"Recoil": Of Monsters and Mirrors

I feel somewhat bad about continuing to put off part three of my Sherlock cameras/characters case study, but I can justify this because a) I still really want to talk about Beckett, b) those Sherlock posts take an exorbitant amount of time to put together and c) this is my blog, and I can do whatever I want because no one is reading this anyway.

So "Recoil" then, finally. I keep talking about this episode without actually talking about it, and the truth is, I hadn't actually seen it since initial viewing. I know I'm going to continue mentioning it, so it was time I give it a second look, try to reevaluate my opinions and see if they've changed. And the truth is, they have, but they haven't.

"Recoil" really does present an extremely interesting scenario. I'll be straight here: on realizing the premise, I was ecstatic. I thought that this would be the episode in which Beckett, finally, begins backsliding, starts to go dark and becomes, in essence, well, s1 Jordan. I paused several times to imagine possible paths Beckett could take, the consequences that would befall her once she began following one. It occurred to me that she might choose the path of the righteous and the just, but I just didn't want to believe she would, so when she did I was crushingly disappointed. Honestly, I was devastated. I was so disappointed in her, I couldn't move from my couch for a full twenty minutes after it ended, staring in disbelief at my frozen screen. I couldn't stop asking her why, couldn't figure out what could possibly motivate her to be so...morally spotless and annoyingly incorruptible. I quickly started to blame the writers for not being brave, for choosing once again to not allow Beckett to follow a darker, more interesting arc, and while part of me still believes that, the rest of me has come to realize something very important about Beckett that I had managed, up until very recently really, to blind myself to.

“Now I'm protecting the man who murdered my mother.” - Kate Beckett

And that is, Kate Beckett is not Jordan Cavanaugh.

"No witnesses. I pull this trigger, I get off in self-defense." - Jordan Cavanaugh
not pictured: Kate Beckett

This is a hard pill for me to swallow. It always has been. I desperately, more than anything, want Beckett to be Jordan, only worse. I want her to do the things Jordan did and almost did, I want her to be the loosest of loose cannons, free-falling from a place of moral superiority and do-goodery to the bottom of the pit, covered in somebody else's blood and liking it. "Recoil" was impossible for me to choke down up until an hour ago, because in that episode's premise I could see my dreams coming true, and yet they didn't. I think it's very, very possible that the reason Beckett is not Jordan is because of how popular Castle is, that it's advertised as more a comedy than a drama, that character progression as black as an unlit basement for the lead character would probably drastically impact the show's demographic, and I'm not, for two seconds, going to live under the delusion that this isn't something which impacts how the show is written. And while I hate this, I need to accept it, and, having more or less accepted it, I need to look at Beckett on her level -- without Jordan's shadow passing over her -- because doing so reveals some things which do make her more interesting to me, and can make her not-being-Jordan-ness matter less.

"Recoil" throws Beckett into an extremely delicate moral position, one in which any decision she makes is going to result in heavy consequences, and while everyone has on opinion on what course she should take (including me), no one can make the choice for her. Beckett connects very, very deeply with her identity as a cop -- we know this because in many episodes, not just "Recoil," she can be found making statements like "I'm a cop. This is my responsibility." and believing it as she says it -- yet her life since 1999 has been utterly driven and directed by a deep-seated need for revenge, justice, and closure over her mother's murder. By s5, Beckett more or less has found the answers she's sought for well over a decade, but has found no relief in them, and she has to live every day not only with the emotional and physical bullet wounds resulting from her pursuit, but with the knowledge that the man responsible for them is safe, sound, and viewed more or less favorably by the general population (including her boss) instead of as the monster she knows him to be. We know she wants Bracken dead, and Bracken knows it too, because she's told him so point blank, multiple times. And not only do they know it, but everyone else within Beckett's circle knows or at least suspects it too -- Castle has even seen her letter to Bracken, in which she "dotted the 'i' on 'kill' with a little heart." Yet, when Beckett is placed in a situation in which she can finally act as executioner, not only doesn't she choose to do so, but Bracken chooses to remain under her dubious protection (because, let's be real, if Bracken had wanted to, he very easily could have found a hundred justifiable reasons to get his case reassigned to a different detective; in fact, he's a senator; he wouldn't even have needed to explain himself).

