I was worried that jumping back into Top of the Lake after a much longer period of time than I had intended would have its adverse effects. I was worried that I might forget important developments, or at the very least important clues and hints about future important developments. I was afraid I might forget some characters and not be suspicious or questioning at all as to why they didn't appear in this episode and what that might mean. Luckily for me, not only is "Episode 4" of Top of the Lake probably the best episode in the series thus far, it also strikes the perfect balance between continuing the serial story (checking in with all the necessary players and restating where we are at this point while moving the story forward) and remaining extremely focused on one of the series' most shocking revelations to this point.
As the episode progresses, that revelation - that Robin herself was brutally assaulted and raped by four drunken men 15 years ago on her way home from a school dance - is slowly unpacked as everyone shines a bit more light on the disgustingly horrific encounter and the events that followed. Al Parker reveals that he and some others, including Matt Mitcham, gathered the perpetrators together to punish them (but, notably, not arresting or prosecuting any of them). Robin reveals that she gave birth to the child but gave it up for adoption and that the child has been sending letters trying to learn more about her biological parents. Robin's mother declares that she wants to see her grandchild before dying even if Robin doesn't. And Johnno comes close to revealing something that Robin believes is so terrible that she cuts him off before he can utter it.
It's an episode that's all about communication and the dichotomy between knowledge and ignorance. Al Parker doesn't really want to know what happened to Tui or to Wolfgang Zanic or to Bob Platt or to the other young girl we find out about at the end of episode. He's happy to go on believing (or pretending to believe) what he's told and leave it at that. Jamie, a young man (and bone collector and latest red herring) in the blue hoodie who Robin sees at the beginning of the episode and whose whereabouts Johnno is apparently tracking, has stopped talking altogether - taking some weird vow of silence and only communicating through the words "yes" and "no" written on the palms of his hands. Most importantly, Robin doesn't want to know or hear anymore about what happened to her. When Al tries to tell her the truth, she comes back with "Fuck the truth," and she repeatedly interrupts Johnno, saying she can't handle what he's about to tell her. "Don't tell me," she says getting up, needing to escape the knowledge he's threatening her with.
Reflecting this idea of desired ignorance, the beautiful, often poetic cinematography of "Episode 4" is frequently dark and hazy in its own right - particularly during the flashback to the night of Robin's attack and rape - a fuzzy, brown photo fading into a repulsive memory. As Johnno inexplicably abandons her in the darkened gym, surrounded on either side by black balloons and the now ominous mounted deerhead, Robin stares out into the darkness. She then slowly stumbles outside into a fog-laden night and headlights suddenly appear from nowhere, a treacherous siren's call that drowns out Johnno's attempts to get her attention. Robin doesn't initially see how many men are in the car or how drunk they are. And although the men allow Johnno to ride along, they force him into the blackened dog cages in the truck's bed. It's a nightmarish dreamscape, gorgeous but saturated with a feeling of complete and utter helplessness.
This sense of helplessness in such a cruel, patriarchal society can be seen also in an earlier scene where Al invites Robin to dinner. It's clear from the lengths he's gone to prepare the food and from what he's wearing that he has some level of romantic interest in Robin. (Though Robin doesn't get the memo or feel the same way, showing up in a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans.) After the drunken meal, Robin is barely able to stand up as she tries to make her way to her car and Al takes her keys. The next morning, in what is an incredibly subtle and disquieting scene, Robin wakes up to some alarming details. She is in Al's bed, with his shirt on and wearing only her panties underneath it, and he's already gone to work. As the episode progresses, it does a terrific job at building tension and suspicion towards Al, who isn't one of the Mitcham boys or one of the disgusting pigs at the local pub but instead a respected member of the police force and Robin's superior and co-worker. Unwilling to back down, Robin questions him expertly, mixing in her accusations with details from Tui's case. And even when he answers convincingly, she still replies, "Then why don't I feel like saying thank you?" Even with Al, Robin is unable to be completely sure of his intentions.
