Things just get worse and worse for Naz.
He’s now been moved to Riker’s Island, where he hasn’t exactly had a warm welcome. The other inmates despise him due to the nature of his alleged crimes. There’s only one person in prison who takes his side: Freddy (the always wonderful Michael Kenneth Williams), who is the head honcho on the cell block. The prosecuting attorney is also becoming increasingly confident in her case against Naz, and refuses to work his attorney.
There’s obviously a lot more to it than that, but I’ll let you find out for yourself if you haven’t seen it yet. If you have, then time will be better served with the criticism proper.
Episode three, “A Dark Crate,” mostly keeps up the momentum. The show remains exquisitely crafted and acted. And while I feel as though I’m enjoying each episode more than the last, I feel as though the cracks are beginning to show a little.
Thankfully for the show, Riz Ahmed’s performance is nothing short of masterful. Without such a portrayal, the show could very well be sinking, because, in this episode at least (hopefully this won’t become the trend), Naz didn’t have a whole lot to do other than look around and absorb the happenings around him. Which, of course, that’s part of the point: we can only watch as everything goes further and further out of his control. However, in the previous two episodes, Naz seemed to take a sort of active backseat, whereas in this one he took a more passive backseat (if that makes any sense). To put it another way, there was somewhat of a disconnect for me with his character. Rather than the events revolving around Naz, he seemed to more adjacent to the events.
In fact, that’s a criticism I have of the episode in general. If you take the show as a collection individual scenes, it’s beautifully written. But when all of those scenes are put together, they don’t always gel cohesively. I suppose for me that has to do with the show’s plotting, which is meticulous to the point of being conspicuous. So instead of everything going ahead full steam, there are stutters, breaks in the pacing where another of Chekov’s Guns is planted.
But, all things considered, this is a sin (which may others may not take issue with) that is easily pardonable. This is more of a result of the unenviable burden of crafting such an intricate and sensitive story so well. For all the visible mechanizations, I’m confident (or, at the very least, hopeful) that it will all pay off in the latter half of the run.
But more than the murder, the evidence, the trial, or the taxi, The Night Of is — and has been — a show about how race and class shape the American experience. Naz’s Dantesque journey through the criminal justice system (would that make Freddy his Virgil?) serves to detail this in microcosm through its primary dramatic question: what happens when a young man is thrown into the justice system (which, in theory, is impartial by design) with the cards stacked against him due to factors beyond his control (his heritage, mostly)?
But these themes of displacement, alienation, and belonging extend beyond Naz. Every character is either trying to rise up and find their place in the system (America) or has already resigned to it, for better or for worse. Take Freddy, who has become the king of the coop, making the most out of the piece of the pie he’s been given, however unjust or unfair it may be (however, at this point, we still don’t know much about him or his history). Or the prosecuting attorney, who says about her job, “What else would I do?” Does she necessarily enjoy what she does anymore? Or is she just doing it because it’s what she knows, and she sees it as her place in this world.
For my money, the most intriguing character remains Turturro’s Jack Stone, who suffers from something of a duality of being. One the one hand, he’s made it. He’s an insider. However, that doesn’t mean he’s accepted in the system. As we hear from the prosecuting attorney and Alison Crowe, he’s a “nobody.” He doesn’t have the respect or clout he wants, which he feels he might gain by representing Naz in court (which, contrary to what others in the show might say, implies that he wants to win the case).
Stone’s discomfort and feelings of displacement within his own system are represented by the increased focus on his eczema of the feet. We see, in a scene at the doctor’s office, that it’s getting worse. Throughout the show, Stone has worn sandals, presumably because his condition prevents his wearing of closed shoes. So, while he can wear the clothes of a barrister, he hasn’t yet been able to step into the shoes of one. This longing is beautifully captured in a brief moment of Stone staring into a storefront at a pair of nice Oxfords.
But this just further serves to link Naz’s character to Stone’s. They are, in some ways, parallel. Both have, on the surface, done everything right to be accepted to society at large: Naz comes from a good family and is an ace student, set to become a productive member of society; Stone went through the proper channels to go to law school and has a successful practice. But both are shunned by their peers. Why? For Naz, it’s largely in part due to his heritage. For Stone, it’s because of the type of law he practices to make a living.