How does Gates and the aid not feel that tension?

Bracken's not an idiot -- he's completely aware of Beckett's position; that by becoming his bodyguard, she in affect holds his life in her hands. But he chooses to let her keep that power, and he chooses to take every opportunity to remind her that she has it, pointing out from the get-go that him being in the crosshairs "must be a dream come true" for her. And I think he does this precisely because he's not an idiot. I think he drew the same conclusion about Beckett that I've been forced to accept, that she's too moral of a being to allow herself to be ruled by the flash heat desire for revenge, and that this driving need of hers for revenge would in fact, paradoxically, serve as his ultimate protection (at least, in this instance).

I came to this conclusion because his decision reminds me a lot of two characters who made a similar, strategic choice in the Crossing Jordan episodes "Ockham's Razor" (2.10) and "Jump, Push, Fall" (4.21) --which I am now going to spoil in minor ways, so be warned. In "Ockham's" we see Dr. Ben Hothorne, Garret's bitter rival, decide to murder his wife within Garret's jurisdiction. Garret eventually comes to realize that Hothorne did this "because he knew I hated him, that I would go out of my way to believe [in his innocence] because I hated him." And this is exactly what Garret does (at least until he figures this logic out). He refuses to accept that Hothorne is guilty because he can't help but suspect his reasons for coming to this conclusion -- if he truly believes him guilty, or if he just wants it to be so. In "Jump," Jack Slokum (Ph.D., M.D., J.D.) makes a similar gamble: in his witch hunt to bring down Garret, he employs Jordan as his partner, Jordan who considers Garret her closest, most trustworthy friend. Garret, on learning this, points out that it's "smart" because "that way, he can't be accused of railroading me." Slokum enlists Jordan because he knows she will choose to pursue the truth, despite of, and, perhaps, because of, the position she's been placed in -- between loyalty to her friend and loyalty to her moral convictions (because Jordan so outspokenly serves the truth for the victims she speaks for).

Of course, Bracken's decision doesn't completely parallel those of Hothorne or Slokum, but I believe the analogy can still be drawn: Beckett can't let Bracken die on her watch despite her overwhelming wish that he would, because if she gives in, and he does, then that makes her as much a monster as he is. I think Bracken had the arrogance (and the cajones) to bet his life that this is the moral dilemma Beckett would find herself ensnared within -- and she is. Letting him die would betray both the person she's set out to be (a morally righteous officer of the law) and the person(s) for whom she works (the victim, and, by extension, her mother).

I think that this is something which is recognized by everyone on Beckett's team, especially Castle, which is interesting, given his fears in "After the Storm." I'd venture to posit that it's because of her actions in "Storm" that Castle, throughout "Recoil," never shows any true concern that Beckett is going to let Bracken die. We know from previous episodes that Castle has in the past been concerned over her ability to retain her humanity, yet here he makes no attempt to call her off the case, in a situation where Beckett could so easily (and nearly does) bring about an extremely fatal end to her greatest enemy without the threat of detection or legal ramifications. I can't believe that this is because he wants Bracken to die himself, because, again, of his actions in "Storm." More to the point, I can't for a second imagine that he's okay with Beckett living with blood on her hands, that he would be able to stand by and allow her to lose herself in such a dark decision. Castle does nothing to prevent her in her course simply because he believes in her, for the same reason Bracken does, even after he sees her playfully psychotic heart in the 'i' of 'kill,' even after she admits to having almost burned the letter and letting their shooter go.

