The Glass Heart: Dancing with Brown Betty on Fringe
"Death seems to follow you around." - Philip Broyles
This week's episode of Fringe ("Brown Betty"), written by Jeff Pinkner, J.H. Wyman, and Akiva Goldsman and directed by Seith Mann, offered a look into the mind of Walter Bishop, via the noir-tinged fairy tale he told Olivia's young niece Ella. It's a mind that's been increasingly affected by major feelings of guilt and regret about what he had done to a young Peter Bishop, the man that he raised as his son but whom he stole from his alternate universe counterpart.
It was a bit of a break from the increasingly mythology-heavy episodes of late, which have adding in some newly swirling mysteries (who is the Secretary?) to Fringe's already complex and emotional plot. Rather than see the team battle shapeshifters or freaky fringe scientists, this episode turned the focus inwards, forcing the team to examine their own fears and dreams.
While Olivia continued to search for the missing Peter, Walter turned from labeling everything in the lab (from sulfuric acid to Red Vines) to entertain Ella (and Astrid) with a marijuana-scented story that fused together film noir and classic musicals, two of his mother's favorite genres.
While the plot worked on an altogether escapist level (it is, after all, one gigantic pot-fueled dream), there were some subtleties laced throughout Walter's story that revealed his own complicity in his fate: his need to create, to push the boundaries of science, and the knowledge that doing so would bring forth the creation of so many wonderful things (bubblegum, flannel pajamas, rainbows)... and also some deadly ones.
It's a truth that hits home for Walter. His inventions were forged on the stolen dreams of children, just as Walter Bishop and William Bell had stolen the childhoods of so many of their young patients. The road to hell, as they say, is paved with good intentions. And for all of his talk about saving the world, both the real Walter Bishop and the fictional one damned two worlds in the process because of his hubris and because of his broken heart.
Peter's glass heart provided the impetus for the action as Walter set in motion a complicated dance that led private investigator Olivia Dunham on the path of the missing Peter, who had reclaimed his stolen heart. The heart itself, part steampunk and part ultra-modern, represented both the humanistic drive mechanism and also the will to live. (The men's quest for their heart also reminded me, in an off-hand way, of Rose Walker's quest to find her missing heart in Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman." But that's just me.)
Along the way, we had singing detectives (thank you, Lance Reddick and Anna Torv), singing corpses, and singing scientists (Walter putting on a little Tears for Fears), as well as some classic noir tropes: the damsel in distress who isn't quite as innocent as she appears, the long-suffering gal Friday (Astrid, here cast as the plucky Esther Figglesworth), the black hatted thugs (the Observers), a close brush with death (Olivia getting thrown into the ocean in a box), and the appearance of something akin to true love (Olivia and Peter, united, but only in Ella's alternate ending).
I'm still not entirely sure why the writers felt the need to fuse together both noir and musical, two radically different genres, into one single episode, other than the fact that--as previously mentioned--Walter's mother loved both and Walter's synapses were firing at an altogether different rate. But while it was great to see Reddick, Torv, John Noble, and Jasika Nicole sing, I almost wish that we had just stuck with the noir underpinnings here and saw them through to the end.
However, I did love the fact that Olivia and Peter did finally find happiness together, exchanging their differences to dance together in Ella's version of a happy ending, one where people can cast off their fears and complications for an interaction far more simple than snappy banter. Likewise, only a child would think of something as simple and magical as the act of sharing a single heart: snapping it in two, not to break it forever, but to allow both Walter and Peter to continue their lives, bonded by the glass heart.
In the real world, such endings are far more rare. Peter does leave with his heart and breaks Walter's in the process. Olivia never does locate Peter Bishop and the father and son never have a tete-a-tete (or coeur-a-coeur) about their shared destinies. There is no happily ever after, not for these three. Meanwhile, an Observer (August) lurks nearby, noting that Peter has not returned home and that Walter did not follow his warning...
What did you think of "Brown Betty"? Did it work for you as an individual episode and within the context of the larger second season? Can't get "Candyman" out of your head? Discuss.
Next week on Fringe ("Northwest Passage"), Peter teams up with a local law enforcement official, Sheriff Mathis (guest star Martha Plimpton), on a serial murder investigation with ties to Newton; Walter copes with the possibility of being sent back to St. Claire's; someone from the "other side" pays a visit.
