723: '6am - 7am'
Wr: David Fury & Alex Gansa
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close.
Review: Well, thank God the writing staff picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and put their collective heads together for this one; after the diabolical disappointment that was last week's '5am - 6am', 24 looked set to deliver its most worthlessly insipid finale ever, full of cougar-esque Kim chases and ludicrous FBI vs. CTU bickering. That this is not the case is a testament to David Fury and Alex Gansa's considerable writing talents, especially when one considers that a large number of the plot developments that occur in '6am - 7am' have, at their core, a rather undesirable element. A potent example of this is the game of bait and switch between Olivia and Ethan, with Aaron thrown in the mix for good measure. The story is centred on the laughable ball of convenience that is the 'digital recording device', something that, bizarrely, the new Acting Chief of Staff wasn't made aware of when she was inaugurated into the position. Furthermore, the notion that Ethan failed to turn the thing off when he resigned his commission about ten hours ago is rather preposterous and a thoroughly transparent way of allowing the writers to get to their designed end point. However, these gripes are glossed over somewhat by a combination of sublime dialogue and superlative acting. Everyone involved in the ever-unfolding intrigue is absolutely at the top of their game, including the guys that play Martin and Tim, regardless of how small a part they have to play. Glenn Morshower is superb as always as Agent Pierce, successfully selling the gravity of the situation with every subtle nuance in his conversation with Ethan.
And check out the horror that consumes Sprague Grayden as she uncovers the recording device (I rolled my eyes a little at Ethan having left it open, what a cliche!) and how she holds up against an actor of Bob Gunton's calibre when she 'interrogates' Ethan while he's in custody. There are some delightfully subtle lines here, from Olivia's joy at the fact that he still stands for her after so many years, which lends significant weight and believability to their relationship, to their respective exploitation of legalise and penchant for deceit. When Olivia remarks that the President ordered Kanin's detention, it's a wonderfully eerie moment, providing a quick kick to the viewer's stomach and demonstrating just how far off the rails her character has gone. And more impressively, the fact that Ethan foils Olivia, giving her a blank disc, would ordinarily seem rather contrived; however, here, the problem is offset by our knowledge of the characters. From all that we have seen of their troubled relationship over the course of the season, it is entirely logical that Kanin wouldn't trust Taylor, that he would have a back-up plan in case things went wrong; his line, "one has to be prepared when dealing with Olivia" says it all and allows for events to seem less forced.
Over at Dial-an-Operating-Theatre, meanwhile, things don't look too good for poor, poor Jack Bauer. Last week, I lamented the culmination of the bioterrorist threat, believing that the writers dropped the ball on the main thrust of the narrative, tying things up too soon and apparently directing the story in a highly lamentable direction: the retrieval of Kim bloody Bauer. Thankfully, things don't quite turn out that way; instead, Tony has yet another plan, an "even bigger picture" (to paraphrase the guy), that he wishes to use to gain himself a position in the shady group. There is some sort of logic in his dastardly scheme to harvest Jack's organs - oh my God, 24's turning into Saw, or something - even if one suspects that the science behind the whole scheme of 'reconstituting the virus' is probably a little hokey. But then, what do I know? Biology (or chemistry, whatever the hell you'd call this) was never was my strong point. Anyway, more importantly, this gives the hour an undercurrent of foreboding, a slowly-building wave of horror that never reaches a dramatic apex but just bubbles under, chilling rather than scaring you witless. Interestingly, this seems to work just as well, if not better, than any intense action-fest or race against time because it's unusual for the show, and therefore unpredictable. Without a threat to stop or lives to save, the emphasis of the story shifts to the identities of the 'shady group' and the interplay between characters which, because they are so well delineated, works extremely well.
