If anyone could introduce their hallucinated dead daughter to her estranged father, it’s Nicole Kidman.
Photo: Reiner Bajo/Disney
I emitted my first honest gasp of the season at the reveal that closes this week’s episode, the halfway point of our Bavarian sojourn. I wasn’t surprised, necessarily, that David is Tatiana’s dad — nothing screams “tormented romantic history” like a make-out session and a long-kept necklace — but I was surprised that Masha intends to introduce them. Tatiana is, after all, a figure of Masha’s hallucinations. At Tranquillum House, the Marconis shared in the sight of their late son and brother, Zach, but their psychedelic dosage was tailored towards that specific goal; not to mention they’d had a lifetime together. We don’t know much about David’s specific drug blend, and he doesn’t seem as high as the others — he tells Peter he only feels “a little fuzzy around the edges” — but we do know that David has never met Tatiana before. In fact, we can surmise he doesn’t know she ever existed. How will the shared hallucination work?
Might it have anything to do with the mysterious device Masha has developed in cahoots with Silicon Valley? While the guests have breakfast, Martin rewatches Masha’s talk about the invention at the “disruption conference.” When he asks her about using the device to further protocol, Masha only says that it still needs to be tested. That can’t be the whole truth; it’s hardly believable that adherence to testing standards is what’s stopping Masha from unleashing this thing on her guests. Masha does what she wants, when she wants. Helena suspects Masha’s intention is to punish David, but she maintains that she’s only looking for a “reckoning.” Nor the center of the Nine Perfect Strangers universe, Masha is the only character with the power to get involved with her past. With her guidance, others exhume their stories and observe them, but she alone can act on what’s coming before. Case in point: For some twisted and private reason, she wants her dead daughter to meet her estranged father, whom she hasn’t seen in 20 years.
For his part, David is completely clueless. When Masha intercepts him in the hallway before breakfast, he questions her motivations: from where he’s standing, it looks like she only brought him to Zauberwald, hoping that he would invest in the clinic, which is in financial straits. He was briefed by his team on Zauberwald’s history as a privately owned institution financed by a rapidly dwindling family trust, which has recently incurred a mountain of debt to renovate for Masha’s residency. “It’s sad you feel like everyone wants you for your money,” Masha retorts. It almost makes me feel bad for David that he can’t possibly anticipate the curveball that’s about to hit him. Almost, but not quite. He’s so confident about being in control of this whole situation that he later tells Peter that he is, in fact, leaving the next day. That sucks for Peter, who had gathered enough courage that afternoon to tell Imogen they should spend less time together and more time with their respective parents, which was, after all, the point of the retreat for both of them. Unsurprisingly, Imogen takes this very badly and acts like a baby for the rest of the day.
David’s money, we learn, comes from a “media and satellite technology empire,” which means I was wrong about both of my guesses regarding which evil billionaire he’s supposed to be based on. It turns out he’s more of a Rupert Murdoch/Logan Roy figure, whose network Brian holds in contempt because they played the viral video of his cancellation-worthy outburst a million times. Even then, David doesn’t recognize Brian when they meet at breakfast. h does recognize Sister Agnes — they met at a field hospital in Kosovo in 1998 — but she claims she doesn’t know who he is.
I want to take a second here to recognize the relationship that has become, for me, the highlight of this season. Brian and Agnes — or Aggy, as Brian later refers to her — are an unlikely pair and a compelling one: They have both been victims of isolation (fame; nunnery) who had to rely on forces greater and more mysterious than themselves (Jesse the puppet; God), which means that unlike many of the people at Zauberwald, they have a measure of humility. Their friendship is also dramatic captivating because it’s a product of these characters’ present rather than their past. (I would feel the same about Peter and Imogen if it weren’t so hard to root for Imogen.) After drinking from their thermoses at breakfast, they chill outside, tripping on the cloud formations. Brian even feels inclined to confess that he felt “really fucking pissed” when he saw David, but Agnes reminds him to be patient — it’s only day four.
As a unit, Agnes and Brian drive some of this week’s events when they give Wolfie relationship advice. At breakfast, they gently tell her that her well-intentioned but overbearing devotion is obviously the thing that is driving Tina away. The episode opens with what Tina admittedly calls a “very on-the-nose nightmare”: She’s about to perform a song on the piano, but she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to play. She tries to follow the sheet music but can’t, so Wolfie starts pointing and laughing at her along with everyone else. The piano opens and closes on her hands until blood is gushing out everywhere. She wakes up to a wet cloth on her forehead, which Wolfie put there because she thought her girlfriend seemed “feverish.”
