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Monday, May 14, 2012

 

Studies that count, stories that touch

Continued from The weighing is the hardest part (for analysts)


Despite the tendencies of the makers of and the experts they employ to bend and shape statistic results to say what they want them to throughout The Weight of the Nation, the documentary series manages to produce some worthwhile moments when it allows itself to stray from the talking heads and tell the stories of regular people. What comes off best in Part One, "Consequences," which debuts tonight at 8 Eastern/Pacific and 7 Central on HBO and all its platforms, including free streaming on HBO.com, concerns the well-knoddwn story of the 40-year cardiovascular study run by Dr. Gerald Berenson in Bogalusa, La.


Berenson began his landmark study in 1972 from his post at Tulane University's School of Medicine, with funding from the National Institutes of Health. Ninety-three percent of the children in Bogalusa became part of Berenson's study, including Kathy Pigott, who joined the research in 1973 as a kindergartner and now teaches at Bogalusa Middle School. She admits how exciting it used to be when Berenson's white truck would arrive at her school for his twice-a-year visit, though it wasn't that she harbored an unusual devotion to medical research as a child — she just welcomed the opportunity to get out of class. With the study now in its 40th year, Pigott still takes part in the research and Berenson notes that some of the children who began the study are 50-years-old now. What made the study a landmark taught in medical schools everywhere were Berenson's findings that the preliminary signs of heart disease begin in children. Sadly, the findings couldn't be substantiated until some of the subjects died from accidental and non-cardiac-related deaths and autopsies could be performed to provide the needed evidence to prove Berenson's hypothesis. "After we'd been in the study five or six years, we'd clearly established that heart disease began in childhood. What clinched our information was doing an autopsy study," Berenson said. The autopsies discovered that 20 percent of the deceased children (560 since 1972) already showed signs of plaques (fat deposits) in their coronary arteries. The children in question, all of whom had been part of The Bogalusa Heart Study, were known to have both high cholesterol and high blood pressure. The autopsies were the first scientific evidence that the plaques involved in heart disease could be found in children. As it continues well into its 40th year, the Bogalusa Heart Study has followed more than 16,000 children into adulthood. Berenson's work shows that obese children are eight times more likely to develop hypertension than children carrying a healthy weight. Of study participants, only 7 percent of who had a healthy weight as kids grew into obese adults. Part of the problem might be found in the economic conditions of Bogalusa itself. Stephanie Broyles, an epidemiologist from the Pennington Biomedical Research Center in Baton Rouge, tours Bogalusa in her car at one point in the "Consequences" episode of The Weight of the Nation and gets discouraged by the state of disrepair of playgrounds in the area. How can children be expected to be active and play and burn off calories in places like these? "When it was only adults or only people in less-valued groups, you can put it aside, but when it's children, you can get a conversation going," says Shiriki Kumanyika, professor of epidemiology at the University of Pennsylvania. On a pure filmmaking and storytelling level, I'm surprised the makers of The Weight of The Nation missed the opportunity to report on how in 2005 the heart study suffered severe damage because of Hurricane Katrina. The storm knocked out power and thawed frozen samples of blood and urine from thousands of subjects, The Associated Press quoted Dr. Paul Whelton, senior vice president for health sciences at Tulane. Berenson also promised that the study "will go on." He noted that much data had already been "collected and saved" on his computer. "We'll just have to pick up the pieces from what we have."

"Consequences" offers up one more set of questionable statistics (actually it provides plenty of questionable statistics, but I've run out of time and exhausted my energy to go through any more of them in today's installment), but it doesn't leave enough clues for me even to guess what they might be basing them on. It claims that adult obesity used to be a problem more prevalent among lower incomes but in recent years, all income levels have seen a growth in girth. They show a couple of graphics that they don't really explain what either the colors or numbers mean and sources for this information won't be found in any of the four-part series. One thing that did strike me as somewhat hypocritical comes whenever Kelly Brownell, director of the Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity, speaks. "There is some regional variation, but it's all different degrees of terrible. The levels are so high everywhere that everyone has to pay attention to this issue. The health care cost not to mention the human burden is very high in every corner of this country and, increasingly, every corner of the world," Brownell says at one point in "Consequences." Take a glance at his photo. I'd be tempted to say, "Physician, heal thyself" except he isn't a medical doctor, just a PhD.

PART TWO: CHOICES

While the second part of The Weight of the Nation that premieres tonight at 9:10 Eastern/Pacific and 8:10 Central on HBU and all its platforms, including the free streaming on HBO.com, repeats many of the spurious, unsourced statistics of Part One, "Choices" moves the documentary series in the right direction — at least as a viewing experience — by keeping moat of the focus on personal stories. Watching someone share their struggles always proves more compelling than listening to lectures from pompous people who think they know what's best for everyone. That doesn’t apply to all the talking heads. Some make good points and seem genuinely concerned for others. I would count Dr. Gerald Berenson from The Bogalusa Heart Study in Part One as one of those types of people. Another example might be Dr. David Nathan, director of the Diabetes Center at Massachusetts General Hospital, who comes off as neither arrogant nor clinically removed when discussing his patients and his work. Nathan spearheaded the Diabetes Prevention Program, a clinical trial that took place over the course of many years and attempted to see if lifestyle interventions could stave off the development of Type 2 diabetes. The study sought to identify leading risk factors for diabetes such as a sedentary lifestyle and increased body mass, to test the feasibility of reversing those behaviors through lifestyle interventions. Nathan found himself fortunate when one day 12 years ago a volunteer walked into his facility named Tim Daly (though we're in New England, he should not be confused with the actor from Wings). Daly had been diagnosed as borderline diabetic so he wanted to volunteer for the trial. He also happened to be an identical twin. His twin, Phil Daly, already had diabetes. In the special, when they rattle off their measurements, Tim tells us that he's 5'10" and 192 lbs. Phil gives his details as "Five foot eight and three-quarters, two hundred and forty pounds," prompting his brother to ask if he's shrinking. "With identical twins, you can separate out genetic factors from environmental factors. What Tim Daly has done is he has taken the weight and the activity level out of the equation," Nathan says. When the doctor meets with the brothers, he explains that it's not too late for Phil to make his life better, suggesting that a loss of just 10 to 20 pounds would be enough to improve his diabetes.

"Choices" also has fun in a segment dealing with the ineffectiveness of diets. Kelly Brownell, who looks as if he should know, returns to say, "There's some pretty clear advice that follows from research that's gone on. Fad diets, diets that haven't been scientifically tested, things that promise miracles because there really isn't such a thing as a miracle here, so if you're promised it, it's a pretty good idea to run in the other direction." Interspersed between his comments and comments by Susan Yager, author of The Hundred Year Diet, we see many people list off the oodles of diets that they have tried and failed at, displayed with some nice visual flair, leading, of course, to a point where all the dieters appear to say in unison, "Atkins" as if declaring, "I am Spartacus!" (As I've always said, a high protein, low carb diet won't help if you slip on the ice and crack your skull open.) "The diet industry has no reason to solve the problem. Solving the problem puts them out of business," Yager says. "Almost all diets are just some low-calorie plan masquerading as some secret. No publishing company is going to publish a book that just says, 'Eat a little bit less and move a little bit more.' You've gotta have a hook, you've gotta have a gimmick." One of the women shown in this sequence we get to know better later. Her name turns out to be Vivia and it probably marks the emotional high point of the entire series. Vivia informs us that she's 27 years old, 5'5" and 321 lbs. She shows a bit of anger when she discusses "chubby chasers" and how she wants a man who loves her for who she is not what she looks like. The tears flow when an interviewer asks about her feelings about food. "Food can be my best friend. Food can be my boyfriend at that moment. Food can be my vacation to the beach and I can't afford to go." "Choices" also includes a surprisingly straightforward tale of a judge's experience with bariatric surgery, a procedure that the doctor admits kills 1 in 300. It's too bad that the series doesn't have more moments like these and didn't feel the need to stack its deck — especially when the action in parts three and four involves some real villains that you'll find in Washington and on Wall Street.

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Tuesday, March 06, 2012

 

I'm Never Too Old for This Shit!


By Kevin J. Olson
Lethal Weapon is one of those movies that explains my love of the medium. Sure, it’s not as sexy as saying that Fellini’s or Vertigo or something by Rohmer or Godard were the catalyst for my cinephilia, but — as odd as it may sound — Richard Donner’s buddy cop movie starring Mel Gibson and Danny Glover helped shaped me as a lover of film. The progression goes something like this: As a kid, I loved Lethal Weapon. I wore out my Columbia House copy of the tape after only a few years. The more I watched it, the more I was curious about things that hadn’t always occurred to me. Things such as: “I wonder how they pulled that shot off” or “I like how they go from this scene to this scene.” Essentially what was happening was I was becoming more aware of the process of how a film was constructed. Naturally as a fan of Lethal Weapon (and its fantastic sequel), I devoured every action film I could. Sure, there were some horrible titles that I saw, but I remember one day biking home from my local Mom and Pop with a Cantonese movie that looked awesome. John Woo’s The Killer would have never been on my radar had I not loved Lethal Weapon so much that I went out and explored every kind of action movie. I become obsessed with Woo’s films, and as nerds are wont to do, I began researching (before Google! Yes, I had to use a library.) in magazines and movie encyclopedias what films possibly could have influenced John Woo to make this cinematic obsession of mine. This led to me finding out about Jean-Pierre Melville and how his Le Samourai was a huge influence on Woo’s version of the same film. So, in a roundabout way, Lethal Weapon led me to Le Samourai which led me to seeking out more world cinema.


The reason for this story is that my appreciation for Lethal Weapon goes far beyond mere nostalgia (although they don’t make ‘em like this anymore) or a kind of detached, ironic appreciation for a ‘80s action/comedy. I legitimately do love Richard Donner’s film for being the catalyst for my seeking out world cinema (a spark can come from the most unlikely of places), but I also love the film as its own entity separate from just being the movie I credit to interest in “higher” art. And on this, the film’s 25th anniversary, I found myself channeling the pre-teen that watched the film endlessly on VHS as I found myself, upon my most recent viewing of the film, to be just as wound up and invested in the film’s story and utterly elated by the finished product as I was all those years ago.

