Previously on Justified, Amy Smart is Raylan’s latest love interest, and he’s wooing her in the bowling alley of a forfeited asset-house; Michael Rapaport and his accent are both in Harlan and presumably on for the rest of Season 5; the Latvian is in cahoots with Boyd, who has spent Dewey Crowe’s $300,000 about ten times over; his final shipment from the Canadians got jacked, and this voiceover is the only glimmer of my friend Jacob Pitts that we will see in this entire episode.
Wynn Duffy joins forces with the Tone Police and is mortally offended that Boyd would suspect him first, instead of “that unwashed room full of corner-boys.”
Raylan and Amy Smart are making out like a couple of seventeen-year-olds Chez Forfeiture, when Raylan gets an Art-us interruptus and heavy-breathes some exposition about Monroe getting ROR’d the next day, while Amy Smart licks his ear in a way that I have to say is pretty un-arousing. She and her weird smug joint-rolling and meth-planting (we’ll get to that) and general skeeviness are not doing it for me this season, but I really hope these are all false flags (is that how you use the term “false flag”? Is this going to get this blog a lot of really interesting traffic now?). I don’t want a recycled Raylan-gets-fleeced-by-a-woman subplot. Neither does Rachel. I’m getting ahead of myself.
Anyway, Amy Smart has to bust out a hookie-dookie, because apparently the nine gallons of expensive racist wine they already drank did not take her “edge” off sufficiently, and also she really needs to plant the seeds of suspicion in the viewers. God dammit, literally the only thing that just stopped Timothy Olyphant from going full-frontal on basic cable (they can say “bullshit” now, so I am assuming dong shots are also cool) is that temporarily-imprisoned money-launderer’s car alarm, which keeps being set off by a guy who definitely had the same dialect coach as the entire cast of The Waterboy. Why is there a meth-addled cajun in fake Kentucky?
Last night I got an email from my dad that said, “I don’t understand the plot of last night’s Justified. Who is doing what to whom?” Perhaps it’s because between Michael Rapaport’s accent, this guy’s, and “the Hatian’s,” Justified this season is like being in the Enchanted Tiki Room, that animatronic attraction at Disneyland full of birds doing foreign accents according to the 1950s rule of There Is No Such Thing As Racism. Anyway. The guy has a baseball bat, Raylan assumes Monroe sent him, because in case you haven’t noticed this season, Raylan has lost his touch and will soon find himself in deep shit over basically sending Nicky Augustine to get killed. Wait, who? Sorry, Dad. Needless flashback. Moving on.
The car-alarm debacle has scared Amy Smart back into her clothes, and when she insists she “has to go,” Raylan’s voice goes up about nine octaves and he goes, “What?” Looks like it’s another one-way tonight, man. Thump, thump, thump, thump, credits.
Raylan’s stalking Monroe at court to tell Monroe to stop stalking him–except it’s totally obvious that Monroe didn’t send the “shit-kicker,” and even I know that, and I’m just sitting here on my ass watching. Did you inhale too much second-hand pot smoke, Raylan? This is exhausting.
In the hospital, the Latvian has now double-crossed so many people that she’s basically done an octuple cross, and she convinces her bleep-bleep-machine’d husband to threaten the sheriff and force the sheriff to kill Boyd Crowder. Because killing Boyd Crowder is really easy to do, especially if you shoot him right in the chest. Perhaps the sheriff, who looks about twelve, is not old enough to remember the four previous seasons of Justified, or Herr Massive Concussion doesn’t realize that Walton Goggins is in the credits. Boyd Crowder is immortal. Boyd does not die. After the nuclear apocalypse between us and SuperChina (China will unite with the rest of the world besides us; we, tenacious but outnumbered, will still stupidly believe in Manifest Destiny and Exceptionalism, and thus refuse SuperChina’s generous offer of annexation in response for becoming their landfill for two-year-old air conditioners that melted), all that’s left will be the cockroaches in my old apartment in Columbus, and Boyd Crowder.
