Rewatching "The Americans", season 4

Having finally moves past the worst of Covid, my pace in rewatching "The Americans" slowed down a bit. I was still on sick leave, so season 4 was done. Season 3 was the first legitimately great season of the show, where it finally found its own MO of a slow-moving tragedy and procedural. 

 

As all seasons, this one starts with a small time jump. These time jumps aren't necessarily covering much in terms of real-time events; we're still in the first half of the 1980s, firmly in "evil empire" territory. The thaw between Gorbachev and Reagan is still some time out. The time jumps are more relevant as a storytelling tool for us, the audience, since they force us to readjust to what has changed in our characters' lives. The show purposefully does not inform us of what happened, and by making the dialogue more realistic, characters don't tend to fill themselves in about their respective backstories.

That means that we have to deduce what has happened from what's on the screen. This trust in the viewer's ability to just go with the flow, to in turn trust the producers that answers will be forthcoming when needed and in time, marks the series and sets it apart not only from much of its competition but also from the much more basic first seasons. But let's dive into the plot a bit more. 

 

After the ending with the ill-adviced heart-to-heart talk to Paige in season 3, the Jennings' need to cope with the problem of a teenager knowing their secret. This plotline simmers throughout the season. While there is little danger of Paige becoming a murderer like her dark mirror in season 2, there is a danger that she might tell someone. The suspense doesn't come so much from the question of whether the Jennings' cover will be blown - of course it won't, there are two more seasons to go - but on who would suffer in that case. The show masterfully managed to pivot from pitying the two agents to pitying their victims. 

 

The most likely victim in this case is Pastor Tim. Paige is still close to the preacher, and she can't really confide in her parents. Her relationship to them isn't exactly improved by their outing, since she feels like she doesn't really know who they are even more than before, and the weight of the secret, now with the added responsibility of keeping the secret secret, crushes her. So she confides in Pastor Tim.

The preacher swears he'd keep the confidence of the confession, but he himself confessed to his wife. Gabriel, the Jennings' handler, devises plan after plan to kill Pastor Tim, and the Jennings' are on the edge of going along with it - while it remains unclear whether the Center will act on its own. When Pastor Tim goes missing in Ethopia, this plot line reaches its feverish climax after a buildup of a dozen episodes. 

 

While we're at the subject of Gabriel, I'm a bit on the fence when it comes to the decision of exchanging him for Claudia. I don't exactly like either of them, neither as persons nor as characters, so for me, it's a wash. Scenes that involve either handler are just not clicking for me.

 

But back to Paige. She doesn't even really know the danger in which she brought Pastor Tim, and telling her would destroy her even more. There are no good options, and the Jennings' lie and lie to her, ensnaring her and themselves into an ever so slowly tightening net of lies and responsibilities, responsibilities that are way too much for a teenager (speaking of teenagers, it's remarkable how the show writes Henry out for episodes on end; the actor doesn't seem up to their standards and gets hauled out only when necessary for cohesion). 

 

Things with Paige gets to a head when Elizabeth murders of of the muggers who try to maybe rape her and Paige. Instantly, the sheer horror on Paige's face shows that the old lie of "we're not killing anyone" doesn't cut it anymore. It draws her closer into the net, while pushing her emotionally away. She's becoming more and more like a hostage in her own home. 

 

There are other plotlines as well. The most prominent plot-plot involves the plague of glanders that is weaponized (or not) in a lab. With the help of another illegal, they obtain a sample so that the USSR also has it. The plot line is relevant for its ambiguity: it's utterly unclear if this is really used as a weapon and, worse, if the USSR will only use it for defense or is even able to keep it safe. But the Center's orders need to be followed, and the results are catastrophic for everyone involved. The business is dirty and doesn't lead to the clearly succesful outcomes of earlier seasons anymore.

A B-storyline that comes to its head is the whole Martha situation. The FBI closes in on her after the bug is found, and she knows that "Clark" isn't who he says he is. The performances are remarkable all around as Martha's world crashes in on her, and as she finally decides to trust Clark one last time and let herself be evacuated to Moscow - which the Center, to its credit, actually does. 

 

Another B-plot finding its conclusion is the story of Nina, who works her way back into the confidence of the Center by ratting out her fellow prisoners, but her heart isn't in it. In a callback to season 2, she can't bring herself to betray the scientist that Philipp involuntarily repatriated, and she decides she'd rather die than live like this - which is exactly what she does, being unceremoniously shot in the head in a green prison floor. 

 

Two other characters also leave the show: Agent Gaad and Rezident Arkady both find their ends. Gaad isn't surviving the Martha situation politically and gets replaced, only to be killed in a dumb and unnecessary attempt of turning him, and that murder gets Arkady kicked out of the country as persona non grata. The new boss for Stan Beeman will be much less interesting than Gaad, and the Rezidentura falls away as a plot location entirely as Oleg terminates his relationship with an up and coming agent to come back home to Moscow after the death of his brother in Afghanistan. 

 

The most devestating plot, however, revolves around the new character of Young-Hee, a Korean immigrant whose spouse lives the American dream into the prospering Reaganite middle class. For episodes on end, it's unclear as to what her role is and why Elizabeth befriends her, but it becomes clear that Elizabeth feels deeper for Young-Hee, much like Philipp had a real-ish relationship with Martha (a realization that leads to some tension in the marriage). 

 

It's utterly devestating when the Center forces Elizabeth to destroy the marriage of Young-Hee and her friendship to her in order to gain access to the bioweapons - a mission that will not net any success and just destroy her heart and soul a bit more. It is a sacrifice that Elizabeth, ever the committed zealot, readily makes.