Spoiler alert: this recap is for people watching The Deuce on Sky Atlantic in the UK. Please do not add spoilers from later episodes.
If 42nd Street is where the elite meet the underworld, what better place to do it than in the Hi Hat. Everyone was there for the opening night of Vince Martino’s bar – Rodney, Larry Brown and Rudy Pipilo, Frankie, Abby and Darlene – and it’s fair to say the joint was jumping. Where else could you discuss Dickens, debate the means of production in the sex industry and have a pistol waved in your face by a 6’5” ginger? Truly, it was the best of times.
I enjoyed the close of this third episode; it gave me a warm feeling. Yes this was a bar most right-minded people would think at least thrice before wandering inside, but the sense of bonhomie was convincing. One of the things I have enjoyed most about The Deuce up to this point is the way it injects nuance into dynamics we think we already understand. The relationships between pimp and sex worker, sex worker and cop, mobster and ordinary Joe, all are shown to be two-way; imbalanced, perhaps, but not entirely exploitative. A bunch of criminals kicking back and relaxing in each other’s company seems consistent with this world.
The furbishment of Vince’s new venture has not come without its problems (which largely go by the name of Frankie). Vince’s twin seems increasingly like he has sprung from one of James Franco’s little-watched arthouse movies; a dramatic representation of Vince’s id allowed to prank about the place without consequence. This week, after incurring yet another gambling debt, Frankie jacks open all the coin slots in the Hi Hat to pay for it. In turn Vince incurs the wrath of the Irish mob, who run the machines, a problem only assuaged by the intervention of the Italian mob. Now, again, Rudy’s behaviour is not straightforward, it appears he intercedes because he actually admires Vince. But for sure he will also consider it a debt that at some point needs repaying, and you can bet Frankie won’t be stumping up for it when he does.
Just as I can’t fathom why Vince doesn’t kick his brother into touch, I can’t quite figure why Abby has him wrapped around her finger. Granted the upper middle class wasp is not exactly unattractive, but she’s not exactly charming neither. She’s earnest, self-involved and a little dull. Yet within five minutes of turning up at the Hi Hat looking for a bookkeeping job, she’s working for Vince on the bar and already acting as his de facto number two.
Elsewhere in the extended Martino family and Bobby has had the mother of all foreshadowed heart attacks. After looking pained before squeezing his shoulder a lot, Bobby succumbs to his coronary while trying to show another entitled youngster the value of ergonomics. He squats, picks up a heavy box then falls over. The next we see of him he’s begging Vince for a gasper in intensive care. Bobby’s wife then begs the twins for some housekeeping money. Frankie, you might not be surprised to hear, is not forthcoming.
If considered storytelling generally makes The Deuce feel less bleak than you might expect, Candy is the exception to the rule. She’s the independent woman, the sex worker with no pimp, someone strong enough to stand up for herself and to aim for bigger things. Yet it is with her that we visit the darkest places in this world. This week we watch as she listens to answerphone messages from her regular clients, all lies and venereal disease, and look on as she witnesses a stabbing in the street before walking calmly past the victim. These scenes remind us that her ambitions of becoming a porn director are not the usual wide-eyed Hollywood dreams.
It’s a sentiment reinforced over lunch with porn magnate Harvey. I say magnate, I mean he’s worked out a way of just about turning a profit by pretending to make porn and charging people to watch it. Candy asks if he might show her the directorial ropes. Harvey replies that he’d give her a bit more than usual to perform in a “film”. Candy is frustrated but we know the icky tide of history is with her. She’s going to find a way to make porn pay.
Meanwhile Darlene, to this point the moral heart of the drama, has been falling asleep with her regulars again. Darlene’s pimp, Larry, is on the lookout for her and for a moment it seems like a beating will ensue. But after an odd ritual whereby Larry drops his sunglasses and makes Darlene pick them up, all is apparently forgotten. When the pair arrive later at the Hi Hat, they do so as a kind of couple.
Notes and queries
• It’s puzzling police officer Chris Alston and it’s puzzling me. Why are the cops being told not to round up sex workers from the Deuce any more? Surely if your aim was to gentrify the area you’d want rid? Or, maybe, if your aim is to acquire the property in the area at knockdown rates…
• “Electronic data processing” is not right for Abby, it’s something to do with her asthma. But perhaps this is a little wink to the fact Abby isn’t quite as street-smart as she thinks – electronic data processing wasn’t about to go away, after all.
• The appearance of Big Mike was the most enigmatic moment of the week. If I’ve got this right Mike is a junkie with a big heart and even bigger arms. I expect him to become Vince’s number three pretty soon.
• Have you ever eaten a kishka?
