Blindspot s2 ep 18


It’s not easy being maverick law enforcement.

Fighting for the people, working for the Man when the Man just doesn’t understand…. FFS, at least once a season on every crime procedural, or once a month if it’s Blindspot, some suit who doesn’t get it will actually try and break up the band. The temerity! Although, given this particular group’s inexplicable leniency towards mass-murdering lunatic and constant WHINER Roman, and their frankly insane adoption of him into the team, there’s definitely an argument that maybe the band should be broken up. Or at least be told to get a grip of themselves and their competency-based interviewing procedures.

Not only is Irate McMoanathon not in a four-by-four CIA cell with barbed wire round the door handles, but he’s now free of even his IKEA-furnished FBI cubbyhole, living at Jane’s apartment with minimal security and trotting along on this week’s non-Sandstorm-related mission as some sort of expert on fear, feelings and foster care. And yet he’s STILL GRIPING ABOUT HOW HARD HIS DEAL IS. Dude. If I had my way, Zapata would strangle you to death with her ponytail, so I suggest you accept your unbelievable luck with good grace and SHUT IT.

Anyway. This is a very roundabout way of saying it’s “spurious investigation designed to destroy the team” week again on Blindspot as Matthew Weitz – something of a maverick himself, given the apparently unlimited time and public funding he’s invested in pursuing a grudge against one guy and his tattooed pal in perpetuity – is back yet again to try and destroy Weller and Team Tat because, who knows, maybe Kurt turned him down at a party or something.

Much like the unhappy wife/family and the jurisdictional turf war, the unfair, rude and really annoying (but not always as off-the-mark as we’re supposed to think) “investigation” is one of those tiresome TV tropes that writers love to trot out, despite nobody loving to watch them. So, regardless of whether, if he wasn’t such a jerk about it, Weitz might have something of a point about the disastrous Sandstorm raid and the way Team Tat keeps RECRUITING FELONS, he’s too busy sneering to make it properly, and his asshattery just gets on everyone’s nerves (especially mine) and takes time away from the first solid/ only Tat of the Week story we’ve had in ages. As if having Roman be the hero and save the children isn’t galling enough. Sigh.

Weitz and Roman aside, though, the episode is just about redeemed by the decent Tat story, Reade finally getting a hold of himself, and Kalinda gracefully leaving the building. I’ve never warmed to her, and I’m not particularly sad to see her follow Oliver Kind out of the door, both now having served their purpose of keeping Jane and Weller in a romantic holding pattern for most of the season. However, I can’t help but notice that, given Kalinda’s (permanent?) and Reade’s (temporary?) exits from the Tat task force, and Borden’s ignominious end, Blindspot is suddenly losing team members of colour on an alarming basis. And since Kalinda’s departure takes place in an episode where a hitherto reasonably inclusive group of people suddenly, unaccountably, decide it’s time to start making jokes about pronunciation of “foreign” names like it’s somehow funny – as someone who regularly has to spell my own “foreign” name out to individuals who think that their not having heard it before somehow makes it a joke, I can assure you it’s not – it left a somewhat unpleasant taste in my mouth.

On the bright side, though, as a general rule, season 1 of Blindspot was much more fun last season without Kalinda so hopefully it’ll be more fun again now/if she’s gone. Although possibly not, if Roman the Anti-Fun has anything to do it. Maybe Shepherd can shoot him and join the team instead.


One thought on “Blindspot s2 ep 18

  1. Jed Bartlet May 4, 2017 / 7:33 pm

    The writers seem to have bought lots of shares in Rowan this season, and like you I don’t get why. He really did push his luck at the start of the episode, though, complaining about getting to stay in Jane’s safe house in New York City rather than being forgotten about in a black site somewhere in Poland. Shut UP, Rowan.

    But, yes, a proper Tat of the Week, so passmarks.

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