So, what was it that made this film about an oddball, yet endearing, duo of Los Angeles cops Martin Riggs (Gibson) and Roger Murtaugh (Glover) so appealing and engaging to audiences? Part of it may be the combination of two rising stars (Gibson was coming off the success of the Mad Max movies, although he wasn’t quite the international megastar yet; Glover had appeared in an important bit part in Witness and a major star turn in The Color Purple) and a more than competent action director, but I think a lot of the credit has to go to Shane Black’s script. Before he became a parody of himself with bloated screenplays for The Last Boy Scout and The Long Kiss Goodnight, Black wrote a screenplay that featured great dialogue for two actors who spouted it perfectly. The film’s narrative — a basic murder mystery that naturally finds its way into the drug world — actually develops nicely and wraps up without us thinking about how implausible it all was. The film’s script had attention to detail that so many action films lack today. It also allowed for Glover and Gibson to buy into these characters creating one of the most charismatic duos in the history of buddy-action movies (this formula had really only been done once prior to this with the lesser Walter Hill movie 48 Hrs.).

Richard Donner was really the only established commodity working on the film when it went into production (although one could make a case for Gibson due to his international success), and he makes sure the film is paced perfectly so that we never get worn out by the relentless action. The pacing of the film has an impeccable rhythm: we are introduced the mystery over the opening credits (using Christmas music as a gimmick to juxtapose the film’s violent story a year before Die Hard would), then to the two cops and their very different lives, then they’re thrust together and have their initial conflict, then they reluctantly begin to strike up a friendship as the two try to solve the Amanda Hunsaker mystery, and then realize how serious the investigation is while on their way to interview a witness. All of this takes place before any of the real action that affects the film’s main plot. Sure, there are a few establishing action scenes (my favorite being Riggs doing a Three Stooges shtick while busting some low-rent drug dealers), but the establishing 25 minutes or so of Lethal Weapon is more interested in giving the audience enough time to get to know and like these characters and like them as they joke around at the shooting range. (I love Riggs’ smiley face target guy) and Riggs seamlessly ingratiates himself into the Murtaugh family (coming into his bedroom in the morning with coffee and saying, “Come on, we got get up and catch bad guys.”) Roger Ebert correctly called Lethal Weapon a “bruised forearm movie” (meaning that the action is so intense that your date clutches your arm for the entire picture without letting go, leaving it bruised), but there’s so much more to it than that. Gibson and Glover, and their onscreen chemistry, are the reason why.

It’s crazy to think that Donner shot the film’s original ending with the intent that the film would be a “oner,” a movie that had no intentions of having a sequel. This original ending can be seen on the DVD special features and shows the partners at ease with their friendship and saying goodbye to one another. However, Donner felt the chemistry between Glover and Gibson — which they didn’t predict when the film went into production — was so good that he couldn’t just let these two characters part ways as the original ending intended. So, a new ending (the one in the film where Riggs gives Murtaugh a bullet signifying he won’t kill himself and Murtaugh letting Riggs into his home for Christmas) was shot that gave the duo a happier ending that allowed room to maneuver should they want to make a sequel. It’s a tribute to just how good Glover and Gibson were in these roles and their chemistry together that they convinced the director to change the ending of the film.

One of my favorite scenes that really showcases Gibson’s acting ability is when we’re first introduced to the suicidal tendencies of Riggs. Looking at a picture of his deceased wife, Riggs puts a gun in his mouth unable to go on. It’s overdramatic, sure, but Gibson acts the hell out of this scene and gives the character more depth than what we’re used to in action films. These aren’t Dirty Harry-type cops who just shoot the bad guys and simply allow that trait to define them. Riggs is mentally unstable, and we know why, and it plays a lot better than the film’s original opening which shows Riggs as a maniacal bad ass as he roughs up a handful of toughs in a bar. Having a director such as Donner helped the filmmakers to see that they had a better scene in the can for introducing Riggs and how they wanted him to relate to the audience; they definitely made the correct choice.

Murtaugh, conversely, is a family man who just turned 50, is unsure of his place as a cop in a modern police department and a father in a modern family, and we know why (the great opening scene of him in the tub on his birthday being serenaded by his family is another favorite) because the film gives these characters depth and dimensions that allow the viewer to get invested while juxtaposing these two very different eras of the cop prototype. Murtaugh feels more like John Wayne and Riggs seems inspired by the Schwarzenegger/Stallone inspired superman style of action heroes. By grounding Murtaugh in the past and in more of a reality than we’re accustomed to with action films from the ‘80s, it makes Riggs’ character stand out more (which is good because Gibson is more than up to the task as a performer) and the violence he inflicts (and has inflicted upon him…Murtaugh, too) means more when it happens.

So instead of the murder that Riggs and Murtaugh investigate just being an excuse for them to kill people and blow things up real-good, it actually begins the process of renewal and reawakening for the two characters; it gives them purpose. Riggs is able to channel his elite killing skills for something good (making him less suicidal in the process), and Murtaugh — once the investigation turns to personal threats — is able to reestablish his worth as a cop and father when those things seemed to be slipping away from him and becoming altogether obsolete (this family dynamic of the Murtaugh’s is actually one of the aspects that attracted Glover to the film’s script). All of these touches of character development were more abnormal in 1987 than in today’s modern action film (and keep in mind they did all of this and still kept the movie less than two hours, go figure).

Donner also makes the film re-watchable all these years later because the logistics of the action scenes make sense. Something modern action films are completely devoid of, letting your audience get their bearings and understand the confines of the space the film’s characters inhabit (especially during fight scenes) is what separates the really good action films from the bad ones. Look at the final fight scene between Riggs and the mercenary Joshua (a fantastic performance from Gary Busey in a role he credits to saving his career at the time) which is an interesting mix of Brazilian ju-jitsu and a fighting style known as Jailhouse Rock which is a mixture of different styles. These fighting styles hadn’t been seen onscreen before in a mainstream action movie (Steven Seagal’s Above the Law wouldn’t come out for another year) and showcase just how lethal Riggs is; they also put the viewer right into the chaos of the final fight which is a brutal, intense hand-to-hand battle. The difference between this final fight scene and say something from the Bourne movies is that Donner wisely cuts back about every 20 seconds to an establishing shot to remind the audience where they are so they can logically follow the action in the scene despite its chaotic aesthetic. It’s one of my favorite fight scenes in any action movie.

The time the film spends with these characters in their everyday lives, and the way the viewer always is aware of where the characters are and what is going on is one of the reasons the film still holds up 25 years later. But what really makes it special and memorable this many years after its initial release is the on-screen chemistry between Gibson and Glover. Maybe an argument could be made for the duo of Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy (although Murphy, it seems to me, did all the heavy lifting there) as the better example of the mismatched buddy cop formula, but I prefer Riggs and Murtaugh for their poignancy as real-to-life characters, their wit and charm, and the ease in which these two actors slipped into these career-defining roles. Money made at the box office is never the determining factor for how good a movie is; however, it is a good indicator (sometimes) of what an audience connects to. Made for just $15 million, Lethal Weapon went on to gross more than $100 million and spawned the rare (this point is arguable, I admit) sequel that is better than the original (the film series, four films in all, has grossed more than $900 million). I think audiences responded to more than just the fact that the film is a perfectly executed action movie; I think audiences responded to these lived-in characters that are thrust into these action scenes. Lethal Weapon is certainly the most influential cop movie to come out of the ‘80s spawning all kinds of comedy/action hybrids that never could touch the concoction that Warner Bros. put together of Richard Donner’s direction, Shane Black’s script, and Glover and Gibson’s performances as they all coalesced perfectly to make one of the most influential and memorable action/comedy films of all time.

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Saturday, February 11, 2012

 

What the hell is going on at IMDb?


By Edward Copeland
Back in my mobility days, when I had just started working at a newspaper, the Internet had yet to explode into the great reference source it can be. By the time Google appeared and fact-checking became so easy (albeit with possible land mines of misinformation planted everywhere you typed), it became difficult to remember how we looked things up before the Web. The one exception for me was movie trivia — particularly Oscar trivia — because that sort of thing happens if you get exiled to a small Kansas town during your junior high years. You end up accidentally memorizing Oscar facts because instead of buying a book with all the Oscar nominations in it like a normal person (The late Wiley and Bona's Inside Oscar didn't exist yet), you check one out of the library and painstakingly type your own copy of the nominees and winners, building a visual memory without realizing it. (Yes, on a good-old fashioned typewriter no less — even did it with carbon typing paper so I'd have two copies. It's funny, because if I try to recall nominees for best actor in a certain year and get stuck, I remember the list alphabetically so I can narrow the missing actor to a section of the alphabet between the nominees I do remember.) As a result, Oscar errors leap out at me and when I find errors in the Internet Movie Database (of any kind), I try to inform them so they can make the site a better, more accurate resource. However, recently I've discovered something strange has been transpiring at IMDb and I imagine others have noticed this as well.


One gripe I've always had with IMDb is the way they denote the Oscars. For example, let's take last year. The King's Speech was named best picture for 2010, the year it was released. Now, the Oscars, even as they've moved up the ceremony, always bring up the rear, so it received its statuette for best picture of 2010 in 2011. Many an error has been made by people looking for quick Oscar facts who check IMDb because in the awards section for The King's Speech it denotes all its Oscar wins and nominations as being 2011. If you're an Oscar obsessive such as myself or Sasha Stone at Awards Daily or Nathaniel R. at The Film Experience or our own Josh R. here and countless others, you'll recognize that they refer to the ceremony. If you aren't, such as an older entertainment editor in the Midwest, you might put down that it was named best picture of 2011. It was named best picture in 2011 but of or for 2010. If you scroll lower, you'll see that any of the film critic awards the film took tend to say 2010 because they announced them before the calendar year ended. Of course, since we do have the Internet at our fingerprints, they have no excuse for not checking the real authority and looking up things on the Academy's official database which notes that The King's Speech was named best picture 2010 and best picture 2011 won't be handed out until the end of this month.

One early Oscar winner (and in my opinion, still the best of the best picture choices they made), Casablanca proves really problematic, even for movie buffs. The film deservedly holds its designation as a classic and everyone agrees that the movie was a 1942 release, owing to its premiere followed by public exhibition in New York on Nov. 26, 1942. Well, everyone except the Academy that is, It didn't open in Los Angeles for that requisite one week in a L.A. theater until Jan. 23, 1943. Despite the odds against a film opening that early in the year (and competing against nine other films, many fresher in voters' minds), Casablanca, the 1942 release, won the Oscar for best picture of 1943 at the ceremony held in 1944. On the IMDb Awards page for Casablanca. the only two years mentioned are 1942 (at the top as its year of release) and 1944 (as the year it supposedly won best picture, director and writing, screenplay. Oscar itself can have some strange occurrences such as Chaplin's Limelight, which came out in 1952 in most places, such as New York, but such Chaplin was persona non grata in Hollywood at the time, the movie never managed to open in Los Angeles until 1972, but the Academy ruled it eligible and Chaplin, Ray Rasch and Larry Russell won original dramatic score for the 20-year-old film (listed as 1973 on IMDb) — the same touching night that Chaplin received an honorary Oscar from the Academy for lifetime achievement and apologizing to him for being such an asshole to him for having opinions.

