Source: spoilertv.com

Title: A Roy Rogers in Franconia

Episode M.V.P.: Keri Russell and Holly Taylor
For those of you who don’t know, in addition to being a writer and editor, I’m also a dance teacher, and this weekend was my students’ big recital (which is one of the main reasons why this post is so late). As such, I’ve been thinking a lot about dance lately. So maybe I just have dance on the brain, but every time I watch Keri Russell and Holly Taylor share a scene together, I think about them not just as the actors they are but as the trained ballet dancers they are as well. Their dance training has not only given them both beautiful posture (which makes them feel related even when they’re just sitting next to each other); it’s also given them a unique ability to naturally convey emotion through their body. And that shared ability to say so much through movement and expression—to make the emotional something physical—was put on prominent display in this episode. The placement of their bodies in a scene—the way they responded to each other’s touch or lack thereof, the angle of their body and head as the other spoke—took what was already stellar writing and made it feel grounded in a very physical reality.

Russell has been on a hot streak the likes of which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen from an actor in a weekly series before. Each week she’s been turning in career performances, and this week was no exception. The most astounding thing about Russell’s work in this episode was the way she followed up Elizabeth’s violent actions at the end of last week’s episode with such soft, sincere uncertainty. That’s Elizabeth in a nutshell; she is supremely confident when it comes to disarming enemies, but she is so unsure of herself when it comes to connecting with the people she loves. And what’s been so beautiful about Russell’s performance is the way she believably lets us see both sides of this complex character. My favorite thing about her work in this episode was the cautious, almost frightened way she carried herself in the early scenes with Paige. You could feel her fear that she’d become a monster in her daughter’s eyes, and it was amazing to see that this was the one thing that could scare the seemingly unshakeable Elizabeth Jennings.

Russell is a master of nuance, and it seems Taylor is taking her apprenticeship under her seriously. Paige feels like a real teenager thrust into a heightened reality, and one of the best things about Taylor’s performance is that she imbues it with a genuine sense of confusion and uncertainty without ever making Paige feel like an idiot. It was a true joy to watch Taylor in this episode because she made Paige’s actions feel just as layered in their intentions as her parents’ actions always feel. She showed us that Paige was both terrified of what she witnessed her mother do and intrigued by what motivated her to learn to do it. She was both sincerely connecting with Matthew and using that connection to help her family. She was both eager for more answers about what her parents really do and immediately regretful that she asked. (Her wonderfully sarcastic “Great…” might have been one of the show’s most perfect conclusions to an episode.) Every time Paige is in the spotlight, Taylor shows that she’s not just a great young actor; she’s a great actor. And this episode was another example of her holding her own alongside the best actors on television.

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Source: tv.com

I apologize for making like the Statue of Liberty and disappearing for a while, but between a wonderfully long Disney World vacation and the holiday weekend, I haven’t had much time to write! But before I get back to writing, I think we should all take a minute and share a collective happy sigh over the news that Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys welcomed their new baby into the world earlier this month. Congratulations to them!

Title: Dinner For Seven

Episode M.V.P.: Keri Russell
Consider this a cumulative M.V.P. award for Russell’s outstanding work in the last bunch of episodes. Her performance throughout this Don/Young Hee arc has been a thing of layered, complex beauty—some of her best work on this show to date. And her performance in this episode was no exception. Russell has taken Elizabeth to an intensely vulnerable place in these last few weeks, and she’s done so in a way that feels true to this character, who still believes she’s not supposed to have emotional reactions to her job. Elizabeth isn’t going to break down sobbing over losing someone she considered a friend, and she’s not going to have a heart-to-heart talk with anyone about what she had to do to a beautiful family. Instead, she’s going to show her guilt, grief, and emotional exhaustion in the tiniest but most heartbreaking ways: crying even after she leaves Don and doesn’t need to act heartbroken anymore, closing her eyes tighter when Philip holds her, and hanging up the phone with shaking hands when she hears Young Hee crying. This is what happens when Elizabeth’s carefully compartmentalized emotions start seeping out of their compartments, and it’s fascinating to watch her begin to struggle with the idea that the human cost of what she’s doing—including what she’s doing to herself—might be too much.

Russell was brilliant throughout this episode, but her masterfully subtle take on Elizabeth’s emotional awakening was best shown through her scenes with Pastor Tim. In their first interaction, Elizabeth was clearly still seeing him as an opposing force. Her posture, her tone of voice, and her choice of words were all careful and professional. In their first scene alone in the church, Elizabeth’s softness still felt like an act, and we could see she was still dealing with him as a potential threat. However, by her final scene with him, those lines between sincerity and artifice were blurred in the way only this show can blur them. The way she searched for words, the soft way she spoke, and the lost look in her eyes made me believe at least some part of her was really trying to get advice about finding clarity and comfort when things feel overwhelming. Of course, part of her was probably saying those things to keep him close and to manage him like any other asset. However, Russell played that moment with just enough vulnerability that I could feel the truth in what Elizabeth was saying about her mental and emotional state.

Elizabeth’s growing vulnerability and clear unease with what she’s been asked to do contrasted so well with the episode’s final scene, which reminded us that she’s still a trained killer who should be feared. The way her body snapped into action so instinctively was amazing, and I was captivated by the feral look in her eyes as she protected herself and her daughter and also by the businesslike way she dealt with the aftermath—with just a hint of concern in her eyes about what her child just witnessed. Elizabeth Jennings is one of the most fascinating female characters on television, and the woman who brings her to life each week deserves every bit of recognition imaginable for bringing such powerful complexity to this role.

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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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