The Righteous Gemstones recap: How do you like me now

Whooee, sucker. What a Gemstones! Following last week’s “Interlude III,” everything is clicking together in fascinating and hilarious ways. The week-long pause was enough to let those bad feelings fester as we waited for the Gemstones to get wise with the Montgomerys’ plan. Surprisingly, episode six puts the Brothers of Tomorrow’s Fires on simmer as we bear witness to the corruption of Benjamin Jason Barnes, who proves the title prophetic as his love turns to hate.

The success of a cathartic “For Out Of The Heart Comes Evil Thoughts” is owed to the show’s intricate plotting and unrestrained—dare we say brave?— performances, particularly from Stephen Schneider, who seemed unbothered, unashamed, and unencumbered in his very nude fight scene. Director Jonathan Watson and writers Danny McBride and John Carcieri push the family off a cliff and onto the jagged rocks below, allowing the emotionally-mangled corpses to limp through a series of interpersonal failures.

Judy and B.J.’s saga felt written in the stars last week. When young Judy told her brother no one could ever love her, we know that somewhere out there awaits a man willing to swallow all of her panic shits. “Interlude” deepened Judy, giving her the very human motivation of wanting unconditional love outside the desire to be perceived as the most talented Gemstone. It also painted us a fuller picture of how she could cheat on an alpha male like B.J. Judy has been the object of irritation, frustration, and fear, but it’s unlikely that she’s been the object of desire in anyone’s eyes other than her doting, swagged-out husband.

Edi Patterson and Tim Baltz continue to play these roles beautifully. B.J. is the one thing Judy always dreamed of, someone who loves her and her many, many warts. He’s willing to eat a lot of shit for her, and she blew it by taking do what Gemstones do: Getting greedy with power and taking too much. Patterson plays Judy as if the mask of confidence is sliding off her face. She has been thoroughly humbled and, for the first time in a long time, doesn’t have B.J. or her brother to turn to.

Regardless of how much we can empathize with Judy, there are consequences for her no-sex affair. We see B.J. and Judy at the breakfast table, the home of so much domestic distress this season, from Kristy cracking Stephen with a coffee pot to May-May throat-chopping Judy. Thankfully, we don’t have a violent repeat, but the spark has left B.J.’s life. He’s a lover, not a fighter, after all, but he’s changed since Judy’s affair, living on the edge and rollerblading too close to the street, and his salvation center ensemble—a bland polo and cargo shorts—hints at his turmoil. He’s a man with nothing left inside, failing to hold back tears as Matthew and Chad mock him from a few feet away. His shame is fodder for church gossip, with the other men treating him like a leper. (As if Chad’s one to talk. We all remember when he was wearing nothing but basketball shorts.)

Jesse, as he sometimes does, comes through for a family member. It’s hard to say why Jesse supports B.J.—though if his crew is any indication, he has a soft spot for Crisco-white men that wear cellphone belt clips. While he’s never respected Judy’s husband, often referring to him as the weakest member of any gathering, there’s an underlying understanding. Each core family member has a partner to share the burden of being a Gemstone. Everyone’s paired off: Kevlin and Keefe, Jesse and Amber, B.J. and Judy. Even Uncle Baby Billy has Aunt Tiffany. These partnerships are sacred. Jesse, who has a history of donning a white mask and black fedora to smack the ass of a schoolboy, is protective of his family and sees in B.J. a wounded bird in need of mending.

But he seems more loyal to Judy’s partner than his own. He trains B.J. to throw a punch with one hand and dismisses Amber with the other, telling her bluntly that her projects don’t matter. Jesse never nips a problem in the bud. He waits for things to become untenable and then suggests a violent reaction, as we saw with Simkins earlier this season. Offering a nice balance to petulant Jesse, Amber actually helps those around her by giving Judy and the wild women of the Gemstone ministry space to process and talk. Her argument with Jesse reveals not just her worldview but B.J.’s, too. When she tells Jesse that doing service for the church and family makes her feel good and gives her purpose, she sounds like B.J., who, in episode two, says, “I’m helping out at a time when we need it, becoming a more dope me in the process.”

Amber elaborates, telling Jesse, “I am proud of what I accomplished, it makes me feel good to contribute. To have something that’s mine, my own thing.” These two have found the true benefit of all religions: Community. Something the Gemstones, hellbent on alienating their allies—remember when they were throwing shoes at their church leaders—can’t seem to grasp.

The episode breaks each partnership apart, forcing each character to reckon with new dynamics and opportunities. The rest of the family find themselves in unfamiliar settings that provide support unlike any they’ve had before, particularly B.J. and Keefe, who find confidence through male bonding. They’re forced into new groups, try new activities, and see life outside the partnerships they depend on. Even Kelvin’s softening view of Taryn indicates that everyone could benefit from having more than one friend.

However, because the Gemstones are terrified of vulnerability and rejection, they feel threatened by anything that might replace them. Amber must defend “The System” from Jesse’s insults as Keefe does with his carpentry. Kelvin can barely feign excitement for Keefe’s success in carpentry (“Congratulations, he can make stuff with sticks”). He goes so far as to blame Keefe for leaving and ruining their “dude bro” relationship—even though it was within Kelvin’s power to stop that from happening. Later, Jesse is even more vicious than Kelvin, attacking Amber with that classic Danny McBride bedside manner, saying, “Newsflash, Amber, your thing doesn’t matter, my thing does. You’re out there trying to play pretend therapist, fucking farting jars for people, and I’m trying to figure out how to exploit my dead mama so that people like us again.”

