Unlike so many other protagonists of this era of prestige dramas,
Raylan Givens is no antihero. He’s a stubborn asshole, to be sure, and he has
what could be charitably described as an open-ended relationship with proper procedure. But even if his drive for justice is inextricably tangled up in his
anger and in his family’s criminal legacy, that doesn’t alter the fact that his
primary motivation is to uphold the law. His underlying motivations could
perhaps be considered selfish, but that’s only a fair assessment if one demands
that all law enforcers be driven solely by the very highest of ideals. He
frequently bends and very occasionally breaks the rules, but almost never in
the service of his own personal betterment. Raylan isn’t perfect, but he is a lawman.
That’s why his actions in last season’s finale “Ghosts” were so momentous. In
delivering Nicky Augustine to Sammy Tonin, Raylan crossed a line in a way he
never really had before. He indirectly organized a man’s murder for the very
best of reasons; indeed, one might wonder if Raylan would have taken so drastic
an action if Augustine had not made it so clear that his vengeful wrath included
not only Raylan but also Winona and the baby.
Raylan ended last season more compromised than ever before, yet I
wouldn’t necessarily have minded if the show had let him get away with it. He had
proved his heroic bona fides enough times and the murder of Augustine was so
clearly—to choose a word at random—justified that I was actually prepared to
view Raylan’s decision as a forgivable onetime lapse. Hell, in the context of
the show’s Western roots, Raylan’s decisive action might even be considered properly heroic, even if the modern-day authorities would surely disagree with that
assessment. Last week’s “A Murder Of Crowes” did not suggest any
fallout was imminent, but that all changes with tonight’s episode, as Art
starts digging into just why Sammy Tonin would have phoned Raylan shortly
before he was murdered. The fact that Art doesn’t immediately get angry with
Raylan or jump straight to an accusation could well be telling. After all, Art
knows from experience that it’s damn near impossible to reprimand Raylan
without learning something he really, really does not want to know. It’s early
days yet, but Justified likely wouldn’t start Art’s investigation
quite so softly if it didn’t intend it to be a slow build. Raylan made a deal
with the devil, and it looks like he will pay the price for choosing such a
singularly stupid devil.
It’s entirely appropriate that the proverbial noose begins to
tighten around Raylan in an episode that makes one of the show’s most powerful
arguments as to why this world needs like a lawman like Raylan Givens. After
ceding the spotlight in last week’s premiere, Raylan is the unquestioned star
of “The Kids Aren’t All Right,” as he is once again drawn into the troubled
life of Loretta Macready. There’s an old notion in fiction that to
save someone’s life is to take responsibility for it forever, and that’s as
good an explanation as any for the relationship between Raylan and Loretta. Despite her obvious manipulations and the almost galactic obnoxiousness of her
boyfriend, Raylan can’t help but sort out her messes.
Admittedly, Raylan would probably do what he does here for any
pair of wayward teens dumb enough to get mixed up with the Memphis marijuana
outfit—particularly when one teen’s social worker is as fetching as Amy Smart’s
Allison—but he likely wouldn’t bother with the lectures. Beneath all the
entirely understandable cynicism and exasperation, Raylan still believes
Loretta can be better than she is, or else she can learn enough pity to go easy
on the rest of the world. For her part, Loretta makes it clear that Raylan is so
fundamentally constant that she can maneuver him into doing whatever it is she
needs of him. That assessment doesn’t reflect all that well on either of them,
but at least Raylan is struggling toward something resembling improvement.
Again, that may just be to win over Allison, but Raylan has done far worse
things for far worse reasons.
Speaking of which, Raylan’s confrontation with the greatest beard
in television history—and I guess the murderous drug dealer behind it, but
let’s not lose focus—illustrates the precariousness of his current position,
morally speaking. As Rodney “Hot Rod” Dunham points out, the reputation
attached to Raylan’s surname precedes him; this isn’t the first time this weed
kingpin has been called out to a late-night meeting with a Givens, and so it’s
probably just a tad difficult for him to look at Raylan as an irreproachable
dispenser of justice. The marshal deflects the issue, as he’s an old expert at
ignoring Arlo’s legacy, but his already tenuous grip on the moral high ground
is shaken just that little bit more. Indeed, Raylan is rarely as direct with
his threats as he is here, plainly stating that he’s capable of killing the
majority of Dunham’s men—in part because of his own youthful experiences with Arlo’s criminal enterprises—and his badge makes it all legal. Raylan never learned to walk away because, unlike Arlo, he never actually has to.
