Homicide Rewatch: Extreme Unction

 

Written  by D. Keith Mano; Story by Tom Fontana & James Yoshimura

Directed by Keith Gordon

 

The biggest change to TV in the 21^st century was that starting with The Sopranos and continuing to the present day is that television became great when it rejected morality. We called Tony Soprano, Al Swearengen and Walter White ‘antiheroes’ as a new term to justify our reasons for watching them week after week. These were white men who were openly unpleasant to everyone around them, were frequently violent and committed murder on a weekly basis. They would have been the villains in shows in the 1990s but their creators did everything to argue that their actions took place in a morally gray area. I suppose that’s a more polite way of saying: “Look we wanted to write about horrible people and get paid for it, so we sold it to cable that way.”

I’m not degrading any of the quality of these television series or arguing that there was a ripple effect on the rest of society because of this kind of entertainment being the foundation of television during the last quarter of a century. (I’ll leave that to others if they wish to.) But there is a consequence when you create a show like Dexter, have procedurals like Criminal Minds and CSI make serial killers look cool and decide to have an increasingly number of true crime shows – fact and fiction – trying to figure out the complexity as to how a serial killer got away with their crimes for so long. Eventually such TV series which had clearly defined parameters of right and wrong become rarer and less popular than the ones where everyone’s a monster and you have no one to conventionally root for.

And this is a relatively recent phenomena. In the decade before The Sopranos debuted almost every major procedural, whether it was Law & Order or The X-Files, or even less popular series like Millennium, had a very clear picture of murderers, even those with a high body count. They thought they were ordinary and whatever attention they might draw in the media didn’t take away from the horror of their actions. There is a phrase called ‘the banality of evil’ which definitely applies to how television dealt with it and Homicide could play these cards extremely well. This may not seem as obvious in the conclusion of their first serial killer arc, but the writers make it very clear in Extreme Unction with whom their sympathies lie – and what they think about a society that thinks otherwise.

All of this works because Extreme Unction shows Frank Pembleton as someone who would never call himself a hero but has a moral compass in a way that TV leads in the 1990s had and precious few do today. It is very much veiled in cynicism – the opening sequence with him looking at Christ and delivering an invective not just against the killer but God himself is something that television just didn’t do in the 1990s. In an era when TV characters never wore their faith broadly Pembleton was a beacon because he believed in something: not God but justice, the idea of some kind of moral universe. What happens in this episode utterly crushes him not because it destroys his faith in God – that’s barely present – but because it destroys his faith in how the world works.

With the murder of Marilyn Callisto, yet another good Catholic doing good work, it’s clear the killer is trying to draw publicity to themselves. The most recent call came into a station rather then the squad and the archdiocese is demanding that they post a reward. In hindsight it’s clear the killer is trying to control events in the future and that’s clear when ‘Pamela Wilgis’ walks into the squad and says she saw two men dump a body. Frank is inclined to dismiss her until he learns about the gloves.

The sequence between Frank and Wilgus (Lucinda Jenney) is the highpoint for Braugher to this point in the series. From the start he knows Wilgus is playing games with him, games that are confirmed when they search her home and find a dozen pair of white cotton gloves there. He then starts going after her and then Wilgus shifts into Sister Maude.

In another series the argument of MPD would be seriously entertained. Neither Frank nor Giardello watching the interview believe it for a moment. Frank knows this is an act but wants to see if he plays the game well enough he can get “JMJ Wilgus’ to confess to the murders. He knows he’s being manipulated but he has enough confidence – or arrogance – to think he can play it out. Only when he goes a bit too far does Annabella – clearly the real killer -  makes it very clear that she knows what’s coming. Russom shows up, tells Frank’s he’s interrogating his client without her consent and drags her from the squad. “You were close,” Annabella says before she leaves.

It is in this episode the first ‘complaints’ about Russert began to surface and it’s telling what a 1998 writer thought. Throughout the interrogation Russert is uneasy with the tactics Pembleton is taking, which are further then we’ve seen him go. He gets right next to Wilgis, starts touching her suggestively, gets in her face and when JMJ shows up and starts acting childish – imitating everything he does – he takes out a book of matches, holds one to his wrist, causing her to burn herself. Russert heads for the door, clearly concerned that not only the confession will be thrown out but that the department could be sued. Giardello is more than willing to let this happen and practically bullies Russert to stay put in order to close the case.

It’s clear, from the perspective of today, that Frank’s action did cross a line that could leave the department open to litigation. (The show will in fact deal with the consequences of this in a future episode.) However the writers choose to take Frank’s side in this argument in this episode. I always believed that Russert’s position was valid nearly thirty years ago and just as so today. The fact that many used this as a strike against her as a character shows the way even a brilliantly realistic drama like Homicide still believed in the ‘copaganda’ line that has always plagued the procedural.

Where Homicide is on much firmer ground is when Wilgus chooses to confess her crimes on television. Wilgis chooses to talk to Matt Rhodes. Giardello tells Rhodes that she’s using him. Rhodes reveals his true colors: “If she’s willing to confess to me in front of a live audience, she can use me, use me, use me.”

The ‘interview’ that follows argues that Wilgus, who is willing to confess to the murders of eight women, is herself a victim because of ritualistic abuse as a child which caused her to manifest multiple personalities. In a parallel to media circuses that were going on in LA, Wilgus has decided to try the case in the news first, making it clear that she is the real victim, ensuring that rather then getting a death sentence she will end up in an institution. Giardello, Russert and Danvers watch this is in a kind of resigned disgust. And Pembleton who is there doesn’t say a word.

