Last week: A very crispy Cloutier returns to Oz; inmates in solitary return to Gen Pop; tensions escalate between the Aryans and the Muslims; Ryan convinces Montgomery to finger Stanton for Keenan's murder; a bus crash inflates the gratuitous death count.
So Bradford-to-Broadway diva Betty Buckley's chosen to be referred to as Betty Lynn Buckley in the credits -- hitching a ride on the oh-so-fashionable three-name bandwagon. This trend-spotting acumen combined with a recurring role on a sexed-up prison drama should really solidify her men-who-love-men fan base. Work it, Abby. But just remember that you're no Mary Kate Olsen.
Rob Morrow directed this episode. Just a plain old transmission of fact, as he's never made much of an impression on me.
Hill, erudite in half-spectacles, sits in some grass under an apple tree, in front of a super-blue sky and a massive rock foundation, and discusses the laws that govern us all: those of God, those of nature, and, in distant third place, the laws of man. Oh, he's in a tricked-out pod with a video screen wall in back; the hyper-color of everything inside looks kind of cool as the camera pulls back to reveal the contrast with the starkness of Oz. Nice work, Rob Morrow. Now please just don't make an apple fall on Hill's head.
Anyhooch, laws. Man's laws follow God's and nature's because, says Hill, manmade laws require the consensus of a group of people who believe that they've come up with an ultimate truth that every citizen must abide by or risk punishment. Problem is, the truth-divining group is always comprised of politicians; Hill then gets all rhetorical and wonders whether members of tonight's studio audience would prefer to be subject to the whims of the Almighty or the whims of politicians. Me, I'm not so sure they aren't the same thing. And then, sure enough, a fucking apple falls right on Hill's head. A pox on thee, Rob Morrow.
In the cafeteria, Alvarez swaggers along, tray in hand, as Guerra says, "Here comes the dead man." Alvarez encourages Guerra to make his move, but Guerra, seeing a guard nearby, tells Alvarez he'll wait until later and will be keeping an eye on him. Alvarez replies that "truer words have never been spoken," a remark designed (quite well, since it works like a charm) to make Guerra ask what he means. "Being only that you've got one good eye, you droopy-eyed motherfucker," says Alvarez, and I sort of forgive him for last week's bothersome look-at-me-I'm-crazy acting because that's pretty funny, and it's funnier still when Guerra jumps up, seething, and grabs Alvarez, and he does in fact have only one good eye. As the guards separate Guerra and Alvarez, Rebadow looks on, with two eyes, mesmerized.