"You are," says Maggie, and the sudden intimacy leads to sex. And Marty agrees, confessing that he’s terrified of turning forty. He acts like a "sulky teenager." He’s terrified of changing. They’ve been together since they were 19, but in the past year, things have taken a turn. In the Harts’ safe, warmly lit bedroom, Maggie calls Marty out on his bullshit, once and for all. Marty makes zero connections between the world he sees at work and the one at home.) Why is that? "Because they have to." (We’ve seen sexual abuse against young girls implied a couple times now: in Dora Lange’s mother talking about the girl’s father, and in the teenage prostitute who ran away from her uncle. How does she even know about this stuff, asks a bewildered Marty? "Girls always know before boys," says Maggie. They form their Barbie dolls into crime scenes, and now, the older girl has been reprimanded at school for drawing pictures of people having sex. But this scene violates too many boundaries for Marty, who arrives home and immediately shows Rust the door, warning him never to mow his lawn again.Īll of Marty’s efforts to keep his work separate from his daughters have backfired they’re desperate to have a connection with their dad. She wants to set him up with a friend Rust has resigned himself to loneliness, she says, because he doesn’t want to face the possibility of loss. Rust was right all along.īack at the Hart house (because home is where the-oh, never mind), Rust has returned Marty’s lawnmower, and he and Maggie are getting to know each other. In 2012, the cops ask Marty if Rust might have "led the case where he wanted it to go." No, says Marty. Marty thinks that Rust might be suffering from "tunnel vision," twisting the facts of the case to match his ideas. You are a stranger to yourself, and yet he knows you." (Guess who’s on which side?) Meanwhile, the pompadoured reverend (Shea Wiggam of Boardwalk Empire) preaches about the power of Jesus, to a crowd of people who feel powerless to change their own lives: "He saw you in those dark corners. They stand outside, debating whether religion is a destructive fairy tale or necessary for human connectedness and morality. Turns out to be a traveling revival-type affair, under a tent-"old-time religion," as Marty puts it. Rust and Marty are investigating the church that they believe Dora Lange started attending shortly before she died. Forget who killed whom-we’re now talking about whether being alive even matters in the first place.Īnd that’s pretty much were we begin this episode. It’s the buddy cop formula, the straight man and the zany guy, taken to its darkest extreme. The true stakes are philosophical: Rust’s bleak worldview against Marty’s conventional one. True Detective hits all the marks of its genre, but the more episodes go by, the less I’m inclined to call it a crime drama. "For a guy who sees no point in existence, you fret about it an awful lot," Martin Hart tells Rust Cohle in Episode 3, "The Locked Room." It’s not just Rust who frets about existence it’s the whole show.
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