This week's episode of Fringe ("Brown Betty"), written by Jeff Pinkner, J.H. Wyman, and Akiva Goldsman and directed by Seith Mann, offered a look into the mind of Walter Bishop, via the noir-tinged fairy tale he told Olivia's young niece Ella. It's a mind that's been increasingly affected by major feelings of guilt and regret about what he had done to a young Peter Bishop, the man that he raised as his son but whom he stole from his alternate universe counterpart.
It was a bit of a break from the increasingly mythology-heavy episodes of late, which have adding in some newly swirling mysteries (who is the Secretary?) to Fringe's already complex and emotional plot. Rather than see the team battle shapeshifters or freaky fringe scientists, this episode turned the focus inwards, forcing the team to examine their own fears and dreams.
While Olivia continued to search for the missing Peter, Walter turned from labeling everything in the lab (from sulfuric acid to Red Vines) to entertain Ella (and Astrid) with a marijuana-scented story that fused together film noir and classic musicals, two of his mother's favorite genres.
While the plot worked on an altogether escapist level (it is, after all, one gigantic pot-fueled dream), there were some subtleties laced throughout Walter's story that revealed his own complicity in his fate: his need to create, to push the boundaries of science, and the knowledge that doing so would bring forth the creation of so many wonderful things (bubblegum, flannel pajamas, rainbows)... and also some deadly ones.
It's a truth that hits home for Walter. His inventions were forged on the stolen dreams of children, just as Walter Bishop and William Bell had stolen the childhoods of so many of their young patients. The road to hell, as they say, is paved with good intentions. And for all of his talk about saving the world, both the real Walter Bishop and the fictional one damned two worlds in the process because of his hubris and because of his broken heart.
Peter's glass heart provided the impetus for the action as Walter set in motion a complicated dance that led private investigator Olivia Dunham on the path of the missing Peter, who had reclaimed his stolen heart. The heart itself, part steampunk and part ultra-modern, represented both the humanistic drive mechanism and also the will to live. (The men's quest for their heart also reminded me, in an off-hand way, of Rose Walker's quest to find her missing heart in Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman." But that's just me.)
Along the way, we had singing detectives (thank you, Lance Reddick and Anna Torv), singing corpses, and singing scientists (Walter putting on a little Tears for Fears), as well as some classic noir tropes: the damsel in distress who isn't quite as innocent as she appears, the long-suffering gal Friday (Astrid, here cast as the plucky Esther Figglesworth), the black hatted thugs (the Observers), a close brush with death (Olivia getting thrown into the ocean in a box), and the appearance of something akin to true love (Olivia and Peter, united, but only in Ella's alternate ending).
I'm still not entirely sure why the writers felt the need to fuse together both noir and musical, two radically different genres, into one single episode, other than the fact that--as previously mentioned--Walter's mother loved both and Walter's synapses were firing at an altogether different rate. But while it was great to see Reddick, Torv, John Noble, and Jasika Nicole sing, I almost wish that we had just stuck with the noir underpinnings here and saw them through to the end.
However, I did love the fact that Olivia and Peter did finally find happiness together, exchanging their differences to dance together in Ella's version of a happy ending, one where people can cast off their fears and complications for an interaction far more simple than snappy banter. Likewise, only a child would think of something as simple and magical as the act of sharing a single heart: snapping it in two, not to break it forever, but to allow both Walter and Peter to continue their lives, bonded by the glass heart.
In the real world, such endings are far more rare. Peter does leave with his heart and breaks Walter's in the process. Olivia never does locate Peter Bishop and the father and son never have a tete-a-tete (or coeur-a-coeur) about their shared destinies. There is no happily ever after, not for these three. Meanwhile, an Observer (August) lurks nearby, noting that Peter has not returned home and that Walter did not follow his warning...
What did you think of "Brown Betty"? Did it work for you as an individual episode and within the context of the larger second season? Can't get "Candyman" out of your head? Discuss.
Next week on Fringe ("Northwest Passage"), Peter teams up with a local law enforcement official, Sheriff Mathis (guest star Martha Plimpton), on a serial murder investigation with ties to Newton; Walter copes with the possibility of being sent back to St. Claire's; someone from the "other side" pays a visit.