The most recent IMDb incident that prompted this post concerned an error I noted in its listing of awards for the movie Pariah. I had just finished watching the film so I made a point of seeing who had done the cinematography, which I thought was exceptionally well done for a low budget film. The credit clearly said (it was the second credit after written and directed by Dee Rees) Bradford Young. As I went to IMDb to check its awards page, it said that Pariah won the Grand Jury Prize for best cinematography in a dramatic film, only it credited the win to Dee Rees. Never mind that on its full cast and credit list for Pariah it properly names Young as cinematographer as does the movie's Web site in crediting him the Sundance prize.

Always trying to correct errors, I went in to try to edit the awards listing but no matter how I tried, it kept being rejected and referred me to a comment thread. The thread was led with a not by a site administrator explaining why they didn't allow updating of the awards section because of a job opening — dating back to late 2010. Of course, someone is updating them since new awards are going in. Here is the letter's text which leads to its thread. It was posted March 14, 2011.
Hi,

This message is to provide an update on the current status of the Awards List.
As many of you will know, we closed down the Awards submissions pipeline in Spring 2010, to completely overhaul the internal systems that we use for Awards data.
We very gradually started re-opening the Awards pipeline in October/November 2010 - using the new system.
This has proven challenging, and we have attempted to make improvements to our internal tools post-launch.
In addition to this, and perhaps more significantly, the individual previously responsible for for the Awards list left IMDb in mid December. This has resulted in us being understaffed within the Database Content Team.
Those of you who regularly monitor the processing times page http://www.imdb.com/czone/times will have seen that we have been in a backlog for the Awards list for a significant amount of time.
We have been actively recruiting for a Data Manger since that time, as you may have seen from our jobs page http://www.imdb.com/imdbjobs/#129661, and recruitment is going well.
Until we have successfully filled this role, we have reallocated some workload within the team. As a result of this, we now have a team member who has taken ownership of the Awards list, and is actively working through the backlog.
There are a number of open bugs with the current interface, which are being actively worked on currently by our software team. I will post a further update on those when I have one.
I appreciate that this has been a less than satisfactory situation for our contributors, particularly those that have been attempting to submit Awards data - and I apologize for that. With a data manager dedicated to this list from this point forwards, and software developers working with that individual, we are now in a position to make the improvements this unique and important type of content requires/deserves.

Regards,

Rachel

Call me crazy, but I'd think they'd still want to be aware of the errors, even if they didn't want people to use the new system. (Never mind that there hadn't been an update in nearly a year.) Wait — there's more. Recently, when I was working on my Centennial Tribute to José Ferrer, I found a couple of errors in his biography. They also were repeatedly rejected, though I found some other way to contact them and sure enough those mistakes eventually got fixed. Here though comes the most disturbing one of all.

Right after watching the movie Margin Call, I went to read their summary, just to make sure I was getting those tricky financial terms right. While there, I discovered the summary had a big plot point error. The summary's date indicated it had been written a few months prior to the film's opening. I went to try to edit the summary where I encountered what apparently any new users encounter if they try to register, what IMDb refers to higher "identity verification" or some such nonsense. I wrote them a note mincing no words that I'd be damned if I was going to give them that information just to try to correct an error. At least I knew it was wrong. Heaven help the people who didn't. I didn't even tell them what was wrong, but they've since had an updated Margin Call summary and the wrong information has been purged, so someone else got it to them.

That error though isn't as troubling as their reaching out for cell phone and credit card numbers. What that amounts to is they expect newcomers or anyone trying to change a summary to give them their cell phone number (making the assumption that everyone in the world has a cell phone) and, more disturbingly, a credit card number that they "swear they will never use." If they are never going to use it, why do they need it? It reminded me of Kirk's question in the awful Star Trek V: "Why does God need a starship?"

The cell phone scam is easy to understand: It's the same reason that Google and Facebook try to con you into giving them yours in the name of "security" should you lose your account. It's because they figure most people don't know that one of the loopholes in the rules of the Do-Not-Call-List law is that it doesn't apply to any business that you have a relationship with, so once they get your number, let the telemarketers ring your cell off the hook. The credit card bit is more ominous. Old users are grandfathered, but for how long? What are they planning? They can't expect run-of-the-mill users to get a hankering for IMDb Pro. unless they are planning to hide more things there, but I sure as hell wouldn't pay for a reference source that doesn't consider accuracy a priority.

On the last season of Boardwalk Empire, they had the wrong actor listed playing a part. Luckily I got the real cast lists from HBO and recognized that the actor's photo and age didn't match. Their TV credit listings are laughable as some actors and actresses will submit themselves as generic types such as "Townsperson" and claim to appear in every episode, though they add uncredited afterward. On the new series Luck, on individual episodes Kerry Condon's character is identified as Rosie but on the main page for the series they still just call her "exercise girl." They don't know what the hell to do with Nick Nolte. Sometimes he's Walter. Sometimes he's Walter Smith. Sometimes he's The Old Man. All are correct, but it's same character and looks confusing that way.

Be wary, all of you. I fear IMDb could start making Wikipedia look 100% credible.

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Monday, February 06, 2012

 

Luck Episode No. 2: Part II

BLOGGER'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, move along.


By Edward Copeland
When you recap a television show the way that I do, you see an episode more times than the average viewer (or critic, in many cases) and it allows you to see how individual episodes hold up in relation to others. Having seen all nine episodes of Luck already, I can say truthfully that it gets better as it goes along. It follows the path that many series do in that it takes until about the fourth episode for everything to really jell. Mistakenly, coming off the high of a season that was great overall, I felt that the show just kept rising — each episode improving on the one before until it found its groove. Now that I've delved into the first two with my recap microscope, I can say that while most of the characters improved in the second episode, the second installment itself pales when compared to the pilot. For one thing, it has too many of those microscenes that drive me up the wall but even worse, these short scenes make it seem as if the show was edited out of order. Ace comes out of his meeting with his parole officer to the news that he has a lunch invitation. At the track, the morning workouts are going on. Then Ace has lunch but Marcus and the gang appear to be having breakfast where Renzo meets Goose and they decide to go to the track. We get a couple track scenes after the morning workout, then a quick insert of Renzo getting his photo taken for his owner's license. Then, his partners are back at the motel and Renzo appears, bearing coffee. Next scene, Marcus and Jerry arrive at the track by themselves. Then Renzo shows up, though he had been with them at the motel. The order of the day and scenes just seem out of whack. By the way, if you started here by mistake and didn't read the first half of the recap covering those events, click here.


Escalante prepares Mon Gateau, complete with his red bandages on his front legs, while Goose walks Renzo through the process of filling out a claim. "Whatever you do, don't spell nothin' wrong or the claim will be null and void," Goose tells him. "On owner, I put my name until my friends get licensed and for trainer, I put you," Renzo says out loud, to make sure he's doing it right. Goose notices the bandages on the horse for the first time. "I can't see his front legs," he comments. "What would that be a sign of?" Renzo asks. "He didn't wear them in his last race so either he has a problem or Escalante's pretending he has a problem so nobody will claim him," Goose speculates. "Why is he pretending if he doesn't want him claimed?" Renzo inquires. "So he looks broken down so the odds go up but he keeps the horse," Goose replies.

The horses entered in that day's claiming race are led up through the tunnel from the saddling stable to the paddock. Renzo has never seen Escalante before but figures that it's him leading Mon Gateau out. "He puts his pants on one leg at a time, believe me," Goose says. Turo marches straight ahead to greet his VIP visitors standing before Santa Anita Park's statue of Seabiscuit. "Gentlemen, happy afternoon," Turo addresses Gus and Ace. "Turo Escalante, Chester Bernstein," Gus makes the introductions. "Good to know you, Mr. Bernstein. Mucho gusto, we say in my country," Escalante says, putting on his humble servant show again. "Don't interrupt yourself — stick to your routine," Ace tells him. "I know he bring you to show you his champion in my barn. First, I have to run this eight thousand dollar bum," Escalante apologizes. Goose and Renzo continue to watch from the fence around the paddock as Mon Gateau walks by. "He looks like new money, Renz, and I wouldn't say that just to get you to claim him," Goose comments. Turo points out to Gus and Ace that the jockey who is going to ride the "bum" approaches. "We call him a bug cause he's just starting out, you know," Escalante informs them as Leon walks up. "Tell him your name," Turo orders. "Leon Micheaux. How you gentlemen today?" he asks as he shakes hands with Gus. "Yeah. Good. You?" Gus replies. "Nice to meet you," Bug Boy answers. Ace wishes him good luck and a safe trip. Gus quietly inquires of Ace exactly what a claiming race is and Bernstein explains. "And after the race you can pull your claim?" Gus asks. Ace grins. "No. He's yours no matter what — unless there's more than one claim. But you knew that."

As Turo and Leon head to the horse, the Bug asks, "Should I warm him up real good, Mr. Escalante?" A displeased Turo, arms crossed, turns to face the young jockey. "Why do you ask a question like that?" Escalante wants to know. "No reason," Leon says. (We get a nice, subtle shot here — something that's been in short supply this week with all the hit-and-run scenes and compared with Mann's work on the premiere. After Leon responds to Turo, he steps out of the frame to the right revealing Joey leaning over the paddock fence trying to listen in.) "You should be as sound as this fucking horse," Turo tells Leon as he boosts him into his mount. "Riders up!" the starter calls out and the horses start their march toward the gate. Escalante returns to Gus and Ace. "Seems like a nice kid," Gus comments. "No brain, but he can ride. If you wanted to make a bet, I wouldn't tell you don't go ahead," Turo quietly confides. "OK. So you're pretty confidant with his chances here," Gus says. "If the Bug don't fall off, they win farther than you can throw a rock. ¿Comprende? Understand?" Escalante tells them. "Sí. Yes," Ace replies. "Gentlemen," Escalante says as he leads the men away from the paddock area.

Goose licks the seal on the envelope marked CLAIM and hand it to Renzo. "Stamp it," he tells him. Renzo slips the envelope into a machine resembling a time clock and hears the snap of the stamp. He then inserts into a green box where all the claims go and shares a high-five with Goose. Marcus motors to behind the last row of a section minus any of his partners. A woman in a wheelchair also sits in that area. "Hello," the woman (Dina Belle Garcia), who appears to have cerebral palsy, says to him, "Yeah. Back at ya," he turns and offers in stunned response, not used to social niceties. "Who do you want?" she asks, referring to the horses about to race. "The four, yeah," he replies. Renzo and Goose hurry to the rail to watch Mon Gateau race. Marcus spies through his binoculars and sees who Renzo has with him. "Jesus Christ — that low-ball numbnut you're gonna use to train," he comments to himself.

