American Gods Episode 3
“Are you sure I do this with you? Follow the wrong god, I do not see my Tita again,” the woman worries in the “Somewhere in America” vignette that opens “Head Full of Snow.” The introduction of Anubis is beautiful in its own right, but it is also a stakes-raiser — a reminder that who you worship has consequences, at least in this world. Even if you haven’t read the book, it’s pretty clear that Shadow isn’t going to die in the third episode. This episode is the most fairy tale-like of the season so far, and that lends its events a feeling of safety that prior episodes did not have. Fairy tales (at least in American culture) tend to include the fantastical idea of the happy ending, that everything will be OK — if not because everyone will actually be OK than because their fates will at least have meaning. To die is not the ultimate tragedy in this story and stories like it. According to Wednesday, the true tragedy is to be forgotten. “The only thing that scares me is being forgotten,” he tells Shadow as they drive through the snow Shadow dreamed into existence. “I can survive most things, but not that.” The fairy tale aura settles over everything in this episode: Anubis and his latest charge rise into a desertscape where the stars seem to go on forever. Zorya Polunochnaya plucks the moon from the sky (and a kiss from Shadow) from her rooftop terrace that may or may not exist. Wednesday and Zorya Vechernyaya kiss in the rain. Later, this may be another kind of story. Right now, it is a fairy tale where kisses are more than kisses and snow is more than snow. With the coin in hand, Shadow is beginning to feel like a new man. The next step in his process of belief occurs when Wednesday secures his help in a bank robbery. He inspires Shadow to make it snow, using only the power of his mind. Shadow may still question Mad Sweeney on how he does his coin tricks and ask Wednesday if he is losing his mind, but he doesn’t seem as hopeless as he once did. “You’d rather die than live in a world with bears in the sky,” Zorya Polunochnaya tells Shadow, but I’m not sure if that will always be true. If believing in something can change the world, than Shadow’s world is beginning to change — and, with it, Wednesday’s world, too. The bank robbery lent this episode a levity and humor that previous episodes have not tried to attain. (I think it may have been Ian McShane in those earmuffs.) Wednesday may be dangerous, but, here, he is also a delight: clever, charmismatic, and confident in his plans. He may be down on his god luck, but he is having a hell of a good time trying to get some worshippers back. There’s something immensely likeable about that trait — or, at the very least, enviable. “If by the end of the night, you do not end up in jail, will you believe in me?” Wednesday asks Shadow before he goes off to earn from cash. They don’t end up in jail (yet), but Shadow isn’t quite convinced. “None of this feels real. It feels like a dream,” Shadow says, still choosing to believe in the delusion of his perception rather than the idea that this fantastical perception could be reality. It’s hard to tell how Laura’s return from the dead might affect Shadow’s existential struggle, but it’s a hell of a cliffhanger.
“Somewhere in America” — Salim & the Jinn
Like the previous episodes of American Gods, the most moving part of this story came in the vignettes. With “Head Full of Snow,” the episode belongs to Salim and the Jinn. Salim, an Omani man, has only been in America a week when he happens to get into the Jinn’s cab. Downtrodden and with little hope for what America can give to him, Salim is still full of compassion and love. When he meets the Jinn, who is in hour 30 of his taxi shift, the two men share a moment of connection in a country and city that is not often known for its ability to nurture such human moments of intimacy and love. The scene is beautifully lit. As the rain falls down in the world outside of the taxicab, the reds and oranges of the dry desert — of both of their homes — warm their conversation. “I have been in America for a week and it has done nothing but eat my mind,” Salim confides in the Jinn. Like so many of the other Old Gods we have met on our American Gods travels so far, the Jinn is struggling to make ends meet in a country that has nearly forgotten about him. “They know nothing about my people here. They think all we do is grant wishes. If I could grant a wish, do you think I would be driving a cab?” When Salim recogizes the Jinn for what he is, based on the tales his grandmother had told him, he is doing more than reminiscing or even simply sharing in a culture. He is recogizing the Jinn as real and worthy of belief. Here, it is also a beautiful metaphor for queer identity. It’s unclear if the Jinn acribes to such human categories, but Salim seems to be gay in a culture that does not always welcome it. (That would be Muslim culture, as well as American culture.) The morning after their love-making, Salim wakes up alone — or, more accurately, he seems to wake up as the Jinn. The Jinn has assumed his body and identity in some way. In another story, this might be a horrifying moment, but, here, it is played by an escape from the narrow, hopeless existence Salim was forced to live before. It’s unclear where Salim ends and the Jinn begins, but this fairy tale is not a horror; it’s a love story. “I do not grant wishes.” “But you do.” “I thought I told the pretty lies. You want fortune or you want truth?” “I want knowledge.” “They will kill you this time.” — Zorya Vechernyaya’s fortune to Wednesday. Yikes! Czernobog promises to kill Shadow after he goes with Wednesday to “his Wisconsin.” This guy is not a fun guy to have around. Shout out to Hannibal alum Scott Thompson for his appearance as The Guy Who Gets Impaled Because of Mad’s Bad Luck! He somehow survived three seasons on Hannibal only to die after five minutes on American Gods. “That woman thinks Jesus suffered for her sins. They’re her sins, why should Jesus do all the suffering?” “Cause his dad sacrificed his ass.” “White Jesus could stand a little more suffering. He’s doing very well for himself these days.” — Wednesday is bitter about White Jesus. “This is the only country in the world that wonder what it is … No one wonders about the heart of Norway or goes searching for the soul of Mozambique.” Is this true? Do other countries have existential crises like America? That feels like a human thing, but I guess it could be a cultural thing. If you’re a non-American, sound off with your thoughts in the comments below! “You are pretending you cannot believe in impossible things.” “We remember what’s important to us.” “This is not Queen.” “This is not Queens.” The best description of the desert between life and death? Discuss.