As I said earlier, this episode strikes a good balance between focusing on Robin's gang-rape revelation while continuing to build on the serial story and themes. Obviously a big theme in Top of the Lake is that of women fighting against a chauvinist, male-dominated society. We see this strongly with the continued story of Matt Mitcham. Like with his mother's grave, Anita again trespasses on what Mitcham sees as "holy ground" by lying in Tui's bed. And again Matt lashes out at her, kicking her out of his house and roughing her up by driving through the gate to the "Paradise" commune that Anita is straddling and struggling to open. He then proceeds to accost all the women of the commune, harassing them about their menstruation polluting his land and individually declaring each of them "unfuckable." However, all these actions do is further show, both physically and symbolically, Matt Mitcham's impotence. Apart from the actual sexual impotence he tells Anita about in the episode previous, Matt's bravado appears to be all talk. Without his imposing sons or his truck, Matt seems physically helpless. The only person we've seen him harm with his own hands is himself at his mother's grave. And although he does harm Anita by driving through that gate and flinging her to the ground, it is the women of "Paradise" who stand firm as Matt scampers away, his insults doing little to phase them.
We see this also in Robin's encounter with Sarge, one of the men who raped her. As he sidles up to her, believing he might have found some company for the evening, Robin disgustedly chuckles at the fact that he doesn't remember her. It's an darkly intense moment and then Sarge drops the coal-black line, "Did we fuck or something?" and everything changes. Robin's smirk disappears and she locks eyes with him, a blistering rage burning within her. Suddenly, she smashes a bottle over the bar and stabs Sarge in the chest. A he falls to the ground chuckling (Does he actually recognize her? Is he messing with her as part of some sick game?), Johnno pulls Robin off Sarge and out of the bar as she repeatedly screams, "Do you remember me now, asshole?!"
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Thus far, the women of Laketop, New Zealand have been defined by their tolerance and perseverance. While the men are defined by, and often abuse their power (Matt's seeming control over the town, his sons' imposing presence, Al's choice not to follow up on any of the cases previously mentioned), the women hold strong. In "Paradise," each woman has endured great pain, but remain pillars of resistance against any force attempting to infiltrate and destroy what they've created. Robin's mother is courageously battling cancer with dignity while trying to be there for her daughter the best she can. But Robin is losing it. Under all the pressure of Tui's disappearance, her mother dying, and the memories of her rape jarringly resurfacing, she's is cracking. When Al tells her to pull Sarge over and for an auto violation and arrest him, she coldly replies, "Okay, and after that can I kill him?" Then she stabs Sarge. Then she gets kicked off the case. And then her long-term engagement gets broken off. (As a side note, this episode gives Elisabeth Moss a ton to do and she absolutely knocks it out of the park, delivering a powerhouse performance. I was particularly in awe of the moment she shares with her mother when she says of Sarge, "I don't give a shit if Sarge is walking around with a grubby bandage on. I hope he is awake and in fucking pain. Always!" And her mother replies, "Me, too. Always." Fantastic stuff.)
All of this leaves us in an interesting spot. Now Robin is officially off the case, but she's continuing to investigate - now with the help of Ian Fallows, a pathologist who calls Robin and expresses his mutual suspicion regarding the three above mentioned cases that Al Parker has chosen not to pursue. Those cases being Bob Platt, Wolfgang Zanic and the other young girl, April Stephens, who was run over on Lakeview Road and was found to have abrasions and traces of cocaine in her vagina. Like Robin, who crosses symbolic gender lines with the penetrative stabbing of Sarge in the bar, Ian Fallows isn't your typical male on Top of the Lake. He doesn't immediately discredit or undervalue Robin's opinion just because she's a woman. (In fact, he is the one that reaches out to her specifically and asks for her help.) And he doesn't write-off cases like Tui's or April Stephens' as just things that happen to young girls with nothing to be done. "I had a daughter who overdosed," he says. "So for me, it's emotional." So it is for Robin. And I, for one, am looking forward to seeing what the pair will be able to uncover without the hindrances of Laketop's oppressive police department.
