At its core, The Closer has always been about the battle between idealism and pragmatism represented in our daily lives by the tug between career and family, between our expectations and our realities. The justice system almost perfectly dramatizes and amplifies this conflict, because it represents civilization's own struggle with these two oppositional concepts. Enter Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, who has six more episodes to perfect the slippery balance between her professional and personal life before our series reaches its conclusion.
Murder cuts through the political morass in which our culture presently finds itself. Pragmatism and idealism both show up in a courtroom, of course, but there are rules by which they are expected to abide, even when the attorney for the defendant turns out to be Philip Stroh (who used his skills as a lawyer to avoid arrest several years ago, and who Brenda has been trying to arrest for almost four years). The spectacle of having Brenda questioned -- in open court -- by a man she believes to be a killer presents us with an interesting dynamic. But the stakes are heightened by the particulars of the case, which, in many ways, mirror the crime she accused Stroh of committing before: two, male partners participate in the rape of one woman; one of the partners can't be identified; the other ends up on trial for his life, defended by Philip Stroh.
But how can Brenda prove Mr. Stroh is not merely the attorney for a rapist, but also his anonymous accomplice? This is Brenda's dilemma and her determination to solve it nearly proves to be her undoing.
I don't want to give away any more of the story, except I should like to point out that, amongst the many defining trademarks of psychotic killers -- in addition to an utter absence of empathy for their victims, and a disturbing air of superiority -- there exists also a startling and unfortunate gift for criminal versatility. Psychotics are not addicted to any single M.O. And while they sometimes overestimate their ability to get away with murder, what they lack in emotional intelligence they make up for in audacity.
Billy Burke brings nuance to the role of Brenda's nemesis: he's an incredible foil to Kyra Sedgwick, and their work together is fascinating to observe. "Hostile Witness" is another teleplay by the terrific Steven Kane, and continues his collaboration with one of the best directors I know, the eternally pessimistic Steve Robin. Very little in life gives me more pleasure than watching Mr. Robin brilliantly stage and document a complicated scene, capturing every subtle detail, then cover his face in both hands, as if he had just been found guilty of murder. I also enjoy listening to him apologize for a marvelous day's work as he races out of the studio, insisting he has failed again, even as the actors hug him good-bye. As an added bonus to the great work of our ensemble of series regulars in "Hostile Witness," please note the amazing Jim Sikking, who portrays a patient, experienced judge pushed to the brink by Chief Johnson's shocking behavior in the courtroom.
Our last season -- of which these last half-dozen episodes are officially a part -- was devoted to the study of love. Naturally then, we have arrived at that point where we must begin to examine loss in more exhaustive detail. And, for Brenda, this begins with the fracturing of her point of view. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but love and perspective are so uniquely tied together that when one vanishes, the other often disappears with it. Like, for example, when you can't find a missing suspect in a murder trial, even when he's directly addressing you.
Let me close by thanking the audience for lending us their collective ears these last eight summers, and for offering The Closer such an affectionate embrace as we head for our final bow. Our hope is that we end without disappointing those who have been kind enough to join us on Monday nights at 9 o'clock, and that we offer proper respect to those of you who have been visiting our series, conceived as a seasonal diversion from the repeats and reality shows of broadcast television.
I'll be back in this space next week to talk about "Fool's Gold," featuring the directorial debut of Jon Tenney, and Flynn & Provenza at their most antic.
Until then. -- James Duff