Every one of Almeida's scenes with Cara, for example, seem loaded with intrigue; they unbalance the viewer as we don't have the full picture. Motives aren't clearly drawn, histories not well established. The same can be said of Cara's phone conversation with good ol' Will Patton at episode's end, which is made all the more menacing by our lack of information about the character. There's an absolutely wonderful use of split screen here, as a shot of Tony is placed inbetween the phone call, visually symbolising the state of play between the three. Jon Cassar actually exploits this device to the max throughout the episode, using it to ramp up the tension when Jack orchestrates Tony's escape by continually increasing the number of shots, peppering the screen with different viewpoints that send your eyes darting about all over the shop. And then, just for kicks, he does it again in the closing moments, allowing the action to run on in all the 'boxes' as they bleed into one another, which in turn gives the plot a greater feeling of gravitas.
'6am - 7am' is not without its more regrettable moments, however, and the majority of these centre on, you guessed it, Kimberly 'I want to be my daddy!' Bauer. Elisha Cuthbert does manage to do a good job with some of the material she is given - particularly in the thoroughly convincing 'game face' that she puts on for her captors - but this doesn't disguise the myriad problems that haunt her story. The ridiculous 'evil computer spycam' plot is foiled by the simple act of someone needing to sit down in a packed airport which, you would think, the highly intelligent 'terrorists' might have thought of. In fact, you'd imagine they wouldn't do something as ridiculous as train a camera on an individual and have the shot showing on the full screen of their computer for the whole world to see but what the hey, it's a minute detail right, we should forgive it. Well, it would easier to if there weren't so many other facepalm moments. The shoot out sequence in the airport is very well choreographed, with bullets flying everywhere, panicked citizens running for their lives and shaky, hand held camera movements creating a prominent sense of unease and hysteria. However, exactly what is gained by two poorly armed people trying to take out an entire airport full of security? In fact, scratch that, one man with one gun, since his 'wife' is too busy trying to knife their target in the back. Really, could they not have found a more subtle way of offing Kim than by effectively telling everyone in the building what they're doing? Sure, it appears that the police are on their way to intercept them but why not just quickly stab Kim and then scarper? Sigh.
The silliness doesn't stop there though, oh no. The writers are clearly trying to draw parallels between father and daughter, turning Kim into a sort of Jack-lite. Unfortunately, it doesn't really work. She stabs the crazy coffee-drinking female with a pen and it practically incapacitates her! Riiiight. Then, she's on the phone to Renee, dispensing with all pleasantries and shouting "security's down!", demanding to know "where are the airport police?" and finally, capping it all off with a very poor "dammit!" that doesn't even come close to any of Sutherland's utterances of the word. In fact, it's practically an insult to his genius to even have her consider stealing his catchphrase. Now, sure, we get that Kim worked at CTU once so she has some sort of experience with all of this. And yeah, it's far preferable to see her acting with a modicum of intelligence than simply running around being chased by God knows what. However, the transformation is just too great. When she sat at her computer screen in season three, occasionally looking after babies and getting into bitch fights with Chloe, she was hardly the most level-headed or experienced of agents. I'd say, in terms of her combat-readiness, she was at about the same level as Janis Gold is right now. Kim was a 'systems analyst' for crying out loud, not a field operative! (Her one excursion into the field was hardly complex, was it? She just had to don a disguise!) And in the six years that it's been since she was last recruited by the government, where has she managed to develop the experience needed to be so on the ball and forward-thinking in a crisis situation? I mean Christ, it gets to the point where she risks her life to retrieve a computer! Not only does she follow the gun-toting bad guy instead of doing the sensible, ordinary thing and letting the authorities do their jobs (she has no weapon for crying out loud!), but once he's practically killed himself, she climbs into a blazing car just to get a piece of evidence that might help in the retrieval of Tony/her dad. If the thing weren't on fire, maybe I'd accept it, but the risk is far too great. Oh and furthermore, technology develops rather substantially in six years so I find it hard to believe that the kind of digital camera that is attached to the laptop would fit the specification for the mysterious 'D-11 router' that Kim is so knowledgeable about. Whatever expertise she had is unquestionably long outdated now; and in any case, back tracing the source with a router? Technobabble, much?