This quality is at once what makes Beckett so interesting and so frustrating to me. She seems to be caught in a flux, struggling in times of moral conflict to orient herself between what she wants and what she can live with. She's long since decided who she is, long since invested in her identity as a cop, yet when her darker impulses flash to the surface, that faith in herself almost seems to evaporate. This is why she has a history of seeking independent counsel (as her current shrink is at least her second), why she finds herself running to the breakroom, terrified that she's going to lose herself off a precipice, why she tells Castle, "I've gotta make this right. I've gotta save Bracken's life." Throughout the episode, she's presented with opportunities to indirectly kill Bracken, opportunities which increase in their potential effectiveness even while costing progressively less from her to see realized (at first, she must decide to destroy evidence, then to let McManus go; by the end, all she has to do is literally, as Castle points out, stand there and watch). But as the episode progresses, we see her faith in herself steadily increase, until she makes the choice to risk her own life to save Bracken's, by shielding him from the bomb with her body.

It's hard for me to understand the strength of Beckett's moral convictions sometimes, and I think this is a sentiment shared by her team. Esposito wonders at her ability to work the case, remarking to Ryan on several occasions that he would have let Bracken die. Castle tells Bracken he wouldn't have done what Beckett did, that he would have "stood there and watched." And I? I sat on my couch, knees to my chest, begging her aloud and often to let him die. But I think what this opinion fails to realize is the thing that Ryan quietly reminds Esposito, the thing which Beckett struggles with the most: that she has to live with it once it's done. For someone like Beckett, who's constructed her selfhood on the strength and sincerity with which she believes in truth and justice and rightness, having to live with herself after making such a call would probably trigger an extreme crisis of faith.

Of course, this is precisely why I did (and do) want her to kill him, because seeing Beckett experience such a thing would provide me so much mental fodder that I would probably literally gain several pounds. I want more than anything for her to struggle with her (professed) rage and grief, over the death of her mother and over the near loss of her own life, and lose; for her then to have to look at herself in Jordan's mirror, and, perhaps, want to shatter it too.

I don't know that I'll ever see this wish granted, but I don't think I'll ever stop hoping for it (though, if I'm honest with myself, I know this will likely never come to pass), because the stronger the steel, the more satisfying it is to see it finally crack. "Recoil" does an excellent job of showing us the strength of Beckett's internal, moral steel, which I appreciate now more than I did yesterday, so now I can only hope that's it's merely a set-up for her eventual fall from grace.

You know you want to, Beckett.

Castle: On "Still," bottle episodes, and how I would have done it

I guess I'll just start off by saying that I didn't necessarily dislike "Still." I responded to it much the same way I responded to "Squab" and a lot of Castle this season -- enjoyment but a lot of disappointment. I hate to talk about the show exceedingly negatively, because, as I think I stated previously, I love the show and I love the characters, so it's my hope that soon we'll be delivered another gem I can shower with affection. But I can't do this for "Still," and while I could just as easily say nothing, I really want to talk about it, so I'm going to do that, my tone be damned.

"Still" was, obviously, a bottle episode, employing my least favorite of all bottle techniques--the Clip Show. I think there's been only one example of the form that I've seen actually work, and that was when it was so nicely subverted by Community (though, to be honest, as much as it claimed to be a bottle episode, "Paradigms of Human Memory" didn't really seem to be one; it more seemed to just exist as a parody of the form). Clip Shows are annoying for obvious reasons, especially for someone like me, for whom characterization is sacred and rerunning is a way of life (and I'm by far not the most extreme example of it; I've known people to have seen an episode nine times within twenty-four hours of its airing, though I don't even know how that was done). There's huge appeal in reviewing past moments, but I bought the episodes on physical and/or digital release for exactly that purpose, and a Clip Show episode fails to capture the joy I find in reexperience while also becoming an episode that is itself hard to rewatch. I look to new episodes for fresh content, to reruns for fulfillment, and to fan communities and YouTube for compilations and clip shows, and it's always disappointing to get one of these from the show itself -- which often, due to the constraints of it being a broadcasted episode, leave out both the best and the most subtle examples anyway. Clip Shows also tend to cheapen the moments they excise from their context, and it was especially disappointing to see some of my favorite dramatic moments, such as those from "Countdown," "Knockdown," and "Knockout"/"Rise," being brought up in that fashion -- rapid fire, with the addition of the cheesy voice-over from Montgomery, which was a speech that in its context I truly loved.

