Like all television from the “prestige TV era”—a period that Barry both parodies and gets lumped into—Barry is about the messy things people do to overcome trauma. Yet, time and again, characters bump against the reality that most people don’t care about them, their past, or how they can change. Mostly, people, particularly on Barry, are selfish, ego-driven narcissists driven by fame or vengeance. Main character syndrome is contagious in Barry, and the infected will do anything to avoid looking inward. There’s a small moment in the middle of this fascinating and often hilarious installment when a young Fuches approaches an even younger Barry as he plays army guys with his action figures in the sand. Barry explains to Fuches that the good guys fight the bad guys—Fuches wonders who the bad guy fights. “Everyone but himself,” Barry remarks.

It’s chilling to think that Barry still sees the world this way. It’s even more chilling to examine how mushy his brain was that Fuches could revert him to this type of language. How often have we heard Fuches and Barry describe their mission as fighting bad guys? It’s one of the earliest motivations we have for these characters, going back to the first episode, and something both have seemingly clung to. But, like most on the show, he ignores the things we don’t want to be true, as Barry puts it.

This idea that the “bad guys fight everyone but themselves” is what Barry was trying to do. Essentially what he’s saying is bad guys don’t look inwards. They don’t do the work, and when they do, they end up like Tony Soprano, circling and recognizing the issue but still keeping the plot wheel spinning. No one can change too much or the show would be over, so they move on to the next target. When Barry starts battling himself, which manifests in getting guards to beat the crap out of him, things begin to unravel.

The episode opens in the same dirt patch where Barry spent his childhood. Taking a break from smacking his forehead against the concrete walls around him, Barry sees his old self sitting on the bed, playing with his figures. Appropriately, little Barry is concocting a scenario that would become commonplace in Barry’s life by apologizing for another casualty of his bloodshed. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to hit you. I meant that guy.” Even in play, Barry’s prone to hurting innocent people and collateral damage. These flashbacks are finally digging deeper into where Barry’s coming from and the start of his lifelong grooming at Fuches’ hand. Barry never stood a chance.

Of course, Barry’s memories of Fuches, one of the few people who looked after him, not just after the war but possibly his whole life, lead him back into his abuser’s arms. Seeing as Fuches apologized and seemed to mean it this time, the two decide to start working together again, building a case around Fuches as the Raven. In the first of three big presentations this evening, Fuches stands before the prison television, ruining Yellowstone for his fellow inmates, and begins recruiting for his prison gang. Despite coming up with some really cool nicknames, like “‌Livewire,” “Groovetube,” and “Jason,” the plan is a bust. Fuches is now a young actor in need of guidance, so Barry gives him some notes about how “honest” and “relaxed” he seemed up there. Barry is now the acting coach helping others find their truth. Isn’t that sweet?

Fuches’ pitch pales in comparison to the one cooked up by Hank and Cristobal at the bestest place on Earth: The Dave & Busters in Torrance, California, just outside of L.A. With the camera oscillating around the table like a dumb Children Of Men, Hank and Cristobal trade off lines as they pitch their sand operation to warring criminal operations. It’s this season’s flashiest scene thus far and speaks highly to Hader’s work as a director. His camera stays locked with the optimistic Irby and Carrigan’s movements as they inhabit the charisma of a timeshare salesman in a Courtyard by Marriott conference room. But the real masterstroke is the waiter asking if she can get anything started for them—“yes, some jalapeño poppers for the table.” The scene is as satisfying as the gooey interior of said poppers. The pitch works, and the next thing you know, Cristobal is showing the Guatemalans to Pac-Man. Meanwhile, Hank reads a text from someone named “Toro,” who uses a cool black hat emoji as a little logo and tells Hank that Barry’s as good as free, assuming Hank can get the manpower together.

While Hank and Cristobal can get these gangs to lay down their swords, Barry has less success with Sally. Back from Joplin, where it was awful, Sally decided to try her chances in Los Angeles again. We’ve met Sally’s parents, so we understand why she would rather see Barry in prison to learn if Barry killed the dog we never met than spend another day in Joplin. However, like Barry, Sally’s found herself back in old habits. Barry immediately and profusely begins apologizing. She does her best to white knuckle through it. Having done her scene about Sam, Barry knows that Sally has a weakness for apologies from abusive exes (“I stay for the apology”). Maybe a part of her returned to Barry for the apology, just as she had done with Sam. However, she’s reacting to a much deeper truth: She feels safe around Barry.

