8.6 Cool Boys There’s a common assumption that critics examine artistic endeavours in isolation—as discrete objects in their own self-contained worlds. But that’s never true, if only because it cannot be. The essence of any review, for instance, is that it’s a subjective opinion. True, it’s supposed to be the opinion of someone who has dedicated a chunk of her/his life to self-education on a genre or topic (and hopefully some basic communications skills), but in the end, it really is just a person talking from her/his own perspective. And I “own” mine. So keep that in mind. Especially since the other explanation for her reduced role seems to be the appearance of Hayley (swapping out black women—ew!). Except that Hayley doesn’t really seem to have enough to bring to the table to justify the exchange in the first place. I like Toks Olagundoye and think she did a great job on the short-lived series Neighbors, but her role here seems to be Rick’s go-to for information from unofficial sources. Are the writers forgetting that Rick used to be the show’s go-to for information from unofficial sources? Whatever it was they needed to know, and whatever level of sewer it needed to come from—whether those running under City Hall or the local don’s favorite watering hole or even a building sporting some federal investigative acronym—Rick could be counted on to be poker-buddies (or something) with someone who could deliver. So why do we need Hayley again? And with Alexis and Martha brought in again to meet what feels like a contractual obligation (rather than narrative need), and Esposito and Ryan acting as the antagonists to a great degree, most of the episode falls to Nathan Fillion and guest star Adam Baldwin to carry. In his previous outing on the show, Baldwin was obviously there to play to geeks: there were all sorts of cute little Firefly Easter eggs in his 2012 appearance Headhunters, and he and Fillion’s Jayne and Mal chemistry was more than a bit evident, with Adam again the over-the-top brawn to Nathan’s brain. Cool Boys is different though. From the beginning, Rick only agrees to work with Slaughter if the latter keeps his violent tendencies in check (for the most part). As the case unfolds, we find that Slaughter is a lot more than he seems. He cooks when he needs to think. He majored in musical theatre. And he understands that sometimes, you need to put the needs of the woman you love ahead of your own, as he tells Castle near the end of the episode. And this is where things go off the track for me. It’s not that I don’t like a little redemption. I’m addicted to Once Upon A Time, and that’s 90% of what that show is about. No, the problem here, for me, comes down to the show’s use of Adam Baldwin. If you’ve been living in a cave, you may be unaware of the part that Baldwin played last year in bringing an ugly misogynist movement to light and giving it legitimacy and a name. That his tweets have compared gay marriage to marriage between a father and son. His attacks on Wil Wheaton. And his and his followers’ scorched earth tactics against those who dare to disagree openly. His tweets this weekend show why his presence at fan conventions has become more and more of a point of dispute for many. But, I hear you say, there is a difference between an actor and his work, and there, I totally agree with you. Mel Gibson holds views about homosexuality that make me want to hold my gay friends closer for safety, but I can look at his Hamlet and say, “Wow, that’s actually one of the best ones out there,” and absolutely mean and defend that statement. The problem is both one of narrative and of bad (maybe) timing. Narratively, it makes no sense whatsoever for Slaughter to suddenly return and be everything he isn’t without actually changing what he is. What I mean by that is that we are a composite of our experiences. And before we didn’t know what Slaughter’s experiences were, so we assumed there was a backstory that explained the violent and manipulative person we were seeing. But now we find that actually, he’s educated. In the arts. The performing arts. He enjoys cooking. In an apron. And he’s taken full responsibility for the blowout of his marriage to his ex-wife by acknowledging that he could not give her needs the necessary weight in the marriage. So, yeah, a divorce can make someone bitter, I get that. But most chorus boys don’t become ultra-violent cops, and coming to grips with your role in the disintegration of your marriage is usually what dissipates the bitterness—it doesn’t make you threaten suspects with physical injury. And trust me, if you majored in Musical Theatre in college and you’re a guy, being called “sensitive” doesn’t even register on your gender-protectivity scale. (Oh, and if you’re going to write your characters as having majored in musical theatre, or as the son of a Broadway actor, the performers should be able to do a vaguely passable Riff and A-Rab. Fillion and Baldwin were terrible in a bit that was already sorely out of place.) In other words, the character no longer makes sense. So to bring Baldwin back to the show after such a year, put him next to his buddy Fillion (whose cred is intact), and redesign his angry, misogynist (even in this episode—his interaction with barely legal Alexis is enough to make you hurl your cookies, let alone the references to the nympho roommate) Neanderthal character so that we can see that under it all, he’s really just a guy who wants to cook you a meal and take you to a musical? Sorry, I ain’t biting. Maybe it’s all innocent. But if it is, the one thing it has in common with the rest of this season is the unbelievable tone-deafness it displays on the part of everyone involved. Read Laura’s review of the previous episode, The Nose, here.
