Another week is upon us, Preacher fans. We kinda get one wish, and sorta another, but hell continues to break loose in Annville! It just doesn’t stop. If you’re expecting answers, forget it! You’re getting nothing! And based on the fact that there is another season coming, only a few more episodes of this one, and AMC’s track record for leaving us angst-ridden puddles, I can only offer the comfort of my shoulder. I know we’re in for a long wait until next season, and this one ain’t even over yet!
It begins with a Quincannon vacation in Vail — yep, the whole fam-damily has gone skiing without Odin. After a sweet group photo in the ski tram, the cables snap. Bam. Dead. Every last one. So why wouldn’t Odin turn his back on the Holy Father? Do I think this made him bad? Nah. I think he was always bad, but it’s much easier to unleash the beast with a really grisly and unfair excuse.
Odin makes a call to John Custer. He needs some kind of, well … something. What type of God kills off an entire family all at once? When John gets to Odin, he’s met with quite a scene.
The office is filled with body-sized shipping crates, Odin’s shirt is covered in gore, and his hands hold intestines – one belongs to a cow and the other to his daughter. He can’t tell the difference. Message: We are all just friggen meat and nothing more. John tries to reason with the distraught Odin, but he can’t. He can only grab Jesse (who also sees the unfortunate mess) and run while Odin, mad as a hatter, screams at him to denounce God on Sunday.
We ended with Odin’s onslaught last week, so we begin with a troop of his goons busting in to find the church empty-ish … only a partially drained bottle of whiskey and an ashtray occupy a pew. Where’s Preacher?
It doesn’t take long to find him, and they’re sorry when they do. Behind a stained glass window, we hear a lot of yelling, brawling and gunfire. The first retreat is pretty quick. Odin’s finest come lumbering out bloodied, confounded and weaponless. Donnie, dressed like a Civil War goof-ball, wants to know what Jesse said to them. The answer: “He didn’t say nothin’! He just kicked our asses!”
Inside, Jesse, drunk as a skunk, sits next to the weapons he scored during the fray and begs God to help him out with the Eugene thing. He promises to be good if He’ll just let Eugene out of hell. The words barely leave his lips, and he hears some noise coming from the hole in the church floor. Guess who?! He yanks a very dirty and thirsty Eugene from the soil! It’s a MIRACLE! Hallelujah!
Yeah, this is Preacher and that’s just too damn easy.
We’ve all heard the expression about being “through hell and back,” but now it’s got new meaning. Eugene looks like sh-t, Some of you may argue he always looks like sh-t, but this is way worse! He may have been damaged goods before, but now he’s damaged damaged goods. Sheesh!
Jesse wants to call Sheriff Root, but Eugene would prefer to wait on that. Water first. Thank goodness Jesse finds a straw in the kitchen. After three glasses, Jesse has questions. I find the answers pretty interesting … and disturbing. Eugene was able to dig his way out of hell because, “it’s not that far,” and it’s also “crowded,” down there. Duly noted!
Outside, Odin lightens the mood by laying out plans for the expansion, including the new cafeteria, which will serve it up food court style – all kinds of tasty bits to choose from. Despite the evening’s little setback, it’s a new day and Odin remains positive. He’s getting that land, and he’s going to build it up with the same love and care he put into his Civil War model. Oh, it’s happening! But not until his goons drag Jesse out of the damn church!
He rallies the troops, and they make their second move with visions of “sushis, chimmy-changas, (and) pizza pie,” dancing in their heads.
Inside, Jesse gets off the phone with Sheriff Root and gives Eugene kudos. People should choose, and Jesse’s been using his power to cheat. He oughta give Genesis back like a good preacher. He’s looking at the consequences he was warned of standing right outside. Then Eugene mentions “the guys at the motel.” Jesse thinks on this a second — he never said anything about Fiore and DeBlanc to Eugene. Sh-t. I knew it was too good to be true. A full glass of water confirms it – Eugene isn’t really back, but part of him is, and he assures Jesse they’ll “figure something out.”
Tulip, lovely as always, is at the pound looking for a pup. What better to soothe a broken heart than a Bloodhound named Brewski? I think it’s sweet, but nothing on this show is sweet for very long, and this is just too random. Tulip … what are you gonna do with that dog?