Part of Sally’s reaction to this situation comes from her lack of options. In a later scene that recalls the Winkie’s Diner scene from Mulholland Drive, Sally learns that, like “Livewire” and “Groovetube,” she has a new nickname, “the Entitled C-Word Girl.” Her relationship with Barry has made her a pariah in Hollywood. No one will work with her. Well, unless she wants to do a podcast or a reality show and make more money than god. Her parents don’t want her. Her agent doesn’t want her. Unfortunately, Sally has two strikes and integrity. Well, she also has the theater.

It’s been a while since we’ve been on the Cousineau’s stage. Last season, the acting teacher was promoted to actor and spent much of the year in a catatonic state opposite Barry, supposedly living his dream. We didn’t need a written invitation to return to where it all began, but Gene Cousineau always goes the extra mile. Strung along by a series (well, one) of mysterious envelopes, Vanity Fair reporter Lon O’Neill (played by Patrick Fischler) finds Cousineau not outside of a D&B’s but rather Canter’s Deli. Despite spoiling Cousineau’s theatrics, Lon’s treated to a one-night-only performance of one-man Barry starring Gene Cousineau, laying out his experiences with the incarcerated fuckface hitman.

Though Lon tells him that he’ll remain anonymous, Cousineau tells a story only he could tell in a style only he could perform. This won’t be very “hush-hush,” and Jim Moss will kill this guy when he finds out. However, there was a secret audience member. Sally watched the whole thing, and when she confronts her former teacher about not saying anything to her about Barry, he retorts, how did you not know? She never saw anything strange? It’s clear that, like Cousineau, Sally accepted the good things Barry brought into her life as long as she didn’t have to see the bad, and like Barry, she shut out the things she didn’t want to be true. In numerous ways, she was complicit in his actions. There’s nothing she can do but teach, which is what Barry is doing. We’ve come full circle—like the camera at D&Bs! When this show hits, it really hits.

Cousineau’s selfish act won’t sit well with his partners, just as NoHo Hank’s “#SaveBarry” chunk of his sale pitch throws Cristobal for a loop. The sand will bring legitimacy to their criminal enterprises, a proverbial crime utopia with volleyball and everything. Now Hank wants to throw a “prison break 2023” into the mix, potentially jeopardizing the plan. Thankfully, he learns that Barry is working with the FBI. Barry is going into business for himself, too, telling the interrogators that he’s willing to talk if they can get him and, presumably, Sally into witness protection. Hank has no choice but to take Barry out, but it all goes back to the action figures. They’re fighting everyone but themselves.

• Barry’s dad refers to Barry as his youngest son. I hope we see one of Barry’s siblings pop up this season.
• I love the delivery of these interrogators and their commitment to Barry and Fuches’ relationship. However, there’s something very middle school about referring to their dispute as a “friend fight.” To wit, Fuches calling their attempt to break up their friendship a “dick move” was one of the night’s biggest laughs.
• Another thing about the interrogators: the one played by Cornell Womack shifts his eyes with such weight after asking if Fuches is “still mad at me?” Like a Wes Anderson character, he’s detached but obviously and hopelessly invested in these two. I hope we get a couple more scenes with them. Could you imagine them going to work on NoHo Hank?
• “The crime utopia thing, I remember. Played volleyball.”
• “The Chechens had style but we were complete boners at stealing shit.”
• Loved when Hank realizes he missed a cue and hurries past the camera, hoping not to ruin the effect.
• There’s a world where the entirety of these stray observations is just the script for this scene. Carrigan and Irby are hitting homers left and right.
• In addition to that diner scene reminding me of Mulholland Drive, the star of that scene, Fischler, also features heavily in the episode.
  
• Fuches’ dismissive lawyer: “Also had this other asshole, said he shot somebody outside of a club. They had him on video. I said it was deepfaked, so I had my nerd put my face on the shooter. Said, ‘Oh no, looks like I did it.’ Then I put my hands around my back like I was getting cuffed. Fucking jury laughed so hard. Killed it that day.”
• So many good Gene Cousineau lines tonight: “Did you get here on a rocket ship?” “Oh, you will, fuckface.” A small one but his delivery of the word “teach” really destroyed me. So many lines are tossed off on Barry, but this is one of the most casual yet.
  
• Cousineau also casually admits to manipulating Barry. “When I first met Berkman, he was like all my students. He was eager. He was dumb. So what did I do? I got into his brain and I set up shop.” The similarities between Fuches and Cousineau grow more apparent with every episode.
  
• Last bit on Cousineau: Winkler’s post-show look was perfect, with his hair matted to his head from sweat. I particularly like the added touch of his elbow pads.
• R.I.P. Muffin. We hardly knew ye.
• Editor’s Note: Some very intelligent commenters have pointed out that Muffin is actually code for “moving Shane’s body.” Thanks for the note. Always read the comments!