Barry season 4 premiere: Castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually

If I never tried to understand who I am, none of this would’ve happened.

It was always coming to this, right? Jail or death. There was never a comforting finale ahead of Barry Berkman (Bill Hader). After several glorious and horrible years of auditions, an array of headshots, and at least one murderous 11-year-old girl, the law has finally caught up with our titular hitman-turned-actor. Apprehended by a SWAT team while pointing a gun to the back of the head of Jim Moss (Robert Wisdom), the cell door clangs on Barry like a fluttering palm on an already raw forehead. Ironically, his impossible reign of terror will make him more famous than a recent turn on Laws Of Humanity (great show).

Barry ruined scores of lives before arriving in La La Land. He’s seen them in his dreams, crowding the beaches of eternity as they await salvation. Will they be granted access into the kingdom of heaven or remain in purgatory in their new home under the sea? That’s up to Barry, it seems, and he’s barely considering his role in their deaths. In the season-three finale, when Barry runs into Chris (Chris Marquette) on the beach, he does so as a friend, not as the man who killed Chris, staged his suicide, and participated in charity events for Chris’ widow and fatherless son. Barry’s a better actor than he gives himself credit for. He waves to Chris with a friendly, knowing smile—not unlike child Barry waving to a distant off-screen guardian on the beach later in the episode. Barry’s never been great at reading the emotions of other people, especially those on his dream beach.

But as we catch up with Barry’s current circumstances—and, yes, at long last, welcome back to Barry—we realize that he’s finally the talk of Tinsel Town. Even his guards are starstruck as they watch Detective Janice Moss’ killer being led to his cell. Unfortunately, neither his captors nor Barry has a great handle on the gravity of the situation. Instead, the guards treat Barry like a celebrity and as if his appearance were a magic trick and not the fucked up ending to a hundred nightmares. (“He was just on that screen, and now he’s in our cell block, dude. That’s awesome. Give him whatever he wants.”) And as most celebrities experiencing their first brush with fame, Barry wants to pretend that nothing’s changed or, rather, that there must be a better explanation for how he ended up here.

Barry’s phone call to Gene says so much about Barry’s frayed mental state. He wonders if Gene and Jim “tricked” him, saying that he “loves” and was only trying to protect Mr. Cousineau (Henry Winkler). These words undersell the circumstances, turning Barry into a whining child, attempting to apologize to a parent while circumventing accountability. But Gene’s out. Totally. And he’s no longer buying Barry’s wounded-warrior routine, no matter how genuine. (And, boy, does Barry need some help.) “I got you,” Gene replies, getting the “choke on this” kiss-off line Sally wishes she gave in season two. Gene got him, and Barry can no longer hurt him.

Fuches (Stephen Root) and Cousineau have always been inverses of each other. Whereas Fuches manipulated Barry for pay, Barry paid Cousineau to help him understand himself. Without Cousineau’s support or Fuches’ orders, Barry has nothing but himself, something he’s never been quite sure what to do with. So now all he wants is punishment and some modicum of forgiveness that he still thinks will fix everything. It doesn’t take long for Barry and Fuches to realize they’re in prison together. When they link up in the first of several hallucinatory, reality-bending moments, Barry does something truly surreal: He apologizes to Fuches.

Saying your sorry gets you far in the world. In Barry’s reality, it’s why Sally stayed with her abusive ex, Sam. It was, as she put it, part of the abuse cycle that became mana from heaven in a hellish situation. He might have killed a person once for “forgiving Jeff,” but Barry also seeks absolution, even if he’s not willing to work for it. Last season NoHo Hank gives him a lesson in apologies: Forgiveness must be earned. Still, just the acknowledgment of wrongdoing is enough for a still-wired Fuches, who, up until moments earlier, attempted to get Barry to incriminate himself with a crafty trip down memory lane, asking sneaky questions like, “Hey, remember that guy in Rochester you killed? Do you remember killing that guy?” Barry doesn’t register any of it and apologizes for the three previous seasons. He’s sorry for taking the acting class, trying to understand himself, killing a slew of innocent and not-so-innocent people, and landing him and Fuches in the clink. That’s all the effort that Fuches requires. All is forgiven.

