Back In The Saddle (And Hat)

About three-quarters of the way through last week's episode of The Bridge, my esteemed colleague David T. Cole announced, "I think I'm done with this show. I don't even know what's going on anymore." As soon as he said it, I realized I was...almost there with him. As silly as the original Bron/Broen S1 storyline is -- which is very -- at least it charges forward with the momentum its craziness requires. Season 2 of The Bridge, which bears no relation to the second season of the series on which it was based, feels a lot slower and duller. As a villain, Eleanor yaws between scary and pitiful, and anyway, she's a sub-villain at best. If I can hardly muster any interest in Cerisola's shell companies and august biographies, you can imagine how I tune out when we turned to his junkie daughter (and yes, she may just have been a plot contrivance to give Marco the leverage required to find Sonya before she died of exposure, but still). I guess the purpose of the whole Jack Dobbs cul-de-sac was to show how losing her heroes, Hank and Marco, will force Sonya to relax her own rules on life and police work and gain an appreciation for which compromises are worth making. But maybe I wasn't ready to see Hank brought low.

I'm not saying that Hank shouldn't face unfortunate consequences for decisions that, however nobly made, were not technically ethical, or legal, or moral. Like, I guess it's not okay to murder unarmed suspects, not even when they have done some pretty terrible things. (If nothing else, Jim Dobbs robbed Lisa of the opportunity to get sick of that incredibly ugly jacket before Sonya could turn it into a sacred relic and wear it all the time.) I just love Hank. But I didn't realize how much until this episode.

After a tip from Charlotte, Agent McKenzie -- with Hank in tow, for some kind of procedural reasons, which...actually, who cares -- descends on the Red Ridge model home with nowhere near enough backup. He thinks he's got the jump on Eleanor et al and gets way too cocky for an agent of his apparent longevity, which of course is when a bunch of other crooks show up and start shooting. In the chaos that ensues, name characters go down quickly -- Charlotte, McKenzie, McKenzie's sugar-shunning partner Rivas -- and I watch all of it impassively until Hank falls unconscious.

I'm okay when Hank just takes a bullet. "That reaction could just be from the impact to his vest," I tell myself, reassuringly. Not when he blacks out, though. That will not do.

Later, when the gunfire has subsided and Cesar is one of the last people left alive, he surveys the damage. Confirming that Charlotte is dead? Eh, she had a good run, considering. Since Hank has fallen with his head on her back, I assume his will be the corpse we see Cesar inspect next. And in that moment, I realize that if Hank is killed, I'll be done with this show. It'll be Kessler on Boardwalk Empire all over again.

Hank's not there.

Hank's in pretty bad shape, but at least he's alive.

And, for at least another week, so is my investment in The Bridge. But it's in the ICU, and I've got my pen poised over the DNR. So hang in there, Hank. Don't forget: you still have to come back for your hat.