Summary
Timothy Olyphant steals the spotlight, slightly upstaging Anya Taylor-Joy in her own show, but his increased presence in “Where You Go, There You Are” is a net positive for Lucky.
The single best scene of Lucky thus far opens Episode 6. It’s a nothing scene; it has no plot relevance whatsoever. In it, John delivers a monologue about his first haul, recounting how he was so mad with his stern, cannery-working father handing over twenty bucks to an evangelist named Billy Grace that he snuck out that night and stole the whole collection plate. Almost a thousand dollars, from the hands of people who couldn’t afford it to the coffers of someone who didn’t need it, along the salivary trails of a silver tongue. Nobody’s arguing that thievery is a respectable career choice, but John sees the whole world as a con, and morality as a matter of degree. We heard him espouse this viewpoint in flashback, but it’s nice to get it from the horse’s mouth. You don’t hire Timothy Olyphant as a silver-fox conman and keep him locked up all season.
The advantages of having John on the lam are obvious. He’s wonderfully compelling, and since the show has made a consistently big deal out of reiterating that he taught Lucky everything she knows, his personality pulls double-duty as characterisation for her. The downside is that he’s so much more compelling than Lucky that he kind of undermines the heroine in her titular show. Not that Anya Taylor-Joy is doing anything wrong, of course. But she’s the most distinctive-looking woman in the world playing a character whose entire calling card is being able to blend in everywhere she goes. She doesn’t suit the con(wo)man vibe the way Olyphant does. He looks like he was born to aggravate FBI agents.
Speaking of which, Lucky and John are offering a deal — in exchange for immunity (for her) and a commuted sentence (for him), they’ll hand over Priscilla. They can’t quite guarantee it, though, which makes negotiation difficult, especially with someone like Rand, who isn’t inclined to make a deal in any circumstances and certainly not with career criminals. She has already stabbed Lucky in the back before and thinks her being a thief justifies it. This is partly why John’s self-justifying monologue is important. He doesn’t see himself the way Rand sees him, but the fact that she sees him that way justifies how he sees himself. They’re two sides of the same coin.
But a coin isn’t enough — there are ten million of them to consider. Rand, with very tentative authorisation from Kershaw, agrees to Lucky’s immunity and to make “a few phone calls” about John’s sentence on the proviso that they deliver not only Priscilla but also Whittaker himself, which is a much tougher ask given he maintains deniability by never directly getting involved in any of his shady businesses. Naturally, Priscilla never does business over the phone, which means an in-person meeting, which also means putting John and Lucky up in a hotel at the FBI’s expense. America’s finest, ladies and gentlemen.
You’d think that these two might not loudly argue about their various scams, much less John’s desire to re-steal the stolen taxpayer money that Lucky is using to sweeten the pot for the FBI, in a hotel room with an agent stationed outside the door. But you’d be wrong. This turns out not to be a bad thing, though, even if it’s a rather silly one. It gives Taylor-Joy an excuse to deliver her best work of the season as she tries to communicate that she has kind of had enough of spending her whole life on the run, in the process revealing that it was she who landed John in prison in the first place by making a deal with Rand that she reneged on. Olyphant’s great too, both as the grifter who just can’t resist that one last score, and the dad who is realising for the first time that the idyllic life he thought he provided for his daughter was really just one sustained period of emotional trauma.
Lucky Episode 6 makes it very clear that we’re not supposed to be rooting for John. It’s clear he’s done perhaps irreparable harm to Lucky, and if it wasn’t clear, Rand points it out in very explicit terms for good measure. So, maybe I’m the weird one. But the complete absence of personal responsibility from anyone is a bit alarming. Lucky, sure, you can justify that, but Rand’s logic that it’s entirely John’s fault that Lucky is who she is, and thus she’ll sleep soundly even if Whittaker kills and skins her, is a bit flimsy. Priscilla’s the same. These are all adults who reflexively blame everyone else for their own behaviour. On some level, what I like about John is that, as a lifelong thief, he’s the only character who’s truly honest about who he is.
It’s Lucky who’s taking all the risks, though. She tells Priscilla that she’s happy to return the money, but only to Wayne in person, but Priscilla isn’t stupid, so while she agrees to request a meeting, it won’t be at the FBI-approved Regency hotel in Malibu, where Lucky suggests — it’ll be at a venue of Wayne’s choosing, imperilling Lucky even further. And, tellingly, the only person who seems to be concerned about her is John. After delivering another great monologue about how sorry he is for not giving Lucky a conventional childhood, he’s also adamant about accompanying Lucky to the rural meeting spot that Whittaker has picked, which is so open that there can’t be any FBI agents within a couple of miles, a tactical hiccup that Rand figures “is what it is”. Lucky heads there with a mic in her jacket and a dummy phone in her pocket; John has no choice but to stay behind in the hotel room, guarded by Gates.
Lucky’s meeting with Whittaker will have to wait for the finale, which feels about right. The big cliffhanger of “Where You Go, There You Are” involves the aforementioned Gates, who is pulled away from his friendly card game with John after hearing something suspicious, and promptly shot to death by goons — presumably Whittaker’s — with suppressed handguns. The final shot is of one of them breaking through the door of John’s hotel room, one imagines with big plans for him. Perhaps he’s going to the meeting after all.
