![]() ![]() The ease with which Rust slips back into his old mindset is eerie. Rustin reveals his big red box (pictured above), a sort of survival/undercover kit filled with weapons, boots, and of course Jameson. As such, few elements of the series thus far have taken us as deep into the mind of Rustin Cohle as this foray into undercover work. Yet if True Detective has taught us one thing about its intentions it is that it is not so much interested in the whodunit of it all but rather using the framing device of this supposed serial killer as a means of examining our two lead detectives. This scheme takes up the second half of the episode, and it would be easy to dismiss this material as filler (and perhaps a bit too coincidental). ![]() Rustin concocts an elaborate, off book, high wire plan to quickly go back undercover in an attempt to use his relationship to the Iron Crusaders (in particular a biker named Ginger) and thus find LeDoux. ![]() LeDoux, a crystal meth cook, solely produces his product for the MC, and as it so happens Rustin’s former years deep undercover trace directly back to the Iron Crusaders. Hot on the trail of their new suspect Reginald LeDoux (the horrific gas mask “monster”), Marty and Rust connect the dots to a biker gang called the Iron Crusaders. The philosophical character meditation takes something of a backseat in this episode and for the first time we are faced with genuine action. Stunning imagery and a handle on cinematic formalism lead way to moments that create mood and emphasize True Detective’s exceedingly dark worldview. Two detectives framed only by a narrow doorway looking into the desolation of a prison cell. A rave in a warehouse with a thumping strobe. A smoky hallway lit only by a flickering florescent light, as if it were the path to hell. A bird’s eye shot of a car following another one at night, the barely illuminated sky making way for the harsh beams of the cars’ headlights. The aforementioned dread rolls over the screen like a dense fog, thickening with each passing moment. Here, one distinct vision is in play and no episode better emphasizes that than this one. TV series that use varying directors throughout the episodes can have a distinct set of visual rules and tonal guidelines, but one can often tell that different directors are playing in the sandbox. This story is now half over (if you can believe it), and in these four episodes Fukunaga has achieved a consistent tone of gorgeous, poetic, hypnotic, dripping dread. Fukunaga proves to be up to the task in a big way. Yet “Who Goes There” is a different beast than the 3 episodes that have preceded it, and Mr. I have spent a lot of time in my reviews for True Detective thus far discussing the work of Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson and the nature of the characters they play, and indeed there will be more of that within this review. ![]()
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