While Marcus by necessity sits in his own chair at the back of the grandstand and Renzo and Goose stand at the edge of the outer rail, Ace and Gus get shown to box seats by an usher (Aaron Perilo). "Right this way, gentlemen," the usher, Caleb, says as he allows Demitriou and Bernstein to enter the box section. "You take care," Ace whispers as he gives Caleb a tip. "OK. Thanks," the young man responds. "There isn't three hundred people here today," Ace notes. The Greek waves his betting slip. "Ace, this is the biggest bet I ever made by a hundred and ninety-five dollars. Do you believe it?" Gus smiles, amazed at himself. Leon and Mon Gateau behave well as they're loaded into the gate, but some of the other horses up for claim act somewhat rambunctiously. "You ready, kid?" an assistant starter (Kevin Steed) asks Leon. "Yeah, yeah," the Bug replies with a hesitancy in his voice as he pulls his goggles down. With all the horses loaded, Leon stares ahead at the long expanse of the dirt track that awaits. On the spectators' side, Renzo and Goose stand in anticipation, Ace and Gus sit, with The Greek slightly more interested than Bernstein and Marcus gets out his binoculars again, focusing them on the gate until the starting bell rings. The chime tolls and the thoroughbreds for sale begin their run, all tightly bunched at the start. In his box, Escalante stands as well. Mon Gateau has hung back toward the rear while two of the other horses put a squeeze on him, making it look as if they're creating a Bug Boy sandwich. Renzo grimaces at the sight. "That's our horse, right Goose?" he asks. Goose just nods. Marcus lowers his binoculars for a moment, looking concerned, then raises them again. "What the fuck? He should be pissing on these cucarachas, this pinhead…," Turo proclaims from his box, picking up his field glasses as well. (Unfortunately, try as hard as I could, I wasn't able to make out the rest of Turo's dialogue and with Luck, I haven't been as fortunate to have helpers with access to scripts who could or would clarify lines for me.) Leon starts pulling back on Mon Gateau, taking the horse further behind but at least escaping the vise. He then steers the horse wide and outside, passing the troublemakers with ease and moving up in the standings quite quickly. "Come on now, you conyo," Escalante says. Everyone in the stands appear to be on the same wavelength as Renzo, Gus and Marcus, though seated separately, nearly simultaneously root variations of, "Come on, horse." From the back of the pack, Leon has moved Mon Gateau into a sizable lead. Renzo, Goose and Marcus have played the game too long to let their excitement blow yet, but Gus' enthusiasm bubbles over. "Ace, look, that horse is going to win," The Greek glows while Ace smiles for his friend. Leon and Mon Gateau cross the finish line impressively. Gus is giddy. "Ha ha ha. Ace, I had two hundred dollars on this race. Don't ever knock this fuckin' country to me," Gus proclaims. Renzo, Goose and Marcus cut loose with their exuberance once the race officially finished. As Escalante climbs the stairs to leave the grandstand, one of the patrons (Paul Perri) makes a comment referring to the price he was asking compared to how Mon Gateau just performed. "He run good, yeah," Turo replies and keeps moving. "Hey, you won," the woman sitting near Marcus says to him, giving him a "way to go" gesture with her arm. Marcus halfway grins until he spots Goose and Renzo's celebration. (Like it was in last week's premiere, the race scene proves to be the highlight. Mann might not be directing, but it's been widely reported that he left detailed instructions for directors of subsequent episodes to follow, telling them what angles they are allowed to use, what type of lighting has been approved, etc.)

Goose and Renzo come down to the Winner's Circle to see Turo, Leon and Mon Gateau have their photo taken. While Escalante prepares to smile for the camera as always, he's pissed off to see a red CLAIMED tag has been attached to the horse. Renzo asks Goose if they shouldn't be in photo as well. "First let's see if there's a shake," Goose tells him. Walking past the two of them is the man in the cowboy duds who expressed unhappiness with the way Ronnie worked out his horse earlier that morning. "What's a shake?" Renzo inquires. (Scroll to the bottom of that page for shake definition.) "Just come out with me," Goose whispers. Leon dismounts Mon Gateau and expresses astonishment when he sees the tag. "Ah jeez…he got claimed?" Leon says. "You better hope I don't find out you ran your mouth," Turo growls at Bug before marching off in a huff. "I didn't say nothin' to no one," Leon swears. "You know, for a guy who just won, he don't look none too happy," Gus observes from the box while Ace smiles in stillness as if he were a statue of Buddha. "There's another claim in for him," Goose informs Renzo. Apparently belonging to that horse owner who argued with Ronnie since he's standing with Renzo and Goose awaiting the shake. "Oh no. Oh my gosh," Renzo starts getting jittery. While they wait, the steward's assistant (Amanda MacLachlan), who will conduct the shake, has to weigh-out Leon first. "It's us and Mulligan. We've got a fifty-fifty chance of getting him," Goose reassures him. (Hey — W. Earl Brown's character has a last name: Mulligan.) "Ahh — my stomach's all butterflies," Renzo says. The steward's assistant is ready for the shake now. "Number one is Goose Kellogg," she snnounces. (I hope she said Kellogg. I feel like singing about New York right now, but I'm not going to say why.) The woman reads the other claim card. "Two is Chris Mulligan." (He's got a first name as well. Maybe he's a trainer, not an owner, or perhaps a hybrid like Walter Smith.) She literally shakes a brown bottle containing two numbered items in it. She removes it and proclaims, "Two. Mulligan." Renzo doesn't get Mon Gateau. "You got outshook Renz," Goose says, shaking his head. "Mulligan gets him, not us," Renzo sighs.

Escalante storms up the steps of the box seats to resume his meeting with Gus and Ace, but he can't put on his polite Peruvian charade while he's this red hot angry, so he rambles about losing his horse to "some fuckin' cowboy with three different size haircuts." Gus tries to get Turo see the bright side that he at least won the race, but Escalante's rage won't be quelled that easily. "Don't worry. When I found out who has spilled out their beans — I make the fucker a little sorry," Turo pledges. "Yeah. Good," says Ace, always one to appreciate a little payback — as long as it's not taking up his time. Escalante sees he needs to get back on track and apologizes for wasting their time with his own problem. "When can he see his horse?" Bernstein asks. "Right away, señor. I'll take you both right now," Turo tells them.

Joey tries to boost Ronnie's spirits ahead of his meeting with Walter. (Again, this timing seems all off. Smith told him to drop earlier that morning and hours have elapsed since then. Joey even mentioned to Leon that he thought that Ronnie and "The Old Man" had a good talk when Leon craved a bear claw well after Ace had his lunch meeting.) "The beaks are a hundred percent if I find a case to tell him," Joey says to which Ronnie concurs. (A reference to a spill Ronnie took that broke his collarbone that was mentioned fleetingly last week, but you understandably might have missed since the focus was on his drinking and drug problems.) "I'm refreshed and I'm enthusiastic," Joey declares, punching the air with his fist. "Jesus Christ Joey, you act like you're walkin' me to school," Ronnie lets him know. That brings on Joey's stammering until all he can get out is, "You go on ahead alone." Joey begins to walk away but he can't resist tossing out one more caution. "We'll have no problem making that weight." Under his breath, Ronnie mutters, "Shut the fuck up."

Goose accompanies Renzo as he watches with sadness as Billy Mulligan walks into the receiving barn to take ownership of Mon Gateau. "I was gonna give him to my friends. I don't know what's gonna happen now," Renzo tells Goose. "I know a guy who's got a two-year-old for sale. Says he can really run," Goose says.

Ronnie comes upon Walter's stables just as the Old Man is taking Gettn'up Morning around the yard for a trot. "Pretty good lookin', ain't he?" Ronnie comments. "Of course, it ain't a beauty contest," Smith says. "Lucky for the two of us. He's just about the picture of his daddy," Ronnie declares, stroking the Big Horse behind his ear. While Ronnie and Walter shoot the breeze about "Kentucky quality," Rosie eavesdrops from another building on the grounds. "Kentucky quality killed his daddy. When the colonel died, they took over the farm and they spent all the money. There was nothing left. They took out an insurance policy on Delphi — thirty million. They killed him," Walter tells him, a sniffle sneaking out. "They broke his leg," his voice definitely is beginning to crack now. "They said it was his fault. You know what breakin' legs sounds like — branches snapping. I always wondered if maybe I could have done somethin', heard somethin'," the Old Man regrets. "Well, you've got a chance with Delphi's son now, sir," Ronnie tells him, his voice breaking up as well. "If I had all the time," Walter mumbles, almost absent-mindedly. "What'd you say?" he asks Ronnie, as if he just woke up from a nap. "You've got a chance with this one, sir," Jenkins says forcefully. "Yeah, you're right. You're right. I'll take it," Smith agrees as he leads Gettn'up Morning off and thanks Ronnie for coming. (Not only do we get the basics behind the two central mysteries in this episode, they come in the form of monologues for the series' biggest names, though Nick Nolte's scene comes off much better than Dustin Hoffman's did, not because of any fault on the actor's but because Hoffman's scene was handled so ineptly whereas Nolte's built to an emotional finish instead of functioning merely as exposition. Though nothing like this happens this season, the way both Ace and Walter get portrayed at times, I can't help but suspect that there are future plans for one of these characters to develop Alzheimer's. Call it a hunch.)

Jerry has returned to The Hustler Casino and one of its high-stakes poker tables. Shifts have changed and a new dealer (Erika Lenhart) has placed the 10 of hearts, the king of spades, the queen of clubs, the 9 of clubs and the 4 of spades as community cards. Lester Chan sits at Jerry's table once again as Jerry mulls his move. Jerry checks his hole cards again and sees that they remain a queen and 8 of hearts, giving him a pair of queens with a king kicker. "I call," Jerry says, pushing all of his chips to the middle. "Straight up and gamble, not to draw," Lester comments. Jerry tosses his pair of queens on the table. Lester shows his pocket pair of 10s, giving him a set. Jerry grits his teeth at losing to Lester again. The dealer button moves to Jerry though he lacks chips, but he tells the dealer to deal anyway. He stands up and pulls a stacks of bills from his pocket and tosses it in front of the dealer, "Jerry got money to win back. Taking him forever," Lester says as the dealer counts out Jerry's cash. Marcus seems to possess Jerry again. "Keep it up, bug ear and I'll slap the slant off your fuckin' face," he warns Jerry. The dealer isn't amused and calls for the floor man.