There are a couple of other lamentable plot decisions too - the fact that Jack manages to overpower everyone after having been paralysed, as well as suffering the effects of the pathogen, is a little ridiculous, even if his throat-slitting is uber cool, and why exactly are two of the doctors wearing masks but the third one isn't? Huh? Still, these are minor gripes that don't really distract from the overall quality of the episode. On the whole, '6am - 7am' is a considerably entertaining piece, loaded with interesting developments, some excellent character scenes, particularly between Olivia, Ethan and Aaron, and a considerable amount of tension. While the final hours lack a central dramatic event, this actually proves to be beneficial, shifting the emphasis away from explosions and races against time and more towards mystery and intrigue. There are elements of the plot that are questionably handled, most notably Kim's transformation into a mini version of her daddy, but these don't hamper the episode's quality too much. Good stuff then, building into the final hour with considerable finesse. 8.3
724: '7am - 8am'
Teleplay: Howard Gordon
Story: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close
Review: Well, there's no denying it: 24 really ups its game with this heart stopper of a finale but its strength lies not so much in the action, which is over within the first twenty minutes, but in the character interplay, in the way in which the dialogue cuts to the heart of the emotional conflicts that have permeated the season. Gordon, Braga and Coto's script features a sleu of outstanding individual scenes that are not only thoroughly believable, but also sell the humanity of the characters whose tumultuous lives we love to see roller-coaster all over Washington DC week in, week out. To begin, we have the duplicitous, tortured Tony Almeida whose motivation is finally exposed for all the world to see. Granted, as soon as he unleashes yet another "ah hah! But that is not my real plan!", it sets the eyes a-rolling, but the show cleverly avoids making its viewers feel like they are being jerked around by grounding the events in the kind of emotion that we can really invest in. It isn't too great a stretch to accept that he is doing this for Michelle, for all that he lost so cruelly two seasons ago, and Bernard sells it so well with every clearly pained nuance of his performance that the smattering of inconsistencies can be overlooked. While the notion that Alan Wilson was responsible for 'the Logan affair' is a clever move, rewarding loyal viewers with a nod to continuity, it still rankles a little that Almeida was willing to murder Larry Moss and, more importantly, to potentially infect thousands of civilians with a lethal pathogen. However, all of this is pushed to the furthest reaches of the mind as soon as he and Jack trade psychoanalytic barbs ("you're not honouring Michelle's life, you're revelling in her death" is perhaps my favourite); Sutherland and Bernard are just so fantastic, so emotionally intense, that it negates any doubts that we may have. The tension in the scene where Almeida wires Bauer with C4 threatens to cut through your screen, it's so sharp, and Jon Cassar does a wonderful job of amplifying it with some erratic, shadowy direction. And at the end of the day, there's something fairly logical about the idea of Tony 'playing both sides' anyway, of him being without a moral compass after all that he's been through. He doesn't care who he takes down with him, as long as he gets to achieve his end game and while we may not like it, after years of forming a close bond with the character, we can at least understand and accept it. It's arguably far more realistic than a cut and dry 'good vs. evil' motif, where everyone falls in line with established norms. There's far, far more humanity in the flawed, in hate, in revenge. When he screams, "what did you do? You ran away!" at Jack once Alan Wilson is taken into custody, it really resonates with the viewer because we can see his point. Those around Bauer die and the perpetrators rarely ever pay for their crimes; isn't it about time someone changed all that? It's rivetingly complex stuff, denying us the ability to box these characters off as 'good' or 'bad', and three-dimensionalising them instead.
