The Blacklist
The Freelancer

Episode Report Card
Mr. Sobell: B | 78 USERS: A-
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It's So Hard To Hire Good Help These Days
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

I hate to tell the producers of The Blacklist their business, but starting any episode that follows your shadowy figure of mystery around while "Sympathy for the Devil" blares in the background? It’s been done. Quite a bit. And frankly, after watching Hugh Jackman croon it in Viva Laughlin, I should think that this particular cliché should be pronounced dead on arrival. C’mon, guys, Mick Jagger owns enough jet skis.

Anyhow, we pick up pretty much pick up where we left off last week. Reddington is still in custody (your federal government apparently stashes highly sought after fugitives on container ships floating off the Atlantic coast) and the FBI is trying to figure out just what the relationship is between him and Keen. They’re being interviewed separately, and there’s a lot of clever cross-cutting with Keen answering the questions an interrogator has just put to Reddington and vice versa. (It’s actually a very cleverly shot scene, especially for establishing a new show’s basic premise. I’m still not ready to overlook that "Sympathy for the Devil" nonsense, though). Anyhow, Keen says she doesn’t know Reddington and Reddington’s still being cagey about just what his game is, other than his willingness to cooperate with the FBI by handing over a list of names… a blacklist, if you will. Oh, and Keen’s husband is still in a coma after being used a pincushion for some terrorist’s buck knife last week.

There! You’re all caught up on the show, and you didn’t even have to read my recap to get to that point, though I admit I’m kind of hurt you didn’t.

At any rate, during his interrogation, Reddington dropped one of those little tips of his: there’s going to be a problem down at the Decatur Industrial Park, and that the FBI may want to deploy ambulances to the scene. Agent Ressler, he of the perma-scowl, has drawn the plum assignment of checking things out and after casing the scene with a number of other law enforcement personnel, he can’t help but conclude that Reddington is pulling their collective leg. The runaway train hurtling down the track toward him says differently, however, and before you can say "Soul Asylum was never fully appreciated in its time," that runaway train is never going back, wrong way on a one-way track.

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The Blacklist

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