Speaking of which–Boyd knows exactly who blabbed about his drug shipment–it was that dipshit Cyrus, who is affronted to be manhandled by “Captain Fauxhawk,” which is an excellent epithet, but I don’t buy that Cyrus knows the word “fauxhawk.” Though I’m also meant to buy Meth-Head James Carville and Daryl Crowe’s accents, so sure. I’ll suspend disbelief. Anyway, while I have been mulling over whether it’s the Justified dialect coach’s fault or the actors’ for being uncoachable, Wynn Duffy has shot Cyrus multiple times with an air gun, and Cyrus has confessed to yakking the details of the shipment to the pop-rocks blowjob lady.
Meanwhile, back in the Tim-less marshalls’ office, Raylan’s in trouble again, and Art assigns Rachel to move into Chez Seized-ASSetts (get it? Because Raylan uses it as a booty palace), because roomies!
Daryl’s at Audrey’s, eating an amazing-looking plate of bacon and eggs that he inexplicably doesn’t finish–just kidding, nobody finishes their food on television, ever! I want to air my own show, called Everyone Finishes Their Food and Says “Good-Bye” Before They Hang Up the Phone. Anyway, Daryl got ten bachelor’s degrees in the clink–one of his classes was even in composition, so you comp/rhet people are correct, the discipline is doing great–and he knows that Dewey got ripped off, and Wade Messer stammers about the weekly take, and Daryl calls Boyd “Beard,” and goes on about a restaurant in Corbin with curb appeal (and a liquor license!). “You ain’t got no curb appeal up in here! Damn, Dewey, you done got ripped off.” Then Daryl ditches his bacon and eggs (SURPRISE!) and cracks a breakfast-brewsky, and insists that Dewey go “get” $100,000 back, which we all know Boyd has spent seventeen times over, because Boyd is in trouble.
At Casa de Sumptous Staircase and Egregious Joint-Rolling, Rachel catches Amy Smart showing up to finish what they started, and then she and Raylan exposit that the Ragin’ Cajun is actually a dude after Amy Smart, because she took his kid away, because she’s a CPS social worker and she takes kids away alll daaaaaay loooooooong when she’s not smoking drugs and being suspicious.
The Poke. Trouble in double-Crowder paradise, as Boyd demands to know the deets on Lady Pop-Rocks Blowjob from Ava, while Ava is more interested in getting out of the grey-bar motel. “What do you want from me?” asked Boyd–and then he pulls the moral high ground on her, when he’s not threatening to staple the Wildman’s headphones to his head. “I didn’t kill Delroy,” he moralizes her. Yes, that’s true, Boyd, Delroy is the only person who has been murdered in Harlan County in the last four years that you didn’t kill. Congratulations. This is a fairly obvious case of Boyd having a serious infatuation with another woman, and then picking a fight with his Intended so that when he inevitably bangs the Latvian, he’ll explain that things haven’t been right with Ava for “a long time.”
Raylan tracks down Mr. I Learned My Accent Watching MSNBC, and fucks him up with his own baseball bat, and the Ragin’ Cajun bloodily exposits that Amy Smart planted meth in Henry Jr.’s G.I. Joe’s. SUSPICIOUS!!!!!! WHO IS CONCERNED ABOUT AMY SMART? SOMETHING ABOUT HER IS NOT RIGHT, I’D WAGER. Blargh.
Monroe and his “maid” are getting ready to have sex, but Monroe has other plans: to One Flew Over the Cuckoo‘s Nest her until she “confesses” to attempting to rob him of his gold, because of course he has a house full of gold. Of course. She almost dies twice, but then manages to wheeze out DUFFY, who–of course–put in Monroe’s safe. There’s a reason he’s in the credits now. He’s everywhere. Wynn Duffy contains multitudes (everyone contains multitudes these days, if you haven’t noticed).