While we're on the subject of Wilson, how incredible is Will Patton, huh? With the utmost brevity, he manages to sell the threat of a character we have barely had the chance to explore, giving him the kind of proverbial weight as a villain that is genuinely frightening. For the duration of his performance - from his Western-style confrontation with Tony outside the warehouse, shot using wide angles to give everything more gravitas, to his stint in FBI custody - he remains absolutely steadfast, barely moving an inch and staring, nay glaring, into the distance. His eyes are terrifyingly piercing, rarely allowed to blink, and the way in which he shows absolutely no emotion, regardless of what is being said to him, is incredibly unnerving. It doesn't matter what is being said - Tony offering his services, Renee threatening him with the death penalty - he remains unmoved, steady in his belief that he is effectively untouchable. The only extravagance he is afforded is a penchant for muttering 'huh' under his breath which, given that the term conveys curiosity, is only the more disquieting. This is the kind of villain that truly rewards the viewer, not a bumbling, psychotically deranged lunatic like Jonas Hodges, or an OTT gun blazer like General Juma. No, it's the quiet ones that are the most believable, which obviously bodes well for the eighth season given that, from the closing moments, it looks like he might just show up again. This is another of the episode's many strong points; for the first time in many years, it seems that the central plot is not over at year's end. The 'shadowy conspiracy' is not exposed and the inclusion of Renee's 'to torture or not to torture? That is the question!' moment, while a little extraneous, does seem to suggest that we will carry on exploring this angle next year. Mind, we said the same about President Palmer being infected with a a biological agent at the end of season two and look where that got us...
Speaking of Presidents, the Olivia Taylor storyline comes to a close and it's a somewhat surprising highlight. While Glenn Morshower is uncharacteristically hammy when he and Ethan confront the Chief of Staff, pulling somewhat ludicrous 'disgusted' faces and over-emphasising words, everyone else knocks one right out of the park. Grayden, Jones and Feore are absolutely excellent in Olivia's confessional scene, believably selling every painful shred of emotion that passes between the characters. The dialogue is perfect too, from Alison's very palpable struggle between her head and her heart, between what she should do as President of the United States and what she wants to do as a mother, to Henry's thoroughly human pleas for his wife to think about what this will do to their family. And as if all this wasn't enough to sell you on the intensity
of the situation, Sean Callery's music magnifies it tenfold, using mysterious whistling noises, long-playing discordant notes and the intermittent sound of a heartbeat that increases in volume but never in pace. It really lifts the scene, giving it a gravity that would undoubtedly be missing without it. You may be tempted to pour scorn on the notion that the music has any real impact, as I have heard from countless sources, but I dare you to try watching the programme without it. It's as much a character as any of the actual people in the show; if you can get your hands on an unedited version of the programme, on the dailies say, you'll find it a completely different and far less rewarding experience than when Callery works his magic all over it.
'7am - 8am' contains much else that's enjoyable too. Both central action sequences are exceptionally choreographed: Jack and Tony's mini-battle in the, um, garage (?) is suitably intense and thankfully brief, containing a true punch-the-air moment when Bauer's plan doesn't come to fruition. It's become all too easy over the years for Jack to simply achieve everything that he sets out to because, well, 'he's Jack Bauer, he's superhuman', so much so that it's turned into a bit of an irritating cliche, but this reverses the trend, humanising the character again and making the situation far more realistic, even if it is implied that it's all because he's dying of Deadly Pathogen Disease. The moment where he starts to spasm while trying to get under the shutter is a very nice touch, lending credence to his struggle. Mind, we could have done without Tony's magical forklift commandeering and the rather conveniently placed sticks of dynamite (well of course there'd be some lying around, silly! Groan!), but these are minor quibbles. The hour's major battle, meanwhile, the shoot out at the Warehouse Coral, is outstanding. This is Jon Cassar's last stab at depicting all out chaos (he's not returning for the eighth season, sadly) and, as per, he delivers above and beyond the call of duty. Every frame of the sequence is loaded with activity as bullets ricochet everywhere, soldiers, both FBI and 'government conspiracy', run around in complete disarray, collapsing onto one another or firing at the FBI. And then there's the assault from the helicopter which is just magnificent, really believably handled.
