Far from it. The rule for horror is that the less you see, the more scary something is. Soderbergh leaves the camera on Abbie’s profile for long stretches so that the viewer very quickly gets over the shock of her missing nose. Such a direct approach defuses the mystique and fear of what’s being hidden behind her proto-Groucho Glasses. Like Cleary last week, getting a quick glance at someone’s physical ailment might induce a snigger, but if you confront it directly with eyes open, you start to empathize with what it would mean to be in such a position. As Thackery describes the horrendous lengths Abbie would have to go to just to replace the lost tissue even slightly, you’re left to question what you’d gamble for a minor gain in your life that feels necessary.
That’s a theme The Knick has much greater success sinking its teeth into, though the most direct example of it in “The Busy Flea” is the most perfunctory. Thack refuses Cornelia’s request to operate on a girl with typhoid due to the danger it presents, but thanks to a hokey platitude from Nurse Elgin, decides to go for it anyway. The operation is seemingly a complete success, which does more to further prove Thack’s skills than complicate his relationship with Cornelia. Despite it being the place she wields the most power, Cornelia’s role in the hospital thus far has, like everyone else, been mostly in service of puffing up Thack.
Away from it though, Cornelia’s story is far more compelling. A spreading strain of typhoid uptown could make for an interesting pairing between her, and seedy health inspector Speight. The episode’s most delicate bit of story backfill comes courtesy Cornelia’s place at the Robertson family dinner table, where we finally get an inkling as to why it is The Captain treats Dr. Edwards like a son. As Momma Edwards offers thanks for the “investment” Robertson has put in her son, the turned head of Cornelia and her mother’s staring contest with her vegetables more elegantly conveys in a wide shot what the words of the scene convey directly.
The implied jeopardy Edwards poses to Captain Robertson’s reputation finds symmetry in the gamble Edwards himself is taking. They’re hardly equal risks though, seeing as one has put a lot more at stake for a seemingly smaller gain, and isn’t protected by his class and immense wealth. Edwards’ after-hours clinic seemed like a perfect blend of humanitarian ends with “F the establishment” means, but it’s quickly turned into a nightmare. Much as it can be profitable and empowering to the hospital labor staff he’s bringing in to help save lives as nurses and gurney-men, he’s brought them into a world of pressure and danger they previously weren’t party to.
Edwards thus far makes for a far more dynamic character than Thackery, as someone struggling to prove their brilliance is always more engaging than someone who’s reminded of it every five minutes. This lends him to tonal shifts The Knick otherwise hasn’t worked with. Crashing Thackery’s nasal reconstruction just for some thread -literally risking being caught red-handed as a secret patient’s blood coats his arms-, there’s a beat of comedy that plays out when Edwards hears his aortic procedure will be used on a patient, just not by him. He’d love to stop and argue the point, even with a coil of thread in his mouth, but there are more pressing concerns in the basement.
Like jumping back into the pool after a minute in the hot tube, the rare beat of levity makes the passing of Edwards’ herniated patient that much more affecting. Like Cornelia last week, Edwards’ best intentions are met by complications stymying his noble intentions. How can you give patients the necessary medical treatment they require when bed rest is impossible for day-to-day wage earners, or long-term treatment means changing dressings at home? For all the patients he does help, is it worth endangering the lives of two other men by making them hide the body of any patient he’s lost?
As with last week, the mounting opposition Edwards faces causes him to violently snap, and his street fight with the poor barfly, whose only crime was harmless boasting, is the absolute antithesis of last week’s victory over the townhouse bully. Locking the camera to Edwards’ face and head during the brawl, the technique recalls a trick Soderbergh often uses when showing his characters in the midst of a drug-induced delirium (recent examples: Magic Mike, Behind the Candelabra). He may not be hooked on cocaine or opium, and stealing some of the hospital’s equipment is certainly less negligent than stealing its funds, but Edwards has found an unhealthy release for his frustration. In doing so, he’s mirroring the same self-destructive actions of other men at the Knickerbocker, who, out of anger, greed, or cowardice, can’t help but cut off their nose to spite their face.
- Stray Thoughts
-More delicately implied backstory: seeing Sister Harriett with the newly dropped off orphan, and depositing a fat wad in the donation box, you get a sense for her motives behind the night work we saw her doing last week. Too bad Cleary saw it as well.
-Strong little scene mid-episode in which Bertie drags Gallinger to Thackery’s office in order to get the okay on Edwards’ galvanization procedure. Thack trying to control his composure and perspiration after having his “preparation” for surgery interrupted adds tension, but it’s then undercut by Bertie and Gallinger’s ability to read between then lines when asked to leave.
-“The hospital is no game. It’s not like the law, or making an advert.” Barrow, if you’re looking to pick a fight with other cable period dramas, I would not recommend starting with Mad Men.
-More strong lighting work this week from Peter Andrews –or should I say, Steven Soderbergh. Considering the hole I dug myself last week praising Mr. Andrews’ contribution to Soderbergh’s vision, let me say thanks to a pair of readers for politely drawing attention to this being another Soderbergh pseudonym, like editor Mary Ann Bernard. So thanks, Dan and Eric, which I hope are your real usernames, and not just Soderbergh playing more name games with me.