2.13 The Place I Called My Home If I were going to be really fair, I would ignore the recent cancellation news and give this episode an objective review free of nostalgia, grief, and righteous fangirl rage. But I’m not sure I’m capable of that kind of self-control, and I don’t think people are overly interested in objective reviews right now anyway. In the wake of Lincoln’s assassination, Corcoran, Freeman, and Morehouse decide (drunkenly) to chase down the escaping John Wilkes Booth and his accomplice David Herold. In a journey rife with cute and moving bromantic moments, they travel to Virginia and revisit sites from their wartime days along the way. Flashbacks offer glimpses of their time at the Battles of the Wilderness and Spotsylvania, where Morehouse lost his leg. (These are two battles I don’t think were covered in history class, so yay, learning!) The three of them fail to catch Booth and Herald, beaten to it by a military team. But their journey to the plantation in Virginia, though it brings bad memories and encounters with some really creepy racist people, has a cathartic effect and builds up their bromance to stand the test of time. In the end, O’Brien and Francis bring news that Tammany wants Corky to take Donovan’s job. The idea of seeing Corky in a position of such power is tantalyzing, but it looks like we’ll never know how it plays out. Likewise, when Corcoran goes in search of Eva but finds the Paradise empty except for the dead bodies of Lola and the bartender, we are left hanging with a final image of Corcoran looking frantically off the balcony, then a pan to the city skyline. That’s the end. And that is the last bad thing I will ever say about Copper. Because although it wasn’t perfect – and what is? – it was smart and beautiful and emotional and I loved it to bits. It was a show that knew what it is to be American and what it is to be human. It made Civil War buffs cool, mutton chops stylish, and history sexy. It had an incredible ability to take a soap-opera worthy string of tragedies and make them achingly real. Never sugar-coating, never compromising, it was dark but sensitive. Though it was set a hundred and fifty years ago, the political, economic, and personal turmoil it depicted hit close to home in a way that was a little painful but also oddly comforting. To all you Copperheads, I salute you. This is such a fun little fandom full of smart, creative people. It’s been a privilege traveling to 1860s Five Points with you. Read Kylie’s review of the previous episode, Beautiful Dreamer, here. Follow our Twitter feed for faster news and bad jokes right here. And be our Facebook chum here.