It's a shame that the plot itself occasionally threatens to undermine the strength of the direction; the initial appearance of Renee and co. is head-scratchingly sudden, seeming a little out of place. At the beginning of the episode, Kim laments that they haven't been able to track Almeida's location through the combination of the rather spurious 'D11 router' and the laptop's camera, even though it's only been, like, five minutes since she retrieved the damn thing from the burning wreckage of a car. Then, ten minutes later, they've got the exact location and have managed to get there just in the nick of time to prevent Jack from blowing to smithereens? Um, how is that exactly? The writers don't even give us a throwaway line of dialogue between Chloe and Janis that would indicate that they've 'cracked the code' or some such gumf. Oh, and Renee, shock of shocks, happens to recognise the exact trigger mechanism that Jack's wired with and so is able to disarm the bomb in about ten seconds! This is a little sloppy, feeling like a rushed solution to the narrative being backed into a corner, rather than an organic method of nullifying the problem. Arguably, an opportunity for still more dramatic tension is greatly missed here, since a quick phone call to FBICTU could've lead to their resident bomb disposal expert talking someone through the process. But I suppose we needed to save a bit of time so that Tony could drag out his execution of Alan Wilson, just long enough for our heroes to burst in and stop it. To be honest, I don't have a problem with this as such, since it leads to some excellent dialogue between all involved, but did they really need to go down the pregnancy route? Sure, Bernard does a nice job of selling Tony's pain when he screams "you killed my son!" but this just feels tagged on, one step too far in the guy's motivation. It would've been enough to have led with the fact that the man killed his wife, putting an end to the peaceful life he'd established with her. Throwing an unborn child into the mix just feels tacky and unnecessary, as if the writers didn't have enough faith in their plot to believe we'd buy into it, and so dredged up the one the one motif they could think of that would most conventionally tug at the heartstrings.
And after having successfully made us all teary-eyed with some beautiful two-handers that see Jack putting his affairs in order, first with Renee and then with the priest from a few episodes back - a pair of scenes that provide a neat conclusion to the season's central debate between 'the law' and 'what is right', while also returning to most important factor of all: the implications for Bauer's character - the writers do the most painfully obvious thing and bring Kim back into play in the last few moments, having her show up at the hospital and demand to be readied for major stem cell surgery. For a good twenty minutes or so prior to this, it actually seems like 24 is going to leave us on the idea of Jack potentially dying, not giving us a resolution to his plight until next season. And while we'd all certainly be aware that he'd be back up and running in year eight because, let's face it, Keifer is signed up for it, it would have been a far better way of closing this troubled narrative strand than the frustratingly predictable turn of events that actually occur. Oh sure, it's well within the realms of believability for Kim's character, but it's just annoying, speaking volumes about the absurdity of the whole storyline. There has never been any doubt in the mind of any viewer of the show that Jack will survive this infection. None whatsoever. If they'd done this in the final season, or if we weren't aware that Sutherland was returning, it could've been a hugely rewarding, and brave, plot twist but as it is, it's just redundant. It muddies the feeling that one is left with at the end of the episode; instead of being stoked at all the fantastic acting and writing we've just seen unfold before our eyes, we're deflated, rolling our eyes, asking "what WAS the point?" Was it to give Sutherland a chance to prove his acting chops? Well, we know that already. To give him a few different beats to play? Well okay, but there are plenty of other ways of achieving that. If any of the other characters had been lying in that hospital bed, dying of the pathogen, the final scene, no matter how absurd, would still have been umpteen times more rewarding than it currently is, and that just makes the 'cliffhanger' all the more depressing.
'7am - 8am' is an unquestionably strong close to a pretty darn exciting season. Gordon, Coto and Braga's script concentrates on character than action and in so doing, provides a far more rewarding viewing experience. The various two-handers between Jack and Tony, Tony and Wilson, Jack and Renee and so on, really magnify the humanity at the core of the story, reminding us all that these catastrophic events are happening to people, which in turn makes everything considerably more believable and worth investing in. Each narrative gets a satisfying pay-off, from the painfully emotional resolution to Olivia's story, in which the President thankfully makes the most logical decision for her character, right down to the understated and brief farewell between Janis and Chloe. It's not perfect by any means; narrative beats such as Michelle's pregnancy are more irritating than interesting, and the final scene does nothing but reiterate the pointlessness of Jack's infection, but in the end, there's enough exceptional material to keep it well above water. Proof positive that there's life in the old dog yet. 8.8
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