Gloria (that’s the name of the “maid”) interrupts Rachel’s patience-losing, Raylan-nagging suspicion-fest to ask if she can “check the pH” in the koi pond. While you laugh about the fact that she thought for one second that the marshalls would let her roam around Castle McDuck unsupervised (nope, in the least surprising plot twist ever, they notice she goes right for the gold, so to speak, except literally, so exactly the opposite of “so to speak,” whatever that is), I’d like to take this opportunity to let you know that I adore koi. I mean, come on. Those fish are some adorable people-recognizing motherfuckers.
Dewey comes to “get his money” from Boyd–and it is not a good time. “I want $100,000 and I’m not leaving here without it!” Boyd cocks a gun. “50 then. We can call it a loan.” Boyd ignores him. “I’ll give you a cut of the take from Audrey’s!” That’s a Dewey Crowe negotiation for you–plus, unbeknownst to Dewey (and really, what is knownst to Dewey), Boyd is already helping his ass to a healthy cut of the “take” from Audrey’s, and yet he still has no money–and double-yet, he is still lecturing Dewey with some business-school platitudes about how making a profit takes time.
MEANWHILE, Raylan and Rachel discover the rune-covered gold bars, and Boyd and the Latvian trap the sheriff into getting his balls into a vice, and they offer him the totally nonexistent over-promised $300,000 to pretend-kill Boyd. I think this must be the plot point that made my dad give up. Does this help?
Wynn-ebago, where Duffy is eating–BUT NOT FINISHING–what looks to be a sensitive arugula salad. Mikey (his long-suffering but highly loyal muscle) alerts him to the arrival of Raylan, who asks for a moment alone and is initially denied. “Try to kill me once, shame on you,” Wynn says–“If I tried to kill you, you’d be dead.” Maybe in Season 2, Raylan. Now I’m not so sure. Anyway, Raylan reveals that he’s actually just there to protect Wynn from a “situation” he (Raylan) “may” have created, but the full force of the exposition is broken by Mikey shooting the bejeezus out of Monroe, who mercifully survives so that he can be indicted on many violent charges and Raylan can keep using his house as a Pussy Palace forever and ever.
Speaking of pussy, Boyd and Mara (the “Latvian”–I’d like to hear what my friend Zan has to say about her accent; my guess is that the Justified writers figured that nobody in the United States even realizes Latvia is an actual country, so she can sound like Natascha from the Bullwinkle cartoons and it’s cool). Anyway, as something that sounds suspiciously like a 90s Cowboy Junkies record plays, Mara forces Boyd to strip so that she can feel him up under the guise of memorizing his tattoos for the purpose of corpse-faking. Is it me, or did the Boyd Crowder of Seasons 1-3 have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more swastika tattoos? Did briefly legit-reformed Boyd get laser swastika removal? If so, why didn’t he get all of the swastikas removed? I can see why my dad is confused. Anyway, Mara is ready to fake a death with one of the many corpses she has hanging around her funeral-parlor house, and Boyd is 100% forever and irrevocably in love. Sorry, Ava. Your hopes reside solely with the Wildman now.
Speaking of pussy again, Raylan and Amy Smart are alone at last in the Ill-Gotten Gains Hacienda, but instead of having sex, Amy Smart interrogates him about whether he thinks she’s a bad guy. I GET IT. I GET IT. COME ON. “Never can be sure that I wasn’t in on it.” I GET IT.
Speaking of pussy again, back at Audrey’s, Daryl has taken shit over, and beaten the crap out of Wade Messer and thus extracted the utterly obvious fact that Boyd is skimming the majority of the prostitution profits. The best part of this scene is when Dewey yells to Daryl that owning Audrey’s is his “dream.” Daryl insists that Dewey must kill Wade. This is a big-ass deal, because Dewey may be many things–as poor a businessman as he is a counter of his own kidneys–but he is not a killer. He is not a killer.
And speaking of pussy YET AGAIN, Candy the pop-rocks BJ lady is brought to the Crowder Lair in a trunk, where she and her bedazzled pink flip phone confirm Boyd’s suspicion: He got jacked by COUSIN JOHNNY.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, credits.