In that vein, just from the standpoint of characterization, Clip Shows create a bizarre sort of fish eye perspective of the character's life. How is it that the moments these characters think of all have to do with something the audience has seen before? Why is it that when Beckett looks back on her life, as she tries to cope with the fact that she's going to die, she sees so many moments associated with her mother's murder, but not the actual crime scene of the murder which we know through backstory she's seen? Why doesn't she think of any part of her life prior to Castle's canon, such as her time in Russia, time with her father immediately following her mother's death, time in the police academy with Royce, or time between canon, such as her recovery in the hospital and the conversations she must have had with her father following her shooting? Limitations of the form tell us exactly why -- because these scenes don't exist to be drawn upon, and since it's a bottle episode, they're not going to go out and film them -- but this is precisely the problem. It's painfully obvious what the episode is (a bottle episode), and it has the effect of immediately flattening the characters. The act of reminiscing feels flat because it is flat, because the memory that these characters have is shortened immediately to incorporate only the happenings of the last few years, and it excludes all of those quiet moments that never would have been in an episode (something like Beckett and Castle taking coffee out on the balcony as the sun rises over the city, or them sitting opposite each other at the precinct, Castle typing into his laptop and Beckett filling out paperwork with a half-empty cup of coffee at her elbow, and after two hours one of them wonders aloud about the possibility of stopping to get a sandwich). Suspension of belief in a Clip Show becomes infinitely more difficult to retain, and it often feels to me like it's even uprooting some of my investment by exposing how shallow characterization can be.

But in the interest of not being completely negative, I'll say that I latched onto the few moments of legitimate dramatic tension in "Still" with a crack addict's desperation, and I savored them as such, because the reality is that characters having to come to terms with Impending Mortal Peril is easily my second or third favorite plot device. Further, I genuinely love the premise of the episode -- that we start with an idyllic morning, one in which the world for Beckett seems both bright and peaceful, and by noon she's suddenly faced with the fact that probably won't live to see the sunset. I love that Castle, as her Loyal, Loving Compatriot, refuses to leave her side or let her cede, mentally or physically. I love the implication that Esposito would put the Big Hurt on their bomber without any hesitation if it meant saving her. If the episode had been done with the same plot, but none of the Clip Show, "Still" easily could have made my top five list, no question. I would've eaten it up and waxed praise like a raving lunatic, complete with exclamation marks and scene by scene analysis and shoving a rerun into my morning. I might not have slept last night. That is the kind of love I'm prepared to have, so being denied that level of joy by something as lazy as a Clip Show just sours my view, especially when a plot that has the potential for emotional intensity instead becomes more of a joke fest.

This leads me back to what I'm fairly certain I brought up earlier in my discussion of "Squab," which is my feeling that Castle tends to skip over opportunities for depth and real character-character/viewer-character connections in favor of shallow humor. Again, I love Castle when it's funny, and it can be exceptionally good at it. I honestly think Castle has done some of the strongest parodies or "inspired by" plots I've seen anywhere, and I would take "Scared to Death" over Scary Movie any day of any week. But I'd again like to point out that Beckett/Stana Katic is capable of delivering an extreme amount of intensity, from regal, somber grace to burns-like-fire, homicidal rage, and it's disappointing to so rarely see that side of her come out to play. This is part of the reason I so love Joss Whedon's approach to television, because his characters constantly exist in that dynamic between funny and not even close to funny, between rage, neutrality, and an almost disquieting level of misery. Buffy Summers is a character I could never find enough positive words to lavish with, and a big part of that has to do with how dynamic her role is allowed to be. She can be hilarious one scene and depressing the next; she can go from a character that is extremely sympathetic, brave, and giving, to a character who is dislikeable, weak, and selfish, without ever going OOC. Jordan Cavanaugh is, to a lesser extent, like this, which is why (or part of the reason why) between these two characters I've never found an equal.

