Line of Fire
Pilot

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Pilot

Conference room. Crazy Jazz -- who looks neither crazy, nor jazzy -- cheerfully gnaws on an apple. "Hey, what's up, man?" he chirps as the agents come in the room. "Hey, how you doin', baby?" he coos to Sampson, as she takes a seat at the conference table, her breasts bobbing all over the place underneath her very cleavage-y top. It doesn't seem very office-appropriate, but I'm really not one to talk. I wore a halter top to work Friday. I had a cardigan on, too, but still. "Special Agent Sampson," she corrects him. "Special. Agent. Sampson," Crazy Jazz repeats, slowly and appreciatively. I kind of love him. "Yeah, that's right," she tells him. I kind of love her, too. I approve of a woman who isn't afraid to flash a little cleav in the workplace. Crazy Jazz wonders why he can't call his lawyer, staring at Sampson's breasts all the while. Amiel tells him he's not under arrest. "Then I want to go home," Crazy Jazz says. But Amiel doesn't think that's a good idea. Sampson shrugs, suddenly. "Hey, let's let him go," she says. "What do we care? We fulfilled our obligation, we're good." Amiel hems and haws at her, and this is clearly their version of Good Cop, Bad Cop, although it's more like Unconcerned Cop, Wishy-Washy Cop, and, no, I don't know why I call him by his first name and her by her last, but it's like why you call Sydney Bristow "Sydney" and Michael Vaughn "Vaughn." It just is. Anyway, Sampson's little Psych 101 trick works, and Crazy Jazz is curious. About why he's been called into the Bureau, and also about Sampson's cup size. "What? What are you looking at?" she finally snaps at him. "Nothing," Crazy Jazz says, sheepishly, and the camera slyly moves in and cleverly cuts her breastage out of the shot. Nicely done. Anyway, Sampson brusquely announces that Crazy Jazz's life is in danger. "We have an obligation to tell you, you're told," she says. Her accent is just adorable.

But the next thing you know, Crazy Jazz is sitting in, like, a supply closet, listening to a taped confrontation, which, thanks to the miracle of television, we at home get to watch. Somewhere, on a dock in the middle of nowhere -- presumably, because it seems misguided for the Mafia to beat the shit out of some guy on a dock in the middle of a residential-type waterway -- Malloy and his Two Boring Old Indistinguishable Flunkies are putting the screws to some poor dude with a bag over his head. "Four Days Earlier," the title cards tell us. Anyway, the Two Boring Old Indistinguishable Flunkies would like to know who supplied Baghead with the "crack they found on little Jimmy." "Little Jimmy"? What is this, a particularly dark episode of Lassie? (I know, I know, that's Little Timmy, but it's the same tone.) Baghead won't talk, and Malloy wheezes that he admires this, because "loyalty is the cornerstone of the business," and I guess this would all be menacing if these lines were coming out of someone who actually seemed menacing -- James Gandolfini springs to mind, or Bobby Cannavale in his Kingpin mode -- but, I'm sorry, David Paymer, I loved you in Quiz Show, but I just do not buy you as the head of a Mafia family and I am frankly surprised that ABC didn't ask to have this role recast. Anyway, Malloy wants to know whom Baghead is being loyal to. Baghead is silent. So Malloy bangs him on the head with a metal pipe. "I'm loyal to my nephew Jimmy," he quivers. "Now, who do you work for?" Yeah, that was a lot more effective when Kiefer Sutherland yelled it. Also, the median age of the Mafiosos on the dock is, like, sixty-five. I have a feeling that Baghead could probably outrun the three of them with the chair still tied to his ass.

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Line of Fire

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