BOY, I DIDN’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW MUCH I needed the second season of Poker Face (which finished up its run on Peacock). Every episode is delightful, witty, and diverting, without ever glossing over the darker aspects of human nature. Like its patron saint, Lieutenant Columbo, Poker Face’s friendly, discombobulated heroine upholds her integrity in a world roiling with deception, jealousy, and greed. Her curiosity about people and her compassion are what suck her into sticky situations, but her innate commitment to truth and justice compels her to unearth the mystery each episode’s perpetrator tries to bury.
Natasha Lyonne plays Charlie Cale, whose eccentric, befuddled spirit belies an uncanny and laser-focused talent: the ability to tell without fail whether someone is lying. Charlie’s exclamation, “Bullshit!” is her version of Lt. Columbo’s, “Just one more thing. . .” Like Columbo, Poker Face is not a “whodunit” but a “howcatchem”: We see the murders occur before our protagonist appears on screen. But unlike Lt. Columbo, Charlie is outside the law, trying to remain under the radar as she runs away from both the mob and the FBI. Out of habit and necessity, Charlie is a loner with a quasi-vagabond existence, unperturbed and free from responsibility. Despite her lone-wolf ethos, Charlie is anything but a misanthrope. She is fascinated by human beings and their motivations. And since people are complicated, trouble has a way of finding her. As she travels from town to town across the United States, picking up odd jobs along the way, Charlie becomes entangled with tricky personalities and the messy relationships that come with them.
One of the many pleasures of this series is the work done by casting directors Mary Vernieu and Bret Howe (who also worked on the Knives Out! movies directed by Poker Face creator Rian Johnson). The guest stars are almost uniformly inspired choices. Much like Peter Falk did in Columbo, Lyonne has the generosity of spirit to let her costars, both well-known and unsung, shine in their own right. There are so many standout performances in this second season: Cynthia Erivo (playing five different characters in one episode), Gaby Hoffmann, Richard Kind, Kevin Corrigan, James Ransone, Sam Richardson, Corey Hawkins, Awkwafina, Method Man, Patti Harrison, Margo Martindale(!), Carol Kane(!!) and John Sayles(!!!), just to name a few.
My favorite episode also has my favorite acting. “The Sleazy Georgian,” guest-starring John Cho and Melanie Lynskey, plays like a piece of theater rather than a TV show. Minus establishing and closing shots, the episode takes place wholly inside—in a bar of a midlevel hotel and in one of the hotel rooms. Most of the scenes are two-handers and rely on dialogue rather than action. Normally in television, “see, don’t tell” reigns supreme, but in this particular case the intelligence and tension of the acting and Megan Amran’s writing was so masterful that I was entranced by the words alone. I feel deeply for Lynskey’s character, who desperately wants to escape the confines of her prescribed life, yearning for love and adventure. And when Lyonne matches wits with Cho, the TV set practically crackles. It’s a tour-de-force performance from Cho, a consistently versatile and brilliant actor who flies under many people’s radar. The delight of this episode is in its twists and turns so I don’t want to give anything away, but Cho has been gifted with a part that showcases his range, smarts, and subtlety.
Another standout episode involves a uniquely New York City issue: how someone will literally kill to live in a rent-controlled apartment (Alia Shawkat delivers a coup as the murderous tenant). Another involves a screenwriter’s life becoming the embodiment of the movie he reveres the most: Michael Mann’s Heat. And another features an intricate plot involving Justin Theroux as an infamous international hitman (or is he?). Theroux, with a huge assist from the episode’s expert writing and direction, is able to show off his acting chops and his physical grace. And I loved seeing Carol Kane on my TV screen again! She and Lyonne are perfectly matched technically and physically; in fact, with their shared eccentricities and masses of curls, they could be mother and daughter. What a delight.
It’s clear that both Lyonne and Johnson love actors of all stripes. Whether Lyonne is acting with a 77-year-old pro like Rhea Perlman (as the head of a mob syndicate) or a preternaturally talented 12-year-old like Eva Jade Halford (as a diabolical fourth grade star pupil), she gives each equal respect and weight. And although her portrayal of Charlie is full of quirks and mannerisms, her character is always grounded in reality, humor, and pathos. Charlie is a loner, yet she craves human connection. Even mid-season when she is (briefly) no longer on the run, she’s a restless, wandering soul. Each episode, she tries on for size another place and group of people, but because of fateful circumstances, none of them fit. She begins a romance that actually seems promising until her date ends up a murder victim. Her most consistent connection is with the disembodied voice of a long-haul trucker on her CB radio named Good Buddy (Steve Buscemi), who gives her life advice and lends her his apartment in Brooklyn since he’s hardly ever there. Like most mutant powers, her bullshit detector is both a blessing and a curse. It protects her, but it also keeps her from letting things lie and not becoming enmeshed in other people’s problems. The only person who consistently cares about Charlie’s wellbeing is Agent Luca Clark (Simon Helberg), but he can’t be a true friend since he’s been charged with bringing her into FBI custody. In NYC, she attempts to put down roots and rest awhile. She even starts forging a potential deep friendship/partnership. But Charlie isn’t suited to stability and stasis. Soon enough, she’s peripatetic, running from and toward danger again. Amiability and loneliness go hand-in-hand for Charlie, and it’s one of the reasons she’s such a compelling, sympathetic person.
Poker Face’s second season is a knockout in terms of execution. I could go on and on extolling the virtues of its cinematography, direction, editing, set and costume design, and music composition. But what I love just as much is its heart. It’s the perfect pairing of style and substance. When cruelty, lies, and avarice assault us on a daily basis, it’s a relief to escape into a TV show where the heroine calls bullshit on all of it. She cannot help being honest and caring about people. As hard as she tries to disengage, her essential compassion and good nature force her to fight against injustice and to help the helpless, even at her own expense. Charlie’s bright red hair is lit from behind in nighttime scenes, giving her a sort of neon halo. She’s the embodiment of Good Trouble. And even though it’s wish-fulfilment on my part, I relished watching Charlie’s empathy and truthfulness win the day again and again for these twelve episodes. It was a great antidote to real life.