In an age of absurdly serialized storytelling and streaming series that structure their seasons like a “ten-hour movie,” Buddha bless shows like “Poker Face.” Sure, there are the odd threads that pop up at the beginning of the season and tie together at the end, and the overarching struggles of itinerant human lie detector Charlie Cale (Natasha Lyonne, as acerbic as ever) to survive in a world surrounded by deceit and destruction. But in keeping with its nods to the rhythms of ’70s network television, each episode of Rian Johnson‘s reverse-detective show follows (more or less) a distinct and delicious formula, jazzed up with incredible production values and an A-list guest cast; season 2 continues that tradition in fine form, while finding a few corners in which to shake up Charlie’s world.
When we last left our gangly gumshoe, Charlie had just found a way to shake off Benjamin Bratt’s deadly fixer after the trouble that put her on the run in the first place, only to get a call from the head of the Five Families (Rhea Perlman) to let her know they’ll continue chasing her across the country. In the first three episodes that premiered today, we find Charlie with baddies even hotter on their heels than before; her short-term gigs at gas stations and haunted hayride shows get comically cut short by goombas in fans taking potshots at her.
Her only refuge, it seems, is when she’s able to stop just long enough to find herself in a colorful location with a dead body plopped in the middle of it; her strong sense of duty, her quick wit, and her nose for dissemblage. And that’s where Johnson’s show shines, revamping the old “Columbo”/”Murder, She Wrote” formula into a wacky dark comedy where the murder is mostly a vehicle to let Charlie coast through each microscopic world she finds herself in. Those are the joys of “Poker Face,” and it’s gratifying to see that season 2 hasn’t forgotten them.
The initial trio of episodes serve as a mini-wrap-up of the first season’s cliffhanger: First, there’s “The Game Is A Foot,” a Rian Johnson-directed caper that lands Charlie in the middle of a quandary that tests even her eagle-nosed knack for sniffing out lies. You see, this time, Charlie’s dealing with lying quadruplets—all played by Cynthia Erivo with varying flavors of relish—squabbling over the estate of their now-dead mother, who hoarded their earnings as child stars for an absurd show called “Kid Cop Nights.” (The vintage footage is a delightful gag.) This time, there’s swapped identities thrown in here too, which sends Charlie’s radar all a-spinnin’; it’s easily her greatest challenge to date.
Not that the episodes that follow are any slouches, either: “Last Looks,” like last season’s “The Orpheus Syndrome,” gets Lyonne behind the director’s chair, and she leverages her thoughts about the innate artifice of cinema to play with the tale of an embittered funeral director (Giancarlo Esposito) who kills his wife (Katie Holmes) before she can leave him, using the context of his funeral home playing host to a movie shoot as a good chance for a murderous cleanup.
Of course, the real formula shakeup comes in “Whack a Mole,” which puts Charlie somewhat in the (literal) crosshairs of the first act murder, as Perlman’s Beatrix captures her to help her sniff out a mole in her operation. Of course, things go rapidly wrong, and we see all of them, including Simon Helberg’s FBI agent from last season, get whacked. Or so we think. It’s a nifty spin on the usual formula, but the hour doesn’t feel quite as effective as the more tightly-wound scripts of the show to date. It’s necessarily table-setting for the show, though, so we can give Charlie a clean slate on which to have further adventures; plus, John Mulaney is droll fun as an FBI negotiator who has a similarly superhuman ability to read lips (and memorize the lyrics to every Sondheim musical).
It’s a good enough hour, and a helluva relief to be on the other side of, because it means—now that both the FBI and the mob are off her tail—Charlie is free to move about as she pleases. “Subvert normality, Kill All Hippies,” she growls to anyone who’ll listen, as if quoting Dennis Hopper from “Out of the Blue” will mean anything to them; still, it evokes a kind of aimlessness that seems to suit Charlie just fine. Apart, of course, from all the murder, which she confesses to a new CB buddy, voiced by Steve Buscemi, who proves a helpful voice in the dark in her Plymouth Barracuda.
Still, the rest of new showrunner Tony Tost’s season (or most of it; the last two episodes have been withheld from critics) gets her right back on the road doing good, despite her best efforts to avoid it. There are detours to the Florida panhandle to visit a TikTok-happy cop influencer (Kumail Nanjiani) at a police convention; a fastball in the noggin of a star pitcher at a minor league baseball game; a movie-obsessed big box store employee (Sam Richardson) who turns his love of heist flicks into something far more real. The list goes on, naturally, and it’s delightful to just amble along the journey with Charlie, who greets every new crisis with the same wry smirk and shrugged shoulder she always does. And isn’t that the appeal of episodic TV? Building a strong character centered around an all-timer lead turn, and letting her loose each week on a brand new caper? It’s comforting in its way, despite the bloodletting. Maybe that’s why Charlie finds herself in these positions: It’s dangerous, but it’s familiar. The same old, same old, in absolutely brilliant packaging.
Ten episodes screened for review. First three episodes now streaming on Peacock, with new episodes streaming Thursdays.