Lonnie, still decked out in his snazzy new suit, has met those infamous lady insurance agents at a bar where he's trying to break the news to them that playtime — and scamtime — has now come to an end. "I only wish I could give specifics on how my circumstances seem to have improved," Lonnie tells them, without giving anything away about the Pick Six Jackpot as Marcus feared he would. "Well, obviously your situation has changed," Lynette (Mary-Margaret Humes) observers. "And you don't need our help any longer in what we were trying to arrange," Adelle (Patti Tippo) adds. Lonnie tells the women that he regrets that the new circumstances have interfered with their plans for an insurance scam. "What I hope we can agree on is, we'll be eligible, every so often, to occasionally, still have a few laughs," Lonnie suggests, thinking of the effect this could have on the Emperor. "Sure. Why not?" Lynette agrees, taking a drink. "That makes me happy. Believe me," Lonnie declares. Adelle gets rights into Lonnie's face and breathily asks, "What about now?" Lonnie seeks clarification. "For a few laughs," Adelle giggles. "He's letting us down easy. He's never gonna see us again," Lynette asserts. "That happens to be bullshit and does not represent my feelings," Lonnie insists. Adelle dissolves into little laughs while Lonnie again apologizes for all the paperwork the women went through setting up the con they never executed. "And I thought you liked your cock between our titties," Lynette says as she places her hand down Lonnie's pants. "Well hello to the Emperor," she announces while Adelle slips something into Lonnie's drink. "Are you trying to wake up the sleeping giant?" Lonnie asks. Adelle wants to know why Lynette is trying to embarrass herself in front of Lonnie. "What's that? I hear a voice from inside my pants. 'What about me?' the Emperor is asking. 'I'm white and 21. When did I lose my right to vote?'" Lonnie speaks for his penis before taking a drink of the spiked liquor.

Outside the casino, Jerry pilfers through a bag in his trunk and grabs more cash to take back inside. (Again, another one of these tiny scenes that drive me up the wall, especially since we had no resolution to that large amount of cash the dealer was counting out in the last casino scene nor her call for the floor man when he lashed out at Lester with the racist remark. Jerry's time in the parking lot lasted 24 seconds.)

Pint of Plain finishes a carrot from Turo's hand as Ace meets him for the first time. "I gotta say, he looks a lot better than he did from last week," Gus says. "Well, you know a lot of time people feel something they don't know about without actually knowing but they still go ahead and run their fuckin' mouth anyway," Turo bitches. "Hey!" Gus exclaims. "Jesus Christ! Keeping a civil tongue too tough?" Ace asks him. "…That's what you expect me to do," Escalante responds. (Another example where it would be helpful if I had support I felt I could ask to consult the script to decipher the first half of Turo's line.) "His cold, it got better and now his feet got better. We giving him better shoes," Escalante reports. "He's got a helluva stride on him when he runs. He showed me some of the tapes of the races," Ace says, realizing he almost slipped in the illusion that it's not really his horse. "Very smooth action. He move very good on the track. Two years ago I got to stop paying all his bills myself," Turo comments. "Bill was scheduled," Ace replies. "The horse's both front legs were bad, broke.…How they were broke — there's no conceivable way. To nothing, to someone you don't like," Turo informs Ace. "You lost him. Looks like you took a beat on a game you ran on him," Bernstein theorizes. "Ace, there's that goat. You know, the one with nuts the size of pumpkins," Gus points out excitedly as his boss stares down Escalante. "Good," Ace responds, never removing his gaze from Turo. "This horse likes him. Always pushing him around with his nose," Turo tells him. A young worker speaks to Escalante in Spanish. "He say when this horse go to the track, the goat comes to the stall and waits for the horse to come back," Turo translates. Bernstein asks Escalante what they charge for the bags of carrots, emphasizing now, not when he started 30 years ago. Turo has to ask the young worker. "Maybe fifteen dollars. What do you care how much my carrots cost?" he inquires. "You know I was in prison," Bernstein says. "That's what people say," Escalante responds. "Maybe what else they're gonna say is this is some kind of mobbed-up project," Ace adds. "What do I know? I'm from Peru," Turo replies. Ace seeks permission to pet Pint of Plain. Turo lets him and Ace gently strokes the white patch on his head. "He's got a very plain head on him," Escalante says. (Now, that's a scene with meat on it. Why did we need 24 seconds of a trunk in a parking lot between the bar scene and this one? I felt bad, in a way, for Farina who basically stood on the sidelines as Hoffman, the well-known powerhouse, went toe-to-toe with John Ortiz, the up-and-coming powerhouse who stood his ground and didn't give him an inch — because Escalante wouldn't unless it worked to his advantage.)

Whatever Adelle slipped in Lonnie's drink isn't helping the Emperor, so she urges Lynette to try to give him a hand. An embarrassed and drugged Lonnie wants to give up and let the Emperor abdicate his throne for the evening. Before he can pull his pants back on, the women encourage him to keep trying, so he does just as Lynette removes a blackjack from the bedside table drawer and whacks him across the back of the head with it. "What'd you fuckin' hit me for?" Lonnie asks as he falls backward on the bed. Since he didn't lose consciousness, Adelle tries to draw him back into sex games while Lynette tells him the truth as she takes another swing. "What we insured you moron is your life," she growls. Lynette keeps swinging away but Lonnie proves surprisingly resilient. (I wonder if Marcus is laughing somewhere for being right.) "Fuck man. Are you trying to kill me?" he yells as he fends off her attacks. Adelle grabs the weapon and starts doing the swinging. "You think you can just doublecross people, breaking promises," she screams. With Lynette hanging off him as he tries to flee Adelle's attacks, the three end up crashing through the motel's sliding glass window. Lonnie spots a landscaper (Jose Reyes) loading his truck and asks him for help. "What's up, bro?" the man asks. "They're fuckin' crazy. I got money. Do you know where the Oasis Motel is?" Lonnie asks him?" The landscaper helps Lonnie into his truck. (I tried to locate an Oasis Motel in Arcadia near Santa Anita and Rod's Grill, but none seemed to be in the area. I did find a chain motel whose exteriors slightly resembled the exteriors of the scenes of their motel, but then I couldn't find the link to those photos again.)

They count out Jerry's cash at the casino again. "Twenty-five thousand," the dealer says. "Twenty-five thousand," this shift's floor man (Christopher DerGregorian) repeats. "The sail's up and ship's leaving," Jerry says. Lester looks amused. "This is a house ruling for this hand only," the floor man announces. "Do not try this at home," Jerry talks over him as he pushes his chips in. Only the flop has been dealt, showing an ace of clubs, 8 of diamonds and queen of diamonds. "By agreement of both players, cash not on the table at the beginning of the hand has now been put into action," the floor man concludes. "Alright guys, turn 'em over," the dealer tells them. Lester flips an ace and queen of hearts, giving him two pair, Jerry shows a king of clubs and a king of diamonds for a pair of kings. The dealer deals a 2 of clubs for the turn (or fourth street), which doesn't help Jerry. The river, however, certainly does as she turns over the king of hearts, giving Jerry trips and winning him the hand. Lester's face sinks. "Give him his chipa," the floor man says, adding. "One-time ruling. Normal house rules resume." Jerry, smiles and stacks his chips. "Floor, cash me out," he requests. "Yes sir, Mr. B.," the floor man replies. "Make it back, Mr. B. Come back tomorrow — I'll wipe the white off your face," Lester tells Jerry. Jerry tips the dealer and applauds for himself.

Outside The Long Shot bar, Rosie's having a smoke when Walter rolls up in his pickup. "Hey boss. Out among 'em," she says as if she's been caught. She asks if the horse ate. "Oh yeah. Didn't leave an oat," Smith tells her. "Listen. I'm red in the face, puttin' you on the spot about ridin'," Rosie admits. "Now Rosie, that was my fault. I just left you out there by not speakin' up. I wasn't sure," Walter takes the blame. "There's my answer," Rosie responds. "There's your answer. You've done a lovely job to get him here. I don't think anybody else could have done it any better and I'm gonna be surprised if you don't turn out to be one race-ridin' son of a gun when you're working…(Something else it would have been nice to have support from someone with a script to decipher)," The Old Man predicts. "At Portland Meadows, it looks like," she says. Walter tells her that Portland probably will be a better place for her to get her start. "Spot you three in Nine Ball," she suggests. "A while back, that'd be an offer you regret," he declares as he goes into the bar and Rosie asks him to have one for her.

Inside The Long Shot, Joey happens to be lurking and makes sure to start a talk with Walter. Before any other subject comes up, Smith asks him if he knows any jockey agents in Portland and tells him about Rosie. Joey says he does and gives Walter his card and tells him to have her call him. Walter asks Joey if Ronnie would be ready to ride the mount on Gettn'up Morning for a six-furlong race a week from Saturday. Rathburn assures him that Jenkins would be.

Renzo tries to talk to Marcus but gets interrupted when the beat-up Ronnie is dumped outside their rooms. Jerry arrives about the same time.

You know the episode has reached its finish when we've returned to the Beverly Hilton suite for bedtime and Ace and Gus have one of their bull sessions about the day's events. "I drive around to the track's back entrances for a chance to wind him up to knock a nickel off the price of his bag of carrots. He'd scream bloody murder, Escalante," Ace tells Gus. "That is a picture — Escalante behind a pushcart full of fruits and vegetables. Him, wanting to be on the inside training horses," Gus says. "All I think he knew was that he was in a strange fucking country and he hated selling vegetables," Ace states. "And he don't know to this day that it was you that got him through that gate," Gus marvels. "It's him that took the bit between his teeth. He's made himself into somethin'. All I did was tell some trainer whose bets I took, 'Hey, there's this guy outside. You should hire him, bring him in here to the stable, to shovel horseshit. Give him a start,'" Ace elaborates. Gus chuckles. "That's how I know what's waitin' for Mike. You don't leave no open contracts," Gus proclaims. "We need a go-between, Ace decides. "Between DiRossi, Cohen, Mike and us?" Gus asks. "Yeah," Ace confirms. "What about me?" Gus suggests. "You get hot under the collar," Ace raises as a reason for Gus not to be it. "Well, yeah, granted, but…" Bernstein interrupts Gus (unfortunately with yet another line I can't decipher leading me closer that without supportive reps, if not at HBO as all my previous great helpers have been then connected with the show itself, it's going to be pointless to continue this endeavor.) "Someone we trust or someone we don't?" Gus asks. (More unintelligible) not make a difference," Ace replies. "All that trouble, getting them to fix that slot so they think I owe them," Gus proposes. "Set a meeting tomorrow with my investment company. I'll pick a go-between so we can do what we need to do to get these guys," Bernstein orders. "Please tell me I didn't let you down," Gus says. Ace shakes his head no (and says something else I can't make out). "Then let's go get these cocksuckers," Gus suggests. (MORE BALLOONS AND STREAMERS FALL FROM THE CEILING) (By about the fourth episode, Luck will really hit its stride, though it's such a short season, it will seem as if it's just getting started by the time it's over. Unless a miracle occurs in the next couple of days, I'm leaning toward abandoning the recap of this show, which I hate to do. It's a very good show and, more importantly, it's complicated and often subtle and I like to serve my readers by helping to explain parts they aren't getting, but if I'm not going to receive the help I need to accomplish this end, I shouldn't try. It will just be too frustrating for me.)

