Time for Blindspot’s pacy, action-packed, completely ludicrous post-hiatus return and we’re hitting the ground running. Or kicking and shooting, if you’re REDACTED, who fights her way out of jeopardy far more easily than I expected, while the morose Jane joints the rest of Team Tat at Kurt’s impromptu works night in.
New BFF Tasha wants to know all the deets about her and “Oliver Kind” (not his real name, obv), but sadface Jane confesses that there are no longer any deets to know: “Oliver Kind” has gone off in high dudgeon over Jane doing a background check on him, and made a big flouncy show of how outraged he is over it, in order to avoid actually answering any questions about his pre-“Oliver Kind” persona at all. Well-played, “Oliver Kind,” well-played. Or at least, better-played than Jane, who neither recognises a classic diversion technique for what it is, nor learns any life lessons from it; rather than keeping her nose out of other people’s business from thereon in, she follows up one “massive invasion of privacy” with another by having a good old snoop around Kurt’s house instead. Badly-played, Jane, badly-played.
But not that badly, I guess, since Kurt is much more kindly (sorry) disposed towards Jane’s more inquisitive tendencies than “Oliver Kind” – instead of a big row, they start a deep and meaningful about the forthcoming cross-country baby, only to be interrupted by Kalinda because Kalinda’s entire function on this show is to GET IN THE EFFING WAY. And to say things like “That’s my inside source phone!” which is the funniest line I’ve heard on any show all week, even if it isn’t meant to be.
While Patterson works on decrypting the “inside source” pen drive, then, and Reade and Zapata drag out his coke habit tedium some more, Kurt, Kalinda and Jane go on the world’s most obvious surveillance mission. Guys, I don’t have much practical experience in this area, I know, but three people dressed in black, sitting on separate park benches, who all suddenly get up at the same time, with the same facial expressions, and converge on the same floor of a nearby hospital – yeah, I’m pretty sure you’ve been made by everyone on the planet, never mind the “inside source.” But no matter; Jane gets to have a load of fun diving down a laundry chute(!) and kicking the “inside source’s” ass, so we’re all good.
And when I say “all good,” I mean even for the “inside source,” since, despite being a felon and a terrorist about a zillion times over, he gets an even cushier deal than Roman’s new one – this week, Tearful McFurious acquires some comfy new furniture in his Tat HQ home from home,as opposed to, y’know, a transfer to super-max – and, after a brief, bloody and largely pointless exchange of info, gets to ride off into the sunset (well, the elevator) with not much more than a shrug. Dudes. He sat RIGHT THERE and said he knew all of Shepherd’s safe houses and routes and whatnot. And none of you thought to ASK HIM TO WRITE THEM DOWN BEFORE HE LEFT? FFS.
Not that things get any less amateur from thereon in. Because Patterson is the only person in the building who has a clue this week, she works out who the mole(ar) is and a plan which should have gone great guns, were it not for everyone on the team standing watching gormlessly while Sandstorm went, er, great guns themselves. “What the hell just happened?” asks Reade, which is a question I don’t want to answer in any detail since what the hell just happened is so ridiculous and hilarious it has to be seen to believed, but I’d love to see how Team Tat explain it in their FBI Performance Appraisal Reviews. Back to Quantico, the lot of you. Except Patterson, who really can’t prevent what happens to her and has, frankly, been through enough.
As has poor Jane, I suppose. No sooner has the mission gone south, and Shephard temporarily run out of ways to keep tabs on Team Tat, than, well, what do you know? “Oliver Kind” is over his outrage and reaching back out both to and for Jane, who should know by now that her making out with any guy at all will always lead to some form of apocalypse. Snog Kurt, get kidnapped and tortured by Tom Carter. Get busy with Oscar, have your life and friendships completely destroyed. And smooch it up with “Oliver Kind?” Oh, girlfriend. Good luck next week, you’re going to need it.