I've often complained that Beckett is simply too perfect to be wholly sympathetic. She's a paragon of goodness. There is no better way to illustrate this than by looking at her actions in episodes like "After the Storm" and "Recoil," in which she, for no explicable reason, allows the man who ruined her life to live. I cannot even begin to describe how I lamented when Beckett saved Bracken from the bomb in "Recoil," because there, truly, was the opportunity for Beckett to be dark and interesting and different. I don't know that there's ever been a moment where I was more disappointed in a character or a plot-point than then. I can't even think of the mytharc anymore without thinking of that scene. I can only hope that the finale sees Bracken's death (and that "Still" was made a bottleneck in part to help fund the finale), and that Beckett has some part in it. That would make me indescribably happy.

But, at any rate, "Still" sharply brings into focus how frustratingly, unrealistically perfect and unflappable Beckett is, as she stands stoically on a bomb arguing trivialities with Castle. On the one level, I can reason that she's able to do this because she's choosing to box away her situation by throwing herself into the comfort of shared memories and old, stupid jokes, but on another I feel that that is completely unrealistic and I wish that she was able to actually react. There was no claustrophobia, no fear, no indignant rage over her rapidly impending death, no lamentation, hardly any tears. She waits to meet her death with a grim stoicism that borders on apathy. Here again, for the second week in a row, Beckett was given the opportunity to flash back on past events in more than just a surface-y, Clip Show level -- to rage that she survived a bullet wound and a tiger and a bombing once already, that despite her decision to remain a moral being and keep the person she hates most alive, she is still going to die here in a freak accident, and she has to wait, tortuously, for that grisly death to come, while her partner feeds her false promises and the bomb unit under her feet gives up.

Just thinking about it, there are a hundred things I would have done differently with this episode. It would have been a lot more interesting to have Beckett actually break down, to have to deal with being unable to move as terror builds pressure in her blood. That coupled with rage toward herself for the decisions she's made and to the universe for stripping her of her life when she'd only so recently gotten it back would cause her to eventually lash out at Castle, to finally blow loose the misgivings she's had over their relationship in a petty attack aimed toward reducing her stress. Poor Castle would be doing his best to remain positive in the face of increasingly grim circumstances, trying to balance his own terror and sharp, internal keening against her needs, but would find himself at a loss at her sudden outburst, at once gaining piercing insight into his behavior and her perception of their relationship. Beckett would see immediately that she's hurt him, and the rage would drain away for just a moment as she rapidly, if somewhat shortly, apologizes and retracts back within herself. After she's saved, late in the night, Castle would tentatively return to her concerns, appreciating deeply how close he'd been to losing her and filled with the desire to make things right before time slips away from them, before either of them have a chance to step on another bomb.

To heighten emotional tension, just at the climax, when there's ten minutes to go, I'd have Castle bodily removed from her, on the insistence of the bomb squad leader. Castle would refuse, for the first time showing anger himself, because he finds himself suddenly, hotly enraged by the fact that Beckett's going to die and there's nothing he can do about it, and he can't even be there with her till the end. He too would be thinking about almost losing her to some gunman two years ago, thinking about the endless, stupid risks, about the fact that he's only just gotten to connect to her with the intimacy he's always wanted from her. He can't bring himself to walk out the door and say goodbye. He can't cope with the fact that this morning he was making hearts in her coffee, coffee she was never able to drink, and by tomorrow he's going to have to try to figure out what to do with the clothes she'd tossed casually over his dresser the night before and with what he's going to tell her father and what's going to happen when he goes into the precinct and sees her desk precisely as she left it. Then Beckett would look him straight in the eyes, suddenly strong and brave and stoic, and she would beg him quietly to leave. And Castle would have to stand there looking at her, wanting more than anything to reach across the spray-painted line and kiss her and carry her home, but be unable to so much as touch her, and then he would have to leave her. And then I would have done a big, wide shot of him walking off frame and out of the room, leaving Beckett in this vacuous, silent space. And then, finally, she would have broken completely, shaking and sobbing even as she stands perfectly still, lost in enough negative space to make Sherlock jealous. Fade to black.