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Luck Episode No. 2: Part I

BLOGGER'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, move along.


By Edward Copeland
After airing just one episode, HBO has renewed Luck for a second season. That season, which will have 10 episodes, begins filming later this month for airing in January 2013. However, I have to consider whether I should keep trying to recap the series now. It isn't that Luck isn't worthy of recapping — it most certainly is and I've seen the entire season. The problem is that unlike the other shows I've recapped — Boardwalk Empire, Treme, the Mildred Pierce miniseries — I haven't received the kind of easy, simple background support that I require to do these recaps the way that I believe they deserve to be done. It's been like pulling teeth to get the names of actors and characters in recurring parts that aren't regulars and you might as well forget about pieces of music (though the HBO Web site has them the following day). The great, wonderful, helpful support I've had before could give me a hand with lines of dialogue that are hard to decipher. When I'm lucky, I get emails answered, so I haven't even bothered asking about those sort of things now — and when David Milch is involved in the writing, you damn well owe it to him to get the words right. Anyway, I'm posting the first half of my recap, since all these problems plus personal matters have made this an arduous task that only promises to get harder and with the fatigue factor from my M.S., I'm wondering why I should be risking my health if those who should be helping don't plan to do right by Luck or by me. On with the recap: With a first season that's one episode shorter than the second will be, Luck hasn't had time to waste — and it doesn't. The show's two biggest mysteries — why Ace willingly took the fall for a crime he didn't commit and what happened to Delphi, the champion thoroughbred who sired Walter's promising colt Gettn'up Morning — were cleared up tonight. We learn why Walter feels so overprotective of the Big Horse that he employs a night watchman so Gettn'up Morning never lacks supervision. For Ace Bernstein, it shows that he's a true devotee to the idea that revenge is a dish best served cold. Something of interest about Luck: Its episodes bear no titles, just numbers. (I just call it No. 2 in my post title, though technically "Episode 1.2" is its real name.) You don't see that very often. "1.2" has a teleplay credited to John R. Perrotta, the series' story editor, who began as a technical consultant on the pilot and is president of Star Racing Stable in Delaware (though on any David Milch show, Milch usually re-writes a lot). The episode was directed by Terry George, who helmed Hotel Rwanda and received Oscar nominations for co-writing that film's screenplay and co-writing the script for In the Name of the Father. George also is currently nominated for the Oscar for best live action short for The Shore. Also, I wish there were a way to trigger the dropping of balloons when a reader hits a certain word because a Milch trademark makes its first appearance tonight. Hint: It's not hooplehead.


A man flips through papers on his desk, one of which bears a small black-and-white photo of Chester Bernstein. “Have you had contact with or engaged in activities since your release that would violate the terms of your parole?” Ace's parole officer (Barry Shabaka Henley, so great as the doomed jazz musician in Michael Mann’s Collateral) asks at their first meeting. “No, I haven’t,” Ace responds, his eyes darting to photos on the wall ofMalcolm X and John Coltrane. “Any change in residence or contact information?” his parole officer queries. Again, Bernstein answers no. “How you settlin’ in?” the man inquires of Ace. “OK. Good. Thanks,” Ace replies. The parole officer informs Bernstein that he needs a urine sample. As his parole officer escorts Ace to the bathroom, Bernstein says, “I have difficulty if someone’s looking.” His supervisor asks what he did when he was in prison. “People made adjustments,” Ace declares as they enter the men’s room. Inside, the parole officer chooses to stare at the sink instead of at Bernstein directly, but still the piss doesn’t flow. “Shy kidneys,” the parole officer comments before turning the sink’s faucet on for encouragement. Ace thanks him. When the appointment has ended, Ace and Gus exit the building and Gus tells his boss he just received a lunch invitation. “As far as Escalante’s concerned, we can make that another day,” Gus suggests. “We’ll fit this in,” Bernstein smiles. Gus opens the back door for Ace, then calls someone. “My friend said to say ‘That’s fine,’” Gus tells the person on the other end. Once The Greek gets behind the wheel, Ace grins again. "Supposed to put me back on my heels — flying in without notice.”

Jerry may have won ¼ of that nearly $3 million Pick Six jackpot, but that doesn’t mean his gambling itch has been scratched and he’s back at a casino playing Texas Hold ‘em, only this time it’s at Larry Flynt’s Hustler Casino Los Angeles and Jerry’s playing at a high-stakes table. Given the look on Jerry’s face and the fact that the casino has allowed housekeeping to come out to vacuum the poker area, it would seem he’s been there a long time. A king of spades, a 3 of diamonds, a 7 of spades, an 8 of spades and a 6 of diamonds comprise the table's community cards. We don’t see what Jerry holds, but he stacks some chips and bets $2,000.

At the track, lots of thoroughbreds are out and about for their morning workouts. Rosie has taken her spot atop Gettn’up Morning once again as the two head toward the gate. One of the assistant starters (Kelly Steed) fastens part of the horse’s bridle and asks, “When’s the Old Man decide who’s ridin’ him?” Rosie seems miffed by the question’s assumption. “What does it look like I’m doin’?” she responds with a harsh edge. (Thanks to Dale Dye at Remington Park Racing Casino in Oklahoma City for helping clarify some track job titles that I couldn't figure out through Web searches.) “I mean ridin’ him when he runs,” the man clarifies. “If you put me in, he’s about to run right now, “ she says, clearly agitated. “Race ridin’, girl. Ridin’ him in the afternoon,” the guy rephrases again, clearly indicating that he does not consider Rosie a viable option. “Hey limp dick, eat it. Why don’t you stick to loadin’ and let the Old Man train his horse?” Rosie tells him, not even disguising her bile now. She does earn a grin from the jockey loaded in the gate's adjacent stall, Ronnie Jenkins. “Supposed to be a good one,” Ronnie comments about Gettn’up Morning. Rosie pats herself on the ass. “Get used to the view.”

Back at the casino, one of the other players, a Chinese man (Dennis Dun) taunts Jerry. “Sit in on a bigger table, Jerry. What’d you do — maybe sell your house? he asks with a mischievous smile. Jerry says that his aunt died. “My condolences. Sorry for your loss,” the man replies, though he doesn’t sound any more sincere than Jerry did when he lied. “Well, we weren’t that close. How about time?” Jerry says to the dealer (Kurt Basa), getting tired of the man’s delays. “Player calls time,” the dealer calls out to the poker room floor man (David Pease). Even with a clock on him, it doesn’t stop the man’s prattling on, continuing to note how he usually comes in and sees Jerry at $3 to $5 poker tables, but now he’s at his table. “That’s because it’s your century, Lester,” Jerry tells him. “One minute to play Lester or you’re dead,” the floor man announces. “I got the next 88 years,” Lester Chan responds.

The gates finally open for the morning run and though it’s not an actual race, Gettn’up Morning with Rosie in the saddle steams ahead of the other two horses rather easily. In the grandstand, it’s not just the usual spectators of Walter with his binoculars and his dog watching the horse’s progress with interest. Several rows behind and to the right of Smith, another man (Doug Minner) stands with binoculars monitoring the practice run. Rosie and the horse run so far ahead of the other two thoroughbreds that when Walter stops timing and checks the result, he says to himself (or perhaps the dog), “Lord. Heaven help us all.”

They're akso keeping time at The Hustler Casino. “Fifteen seconds, Lester,” the floor man tells him. “Made my flush on the river, Jerry,” Lester claims. “Oh, yeah — congratulations,” Jerry says with the utmost of insincerity. “I show you after you fold,” Lester promises. “Why don’t you show me how you take a raspberry douche?” Jerry responds as if he were channeling Marcus for a moment. (Raspberry douche also is the name of a drink and was referred to in Barbra Streisand's version of A Star Is Born.) Lester’s perpetual grin transforms to a scowl on that comment. “I put Jerry all-in,” Lester says, finally making a decision, though far more than 15 seconds Short attention span theater comes to Luck. On top of the time-stretching shenanigans involved when Lester has been given first one minute and then 15 seconds to make a decision when much more than those time periods have elapsed, why did the poker scene AND the Rosie workout scene need to be sliced into slivers as they were? Ace’s scene with the parole officer and an upcoming lunch meeting run in full. There’s no reasonable rationale for chopping those other parts into bite-size morsels, especially the poker scene. Are they hoping viewers forget that Lester has a clock on him? That can’t be because they remind us. has passed. Jerry looks at the 9 and 10 of hearts that he holds, making sure he has a straight with the 6 of diamonds and 7 and 8 of spades on the board. Jerry then calls, sliding his large stack of chips to the middle of the table. Jerry turns over his cards. “Straight,” the dealer announces. Lester reveals his hole cards one spade at a time, first the 9 of spades, then the ace. Since the community cards also have the king of spades on it, Jerry knows what’s about to be said. “Player has a flush,” the dealer declares as he starts moving all Jerry's chips Lester’s way. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Jerry. Too much respect for your game,” Lester crows. Jerry gets up from the table and begins to walk away, but then returns. “Jerry on tilt. Maybe go get more money from auntie’s shoebox,” Lester mocks him. Jerry had only come back because he forgot his coat.

