Heroes: One Giant
Leap
by Sara
A Soulful Spike Society Review
It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time.
Winston Churchill
Our character...is an omen of our destiny, and the more integrity we have and keep, the simpler and nobler that destiny is likely to be.
George Santayana
It's hard to go back and approach these episodes from the same perspective I did when I first saw them–in other words, not knowing what was about to happen next. Which you'd think would be incentive enough to finally get caught up and start cranking these puppies out in real time, but one should never underestimate a writer's ability to procrastinate. So, in lieu of being able to bend time like Hiro and get my earlier self's nose to the grindstone sooner, I'm just gonna do my best to share the kind of observations I might have made at the time without getting too much into exploring moments that only become important when you're a few episodes down the road.
On my second viewing of "One Giant Leap," two particular threads caught my attention. One issue that kept cropping up was that of belief—specifically, the question of one person believing in another. We saw it first when Audrey was questioning Matt, challenging him to read her mind; when he did, it wasn't to discover what she had for breakfast or that her favorite color was pink—instead he learned that Audrey was convinced no one believed in her. And that revelation of an insecurity they very much had in common not only helped Matt begin to prove himself to Audrey but gave the two characters common ground from which to begin building a possible friendship.
Shortly after we witnessed Matt and Audrey's exchange the scene shifted to New York City, where Simone was collecting some of Isaac's paintings to sell in order to get him back into rehab. When she once again dismissed his claim that he was painting the future, Isaac told her that while he didn't want to lose her "if you don't believe in me, then you shouldn't be here." What I find interesting is that while she walked out on Isaac despite having seen evidence indicating his ability is real (ie the painting of the bus bombing that matched the newspaper photo), later in the same episode Simone immediately assured Peter she believed he hadn't tried to commit suicide even though she didn't have a shred of proof indicating otherwise. Granted what Isaac was asking her to believe was pretty out there, and his history as a drug user didn't do him any favors in the credibility department. But they clearly have a fair amount of history between them, and he was neither high nor in withdrawal when making his claims. Like I said, I just found it an intriguing difference; the acid test will come if Peter tries to tell her he has a special ability as well.
For her part, Niki's issue isn't just that no one believes in her, a sense only exacerbated by her mother-in-law's not-so subtle hints that Niki isn't doing right by Micah; she's not so sure she even believes in her own sanity. When she told Micah's grandmother she had "no idea what I am capable of," the audience was well aware that Niki knows she herself had no idea either. Heck, at this point Niki probably doesn't even think of herself as having a superpower; she's too busy simply trying to figure what's happening to her, period. What she does know is she's experienced blackouts, been troubled by bad dreams, and seen strange things in her reflection. Oh, and then there's the part where she woke up in a locked room surrounded by body parts and yet didn't have a drop of blood on her clothes. No wonder the possibility she's slipped a cog is more prevalent in her mind than the notion she's a real-life version of the Incredible Hulk.
Meanwhile, the ongoing tale of Mohinder and his attempt to understand his father's work also boils down to this same question of belief: does Mohinder believe in his father's theories, and thus in his father, or doesn't he? In this episode, after having spent time in New York going through his father's research, we see that Mohinder has seriously begun to question what he's doing there. Without any more proof than he had before he arrived, exhausted and undoubtedly wrestling with both shock and grief over Chandra's sudden death, the passion Mohinder arrived in New York with to prove his father right has given way to pessimism, old resentments, and the fear that he's "wasting my life trying to prove him sane."
On the flip side we have Hiro, who's lucky enough to have a friend that does believe in him. Of course, enlisting Ando to help save a girl's life didn't hurt his cause; nor did being able to give Ando incontrovertible proof of his abilities. But, to Ando's credit, once he did believe he decided to support his friend to the best of abilities instead of, say, turning him in to the authorities or convincing Hiro to keep a low profile. So now Ando's playing Sancho Panza to his friend and his quixotic impulses, willing to stick with Hiro and see where the journey takes the two of them—especially if the trip involves a detour to Las Vegas and a chance to meet the woman of Ando's... dreams. I often wonder if Hiro yet appreciates how lucky he is to have in Ando someone he can talk with about his powers and their potential, especially when we see how frustrating and difficult it is for the other characters to have to deal with their own abilities more or less alone.