Castle would call the precinct, tell them what's going on, demand they give him something he can use to break the code. On having his wild epiphany, he would break away from the bomb squad leader, who would try and fail to restrain him, and he would run full melt back into the apartment and back to Beckett. Her grief would immediately be replaced with rage upon his re-entrance, for his failure to respect her wish that he not die with her, for continuing to try to seduce her with false promises for survival, when by her count she's less than two minutes left, terrified afresh now not just because she's going to die, but because she knows that Castle will not have time to clear the building even if he were to listen to her and run. She hates him for forcing her to shoulder his death in addition to her own, and she rages against him in a bitter, grief-stricken torrent. Castle, angry at her now both for having accepted her death and for being angry at him, lashes right back at her, but shortly, and tells her that he came back because he's willing to gamble his life on how sincerely he believes himself to be right about the code word, and that she does not, in fact, bear the weight of the world upon her shoulders. He tells her that she isn't going to die. Maybe he even makes a meta joke about them having Plot Armor, because they're the main characters in his book. Beckett, having quieted in the face of his passion, love, and conviction, points out that he killed off Derrick Storm. Castle, having no adequate response, simply holds up the bomb remote and punches in the code. When it disarms, Beckett is still frozen for a moment, waiting for the blast, but when it doesn't come she abruptly falls sobbing into Castle, raging at him for being an idiot before he cuts her off by kissing her. She meets him with aggression born out of the terrified, electric energy still coursing through her soul and her blood, and they spend a long time like that, lip-locked and appreciating their ability to touch each other again. They break apart once the bomb squad leader re-enters, and then they both shakily return to their feet and walk out of the apartment.

Meanwhile, Esposito and Ryan, who had dashed to their car the second Castle had gotten off the line with them, are racing to the apartment, both filled with the unspoken dread that Castle had indeed gone back into that building, and that both him and Beckett are now dead. When they arrive to find that the building is not destroyed, for a moment they think that maybe they don't have the time right, that they got there before the bomb was set to blow, and that they're both about to witness something awful, which Ryan verbalizes to a small extent by starting to say something like "Javie, I..." and being unable to finish the thought. Just as he says this, in the background we see Beckett and Castle exiting the building, and then the two cops run to meet them, relieved at first, then, within a beat, overjoyed. Cue happy reunion and cop humor.

Again, that night, Beckett and Castle would finally have a moment, finally start a frank, adult conversation. Whether or not it'd be something included in the episode, I'm not sure. Probably I would just have them start it, and then do the typical close-up reaction thing, and then I would imply that they do indeed have it, fade to black, and next episode they seem healed.

And that is how I would have written "Still," more or less. I also would have had no music, at all. It would've been one of those episodes marked by its silence, offering, hopefully, a gravity and nakedness similar to that in "The Body" (Buffy). Just thinking about "Still" being produced in this fashion, instead of the Clip Show route they chose to go, makes me sadder about the episode than before.

Please, for the love of god, let Bracken die in the finale.

Re: Castle "The Squab and the Quail"

(this post contains heavy spoilers for Castle, late s3-s5)

I lied yesterday when I said the only thing I wanted to talk about was Sherlock. The reality is, I also really want to talk about Castle. So that's what I'm going to do. Tomorrow will more than likely be when I get to Sherlock and his boingy curls...

At any rate, to Castle. Castle is one of those shows I've been following for a few years now. I didn't bother to give it a chance until I was strong-armed into doing so after the s3 finale, mostly because I took one look at it when it came around as a mid-season replacement (as I recall, anyway) and said to myself "Ugh, another clone." And the reality is, I wasn't exactly wrong: it very much is another clone, and for all its quasi-frequent bouts of extreme gloriousness (thinking of a few choice gems, most notable of which was probably "Close Encounters"), the show suffers from several unfortunate syndromes, not the least of which is its plots. Don't get me wrong, the show has all the most important ingredients to turn me obsessive (quite successfully), starting with Kate Beckett (the Woman) and the Canadian population (SK and NF, former of whom has an accent that never ever stops making me laugh), and ending somewhere with Nathan Fillion (who is, as far as I'm convinced, impossible not to love, even when I was rooting for him to die in a horrible, grisly fashion during his stay on Buffy...sidenote, Xaaaaaandeeeerrrrrr nooooooooooo, Fillion, whyyy??). I have at least six Castle fics lying abandoned between two computers, one of which I'm still legitimately proud of and will hopefully one day actually finish. I have all the boxsets, and the books. I even have a puzzle I found once for $20 when I was wandering around the mall.