“I could punch you in the nose, Ace, with all you’ve been through, coming out looking so good,” Isadore Cohen (Ted Levine) tells Bernstein. “No tea party,” Ace says. “It’s a disgrace,” Cohen declares. “They draw the line nowhere,” Nick DiRossi, also present for this impromptu lunch meeting, comments. The three men sit at a table at a dark but elegant restaurant with expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on well-kept lawns. The restaurant itself seems deserted except for Ace, Nick and this out-of-town visitor. “The Greek havin’ fun off that jackpot he won?” Cohen asks Ace. “Oh, life of Riley. (A second possible origin for the phrase.) We’re drivin’ out after this to see the horse he bought,” Ace tells them. “As many stunts as our floor guys pulled so his guy could be the guy who pulled that slot,” Cohen laughs while pointing at Ace and looking at Nick. Cohen may be amused, but you can sense that Bernstein isn’t and that DiRossi feels it too. “You want to get yourself a plate, Ace?” Nick asks. Ace shakes his head. “Before we start Ace, can I quick interject a message from Mike?” Cohen inquires. Hoffman does a nice little character move here as Ace. You begin to notice how often Bernstein avoids answering direct questions, even from a friend such as Gus. He doesn’t say yea or nay to Cohen’s inquiry: he wets his finger and turns a page of paper. “Mike sends his best and anything you want to do, he will support in any form or fashion you think best,” Cohen relays. Bernstein puts his papers down on the table in a way that makes the silverware loudly clink. “Shall we start?” Ace asks, though he declines to wait for an answer and just launches into his spiel. “The U.S. economy is in the fuckin’ toilet. The New York bankers with their three-card monte bond swaps just about brought the fuckin’ walls down. Tremendous structural damage, the tax base, unemployment plus, my impression, tremendous, tremendous compression of the leisure gaming dollar,” Ace declares. “One hundred percent accurate,” Cohen concurs. “Then why look to buy a race track with all the added arguments against — the churn is slow, the unexploited square footage, the stables, the racing surface, the grassy grounds and flowers? Because in California, established and passed by the Legislature, horse racing is legal and casino gaming isn’t, leaving aside for a second the fuckin’ rain dancers, and, like the whole state economy, the track is desperate for new streams of revenue — the perfect fucking Trojan horse,” Ace argues. (No offense to Mr. Perrotta, who was brought into the show’s writer’s room because of his expertise on the industry, but when you hear these words roll off Dustin Hoffman’s tongue, is there much doubt that Milch composed them? When I say compose, I mean it too, because wrote is neither adequate nor accurate enough to describe his dialogue. “can I quick interject a message from Mike?” Ted Levine’s versatility amazes. He never looks the same in any two parts, though that voice usually gives him away. His work with Michael Mann dates back to Crime Story and also includes Heat, Ali and the Mann-produced Wonderland.) “To bring in slots and table games,” Isadore Cohen smiles broadly. “I put up the money, you put up the signs. Your end’s 10 points plus you’ve got a 12-month option up to 39 more — my purchase price plus my cost,” Bernstein calculates out loud for the duo. Cohen laughs. “This isn’t fucking costs. It’s a full court press in Sacramento,” he replies. “The last I heard option means a choice and 12 months stands for a year,” Ace raises his voice a couple of notches. DiRossi comments to Cohen, “Here comes that famous Bernstein temper.” Ace brings his tone back down. “What you get for your 10 points you can decide to nix your option, you get for us being friends,” Ace says. “And our name on the signs,” Cohen responds sourly. “Because I’m a fuckin’ felon — anything else you wanna explain to me?” Bernstein fires back. “No,” Cohen says, shaking his head. “What part Mike wants — he can take a piece of your piece. You tell him he can work that out with you,” Ace tells him. “Chester Bernstein, ladies and gentlemen. The Ace is back in place,” Nick announces. The meeting ends and though we don’t see Ace get up, we know that he has to, quite literally, see a man about a horse. (In this second episode, we can see that Hoffman has a much better grasp on Ace than he did in the pilot. He can convincingly be intimidating as a power broker, but he just looked silly trying to come off as a tough guy like last week. The scene that follows between Gus and Ace is a conversation of pure exposition that explains exactly why Bernstein had been in prison. Therefore, since it's all dialogue, I'm recapping it that way.)

GUS: Are they movin’ the way you predicted?
ACE: Yes. They’re gonna move on the race track. The hook is sunk.
GUS: They swing to Mike with you right there, they’ll swallow it whole.
ACE: Nothin’ Mike likes better than takin’ somebody else’s idea.
GUS: I still don’t know how you ever got involved with this guy.
ACE: Twenty-five years ago — a different person and the best head for business by a lot until — (Ace pauses to point to his nose and make a snorting sound, miming cocaine use) — he started making it big — really big.
GUS: And that’s what happened with that condo.
(We’re still getting exposition out of the way, but this scene plays a bit more clumsily than we usually hear.)
ACE: Co-op. Co-op. We had it in New York for business, entertainment. When we split up, I kept the co-op, he took the plane. Then the grandson at NYU starts using it and Mike starts using the co-op to stash his dope.
GUS: He could have stashed it anywhere.
ACE: You try to see his perverse logic, you’ll go blind. And my grandson’s doin’ what he’s doin’, swingin’ from the chandelier with six broads and then someone upstairs, a neighbor, whatever, drops the dime. They bring in the canines, they find the stash and my grandson says it’s not his and he wasn’t lyin’ — it was Mike’s.
GUS: You know, all’s I remember from that time is this little boy runnin’ around with his shoes untied.
ACE: Six kilos of cocaine? You couldn’t have sent him out to buy six pounds of dog food, the shape he was in four years ago.
GUS: The feds had to know.
ACE:Of course they knew! They wanted me to roll over on Mike and his offshore bullshit. I roll over on Mike or the kid takes the fall.
GUS: The question is this: After you take Door No. 3, where you claim the dope and you do the time, the question is, Ace, what if it was all turned around?
ACE: The answer is Mike would’ve given me up in a heartbeat. So what? I never ratted out anybody in my whole fucking life and I wouldn’t do it, even with that cocksucker.(FIRST TIME USE. PRETEND I DROPPED BALLOONS.)
GUS: I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me kill that prick.
ACE: Stop it. Stop it.
GUS: Hypothetic, I’m sayin’. Hypothetic. (Don't you bet Gus yearns for the days when a draw across the throat made fucking resolution.)
ACE: Enough. (pauses) Hypothetically.

Escalante gives instructions to Rosie's friend, Lizzie, who also is an exercise rider, about how he wants her to ride her Pint of Plain, Ace's horse heading out for his workout, when Turo's distracted by the sight of Gettn'up Morning, who stands near the outer rail as Rosie and Walter discuss his workout. "I'm sayin' out loud — us two really get along," Rosie tells Walter, referring to herself and the horse. Smith sort of nods nervously, but doesn't say anything. "Whatever you think that's worth," she adds. "Um…well…anyways, take him on home to the barn," Walter finally gets out. Rosie starts riding the colt back. "Beggin' — like some chancer on a bed of hope," Rosie mutters to herself. (I can only hope I cut through the second part of her brogue correctly.) Turo gets on his phone with the mystery man who was watching Gettn'up Morning's morning run, inquiring about who the horse was. "That would be Gettn'up Morning, el presidente. He's a 3-year-old colt by Delphi," the man tells Escalante. "By Delphi? He got a right to be OK," Turo grins. "Boy, I must need a vacation, I nearly understood everything you just said," the man declares. "Joto. You understand that?" Turo asks. Ronnie rides down the track alongside another man on horseback (W. Earl Brown, who played Dan Dority on Deadwood). "He's OK. He's decent," Ronnie says, though it's unclear to which horse he refers. "He worked faster last week," the man responds. Ronnie gives an excuse and asks the man if he wanted to ask him and get him sour.(Maybe this isn't a horse they're talking about.) "What I wanted was to not waste a workout, Get him back to the goddamn barn," the man tells Ronnie. (Now I get it. He's talking about the horse Ronnie rides currently. He owns it and feels that Jenkins didn't give him the workout he needed.) "Ain't I glad I got up early to hear you bitch and moan?" Ronnie proclaims just as Joey appears at the rail. Walter overheard the exchange and is laughing as Ronnie rides by. "I guess you ain't been fooling with those Dale Carnegie courses they got out here," Smith chuckles. "How are you, Mr. Smith?" Ronnie inquires, changing his demeanor. "I'm alright. It's good to see another Kentucky face," Walter replies. (While I didn't have any problems with Nolte's performance in the premiere, he's improved in the second outing as well, loosening Walter up a bit instead of just playing him as grizzled and one note.) Ronnie commends him for the speed of his 3-year-old and Smith inquires about Jenkins' "bad fall," but Ronnie insists he's up and fine now. "That's good. Why don't you stop by the barn? We'll tell each other some lies, huh?"

Marcus and Renzo dine at the Arcadia landmark Rod's Grill, less than 2 miles east of the track. "Slickest trainer on the grounds enters his horse cheaper off a win this week which is like hanging a 'Please Buy This Nag' sign off the animal's neck and you propose we claim him," Marcus says to Renzo skeptically. "Yes — for the reason he was key to our jackpot Pick Six success," Renzo argues as Jerry enters the eatery and asks the cashier for aspirin. "How about we get sentimental, hold hands around the men's room toilet, flush the eight grand we blow on the claim and that way at least save ourselves the sales tax?" Marcus responds. "So you have reservations?" the always-on-the-ball Renzo senses. "Nothin' gets by you," Marcus comments. Renzo spots Jerry and gets up so he can sit down Marcus notes that Jerry looks half dead. "Well, gee, I feel like a million bucks," Jerry insists unconvincingly. Renzo excuses himself for a smoke as he sees a man at the door waiting for him. "What was the hit?" Marcus asks Jerry. "You assume I lost," Jerry replies. Marcus grills Jerry on what size game Jerry was playing in and Jerry tell him just $10-$20, describing it as not that big a step up. "No photos we didn't allow. No ceremony presenting us with Pick Six money. All our precautions to keep anonymous and all of a sudden you're Johnny Big Time at the poker table?" Marcus lectures. "You know, it's not like we robbed a bank," Jerry tells him. "Like this mope here," Marcus says, gesturing to Renzo over his shoulder, "wants us to claim Escalante's horse, drawing ourselves attention on that front." Upon hearing that news, Jerry picks up the paper on the table. "I saw that Escalante's dropping the horse down," Boyle comments. "Not to mention that jughead Lonnie likely braggin' to those biddies that he's banging," Marcus works himself up to a coughing spell and has to bring out the oxygen mask. Jerry urges Marcus to take it easy. As Becker continues hacking, he removes his mask long enough to tell Jerry, "Go fuck yourself."