As in “But Esau Ran To Meet Him,” the dialogue in this episode is blunt. At numerous points tonight, Jesse explains in plain language what he wants and how he plans to get it. He “instantly regrets” giving the Redeemer to his cousins and wares Judy down with repetition when he and Kelvin demand she takes the L and kisses that smelly B. McBride’s always been good at rattling off lines that feel unnaturally straightforward. No one talks the way the Gemstones do, but McBride makes it seem easy. This approach isn’t only fuel for a string of endlessly quotable vulgarities, though.

It also clarifies the stakes that seem so alien to the Gemstones. In one of the episode’s most insightful moments, Judy describes forgiveness and accountability to a group of scorned women trying to process their imperfect marriages. As Judy realizes, the Gemstones are “going to have to keep eating massive big old piles of shit for however long until the hurt person decides they’re forgiven, just on arbitrary whims.” It’s a definition many could benefit from hearing.

The men fare much worse than the women tonight. They don’t have a system for working through their feelings. (Maybe what Amber’s doing isn’t so useless after all.) For the men, it’s all “don’t tell him he’s hot” and “spit in his mouth.” Because the Gemstones don’t support their partners, they’re left to fend for themselves, pushing B.J. into the boiler room, and the brass knucks into his soft hands. In one of the funniest scenes of the season, Jesse and the gang teach B.J. how to knock Stephen out—right on the button.

They encourage him to “reclaim his power,” training him to throw a punch without hurting his wrist. But the consequences of Judy’s actions go much deeper. B.J. is no longer the same man he once was, and the harder Judy pretends this isn’t a problem that she has to face head-on, the more the family challenges her. Within the dramatically lit throne room, she agrees to pay the $500,000 Kristy believes she’s owed for her pain. “I hope this hurts,” Kristy tells Judy after Judy’s apology. It does hurt, but not as much as it hurts B.J.

With the Gemstones partnerships in flux, the unholy union of Jesse and Baby Billy has room to grow. Perhaps the two most self-absorbed and delusional people in the family, their plan to offer up the hologram Aimee-Leigh exposes the missing person in their lives and the DMX inside Aimee-Leigh. They created a simulacrum of a Gemstone partner, and it deeply unsettles Eli, the only character without someone by his side except his estranged sister. The hologram reminds him of what he’s lost and can never retrieve. The family collapses over the fake Aimee-Leigh, creating a reactive and tense meeting that ends with Judy and Kelvin quitting the church. By revealing the missing Gemstone, Jesse confirms Eli’s biggest worry: Aimee-Leigh was the real parent, and without her, they’re all lost, and the church is falling apart without her. With everyone sufficiently distracted, no one is watching poor B.J.

The episode’s brilliant centerpiece, a nude wrestling match in the asshole of suburbia, reminiscent of Eastern Promises and, more recently, No Hard Feelings, shows how far B.J. has fallen. From changing “coming” to “cumming” over text to breaking into another family’s home, B.J. became a true Gemstone tonight. He succumbed to violence and betrayed the very fabric of his being. And the night’s finale seemed to perfectly express B.J.’s current state through mercilessly graphic tragicomedy in the asshole of suburbia set to the all-time corny banger “Daytime Friends” by Kenny Rogers, a needle drop that sends the scene into the stratosphere. God bless everyone involved.

As if B.J. stumbling through a brawl with a nude man, ruining house and home in the process, wasn’t a strong enough metaphor for the character’s crisis of masculinity, the scene climaxes with a stunning shot of B.J. clutching, squeezing, and pulling on Stephen’s testicles. The discordant, atmospheric music overtakes “Daytime Friends” on the soundtrack as B.J. fully gives in to his worst angels and adopts Jesse’s worldview. Violence is the answer for our once-promising young man., who shut down Stephen’s homophobia with a confident head nod. Willing to cross any boundary and grab any testicle to reclaim his masculinity, B.J. comes home to Judy bloody and broken. How do you like him now?

Stray observations:

• The reaction shots to B.J.’s punches were perfect, with Gregory’s point being a standout.
• “I liked the wordplay stuff you did, relating ‘homewrecker’ to ‘wreck your face.’ That was clever.”
• “‘Baby Billy’s Bible Bonkers’ has been ordered up straight to series! It’s a go.”
• Matthew and Chad’s reaction to the Bible Bonkers series order is one of the night’s funniest, most surprising jokes. I imagine they were taken with Baby Billy’s pitch deck—they certainly weren’t in the meeting. Maybe Jesse told them about it?
• Jesse’s gang was really on point all night. If there were ever to be a Gemstones spin-off, I’d love six episodes about them.
• Speaking of spin-offs, I could go for a 1923 series about the history of the Gemstones clan.
• “You’re an add-on!” “You’re both add-ons!”
• “You turned Mama into a force ghost?”
• Stephen’s masturbation has to be one of the most graphic sex acts I have ever seen on television, and I’m old enough to be scandalized by someone grabbing a penis on The Deuce. Not sure if I’ve ever seen that many tugs on a television show before.
• Absolutely love Taryn (Maggie Winters), who is such a burst of optimism and sincerity. And also, “It’s my birthday! Let’s go!”
• Adam Devine’s reactive anger toward Taryn’s positivity was palpable. He’s been fantastic this season.
• I’d love to see a scene in which Jesse art directs the lighting in the throne room.
• No one makes an exit like Keefe. You have to respect a man who ends an argument with a round-off.
• “I just don’t know if I can move through life knowing a guy named Stephen did this to me.”
• I’m not afraid to admit I’ve listened to “Daytime Friends” approximately 600 times since watching this episode.