Note: Do not read on if you have not yet seen season three, episode ten of Showtime's Homeland, titled “Good Night.”
How can I resist this episode of Homeland when it’s a cross between three of my favorite things: Zero Dark Thirty, Star Trek, and those old Road Runner cartoons from Warner Bros.?
You see, I have a theory. Nicholas Brody is no longer a metaphor for a nation whose idealistic march to war blew up in its face, causing its population to question the righteousness of their cause and wonder if the enemy might be right after all. No, Brody is now the writers’ very own Wile E. Coyote, suffering one spectacular injury after another, as everyone but Carrie looks on with a mixture of pity, horror, and amusement. Framed for mass murder, shot in the gut, hooked on heroin, un-hooked from heroin via some crazy hallucinogen, sent on a virtual suicide mission to Tehran, and now blown up by an IED—how long before he turns to the camera, grimaces, and whips out a hand-painted sign that reads, “HELP”?
Ask not if Saul is the Road Runner in this metaphor, because what really matters is the impact of these traumas on Carrie. The whole point is to ring her emotional bell harder than it’s ever been rung before, which explains why she has to be carrying his baby (even though she denies as much to Quinn). Carrie—once a symbol of the lonely defender of the homeland, haunted by terrifying truths that looks like madness to those she has sworn to protect—is in danger of being reduced to the girl who squeals every time Brody takes another shot.
But as I’ve said before, pondering Homeland’s lost potential is no way to enjoy this show. So let’s move on to the Zero Dark Thirty part of the episode, shall we?
Kathryn Bigelow’s 2012 dramatization of the hunt for Osama bin Laden ends with an hour-long portrayal of the SEAL raid on the terror mastermind’s compound in Pakistan, and what we have here is a much cheaper, much less realistic, but nevertheless entertaining depiction of a special-ops night raid at the Iranian border.
It began with the usual macho bonding sequences. There were jokes about goat sex, exchanges of sock-changing hygiene tips, and diligent tests of everything from the communications network to Brody’s cover story. And of course Brody had to say his prayers.
Then, as Saul chomped his 6,000th stick of lucky gum and confided to Carrie that he felt “like I’m in Vegas, bettin’ the mortgage,” the boys rolled to the border.
Part of the fun of watching these special-ops sequences in the movies and on TV is knowing that our guys are basically super-human. So even though it was a good bet that this mission would end up going sideways, you knew the traffic jam at the border or the arrival of a Kuwaiti police patrol wouldn’t be enough to undo the Kilo Alpha team. Sure, having to bid the local cops “Good Night” (the title of this episode, it’s worth pointing out) definitely made things messy, as did Brody’s brief bout of PTSD panic, but it wasn’t until the IED zapped Brody and his bro that things really got hairy.
Which brings us to the part that reminded me of Star Trek. Instead of Kirk on the Bridge, we have Saul in his command center, muttering orders and trying to maintain some semblance of control over events on the ground. Except instead of a bloodlessly logical sidekick, Saul has Carrie, whose passions burn far hotter than his own (or anybody’s). He also has a visitor in the newly docile Senator Lockhart, who may be realizing that running this Agency is a lot less fun than grandstanding for the cameras over on Capitol Hill.
When the White House aide Higgins appears on the big screen, Klingon-style, to share his brilliant idea for saving the situation, it’s up to Saul to present the logical case against drone-striking two Americans in uniform. Meanwhile, am I the only one who wants a T-shirt that reads, “Carrie, bite it hard”?
What an emotional roller coaster for Carrie. First she thinks Brody’s been blown to bits; then she watches, in aerial night vision, as he drags his buddy out of the wreckage. She hears him on the radio, expertly negotiating all that Kilo Alpha lingo.
It was getting pretty good until the writers gave us that dopey scene of Carrie trying to persuade Brody to retreat. “If anyone can talk Brody off the ledge, she can,” Quinn explains, just in case there are any viewers who happened to drop in during the commercial break for American Dad.
Brody tells Carrie that he trusts her to find a way to get him out, and she cries and screams, “FUCK!” But then five minutes later, she’s in Saul’s office giving him the good news. Maybe she really is off the meds.
The episode ends with good old Wile E. Coyote locked in a cell with another of the special-ops guys. This poor bastard’s mistake was trying to save Brody from his own stubbornness, and he pays for it with his life. Seems Javadi didn’t want any American POW’s explaining to Iranian interrogators that their boss is in cahoots with Saul Berenson.
Brody, of course, is spared. We know the score by now. You can beat him, shoot him, imprison him, torture him, lead him off a cliff and let him realize for himself there’s no ground under his feet. The only thing you can’t do is kill him, because that would put an end to all the “fun.”
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