But Barry still wants punishment. He won’t even allow himself to smile in the mirror without smacking himself silly and boxing the wall until blood stains the concrete like he was De Niro in Raging Bull, whom he evokes just a few lines later. When the starstruck guard tries to calm him down, telling him, in that perfectly underplayed Barry sort of way, “Jeez, Louise, I know they said you did a bad thing, but I’m sure you’re not a bad guy […] My mom always said, ‘Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.’” This bit of folksy wisdom means nothing to Barry, but it’s the same thing people have been telling him for years. The people he’s killed, from his celebratory first snipe in Afghanistan to Ryan Maddison’s father, do not matter. Barry is still a good person. Except he’s not.

The circumstances surrounding his life are often simultaneously and paradoxically absurdist and realistic. His military experiences and his PTSD are frighteningly real, but this is what he was trained to do and rewarded for—there’s something to be said about how unconcerned everyone in Barry is with the near-constant violence surrounding them. All the way to prison, Barry’s skills and fame shield him from accountability. Yet, it seems he’s willing to take that on for himself, antagonizing the starstruck guard with the one crime law enforcement officials would never turn a blind eye to: Barry, puffed up like Travis Bickle—to reference another Scorsese/De Niro collaboration—tells the guard he’s a cop killer that would kill the cop’s mother. What was this guard supposed to do? He beats Barry within an inch of his life, not that Barry notices. As the guard approaches him, the sound in the episode drops out, replaced by the gentle crashing of waves. Blood drips down Barry’s forehead, but he appears tranquil, at peace. When he’s shaken back to his nightmare, Fuches is there to comfort Barry, admitting to Barry that he took advantage of and manipulated a fragile soldier suffering from PTSD. The two finally come to an understanding, which will probably be bad for everyone in Los Angeles.

But post-traumatic stress is a common ailment on the show. Case in point: Sally Reed (Sarah Goldberg), who fled L.A. shortly after beating Shane Taylor (Anthony Molinari) to death with an aluminum bat. She’s heading back to Joplin to hide out and maybe reconcile with her own manipulative parental figures, albeit much less successfully—which says everything you need to know about how terrible Sally’s folks are. First, though, she needs to get there. While flying home to Joplin, she imagines Shane peering over the headrest like a child. She may be through with L.A., but L.A. is not through with her.

She lands to the stomach-churning sound of a thousand dings from her iPhone. Friends, colleagues, and curious acquaintances want to know if she’s okay because her boyfriend’s in jail for murder, and last they heard, she was with him. So after Sally’s mother begrudgingly picks her up from the airport, Sally, appropriately realizing how much worse her already awful situation is, launches into another one of her patented breakdowns, hyperventilating and screaming bloody murder. This woman should know by now that scarves are not her thing. Still, no matter how justified her behavior here is, her mother (played by a frustratingly dismissive Romy Rosemond) could not care less. It’s all “‌[clap, clap] I’m double parked,” a move any child of parents can relate to. The scenes in Joplin are downright spooky as Goldberg beautifully and maniacally threads the needle between telling her parents she’s in a crisis and letting them share in her brief moment of success. First, her dad (Michael Dempsey), who converted Sally’s room into his mancave, cannot communicate with his daughter like an adult, smiling at her as she sits under daddy’s desk and making small talk about her involvement in numerous murders, “yikes.” But her mother gets crueler as the night goes on.

Sally’s dad suggests they all sit down to watch Joplin; though, it says everything that Sally’s parents have not watched the show yet. Even worse, her dad didn’t even know about it only a scene prior. Nevertheless, he appears enthralled and shallowly supportive (“This is a big accomplishment for Sal”), pointing out superficial touches like local touchstones that made it to BanShe. He’s like the starstruck guard, marveling at how a bank on 51st Street ended up on the screen before him. However, her mom is much more antagonistic, questioning Sally’s decisions in an equally simple and pointed way. “You used Sam’s name. I thought this wasn’t based on you,” she says. “You never had a daughter, and you never worked at a bank. I see his mother at church. Now I’m going to have to call the family and let them know all about this.” Sally’s mother clearly doesn’t believe Sally and probably never did. She doesn’t buy that Sam was abusive (I mean, she sees his mother at church), and now she’s dating a killer. In her words, Sally “really knows how to pick ’em.” Sally’s mom is more interested in needling Sally further even as her terrified daughter lays it out as clearly as possible: She’s in trouble and needs her family’s help. Mom’s not interested. She needs to call another Jean as Sally’s father comforts her with the possibility of a part-time job with her dear dad.