My point is, I love the show, I've thought about it a lot, and prior to the whole...Bracken...thing, I'd even devoted something like six+ hours to working out Beckett's mother's murder and who I thought the responsible party would turn out to be (spoiler: I was wrong). It's because of all this that I feel justified in criticizing it, and there are times, especially lately, where I almost can't contain myself. This is one of those times.

So "Squab and the Quail." I had approached Monday skeptically, given I'd seen the ads for the last minute episode switcheroo, and while I was overcome with joy at seeing Ioan Gruffudd again (given his association with the hole in my heart that was once Ringer; oh my soapy show, how I mourn you), that feeling died rather quickly upon seeing the rest of the ad, and the episode. I'll be the first to tell you, I was never a "Caskett" fan. Not ever. Not for half a second. Shipping has never been my thing, and the sorts of plots realized and/or unrequited romance lead to are just never good, unless Joss Whedon writes them, and, clearly, he's not writing this. Part of me longs to write a long, exploratory post on why Castle does a crap job of writing a compelling romance, but that is for another day, because while I didn't enjoy "Squab," it wasn't entirely because of the annoying "will she be faithful?""do I love him?" angst (though I could fill a post just on that). I didn't enjoy it because of one scene.

this scene, or, to be more precise, this moment

This is not because of the sneak attack kiss. That was stupid, but it wasn't episode-ruining, and, frankly, who wouldn't want to kiss Ioan Gruffudd? No, it was because, to reiterate, of this...

I had to pause at this point. I saw at that moment something potentially beautiful, potentially wonderful, potentially actually interesting, and as I saw it, I knew, without any doubt, that they'd never go there. And that thought was confirmed with a few minutes.

yep

So what, if you haven't already guessed, was the thing to which I'm alluding? More than likely, you've glanced the pictures below, and have guessed, but I'll proceed as if you haven't.

I'm all about character continuity and flow, and the more enigmatic, erratic, mistrusting, and self-destructive a character is, and the more they have to deal with the consequences of these traits, the more I am helplessly drawn in. Throw in Mortal Danger of the Constant Kind, Brave Self-Sacrifice, and Long Lasting Ramifications and that's it. My personal life is done for. This is why Crossing Jordan and Buffy together occupy the pinnacle of television to me. This is why I would follow Joss Whedon to the ends of Hell. This is why "Knockout" transformed me from interested to crazoid in the span of ten minutes (and is probably the reason that that was the episode that convinced my friend I had to watch Castle). And this is why "Squab" was disappointing, more so than it otherwise was. I'll now make my case.

"Knockout" and "Rise," AKA Sleepless Night and Endless Rerun AKA The closest Castle has ever been to Buffy

I'm not going to claim for a moment that anything about the s3 finale and s4 premiere was original, but, then again, I've never really cared for originality, and as far as I'm concerned, those two episodes were pretty fantastic. Maybe someday I'll talk about why I loved those episodes, but not here. For now, the only baseline point is that, to me, those two episodes were interesting and compelling, for reasons that should now be somewhat clear. I would also like to point out that while I'm not a fan of Caskett, I am a ridiculous fan of Beckett and, to a lesser degree, Castle, and there is lot to their relationship that I really, truly enjoy. As obsessed as I am with the Woman, she can only barely outshine how much I love her Loyal Friend and Compatriot.