Renzo meets the man (Woody Copland) waiting outside Rod's. "Here's the deal, Renz. You're obligated to absolutely nothing if you put a claim in on a horse," the man tells him. "You look at the horse in the paddock, right Goose?" Renzo inquires. "I know this horse of Escalante's so well, I know every pimple on it," Goose declares. Renzo asks Goose if he knows Marcus. "Marcus — he's a hall-of-fame ballbuster," Goose replies, "Yes. He'd be one of the partners I'd want to eventually involve. Plus Jerry," Renzo explains. "Jerry — of course, Jerry. Brilliant handicapper — and poker room whore," Goose assesses. "And Lonnie. I don't think you know Lonnie," Renzo says, "You know, horse ownerships tend to be fluid. That's why pencils have erasers on 'em," Goose proclaims. Renzo tries to figure the division of costs in his head and out loud, but it's a struggle to watch that little brain work so hard. "You've got the money on your own, right?" Goose interrupts. Renzo confirms that he does and Goose does the computing. "Let's see. Ballpark. Sales tax, Eighty-eight hundred. Can you handle that?" Goose wants to know. "Yes, which I would put up individually, making the horse a present," Renzo announces his intention. "That's a beautiful and noble gesture, my man" Goose says. "Let's go to the track."

Mon Gateau gazes out from his stable and soon Jo climbs out from behind him. "I just gave your eight thousand dollar horse his three dollar shot of Lasix," she tells Turo. "You think I lose him here this afternoon? Someone gonna drop a claim in?" Escalante asks her. "I don't know why you put him up for claim in the first place," Jo replies. Escalante confides to her that he's going to run Mon Gateau with wraps on his front legs this time "to scare away all the vultures." Jo sees what Turo's plan is. "Sure, bandages. The old-school head fake," she comments. *Escalante leads Jo outside of shedrow to show her Pint of Plain. "Ace Bernstein coming with his beard to see what his two million bought him," he tells her. "He's doing great, Turo," Jo rules on Pint of Plain's progress. Escalante reports on how Pint of Plain's trot went that morning and makes a crack about Bernstein thinking he can put a foot in his business. Jo just sighs.

Goose escorts Renzo to have his photo and fingerprints taken so he can obtain a horse owner's license.

At the motel where the four "degenerates" have been residing since they hit the Pick Six jackpot, Lonnie comes out of his room singing and approaches an outside table where Jerry and Marcus peruse newspapers and racing forms for the day. Lonnie is decked out in a sharp-looking new suit and matching hat as he approaches his fellow winners. "Lookin' like a million bucks," Jerry comments to Marcus. "Well, if that ain't right on the nose," Marcus concurs. Lonnie greets the guys and models his wears for them. Marcus mimes a sign as he interprets the message Lonnie's duds send. "Won money. Head up ass. You could've flashed it across the Snoopy blimp," Marcus comments. The always-slow-on-the-uptake Lonnie asks to whom and to what Marcus makes reference. "You. Puttin' yourself in that suit to prove to those cock-struck broads who probably you were already in it at fifty different ways," Marcus dresses down Lonnie. "It so happens you've got things backwards, Marcus. Those women I've been bangin' bought this Brioni for me," Lonnie declares. "Oh sure they did — for your personal injury scam. (I usually link to words such as scam that I imagine most people know because I'm curious about the origin. I must say I was surprised to find that every reference I found cites the word's beginning only in the early 1960s. Hard to believe such a common, widely used word would be such a recent addition to the English language.) So when you take that insurance slip-and-fall they're settin' you up for, you've planted them with the foot traffic. You think you're a real scamster, huh? Meanwhile, they've probably got you signed to some life insurance policy or somethin'," Professor Becker (doctorate in street wisdom) lectures. Jerry grows tired of the oration and unsuccessfully tries to get Marcus to release the students for this period. "No, you bought that suit — you did. Puttin' on airs (third air entry, second noun), it draws scrutiny on all of us," Marcus continues as Renzo approaches in the distance carrying four large cups of coffee. "Maybe you're confused with my mother, Marcus, that I'm required to take your abuse," Lonnie tells him. "That may be you, your circus outfit, your good fortune you had so much to do with, you can put yourself in another section," Marcus suggests. "Maybe I'll go you one better," Lonnie says. "Perish the thought. Be still my poor heart," Marcus replies without a trace of caring, though after that speech he finally has to grab for the oxygen. Having finally arrived at the table but missing most of the fireworks, Renzo looks horribly confused and somewhat sad. "I appreciate our good fortune we had but ballbreaking over my wardrobe is not my idea of fun and my mental adroitness is dulled by this constant negativity," Lonnie declares before walking away. Marcus mouths, "What?" to Jerry. "And don't think they mightn't have bad intentions towards him either — those insurance broads — they find out he scored. Mental fuckin' adroitness," Marcus frets to Jerry as Renzo grabs two of the coffees and chases after Lonnie. Becker returns the oxygen mask to his face. (In the pilot, Kevin Dunn dominated as Marcus, with Jason Gedrick's Jerry seeing the second-most development of the quartet. In this second outing, Ritchie Coster's Renzo and Ian Hart's Lonnie both get material that allow their characters to expand from interchangeable dimwitted comic relief, Coster especially. Both English actors continue to hide their real accents fairly well, though I caught a little British sneak into Coster's speech at times. Gedrick gets to grow Jerry as well as we see his poker world instead of hearing about it secondhand.)

Renzo catches up with Lonnie and gives him his coffee. "He got up on the wrong side of the bed," Renzo says, meaning Marcus. "Tell me the day he didn't," Lonnie responds, still seething. "It's a new situation, Lonnie. It's a process of adjusting for everybody," Renzo tells him. "Why shouldn't that include me? It feels like he's in a movie, falling off a building backwards," Lonnie's voice practically yells all words now. Renzo tries to bring up his proposal for continuing their partnership "under a new concept." "What would you say then?" Renzo asks. "Renz, I'm OD'ing on concepts," Lonnie replies before thanking Renzo for the coffee and continuing his walk to whereabouts unknown. Renzo smiles a grim grin to himself.

Marcus and Jerry make their trek to the Santa Anita doors along with other attendees for the day's racing card since they didn't arrive early to watch workouts as they've done previous. (A brief shoutout of thanks to Pete Siberell, director of special projects at the real Santa Anita Park, who has provided me with some real details about the track for the recaps.) Marcus' rant about the syndicate members' behavior post-Pick Six windfall doesn't seem to have ceased since the motel. "With money comes responsibility, whether you think you can handle it or not," Becker pontificates. "And with some of his money, Lonnie bought himself a suit," Jerry says. "And I have a right to object. On him, it draws scrutiny on me," Marcus insists. "How does him and his suit draw scrutiny on you?" Boyle asks, almost laughing in disbelief. "From being included in his spotlight," Marcus answers as he and Jerry move to the interior of the track's main building. "Same as you running up your come-and-get-me flag at the poker joint." Jerry reads the race forms as he responds, "That puts scrutiny on you." The two turn the corner from the entrance and stop short of Top-O-The-Stretch where Marcus explains further his philosophy of anonymity, though Jerry keeps reading the rundown. "You sit down at a bigger table, right? Because you didn't win your bigger bankroll there, they recognize you won it here where you and me are known associates," Marcus elaborates. "Do you want me to sit in a different section?" Jerry asks. "You're gonna end up broke and alone whether you know it yet or not," Marcus tells him as Officer Kagle arrives to harass them, patting the bag on the side of Marcus' wheelchair. "Does he ever actually wash his clothes?" the security guard inquires. "Hey! What is it to you, you pig-faced, paper bag-lookin' cunt?" Marcus snarls as Kagle, nearly knocking the guard over with his chair. "Whoa! Whoa!" Kagle yelps, stepping back. "You mind your business or you'll find out what happens," Marcus warns the guard. "You better back off — you might cough at me violently while struggling for breath," Kagle retorts. "Hey — we're talkin', Kagle," Jerry tells him while Marcus does put on his breathing assistant. "Let me leave you with this thought. Three points a week — put your cash to work on the street — and make yourself three points a week," the loan shark side of the guard suggests before he departs. "That seven thousand I just lost for the week — I'm six hundred and fifty grand ahead," Jerry informs Marcus. "You just lost seven thousand," Marcus says, looking displeased. "You know, maybe broke and alone is what you're afraid of. Maybe that's why you're carrying what you're carrying in that fucking laundry bag," Jerry tells him. "I've got no idea what you're talking about," an unusually subdued Marcus replies as Renzo arrives. "See you Renz," Jerry says, giving him his racing forms before walking off. "When you comin' back?" Renzo asks Jerry as his back gets farther away. "Probably not today," he says as he keeps up his pace without looking back. Marcus spins to give his farewell to Jerry's backside. "So I'm this moment's excuse for you to go back there and get your teeth kicked in," he bellows to the vanishing Jerry. Renzo makes a sniffing sound and as Marcus prepares to take in more oxygen, he inquires what problem Calagari has now. "I'm claiming that horse, Marcus," Renzo declares while the oxygen mask covers Marcus's face, preventing an instantaneous response. He take it off, still short of breath, and squeezes out, "You're kiddin', right?" Renzo extends the invitation for Marcus to buy in as a partnership and asks for a yes or no. "No — and where you think you're in position to do so? No license or trainer, never mind the wherewithal," Marcus lashes out. "You might be surprised where people were positioned if you weren't busy wading through their feelings left and right — hurting them." Marcus doesn't stay to listen to the third member of his syndicate call him on his crap on the same day and rolls away before Renzo finishes.

Leon's drinking something at one of the tables at the snack bar outside the Backside Cafeteria in the barn area when Joey wanders in. Leon tells his agent he's been mulling ordering a bear claw. "No. No bear claw. I don't need you overweight ridin' back today, pressing your luck," Joey tells him, though the agent's attention keeps being drawn outside. "I was thinkin' I could do some extra road work," Leon says. "Looks like Ronnie had a good back-and-forth with that Old Man," Joey informs Bug Boy, who couldn't seem less interested for he turns the conversation back to Escalante and Mon Gateau, wondering if Turo has mentioned how the horse is doing. "It's not our place to ask," Joey declares. "I'm just sayin' he's droppin' him awful cheaply off a win," Leon comments. "And I'm sayin' you and me, tryin' to handicap a trainer like Turo Escalante — remember what I told you that was called," Joey reminds him. "Heavy lifting with light equipment, Leon replies. "You're worried about the horse being sound?" Rathburn reads into his client's demeanor, especially after what happened to Tattered Flag. "I guess I am a little," Leon admits. (That British accent definitely mucks up the Louisiana drawl Tom Payne is supposed to have as Leon — A LOT.) "Let me give you some advice — acts of God and so forth, bad luck — like that spill you were in. To worry yourself about those afterward…" Leon interrupts. "You worry about everything." Joey continues anyway, "Putting yourself even more in the way of getting hurt, which was a factor with Ronnie and only now he's coming back from that hole." Leon quietly says, "Yeah" and Joey reaches out and places his hand over the young rider's.

FOR PART II OF RECAP, CLICK HERE

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