Speaking of dogs, Mayor Miles checks on Emily and the expiration date of her milk (expired). He asks how she’s handling the church demolition she knows nothing about. This, of course, sends her into a tizzy. She looks for her sneakers. Miles, who washed them for her (weird!), tells her where to find them. She dons them, heads out to the church, and Miles pours nasty milk on cereal before taking the kids to school.
At All Saints, Jesse is making Molotov cocktails with anointing oil and Donnie is getting ready to lead the second attack. Everyone is fired up. Donnie raises his sword with a look of fearful determination, if there is such a thing, and they proceed. But Jesse’s up in the steeple with one of their guns, and as they approach, he starts firing. He’s not trying to kill anyone. He just wants to make a point — and he does, even before he shoots off Clive’s (driven like a madman by the idea of a food court) pecker. A Molotov cocktail takes out the bulldozer.
The second retreat leaves Odin screaming at his army of “pansies” and Clive with his dick in his hand — literally. Hopefully the ambulance arrives quickly or the whorehouse is going to see a serious dip in profits.
Root shows up to find a pack of crazies and a smoking bulldozer. Odin says Jesse’s lost it. Root just wants his kid. Of course Odin has to mention the Arseface thing. Jesse gets on his new speaker and insists they bring him the angels, or agents … or Asians, if you’re Odin Quincannon. It’s not funny, but I’m laughing my arse off. Root understands the request.
Fiore and DeBlanc arrive with the giant trunk of bizarre! They’re pissed, to say the least, and once they’re properly welcomed in, they enter the church to accomplish … nothing.
Outside, it’s become more of a party than a battlefield. Annville’s finest are throwing down blankets and picnicking. It’s the oddest crap I’ve ever seen. OK, it really isn’t. I’ve seen some pretty odd crap, but this is in the top five. Talk about boredom! Small-town life is the fire that fuels reality TV … yeah, I said it. And I grew up in an unincorporated village, so don’t start. Are the Q.M.&P. guys really playing hacky sack or is that Clive’s … never mind.
Root makes smalltalk with Odin. He doesn’t think it’s right that something as holy as a church be torn down. That’s sacred ground Odin’s messin’ with. Odin, we know, does not agree. It’s just a building he’s going to level to better his situation; there’s nothing sacred or holy or God-ish about it. Not by a longshot! Root walks off, disgusted. Maybe after all this, he’ll look at his kid differently. If we get him back, that is.
Miles is trying to justify all of this garbage to Emily. He hits her below the belt with education … why does everyone do that? If we don’t sell our souls, we’ll have to pay more taxes or the children will not be smart. Aaaargh! This is a fallacy. Sorry! Everything that spews from Miles’ mouth is drenched in BS. Well, except for the fact that Emily needs milk. I want to beat him with a coat hanger. He is the biggest nutless bum-kissing lackey politician poop-eating swine’s ass I’ve seen to this point. I thought Donnie was bad. No way! Miles takes the cake … and judging by his stupid chubby cherub cheeks, he oughta lay off.
Now, on to other things that are making me all mad. Tulip is playing ball with Brewski. He’s loving life now that he’s freed from the kennel. I don’t trust her. No happiness! Not even for dogs!
At the church, the exorcism is in process – I mean, that’s basically what it is, right? Even though it’s a little unorthodox (I am so sorry for the sh-tty puns … they just happen). Jesse’s a little skeptical that they’re going to actually sing Genesis into the can, but he wants Eugene freed.
But, why him? It’s still gnawing at his guts (ugh!). If Genesis blew everyone else up, why is he still walking around? God’s plan! Fiore and DeBlanc disagree, and no matter how much Jesse questions, they just want him to lay the hell down on the blanket for a lullaby. He’s so difficult! And he’s done nothing but jack things up since he’s been filled with the “power.” Finally, he shuts up and gives in.
Outside, the party continues. Odin preps for the next strike. Those unfortunate enough to be armed with stuff like sledgehammers and baseball bats will be the human shields. The crowd hopes for some good old-fashioned bloodshed. I can’t believe I’m watching this, but then again, I sure do love me some Preacher. Like I said, there’s not a person in this show I haven’t met — or worse.
