Continuing the recurring Blindspot theme of wonderfully, completely demented cold opens, Weller and NotJane’s long-delayed, impressively nasty confrontation is interrupted by perhaps the maddest one yet this week. While Weitz and “Ed” hang out, and Patterson somehow finds Roman’s next cache using turtles in a 3D movie made by Rich Dotcom (yes, I know), a woman posing as a neighbour’s mild-mannered babysitter and an entire team of operatives crash into Casa Weller, looking for the money NotJane stole from the bad people’s bank a few weeks ago. Disgruntled customer Eve would like at least some of her cash back please, and a little free gift to compensate the Dabbur Zam for their trouble too. So of course the solution is to force the Warring Wellers to steal it from an FBI evidence storage facility, which, if you don’t mind me saying, has significantly less security than I would have expected. I mean, sure, there are the two guards at the front gate, and maybe a hidden camera or two, but really, that’s it?! Too. Easy.
Anyway, the Wellers manage to fit saving each other’s lives in between jibes, and it all works out, if by works out you mean only the baddies die, the other baddies don’t get the McGuffin they wanted (good job it wasn’t a nuke, hey, Kurt? Or blowing it up might have backfired somewhat), Weller vows to rescue Real Jane from inside NotJane, and NotJane is outta here, so everybody’s happy. Sort of.
At Tat HQ, meanwhile, PatDotcom have a mildly amusing time
with the filler plot but it must not be as good as their times usually are because I’m distracted by the fact that this hidden caches story arc makes even less sense than even the whole Tats on Jane’s body as Communication thing did. I mean FFS, why would you travel the planet hiding SD cards or memory sticks or whatever the eff everywhere if you actually want to pass this info on? Have you heard of Dropbox?! Argh. And in really-stretching-this-storyline-out-now-land, Zapata does whatever she’s doing yet again (this week in a pink satin camisole which is an odd choice for daywear if you ask me, but I’m not exactly an authority on what well-dressed, disgraced/ former/ secret/ double agents are wearing these days). And “looks like we’re going to Mexico” next week. Ok. Spectacular cold open aside, the rest of this was fine to pass the time, but that’s about it.