And, of course, we can't forget Claire and Zach, a dynamic that give us yet another interesting take on the issue of belief. Because in this case it's Zach who truly believes in Claire and has a sense of the ramifications of her ability, while Claire herself, by her own admission, just wants to be normal. Zach's in a unique position; he was brought into Claire's search for answers by Claire herself, even though it doesn't appear the two were particularly close beforehand, and thus can offer her the closest thing to an objective perspective that she's going to find. Yet when he does she refuses to listen, instead lashing out with words intended to wound and perhaps even drive him away; I have to wonder if the reason Claire chose an "outsider" to confide in was so she could continue keeping that aspect of her self completely separate from what she considered to be her normal life and persona, and thus be able to keep on ignoring and/or dismissing its importance much as she does with Zach over the course of the school day.
The unfortunate irony here is that by the end of the episode Claire's belief in the safe, normal existence of being just another cheerleader, one more face in the crowd, was completely and irrevocably shattered; the classic "cute cheerleader/charming quarterback" fairytale romance developing between her and Brody suddenly turned into an all-too "normal" nightmare—the same kind of evil people read about in newspapers every day.
The second thread I noticed recurring through this episode is the matter of destiny. Tellingly, it's a subject brought up by the two characters who have made the greatest strides toward embracing their ability and what it may mean in the grander scheme of things: Peter and Hiro.
For his part, Peter tells Simone "I've been trying to save the world one person at a time, but I'm meant for something bigger. Something important. I know it now." It's the same thing he's been saying since the onset of the show, but in this hour he takes what can only be considered a giant leap of faith—quitting his job for no other purpose than to figure out exactly what that important "something" might be. Then there's the toast he proposes to Simone at his brother's party: "To destiny: may we recognize it when we see it." In a way, it's almost as if Peter's hit his midlife crisis about 25 years early—or perhaps he's going through the über-idealistic college student phase rather late. In either event, he's clearly tired of being a supporting actor in other people's lives; he's ready to believe he can and will be the lead in his own life story.
As is Hiro, needless to say. Our resident geek is ready and willing to embrace the role that seems to have been carved out for him; when Ando suggests it might be a wiser course of action to be headed away from where a nuclear bomb is supposed to detonate than towards it, Hiro informs him: "a hero doesn't run away from his destiny." Of course, it's easy to embrace the whole "with great power comes great responsibility" concept in principle; I suspect we'd all like to believe we'd rise to the challenge should it be presented to us. But from the onset Hiro's been basing his actions on what all the comic books he's ever read have told him he should be doing, much as if he were another character in the story—a pattern that's brought into sharp relief by the fact that he literally let a comic book dictate his actions in this episode. I'm not saying this is necessarily a bad thing; I just wonder what'll happen if the romantic ideas Hiro has regarding superherodom are shattered, and whether he'll end up wondering if he embraced the path he's on because he followed the dictates of his heart or merely those of the stories he'd so eagerly absorbed.
Finally, no discussion of the episode would be complete without talking about Sylar. If there'd been any doubt before, it's made perfectly clear in this episode that Sylar is either a big bad, or more likely the big bad, of Heroes's inaugural season. While the producers are being careful to only dole out bits and pieces about this man with a penchant for other people's brains, we do get a few more ingredients added to the mix. The most obvious is that, whatever other abilities he may possess, Sylar is first and foremost a very powerful telekinetic: he used chair to pin a guard to the ceiling like a butterfly, came within moments of forcing Audrey to blow her own brains out, and—most impressively—halted the bullets Matt fired his way before they penetrated his flesh.
