‘The Changeling’ Episode 7 Recap: Mother’s Day

You may have noticed a call from some quarters of the critical sphere for a return to standalone episodes — ones that break from the usual style or narrative flow of the series in question and, well, stand alone, as stories or as artistic statements. The idea is that in this ongoing age of heavy serialization, episodes now serve as hourlong story containers — things happen for a while, then the episode ends, then you watch the next one and things pick right back up — rather than episodes per se, with self-contained arcs or a unique theme. Breaking the mold, then, yields something special almost by definition.

The techniques used to get there can be as simple as using a pared-down cast and/or an isolated setting. Whether a cost-cutting “bottle episode” in the classic sense or otherwise, these measures will often fit the bill when such calls are issued. The go-to examples that proponents of the standalone episode tend to cite are Steve Buscemi’s “Pine Barrens” and Rian Johnson’s “Fly,” episodes of The Sopranos and Breaking Bad, respectively, in which May-December pairs of black-comedy criminals are stuck someplace by themselves doing something unpleasant. Even when they aired, before this penchant for self-contained TV became voguish, they stood out.

Which is of course the problem with the argument. Standalone episodes hit with audiences and critics to the extent that they have something to stand alone from. To make the splash they did and earn the reputation they have, “Pine Barrens” and “Fly” required heavily serialized storytelling on either side, so that you’d even notice they were doing something different in the first place. 

At the risk of committing the dreaded internet faux pas of making up a guy to get mad at, I’m guessing that “Stormy Weather,” the penultimate episode of The Changeling, will hit the standalone crowd where they live. Why wouldn’t it? It abandons the Apollo/Emma-centric narrative that has driven this story since the start in favor of what borders at times on a one-woman show starring Adina Porter as Lillian Kagwa, Apollo’s mother. The primary supporting players, Alexis Louder as young Lillian and Jared Abrahamson in a dual role as her abusive husband Brian and an anonymous AIDS victim Lillian encounters on a crucial evening in her life — again, far afield from the Apollo/Emma (and William/Cal) stuff that’s been dominating the show.

In terms of both the script and the camera, it abandons both the heightened-realism palette of the show’s prestige-y psychological drama and, for the most part, the shadow-haunted look of its horror elements in favor of an approach that plays out almost like experimental theater. The double-casting of Abrahamson, the overlapping appearances of Porter and Louder, flashbacks shown as stagey dioramas in the background or projected on the walls multimedia-style, a full musical performance of Lena Horne’s “Stormy Weather,” extensive monologue-heavy narration both by Porter and author/narrator Victor LaValle — all of it is intended to emphasize how un-real what’s going on is. It roots you in Lillian’s subjective experiences and memories surrounding her secret killing and disposal of Brian for attempting to murder young Apollo after the end of their marriage, as opposed to convincingly immersing you in the grief and terror of it all to the point where you yourself feel at risk, as is the show’s custom. (The moment when young Lillian begins to realize Brian is subtly but unmistakably threatening her life in explicitly misogynistic terms is the big exception. Jesus.)

If nothing else, these kinds of conscious departures from everything a series has primed you to expect of itself are almost always worth attempting on principle alone, given the potential rewards of novelty and excitement if it works.

This episode shows how big an “if” that “if” really is. 

Simply put, I don’t think anything here works, beyond the simple fact of Porter’s performance. You can see this talented actor sink her teeth into every moment, every memory, every whipsaw shift in Lillian’s mind, rocked by booze and regret and fear and trauma and probably the gods to boot. Director Michael Francis Williams throws everything he’s got at the wall in hopes that the results will provide a suitable edifice for her skill. 

But the misbegotten script by series creator Kelly Marcel trips it all at the starting line. It display’s no faith in the audience’s ability to draw emotional or narrative inferences from anything but Porter’s voice, as she recites endless chunks of interior monologue, overwritten lessons-of-our-grandmothers wisdom, and accounts of events we can see unfolding perfectly well before our eyes. Sometimes LaValle takes over, as if one reader is simply not up to the herculean task of saying all these words over top of the moving pictures. Other than the revelation that Lillian really did sleep with her creep of a boss, who is Apollo’s biological father, nothing here is surprising enough to break through the endless barrage of verbiage.

Worst, the episode leans hard into glurge. The power of motherhood, the magic of storytelling, the eight million stories of Noo Yawk City babyyyy — you can get this stuff, and have, in countless other shows and movies and books. Getting all of it all at once in this kind of concentrated dose is a hot shot all but the most conditioned nervous systems couldn’t possibly survive. 

By the time you see the opening words of LaValle’s source novel carved into a hotel tabletop in neat typeface, signed with a “V” no less, you’re left to wonder what we’re even supposed to be taking from this. Is our appreciation of Lillian’s suffering helped or hindered by constant reminders that the narrator made it all up? Apollo’s? Emma’s? The questions answer themselves. Making gutsy departures from the norm, “Stormy Weather” is a noble failure, yes, but it’s still a failure.

This piece was written during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike, after the victory of the WGA in their own strike over similar issues. Without the labor of the actors currently on strike, the show being covered here wouldn’t exist.

Sean T. Collins (@theseantcollins) writes about TV for Rolling Stone, Vulture, The New York Times, and anyplace that will have him, really. He and his family live on Long Island.