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Only Murders in the Building Recap: All Is Not OK in NYC

Only Murders in the Building

Sparring Partners
Season 2 Episode 9
Editor’s Rating 3 stars

Only Murders in the Building

Sparring Partners
Season 2 Episode 9
Editor’s Rating 3 stars
Photo: Craig Blankenhorn/ HULU

After revealing that Detective Kreps is Glitter Person, Only Murders in the Building, blessedly, wastes little time digging into what that means. We find out who his partner is (maybe), what extralegal activities he’s been up to, where else he’s been moonlighting. So what if the episode answers only one of the pertinent questions in a murder investigation, per Detective Williams? We get to see Mabel call Kreps “Raging Bullshitter” and “The Great White Dope” in front of all of his boxing buddies.

Obviously, it does matter that “Sparring Partners,” the penultimate episode of season two, is still obfuscating so much of the truth. The moment Jan was confirmed as season one’s murderer in the building, we might not have fully grasped her motives, but we still had the sense that the show was moving toward its denouement. “Sparring Partners” doesn’t even offer much in the way of table-setting for this season’s final act — instead, at least half of the episode focuses on fathers and sons, and the distinctive ways they have of hurting each other.

It is, frankly, the stuff that I usually live for with this show, along with the camaraderie of the core trio, Oliver’s random celebrity anecdotes (which have replaced his stories about his theatrical fiascos from season one), and the beyond gorgeous outerwear. When the show prioritizes the shifting dynamic among the Arconia three, as in “Performance Review,” I’m riveted more often than not. But, at both a story level and an emotional one, the foundation of season two isn’t as firm as it should be after nine installments, so the gut punches mostly fail to land.

Take the revelation that Rose Cooper did pass herself off as Leonora Folger in “Framed.” As Leonora, she told Charles that Rose had only parted with the painting because she was in dire straits. Now, as Rose, she tells Charles how difficult it was to pretend to be someone else. She seemingly only did so long enough to go to the Arconia once … but Cinda Canning (or some other pushy woman with dark hair and glasses) questioned her about the painting. Was that because Rose was pretending to be Leonora? Just how long did Rose keep up the ruse? Was she surreptitiously siphoning off some of the real Leonora’s wealth? Wouldn’t Bunny have noticed?

These are just some of the questions that plagued me during what was supposed to be a poignant moment between Charles and the woman that his father, Charles Sr. — here, I will apologize for forgetting that Charles said in the pilot that he’s a “junior,” but I still think the show is bad about naming characters! — was in love with. But their connection and the grace they afford each other, though communicated via some lovely acting by Steve Martin and Shirley MacLaine, feels forced, unearned. Charles admits he didn’t know much about his father, but the man Rose describes is at odds with the person who inspired Charles to write that Brazzos monologue: “He was awful to my mother, awful. Tried to make her feel small. He seemed to get pleasure out of it — making her feel silly, making her feel unsure of herself.”

Of course, both of these things can be true: Charles Sr. could have been an asshole to his wife as well as a caring lover to Rose. But instead of leaving room for Charles to try to reconcile these different sides of his father, it feels more like Rose’s version of events supplants Charles’s own memories. She tells him Charles Sr. only ever wanted to be a good father to him, and he gratefully accepts this, despite his own experiences to the contrary (and what was, until now, the established backstory for his dad). It all smacks of a shortcut, a way to tie together the scenes between Charles and Rose, Will and Oliver, and Oliver and Teddy.

I don’t mind this cheat as much when it comes to the mystery element, but this season has laid so much ground for an exploration of fathers and their children, that this just feels like retconning for the sake of an emotional resolution. But, being the ninth episode and all, “Sparring Partners” rushes to clear the air for all troubled families. Oliver is just as prepared to lie to his son about being his biological father as he is to kick Teddy’s ass in the elevator for cuckolding him. It’s Oliver’s turn to be shown in a new light: as a protector, stripped of the “extra persona” he admits he adopted in a bid for his own father’s attention. Teddy has the decency to be chastened, and even promises to maintain the lie for Will’s sake.

It’s kind of nice to see Teddy and Oliver drinking wine and joking with each other again — they’ll never be in business together again, but neither of them wants to hurt Will. Oliver’s son, on the other hand, still seems weirdly ambivalent about the whole deal, and much too worried about directing a grade-school play. Seriously, did Will enroll Henry in a performing-arts school? Is that why this production is so involved? If so, why are the science projects so involved as to require DNA testing?

“Will, the hot son, is actually Will, the hot, resentful son,” has been one of my pet theories (call it my Owl/Parrot Theory), though I see now that it’s not going to yield much of anything beyond the reminder that every hot dad is also a hot son (see also: Charles). But it highlights how many of this season’s story beats have been non sequiturs or good old-fashioned misdirection: the “Savage ’56” painting, the modernization of the Arconia, Teddy’s threat, and so on. And you can only have so many narrative detours before you look lost.

“Sparring Partners” isn’t a full-on course correction, but at least it gives us reason to suspect Kreps beyond his general creepiness. The detective opens the episode by venting about just how small his sliver of the NYPD budget pie is, and how he’s supplemented his income by working at Coney Island and going to small towns “that might not be equipped to handle multiple homicides or missing persons.” One such town is Chickasha, Oklahoma, which also happens to be where Cinda Canning made her career.

We know Cinda didn’t come by her accolades honestly, but I’m not sure what to make of the implied relationship between her and Kreps. Her “come-hither” look at the end suggests she’s the woman he brags about in his sparring session with Mabel. Based on the way she leads Poppy around by the nose, Cinda fits the bill of a “criminal mastermind” capable of manipulating or browbeating a cop, and Kreps does mention the All Is Not OK in Oklahoma podcast. This sad sack might have double the motive: money and love.

And let’s not forget the resentment that he struggles to keep at bay, which seems aimed mostly at Mabel — Kreps was fairly frothing at the mouth in their first interaction. Now he tells her everything that’s wrong with millennials, and it’s the usual “participation trophy” nonsense that’s dogged a massive group of people who have also been blamed for killing the movie industry and mayonnaise. Kreps is part of Generation X, that forgotten generation between boomers and millennials, which just magnifies the chip on his shoulder. It wouldn’t take much for Cinda to convince him to frame Mabel, who already looks the part of a “murderous beauty.”

Still, even if it was to advance her career, I’m having a hard time picturing Cinda seducing a cop to steer an investigation toward a conclusion, if only because she’s also the type of person who blocks off an hour for “clitoral stimulation” during the workday. She could have just offered him money and recognition, but Kreps says he “landed the smartest woman on the planet.” If that’s not Cinda, then who could it be? And what reason did they have for wanting Bunny dead?

Neighborhood Watch

• If this is really Steve Martin’s last role, then what a final bow — Charles regularly vied with Mabel to be the heart of the show this season. Martin’s scenes with MacLaine in this episode, while inconsistent with the established narrative (to my eye), have so much sadness and power. When Charles reverts to being that scared little boy from “Framed,” Martin’s voice gets so small, it just breaks your heart.

• Excessive Force Boxing Gym has a 1.5 star rating, which still seems way too high.

• This season’s penultimate opening-credits Easter egg: A chicken has now replaced the parrot which replaced the dog being walked by a woman in front of the Arconia.

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Only Murders in the Building Recap: All Is Not OK in NYC