Raylan’s statements aren’t corrupt, exactly, but they suggest a
dangerous precedent. Raylan generally does whatever he believes he needs to do,
and his overriding belief in the ideal of justice that the badge represents is
what allows for the occasional bending of the rules. The phrasing here
indicates Raylan is prepared to do what he has to and simply wave his badge
around afterward as ex post facto justification. Between this and “Ghosts,” Raylan appears to be at
his most corruptible when those he cares about most are in danger. That stated need
to protect “me and mine” is part of what drives men like his father into a life
of crime; Raylan lacks the greed for power and wealth that helped define Arlo,
but he seems to be having a harder time maintaining that heroic detachment
from his more primal impulses.
As for Harlan County’s actual outlaw, Boyd Crowder has
regained a great deal of composure after his own potentially disastrous
tactical blunder. It’s worth contrasting what led the two men to their
potentially fatal mistakes: Raylan allowed Nicky Augustine’s execution in order
to save his ex-wife’s life, whereas Boyd nearly beat Lee Paxton to death over
the honor of his future wife Ava. The motivations come from similar places, but
their manifestations reveal the fundamental differences in Raylan and Boyd’s
natures. When faced with the threat of imminent death for him and his loved
ones, Raylan remained rational enough to outwit the prideful mobster, but Boyd
could not control himself when faced with a mere insult—even allowing for
Boyd’s concern for Ava’s freedom, that’s still a useful illustration of why
Raylan and Boyd find themselves in such different circumstances.
That said, it never pays to underestimate the strategic mind of
Boyd Crowder, particularly when he has had a bit of time to collect himself. He
appears genuinely fascinated with Mara’s seemingly inexplicable refusal to
identify him as her husband’s assailant, a decision that earns the frankly
terrifying ire of Deputy Nick Mooney. Mara is likely to cost Boyd dearly, one
way or another, but Boyd likely appreciates the intellectual stimulation of
trying to work out just what her game is. As his world collapses around him, he
can use just such a distraction. As he discovers in the final scene, forces
unknown have declared total war against him and his criminal enterprise, and
the only recourse immediately available to him is to try to hide it all away. At
the end of both “A Murder Of Crowes” and “The Kids Aren’t All Right,” Boyd was
presented with seemingly insoluble problems. In the first case, he lost
control, while here he numbly maintains his composure. The problem for Boyd is
how little difference it seems to make. No matter how he responds, the world
seems to have it in for him.
Stray
observations:
- Wynn Duffy has his fair share of criminal talents, but he does
not appear to be the most charismatic of public speakers, at least as far as
the pushers of Harlan County are concerned. Perhaps he should have tried
engaging them with a little analysis of Marion Bartoli’s run to the title at last
year’s Wimbledon. - “Yeah, well, have a good one.” Timothy Olyphant is rarely
funnier than when he’s offhandedly dismissing some angry jackass. It’s a marvel
he doesn’t punch that punk Derek right then and there. - “Would you prefer that I
respond point by point or should I wait till the end?” This isn’t Hot
Rod Dunham’s first negotiation, people. Though, again, I’m almost positive that
the beard is really calling all the shots. - The Crowes only appear
briefly here, as Daryl Jr. drops in on an obviously terrified Dewey Crowe. Also,
it’s deeply weird to hear the world’s cuddliest neo-Nazi make an actual
reference to Adolf Hitler; it’s the rare instance where one has to at least
consider whether Dewey actually buys into the horrific, hateful philosophies
implied by his tattoos. That said, I’d be shocked if Dewey’s conception of
Hitler is connected to, well… anything.
He’s still probably too dumb to believe anything that stupid.