But his stoicism collapses in his final encounter with Sister Magdalena. In a sign of capacity for forgiveness she tells her that she can believe Wilgus’s story and that Goodrich with her dying breath would forgive. Pembleton challenges this. “Who gives us the right to forgive any?” He’s now not just questioning God but his faith in justice. “Nothing changed. I used to look for something precious to hang this too.” Magdalena asks him if he has any family. He mentions his wife. “Is she precious to you?” We see Frank’s face change. “I’d say God answered you.” For the first time on the show – and one of the few times during its run – we see Frank break down in tears.

With the investigation over, the series deals with the other major storylines. While this is going on Howard reluctantly talks to Russert, drawing her away from the squad. This is the first scene of two female regulars interacting on Homicide in any way and it’s interesting that while it is domestic, career is part of it.

Howard is in awkward situation on two fronts. Beth has been grilling her nonstop about Beau, a position she doesn’t want to be in. She doesn’t want to attack the shift commander who she admires. But as a detective she has to put herself first. In an exchange where Howard does most of the talking she makes it very clear that she takes her job and her clearance rate very seriously. She knows that if Felton and Russert’s affair becomes public, Felton will no doubt be forced to transfer and she’s worried about how this will affect her ability to do her job. (Later seasons will make this a moot point but no one could know that.) She also points out to Russert that even if she doesn’t think this is a competition she is still playing a role in breaking up a marriage that will leave Beth alone with two kids and no prospects. Howard clearly doesn’t relish being a grownup in this situation but someone clearly has to.

In a painful scene that takes place in an abandoned railyard, Beau and Megan spend a few minutes in awkward conversation before they finally come to the understanding that whatever they have is over. It’s clear in the aftermath that Beau isn’t thrilled with this but feels he has an obligation to his kids. Given everything we’ve seen from Beth to this point (and quickly we will learn the truth of this) we know this is a fragile peace that could fly apart at a moment’s notice.

Meanwhile Munch and Lewis continue the prospect of dealing with the inspections to get the permits. Unfortunately Bayliss has decided he now wants to be a more active partner in the bar and the moment he decides to be, he starts mouthing off about the process he’s come the latest to getting into. This is far from the last conflict he will raise before the Waterfront opens.

At the end of the episode Pembleton exudes his rage at Giardello for not doing enough. Giardello, however, knows his man and asks what he’s really angry about: “That Annabella Wilgis is going to go to a mental hospital instead of the electric chair or if you’re angry because you didn’t get her confession.” At this point we know enough about Frank to know it’s even money – until the final scene.

He goes to lockup and asks Wilgus about the white cotton gloves. In it she makes it very clear that Goodrich, Callisto and Lundy were not good Catholics in her mind. In an attitude that is keeping with fundamentalist Christianity she makes it clear that a woman’s place is in the home and that by going out, they were defiling their religion. There are suggestions of abuse but underlying them is a very clear sentiment that would not be out of place in the Falwell’s or Pat Robertson: that these women were going against God by not knowing their place. As a side note, it turns out she may have begun her killing spree not long after her mother’s death, and that her mother was the epitome of goodness to her.

Pembleton’s reaction is to start laughing. Wilgus is clearly upset. “I don’t know if you have multiple personalities, but I don’t care if you do. I don’t care how many personalities you may or may not have. Eight personalities are never going to speak because of you. You had no right to kill them, especially in God’s name. And I’ve got to believe, even if you get away Scot free, that someday you’ll be punished for what you’ve done.”

Then he walks away. Only we hear Wilgis’ last statement: “I’m sure I will.”

The sad part is Wilgis does get away with it. She does end up in a mental hospital and that’s where she spends the rest of the show. (In a grim irony, artwork she does will be part of an exhibit in Baltimore later on.) To the rest of the world Wilgis is something to be studied, someone interesting, someone who is as much a victim as the people she killed. To Pembleton and the squad, she’s just a stone cold killer with a more interesting excuse than most. The why has never been a part of Homicide but it’s what so much of the rest of the world needs. To them , it’s the reason Wilgis will no doubt get movies of the week and a music deal and the rest of the cops just have to deal with the cleanup. In another show later on Wilgis would no doubt continue to orchestrate murders behind the scene or inspire acolytes in Baltimore. That’s not the kind of show Homicide was – and you really wish more shows had been like that.

 

NOTES FROM THE BOARD

‘Detective Munch’  John reaches new levels of an inability to read the room when watching the interview Wilgis says he makes it clear what a presence she has and says how attractive she is. As everybody walks off in disgust, he says: “All I’m saying is she wouldn’t be a dull date.”

It Was The 1990s: The teaser deals with Stan’s inability to deal with the Canadian Football League’s intrusion into Baltimore as a degradation to real football. Not for the first time he mentions Johnny Unitas and the Colts. “If you’re gonna play football in America, then play our game.” Little does he know that in just two seasons professional football will be returning to Baltimore. (And oh the shows will have words about that too.)

Crosetti has been mentioned as coming back from vacation on the next day. Because the episodes would be aired out of order, the next episode would reveal that Crosetti was dead but not how. I will not repeat that mistake.

Hey, Isn’t That… Keith Gordon made his film debut in Jaws II at 14 and starred in such movies as All That Jazz, Dressed to Kill,  Back To School, and Christine. He made his directorial debut with his adaptation of The Chocolate War, followed by the undervalued masterpiece A Midnight Clear in 1992. After directing this episode, he would direct Andre Braugher in Gideon’s Crossing. He has since directed TV shows such as House, Dexter, Rectify and The Killing, Masters of Sex, Nurse Jackie, The Leftovers and Homeland. His last project was AMC’s Dispatches From Elsewhere.