With that said, it should come as absolutely no surprise that I loved the unliving crap out of "Kill Shot." While I recognize the episode's faults after many reruns, I still rank it just below "Rise" on my list of top Castle episodes. PTSD episodes are no more original than the lead character getting shot or getting cancer, but, as I said before, that doesn't matter, and that episode really helped cement Beckett as a permanent member of my favorite character list, which, incidentally, doubles as my dream team in the event of a zombie apocalypse. But as much as I loved "Kill Shot," as with "Rise," on its end I found myself disappointed that long-term trauma from Beckett's near-death experience wasn't going to be a thing. Castle is, at its core, more of a comedy, and while I wanted nothing more than "Buffy s6 v2: On the General Misery and Extended Free-Fall of Kate Beckett, NYPD," I knew that that wasn't going to happen. Still, "Kill Shot" planted within me a deep-seated hope that Castle was capable of being deep, of recognizing the trauma never completely heals, and of allowing Beckett to be more interesting, dynamic, and morally relaxed. The s4 finale pretty much killed that hope (as did "Recoil"), but "Squab" did as good as flatten it.

But why get so upset over squandered opportunity in an MOTW, and a fairly vapid one at that? Because it shows a clear amount of thoughtlessness, and a rather glaring crack in character continuity, as upsetting as the fact that Beckett has a scar from her bullet wound but not from the sternum spreader they used to sunder her chest.

but they cracked you open like a walnut...

I realize that there are several reasons Castle cannot be Buffy. It's a different genre, a different format, and it carries wildly different expectations. It could have chosen to be as intense and interesting as Buffy, back when it was still deciding what it wanted to be in s2, but the time has since passed (though why no one has taken this overdone "cop with dead mother" thing and ran somewhere brutal with it is beyond me...I guess Crossing Jordan is as close as there is at the moment). I accept what it's set out to do, even though I think potential is being thrown away ("Recoil," I'm looking at you). But it's one thing to not go there, to avoid characters falling into emotional pits by simply choosing to travel through roads that are pitless, and it's another to willfully drive over pits and pave them over. I say this, because this is Beckett, slightly less than two years ago.

this is them about to crack you open like said walnut

And this is Beckett a little over a year ago.

hey, look! negative space!

And this was Beckett Monday.

standing right in front of that window, no sweat

This should not be. There is absolutely no reason why she wouldn't have had a reaction similar to what we saw in "Kill Shot." In KS, Beckett isn't shot at or directly targeted. The mere idea of the sniper sends her spiraling. One could attempt to make the argument that she's since healed, but its been less than two years since she was dying on a table with small paddles around her heart, and every day she has to live with several scars from her ordeal (both from the bullet and the tube they jabbed through her ribcage). No one can just get over that, especially not so rapidly, yet she's standing in front of that window probably at most an hour after a sniper bullet came within a foot of her face. At the very least, she should've been nervous about getting near the window, and should have kept near the walls, no matter how much she wanted to save face. The fact that she didn't means the writers didn't think about her history, and the fact that they didn't think about it means that her integrity as a good, solid character has been breached. This is one of those small, yet completely inexcusable continuity breaks, because this scene so easily could have been done without a sniper being involved. The fact that they chose to go the route of a sniper without having any desire to work with what I feel would have been Beckett's very real reaction to such a situation disappoints me a lot. Not only would it have been interesting to see the continued affect her ordeal has on her, it would have immediately thrown into light how ridiculous Castle's jealousy and her concerns about his commitment truly are, and it could have led to a frank, adult, down-to-earth discussion about their worries -- which would truly be a first, given how immaturely their relationship is handled. (And speaking of Castle, I'm not going to forgive him either for it not even occurring to him that the whole sniper thing might have upset her at a deeper level than it might have anyone else...)

Castle is filled with little moments like this, filled with missed opportunities and depth exchanged for shallow relationship-oriented angst. Why this one is the one that stuck with me so hard, I can't really say; maybe it's just the timing, what with me now having this nifty outlet. I won't condemn the show for what it is, and I'll be the first to admit that the Ring and Rear Window parodies were both excellent and hilarious, but it seems a shame to me that week after week we don't really see much substance from two characters and two actors who are so obviously capable of delivering it.

So here's hoping the whole Beckett, pressure plate thing will turn out for the better. God knows I love Mortal Peril, even if it does make me think of that one She Spies episode...