Donnie’s got an idea. He’s listening to Odin’s ridiculous spiel and looking a little sad and dreamy. He turns and sees his lovely wife, who waves at him all sweet-like. Then he starts walking. He goes to his car, opens the trunk, grabs his gun, sticks his head in, closes the trunk a little … and then blammo! Don’t worry. He ain’t dead. He just can’t hear sh-t anymore, which is good for a few reasons: He’s highly susceptible to Jesse’s “power of suggestion” and he works for Odin Quincannon, who doesn’t understand the “if you can’t say anything nice” adage, at all.
Inside the church, Genesis is finally back in its can. Fiore shouts, “Bad boy!” He probably shouldn’t have done that. As Fiore and DeBlanc pack up, Jesse asks about Eugene. We see him and so does Jesse, but that’s it. Fiore and DeBlanc dismiss it. They say they’ll try, but they won’t. They have what they came for.
Well, this is unacceptable! A deal’s a deal! Fiore and DeBlanc are totally going against what angels stand for by ignoring the fact an innocent kid is being pitchforked in hell, so guess what? Genesis doesn’t like being admonished, and it doesn’t like the way its custodians are behaving … so out of the can and right back into Jesse. Take that!
The can is mere shrapnel, and the angels are over it. Jesse begs them to try again, but they’re done. They vacate. It’s over. Eugene is gone.
In the next scene, a defeated Jesse leans against the wall of his church, staring apathetically as the bullets fly. Outside, the crowd has gathered like they’re watching damn fireworks. Even the a-hole mascot is there. Have you ever lived anywhere with a constant mascot? And what kind of twisted bugger would be okay with wearing a fuzzy suit all the time? Jesse finally gets up the gumption to fire back, and the assault ends long enough for him to take a hefty swig from his bottle of Ratwater.
Then someone enters the church. The extinguisher is still on the table, so that gives me some hope for Cassidy. The intruder is Donnie, and he’s made his Civil War outfit a little more badass by tearing off his sleeves and losing the silly hat. He means business. He’s got his gun pointed right at Jesse and he aims to use it! Jesse tells him to put it down, but Donnie just laughs and shows him bloody ears. “What? What’d ya say Preacher?”
His bravado only lasts a minute, because Jesse insists he go ahead and shoot … not a lick of fear on his face. So Donnie just pistol-whips him. Lights out for Jesse.
When Jesse wakes, Odin hands him the deed again. Jesse doesn’t get it. He told Odin to serve God. Well, technically he is, but it’s “the god of meat.” A lesson in the importance of specificity, Jesse Custer.
He almost signs, but Odin says something about Jesse’s silly, silent God. This makes Jesse stop. He wants one more Sunday. He’s going to bring God right here to Annville to talk to the people, and if they don’t like what He has to say, Jesse will denounce Him right then and there.
Odin looks intrigued.
So does Brewski. Tulip’s lovin’ him up — he’s “the best Brewski in the world.” Unfortunately, he’s in for something unexpected. She takes him to a room in the back of the house, hugs him with passion and regret, opens the door, lets him in, and then – well, that’s the end of Brewski. I’m really, REALLY pissed off about this, but I assume she’s feeding a crispy Cassidy, and I really love that bloke … but it’s still not okay to feed him a dog! Feed him Miles, for crap sake!
Root takes Jesse away in the back of the squad. As he leaves, his beloved and insane crazy-eyed parishioners bang on the cop car and beg to be saved because they’re sinners. Hell yeah, they are! But, they’re gonna have to wait.
At the P part of Q.M.&P. the needle’s in the red again, whatever that means. It’s bad because flashing danger signs aren’t ever good to my knowledge, so we’ve got that going for us, too. If my job were to sit in a chair waiting to push a pressure release valve all damn night, I’d beg for a trip to hell.
Yep! That’s it! I’d ask questions, but they’d be similar to last week’s … though they’d include one about Bloodhounds and PETA, so how about some discourse – a good old-timey chat, of sorts? I have been dying to talk about this show since it started! Sound off in the comments!!! And then follow me on Twitter @KimberlyThies1.
New episodes of Preacher premiere Sundays at 9/8CT on AMC.