Of course no serial killer would be complete without the obligatory
tidy living space that contains a secret door leading to a big Wall O' Crazy,
and Sylar was no exception. What's intriguing about Sylar's is that
instead of being a shrine to his murders, it's a plea for forgiveness steeped
in religious language and imagery. A fortuitous freeze-frame on my part
drew my attention to Sylar's drawing of a cross with a series of Greek letters
written on it vertically: ΙΧΘΥΣ. A little Google-fu led me to the
discovery that those letters have great significance in the history of
Christianity as an acrostic formed from the Greek words for Jesus Christ, God's
Son, Savior; together the first letter of each word spell the Greek word for
"fish," ichthys—which in turn is one reason why a simple drawing of a
fish has been used as a Christian symbol from the first century a.d. to today's
car bumpers.
To me, all this suggests two things. One, that somewhere in Sylar's past
he studied theology; I'm pretty sure your average practicing Christian isn't
going to be familiar with the actual Greek letters used even if they do know
the origin of the fish symbology. And two, whether the name Sylar is an
acrostic itself—particularly since the last two letters of "ichthys"
are also the first two letters of "Sylar."
That being said, I wouldn't be even remotely surprised if time proved me wrong
on both counts.
Other thoughts:
—So. Niki's other self sent Niki
to the desert, whereupon she is instructed to dig a grave only to find the body
of another man once connected to Niki's husband. Unless Niki has experienced one of
the most amazing coincidences of her life, I'm starting to suspect she may have
something to do with the murders her husband was arrested for (and yes, I have
proof I thought this at the time I saw the episode). And if Niki's mirror image was able
to get the bodies packed in the trunk and clear the garage of any trace of
blood, why not bury the corpses as well—why make Niki do it?
—"You even mention tights and a cape, and I'm going home." Say it with me now: no capes!
—Color once again seemed to be an important signifier in this episode. Note that Peter was dressed all in blue when he's in the playground, a scene that's also a nice send-up of Peter's attempt to fly in "Genesis" right down to both Peter's pose and the soundtrack music. By comparison, Hiro wore a jacket with red cuffs when he saves the schoolgirl's life. Nathan chose a red tie after Peter suggested the blue one. The boy watching Peter wore a bright red cape, a visual reminder of one of the world's most famous superheroes that puts a big exclamation point on Peter's failure to achieve liftoff. And of course Simone dazzled in her red dress and matching red umbrella.
—We see the first beginnings of connections made between the worlds of the various heroes we've met when we learn Peter has a copy of a book written by Mohinder's father. It also serves as a nice setup for later, as getting a good look at the work in Peter's hands helps us recognize it when Mohinder spots it later in Sylar's apartment.
—And speaking of books, the mysterious symbol that keeps popping up in our heroes' lives made a few more appearances in this episode: it graces the cover of Chandra's book, was on the edge of Claire's geometry textbook, and was the shape of the stone worn around the next of the mysterious man observing Matt in the bar.
—One thing that's really struck me from the outset is how visually oriented Heroes is; you can tell they pay attention to how certain scenes are composed, and often the angles used are very evocative of the way comic book panels are laid out and composed.
—Something fun to contemplate if you feel like giving yourself a headache: would the accident with the truck have happened at all if Hiro and Ando hadn't been there trying to prevent it?
—In a related vein, I still have a headache from the product-placement anvil dropped on us as Hiro specified which car he wanted to use.
—If watching Claire wake up in the middle of her own autopsy was not the mother of all cliffhangers, it was most certainly in the top five. Talk about your memorable visuals...
—And finally, no episode would be complete without a "trying just a little too hard to sound important" voiceover pronouncement from Mohinder: "This force—evolution—is not sentimental. Like the earth itself, it knows only the hard facts of life's struggle with death. All you can do is hope and trust that when you've served its needs faithfully, there may still remain some glimmer of the life you once knew."
That's it from me for now. Be sure to check Erin's review of the next ep, and I'll see you again for episode five. 'Til then, stay heroic.
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