This review contains spoilers for Season 1, Episode 2 of HBO’s Lovecraft Country, “Whitey’s on the Moon.”
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What’s in a name, really? A lineage, a legacy? Something to aspire to, to surpass, or something better off left alone; buried in the past? Though if there’s one thing you can count on in Lovecraft Country, it’s that nothing stays buried for long. Not even the dead.
The second episode of Lovecraft Country, “Whitey’s on the Moon,” opens on the morning after Atticus and co.’s gruesome encounter in the woods of Worcester, having discovered and spent the night at the Braithwhite family estate in the secluded town of Ardham. After indulging in the hospitality of the suspiciously affable William (Jordan Patrick Smith), a professional associate of the Braithwhite family and a *cough* “close personal friend” of Christina Braithwhite, Atticus, George, and Leti journey into town in search of clues to Montrose’s whereabouts.
The trip into Ardham is a cursory one at best, however, as the episode on a whole does very little to establish any clear answers as to why the town is so vehemently isolationist or what the townspeople’s relationship to the Braithwhite family is at all. We soon learn that while Atticus remembers the events of the night prior in vivid, horrifying detail, George and Leti are so curiously unaffected by their near death experience as to scarcely remember it all. Leti expresses concern for Atticus’ agitation, speculating that it might stem in part from his time as a soldier. It’s a consistent trope for any protagonist of a cosmic horror story to be doubted by their peers on the grounds that what they claim to know and fear is so utterly alien as to be seen as impossible. “Whitey’s on the Moon,” unfortunately, doesn’t know what do with this thread and promptly discards it no more than ten minutes later without so much as a second thought.
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Another misfire from the episode comes in the form of the trio’s encounter with Dell (Jamie Neumann), the presumptive “sheriff” figure of Ardham, who leers at the group while prodding them with veiled threats of racial violence. It’s an all-too-familiar beat repeated to diminished effect, especially compared to last episode’s harrowing confrontation with the Devon County Sheriff, and one that seems to serve no great purpose in service to show’s themes or characters aside from perfunctorily pushing the episode’s plot forward and signalling to the viewer that yes, Montrose is located in this weird stone building and yes, the inhabitants of this town are racist. There’s no greater dimension added to the episode by having stopped off in Ardham and instead it feels more like a tiresome exercise in narrative padding, a trait that disappointingly comes to define much of the episode’s runtime.
That said, there are still some bright spots here and there throughout the episode. Tony Goldywn’s first on-screen appearance as Samuel Braithwhite – father of Christina and leader of the so-called “Sons of Adam” chapter of the Order of the First Dawn – is a particularly memorable one, what with him having one of his organs removed by a hooded acolyte while screaming in agony. “I’m Adam,” Samuel tells Atticus during an indulgent lecture on the nature of biblical hierarchy, “and I’ve worked a very long time to return to paradise.” We learn that Atticus’ great ancestor was a former slave of Titus Braithwhite, a distant cousin of Samuel’s. As far as the Braithwhites are concerned, with Titus’s blood flowing through his veins, Atticus is as good as family. Or, at the very least, good enough to serve as a sacrifice to further Samuel’s own ends.
A quadrant of generational trauma forms the emotional crux for the entire episode. For Atticus, it’s his strained relationship with his father and his history of emotional and physical abuse. For Montrose (Michael Kenneth Williams), Atticus’ father, it’s his own history of paternal abuse at the hands of his father and how those experiences ultimately impacted his ability and willingness to demonstrate love. For Leti, we learn one of the reasons for why she left home for so long — and why she refused to go to her mother’s funeral. And finally, there’s none other than Christina Braithwhite. Born into a family at the head of an aristocratic order of occult practitioners, Christina’s ambitions are stymied not only by the blatant sexism of her peers, but by her father’s own naked disdain for his child. “I can never earn one of these,” Christina tells Atticus, holding one of the Order’s ceremonial rings. “No matter how hard I’ve tried. And you get one for doing nothing other than being born a man.” Given all we know and have seen so far, it begs the question: if Samuel is the metaphorical “Adam,” then what does that make Christina— Eve, or Lilith? Judging by how gleefully she reacted while delivering a writhing eldritch brood from that cow’s womb, chances are it’s the latter.
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“Whitey’s on the Moon” is peppered with allusions to several prominent cosmic horror authors, including William Hope Hodgson, whose 1906 novel The House on the Borderland was not only cited by Lovecraft as a formative inspiration but plays a surprisingly pivotal role in leading one character to not one, but two significant revelations, as well as an offhand reference to Clark Ashton Smith, one of Lovecraft’s contemporaries whose work would later go on to inspire other writers such as Ray Bradbury. It’s a nice touch, and one that shows Lovecraft Country’s commitment to acknowledging the history of the cosmic horror genre beyond even the series’ namesake, all the while it attempts to put its own spin on those same tropes and concepts.
One aspect the episode tantalizingly touches on is how the systemic force of classism intersects with that of racism. “My father and his associates would never fraternize with the Klan,” Christina retorts in a heated exchange with Atticus, “they’re too poor.” This sentiment, that the only exception between one caste of avowed racists and another is the pretense of wealth and pedigree, is echoed in a later scene when Atticus and George attend a special dinner in Atticus’ “honor.” The room of white faces shuffles awkwardly and grows silent as the two take their seats. “Don’t mind the others,” William assures Atticus. “Just because they don’t want you here, doesn’t mean you’re not supposed to be.” These exchanges make the episode’s finest moment all the more palpable, as the so-called “Sons of Adam” are summarily hoisted by their own esoteric and exclusionary traditions and shooed away with their figurative tails clenched firmly between their legs.
The plan to rescue Montrose comes at a cost however. While attempting to escape, Leti is mortally wounded and pitted as a bargaining chip in order to coerce Atticus’ surrender and cooperation with Samuel’s plan. Leti’s wounds are healed, but not without her seemingly suffering a nervous breakdown as a result. It would seem that the near-death experience of resurrection has left a visible mark on Leti’s psyche, one that may or may not shape her behaviour throughout the rest of the season.
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The choice to invoke Gil Scott-Heron’s classic 1970 spoken-word piece as not only the episode’s title, but as the accompanying soundtrack to its dramatic climax, is a savvy one. The juxtaposition between Scott-Heron’s searing condemnation of white affluence and upward mobility — both literal and figurative — at the expense of the black and brown communities with the imagery of a cult of white aristocrats attempting to sacrifice a black man’s body to gain purchase to paradise is a powerful one. Its execution, however, leaves something to be desired, with the scene’s sound mixing and overall direction rendering moot what should have otherwise been a rousing emotional finale.
The latest of the series’ major divergences from the source material comes with the death of Atticus’ Uncle George. It’s a devastating loss that’s felt on not only a raw, emotional level, but one that augurs a significant shift in Atticus and Montrose’s relationship going forward as the question of not only the former’s heritage, but parentage, lingers over the episode’s final quarter. That said, again — death’s a tricky thing in Lovecraft Country. It’s highly doubtful we’ve seen the last of George.