Sally can’t stay in Joplin, just as NoHo Hank (Anthony Carrigan in a role that should be as lauded as Will Arnett’s Gob Bluth) can’t stay in Santa Fe. As fun as it is to sit and watch the crappy American sand blow around the desert, Hank’s little slice of heaven isn’t meant to last. Cristobal (Michael Irby) is getting antsy, despite his seemingly complacent demeanor. Cristobal and Hank, like Barry, are killers and dreamers. Cristobal talks about his new reality being like The Wizard Of Oz, but his description is the dream of Oz, which turns out to be more of a nightmare. This isn’t real life; he, like Sally, Hank, Barry, and both Dorothys, will have to wake up eventually.

And the dream ends almost immediately when the hippy lady with the cowboy hat (London Garcia) arrives to fix the oven and gives them a breakdown of the dwindling Santa Fe housing market. It’s challenging to build in the desert, she tells them, because sand prices are through the roof these days, and, no, they can’t just pull the sand out of the ground in the backyard and build with that. That’s shit sand. We’re talking about the good stuff: African sand, Asian sand, sand that needs to be imported by someone with the entrepreneurial spirit and know-how to organize such an endeavor.

When the couple goes out for chilaquiles later, Cristobal confesses he’s interested in the sand prospects and believes he can build an empire of sand. Still a little skittish from his time in the Bolivian prison, Hank decides to call Barry and see how things are going in L.A. Unsurprisingly, a stranger answers the phone, so Hank aborts, Googles, and learns of Barry’s arrest. Perhaps feeling duty-bound to Barry, Hank agrees to return to Los Angeles—though we disapprove of his keeping things from Cristobal. There should be no secrets between them.

Hank isn’t the only one acting shady. Gene Cousineau, relieved of the responsibility of covering for Barry, is living the high life. He and Jim Moss are working together to honor Janice’s memory, but it does feel like Gene wants a bit more. Sure, his Masterclass series is going better than he could have hoped for, but fame is fleeting. And while his story led to two major stories in Variety, he’s going to have to extend the press cycle if he wants to stay on top. We know that he has a history of letting fame go to his head, and even though he mostly seems content with the state of things throughout the episode, Gene reveals himself as a journalist’s deep throat for the case.

Gene’s time on top can only last so long, and as the forces of evil gather strength around the old acting teacher, it’s only a matter of time before Barry catches up with him. Sadly, Barry has no reason not to kill Mr. Cousineau now. Unless, of course, he’s changed.

Stray observations

• Hi again, Matt Schimkowitz here. I’m staying in HBO’s Los Angeles a little longer, having just recapped the phenomenal second season of Perry Mason. Rest assured, I love Barry and hope to do the show justice over the next seven weeks. If you also think that there should be a statue built in every village square commemorating Anthony Carrigan’s performance as NoHo Hank, you’re in the right place.
• It seems only fitting that in an episode filled with beaches, Hank and Cristobal are planning to build an empire of sand.
• Laws Of Humanity is one of my favorite runners on the show. I’m still recovering the reveal that the show is about a lawyer named “Hugh Manity.” Any variation of “Laws Of Humanity, that’s a great show” kills me.
• “I feel like I’m in The Wizard Of Oz. I’m Dorothy.” “I’m Dorothy” “Okay, fine, you’re Dorothy. I’m the Tinman.” Irby’s delivery of “I’m the Tinman” is both so sweet and so forced. He’s giving one of the most underrated performances in a show full of ’em.
• I’m sure we’ll sound like a broken record this season over his costuming, but Hank’s dinner fit is unreal. The gold glasses chain dangling in front of his body, removing any practical need for the chain, is such a nice touch. Still, we’d be remiss if we didn’t point out his poncho and hat. Big shouts to costume designer Tiffany White Stanton. Incredible work.
• The rainstick added so much atmosphere. More restaurants should take note.
• “Word on the street is you and Berkman were besties.” I’m actively praying for more scenes with these very Coens-esque investigators. Fuches’ scene had a real Burn After Reading vibe.
• The Patrick Fischler reveal was my Nick Fury appearing at the end of Iron Man. I was standing up and hooting and hollering and screaming. I am very excited for the Fischler era to begin.
• I have to assume that the voice young Barry hears on the beach is his father’s. It’s very telling about how closed off Barry is that we’ve gone three seasons and really haven’t dealt with his upbringing, outside of the ominous fact that an absolute demon like Fuches is an old family friend. Also, the detached way the kid turns and waves is so very Barry.