Since the first episode, we’ve known that Tina is a former piano child prodigy who has given up playing, much to Wolfie’s despair. Tina is, by this point, so traumatized by her life as a pianist that the mere sight of a set of string instruments is enough to send her reeling. This episode’s title, the opening sequence and the series of flashbacks showing the evolution of Tina and Wolfie’s relationship — their flirtation backstage at a concert, then later at a bar and a New York City rooftop — suggest that we are going to find out more about what, exactly, drew Tina away from music. What is behind her decision to part with her life’s defining activity?
Unfortunately, we hate really find out. The string instruments were brought for the evening’s exercise, which is a loosely structured “play session.” With all of the guests gathered in the ballroom, a storied place where famous musicians and composers once performed, Masha arrives in a manic frenzy. She puts her hands over Martin’s eyes, sneaking up behind him, and then tells the guests their psychedelics were specially tailored to do away with their inhibitions. She runs around the room crazily, banging on the piano, using a bizarre singing voice. She even puts Martin on the spot by saying he made a mistake during the field trip, but so what, everyone makes mistakes. Her eyes dart around in that feline, Nicole-Kidman-horror-movie way. She is clearly losing it. Tina tries to leave, but Masha won’t let her, so everyone watches as she makes her way to the piano.
Also looking slightly manic, Wolfie starts playing the violin next to Tina, but it’s all too much — Tina literally spooks and runs away. As Martin guides the rest of the guests, including Wolfie, into a dance party, Masha finds Tina outside. Here’s the moment we’ve been gearing up for: We will finally learn what happened to Tina’s piano-playing life! But all we learn is that Tina resents Wolfie because she acts like her mom. “I’m fucking my mom,” she sighs, which makes this the second time this episode when a character has been accused of having sexual relations with their parent. Disturbing! Back in the ballroom, Agnes and Brian encourage Wolfie to tell Tina how she is really feels. Their whole relationship is based on Tina’s needs and desires. What about Wolfie? Through the flashbacks, we learn that Wolfie went to New York on a violin sponsorship that abruptly ended, but that’s all we know of her trajectory. Otherwise, she only exists in relation to Tina. “Jesus Christ, woman, get your shit together,” Agnes urges.
So, Wolfie goes outside to confront her girlfriend. Surely, it’ll be now –– we’ll find out what happened. Were they in a band together? Did Wolfie manage Tina’s career? What was the final straw for Tina? Was it any singular event? How long has this been going on? Instead, we get a barrage of child-prodigy cliches: Tina only ever wanted to be a normal kid. She wanted to go to prom and graduation and do other normal kid things. She wants to know whether Wolfie can love her, piano or no piano. Why that matters to her is a mystery, since it seems like she doesn’t even like Wolfie. At least, Wolfie is honest: She admits she can’t love the version of Tina that plays Minecraft and sits around all day over the version of Tina that made beautiful music. King Princess does what she can, bringing believable emotion to the limited dialogue, but it’s not enough to fill the outlines of what ultimately comes across as a hastily sketched character.
Later that night, Tina sits with Imogen in the empty ballroom, two dumb bitches telling each other exactly. Imogen ended up there after running into a blanketed Matteo outside, who told her that Victoria was waiting for her upstairs. Earlier in the evening, Imogen asked how come her mother always brought another person when they were supposed to spend time together, and Victoria promised her a mother-daughter slumber party that night. But when Imogen goes upstairs, Victoria is passed out drunk on the couch. I’m guessing we’ll get more out of these two next week. Maybe find out more about Victoria’s mysterious plans for the retreat, and maybe even hear more than one line come out of Matteo’s mouth.
• During breakfast, Imogen tells David and Peter about her research in linguistic psychology. She studies “how and why language can have the same effect on your body as physical assault,” which maybe explains a little about why she was so upset at Brian’s outburst, but doesn’t explain why she feels so comfortable saying things like “you’re a pussy who wants to fuck your dad.” She explains to David: “They basically let you do anything you want at NYU.” The obvious thing at play here is that Imogen sublimates her own anger through her relentlessly acerbic and rude language, but appears oblivious to how that links to the very field of study she pioneered. I’m all for complicated characters, but this picture doesn’t say complex as much as it does incoherent. She contains multitudes, I guess…?
• Update on Victoria taking the drugs: still no dice.
• Did anyone else feel like there was something slightly perverse about the way Brian hugged his hallucinated puppet, Jesse, after speaking with Agnes? “These drugs are intense,” Jesse marvels, as Brian caresses his head. Kind of weird!
• I thought it was pretty sweet that Martin came to Agnes to thank her for listening to him vent about Masha in the jail cell last week. Justice for Martin! He’s a sweet, gentle man who deserves better than Masha’s diabolical schemes.
• Speaking of Martin and Masha — later that evening, in the ballroom, Peter expresses to David that he hopes Masha will lead the evening activity, because unlike Martin, she’s “the real deal.” David only replies, “so I’ve heard,” which leads me to believe Peter doesn’t know about David and Masha’s past. Is it part of her plan to elucidate him?
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