched me in the gut.

This week, the line that emotionally destroyed me was Martha’s question after Philip said he wasn’t going to Russia with her: “Not even to visit?”

I was floored by how much vulnerability Wright put into those four lines. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget how deeply, profoundly sad that moment made me feel. In an episode that left most of us shocked that Martha kept managing to stay alive, this was the moment when her spirit died, when the last bit of hope left her body. And the way Wright conveyed that was masterful.

Over the last few episodes, Wright has done such a great job of making us feel Martha’s emotions, putting us in her mental and emotional shoes and making us walk a mile in them. And never has that made me more uncomfortable than in the scene in which Martha was walking down the street, her anxiety causing her to (understandably) suspect every man and every car of being sent to retrieve her. Wright is brilliant at making Martha’s panic feel believable and not overdramatic, and that makes her a character we’ve come to empathize with and not just pity.

And even though we don’t just pity Martha, that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments when our hearts break for her. And one of those moments in this episode was her phone call to her parents. Once again, Wright’s ability to make Martha feel so achingly human in a world where people seem to have a superhuman hold on their emotions made her stand out. I barely held it together myself watching her smile through her tears when her father came on the line.

Later, my ability to hold it together was completely destroyed when Philip told Martha what was going to happen to her. The transformation that took place in her during that scene was an awful but impressive thing to behold. Wright took Martha from a place of incredible sadness to total emptiness by the time she told Philip that she’d be alone again—just like she was before she met him. Her cold acceptance of loneliness spoke to a life in which that was far too common for her. Martha might still be alive, but everything inside of her died the moment Philip told her she’d be going to Russia alone because he shattered the one last truth she was clinging to: that he loved her the way she loved him. And the way Wright made that so palpable will continue to haunt me long after this season ends.

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Source: vox.com

Title: The Rat

Episode M.V.P.: Alison Wright
This is the second week in a row that Alison Wright shone the brightest among the many acting superstars in this talented cast. And what I loved most about her performance in “The Rat” was the way it grew naturally and realistically out of her performance in last week’s “Clark’s Place.” That episode showed Martha’s spirit beginning to die and resignation beginning to set in, and this episode showed that downward spiral continuing. Some of the most heartbreaking and chilling moments in “The Rat” were moments where the camera focused on Wright’s face when she was alone in a room and we were able to see the emptiness in her eyes. Martha may not be dead yet, but Wright’s performance continues to show us that she is a dead woman walking in more ways than one. It’s not easy to convey the death of someone’s entire reality without making it melodramatic, but Wright has made every step on this sad journey—including those horribly tense steps away from Gabriel and toward her own doom—feel grounded in a brutal kind of reality. Martha isn’t just a character we pity; she’s a character we empathize with, and that’s an important difference. Because most of us have—at some point—opened our hearts to someone and trusted them, only to find out they’re not exactly as advertised. It just so happens that Martha’s version of this story is a lot worse than most of ours.

Wright—like most of her fellow actors on this show—has a true talent for reacting. One of the most painful single shots of this episode was her reaction to Philip’s admission that he works for the KGB. Without any words, Wright made me feel sick to my stomach for her character. Through the slight sinking of her posture, Wright showed the brutal force of Philip’s confession while still leaving enough ambiguity in her performance to hint that Martha probably knew in her gut that this was a possibility. But Philip confirming it destroyed any last ability she had left to remain in denial about who she’d been helping, and the weight of that makes her physically shrink, as if she’d lost another part of herself.

Following that stunning moment, Wright showed Martha’s desperation to remain in denial about one final thing: her husband’s love for her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sadder sex scene on television. It was hard to watch, and the reason I felt so uncomfortable during it was because of how completely broken Martha was and how vulnerable Wright’s performance was in showing Martha’s desperate desire to cling to this final lie. And once that final lie seemed to be over—once Martha woke up and Philip was gone—it was easy to believe this woman would snap. The way Wright’s performance over episodes and whole seasons  built to that confrontation with Gabriel was nothing short of brilliant. For the first time, Martha chose herself, but in choosing to walk away, she most likely signed her own death certificate. It feels now like we’re living on borrowed time when it comes to appreciating Wright’s talent, and I plan to use all the time we have left to scream from the rooftops (or at least whisper-shout in the middle of the street) about how good she is.

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Source: http://www.indiewire.com

Title: Clark’s Place

Episode M.V.P.: Alison Wright
A common refrain in Storytelling 101 is “Show, don’t tell.” But sometimes a moment of telling can be even more moving and engaging than a moment of showing. You just have to find the right storyteller. And The Americans has found that with Alison Wright. So many of Wright’s scenes—especially since about midway through last season—have involved Martha telling “Clark” about how she feels. But what’s important to remember is that these scenes exist because Martha often can’t show her husband how she feels, because he’s not there. So she has to make him—or at least try to make him—understand her anxiety, her loneliness, and her frustration in those moments when he’s gone in whatever way she can. And in making him understand, she makes us understand, too.

That’s the surprising beauty of Wright’s performance: She manages to show and tell at the same time. For example, in the first scene of “Clark’s Place,” she doesn’t just tell “Clark” (and the audience) about her panic attack, she brings it to life in a way that’s more gripping than a flashback to her having that panic attack in the last episode. Because not only do we feel her panic at the mere memory of thinking she was having a heart attack and was going to die alone, we feel the myriad of other emotions she feels in the present, too. We feel her shame at being prescribed Valium to deal with her anxiety. We feel her frustration with herself for letting her life get so out of control and with her husband for turning her life upside-down. And we feel her increasing sense of loss—the loss of the fantasy that was her marriage, the loss of any kind of a normal life, and the loss of her sense of self. Because when Wright delivers those lines about her dinner with Aderholt and the panic attack afterward, it’s not really about the lines she’s saying; it’s about the weight of the suffocating emotions she puts into every word.

The thing that impressed me the most about Wright in this episode was the way she’s changed Martha’s reactions over time. Yes, her tears while telling her husband about her panic attack broke my heart, but what really stood out to me was her growing understanding and heartbreaking acceptance of the fact that she might be married, but she’s really alone. She’s not desperate anymore; she’s resigned. Even when things started to fall apart last season, I felt as if she still believed she and “Clark” were a team. Now, however, it’s killing me to watch her sink deeper and deeper into a sense of resigned loneliness with no one to help pull her out of it.

Martha knows she’s trapped, and watching that sense of resignation make its way into Wright’s line readings (“Why would I expect to keep anything?”) made me want to cry. This episode was like watching a character’s spirit and soul die before they actually die, which might be even more tragic than watching Nina get shot in the back of the head last week. And so much of that pathos comes from Wright’s performance.

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