Last time: The Kurgan turned up, and this author lost her head. Fortunately, this caused absolutely nothing to explode in a blatantly Freudian way.

10. In which various people act like dorks.

As our villain makes himself…comfortable?, we find Brenda in her lab, looking through a microscope. A guy who is clearly some sort of lab tech steps in, delivers traces of metal they found in Fasil’s body, and makes a “really close shave!” joke about the beheading while looking like a complete goob.

This brings up one of the things I love about Highlander: it has a lot of memorable minor characters. (We’ve already seen one of my favorites, the old guy in the flophouse lobby; he’ll be back.) Anonymous Gallows-Humor Forensic Tech Guy is my least favorite by far: It’s probably a tribute to either the writers or the actor that, in the 15 seconds he is onscreen, I just despise him, more than the cop who sexually harasses Brenda, more than the actual villain of the movie, and more than the folks we see in the next Connor flashback, who are some stiff competition.

Brenda, probably thrilled to have policework to do in her actual area of interest, runs some tests on the sword bits. In addition to sending me off to the dictionary to confirm that “absorbance,” so spelled, has a specific scientific meaning, the results intrigue her enough that she returns to the crime scene—a parking deck probably built with huge quantities of rebar and studded with trace metal from all those exploding cars—with a metal detector.

Still, fortune favors the bold main character; the metal detector leads her to a notch in a concrete pillar filled with more traces of Connor’s sword. She extracts them and is almost surprised by Connor, who has come back for the sword he hid. He hides instead, then retrieves his weapon.

Excited about her discovery, Brenda goes to what seems to be her local bar—she’s greeted by name—for a large drink to steady her nerves. Connor turns up, trying to figure out what she knows (being 450 years old doesn’t make you subtle, apparently; he asks if she goes to Madison Square Garden a lot). He also orders a Glenmorangie on the rocks: research suggests ice in Scotch is less of a no-no than I’d supposed, but I did think Connor would have slightly less…mainstream taste in spirits.

He then says “I’d like to walk you home.” That’s not at all creepy from an apparent stalker dressed like Columbo! Still, if you’ve ever seen a movie in your life, you know these two are going to get together—and in fairness, that isn’t even going to be his worst pickup technique: that would be the one that works, later in the film.

Bonus Important Life Lesson I learned from writing this: Don’t do an image search for “ice in Scotch” unless you have an urgent, visceral need to see the entire world supply of whiskey stones all in one go.

 

Next time: Found-Again Friday.

Next time on TCBOM!: Violence!

Previously: It wasn’t exactly Law & Order, y’know?

9. Admittedly, I really liked the armor

As Connor presumably…actually, that’s a good question, since the next time we see him, he’s out of jail with no ill effects after hitting at least two cops. Did he call a lawyer? Does he have a lawyer? Did his poor assistant Rachel have to run over there with bail money?

Anyway, as Connor begins the process that mysteriously ejects him from the police station, a car radio announces the headless-guy news before a tape is put in, and a sneering voice is heard in the land.

Yes, it’s the Kurgan, rolling into the city in one of those enormous cars you see in ’80s movies and blasting his stereo (he has the best song on the soundtrack, in my opinion; I wish it were possible to take this song, load it into a rifle, and shoot “Who Wants To Live Forever” with it). He’s eschewed his old armor for leather punk attire, and not a skull helmet in sight.

I miss Zorro’s horse already.

Like a lot of shy people, I have always entertained a hope that someday I’d be the kind of person about whom people say, “Hey, it’s J.A.! Now we can start the party.” I don’t know if I’ll ever get there personally—probably for reasons encompassing my use of “about whom”—but that’s the feeling I always get when I watch this part of Highlander. Anything can happen on a battlefield, but here in the modern age: Hey, it’s the Kurgan: Now we can start the party!

The Kurgan takes a room at a flophouse, signing in as “Victor Kruger” and flashing money at the desk clerk while looking like a god.

Okay, I’ll admit it: from the moment I first saw this scene and every time since, I have had a very…er…strong reaction to the Kurgan. I can’t put it into words, but I can definitely illustrate it:

Clancy Brown is a handsome actor, but this goes above and beyond that somehow. (Also,  since I noted that Connor at the wrestling match had the facial expression I have at parties, I feel compelled to note that the Kurgan pretty much has my work expression down—kind of a perma-“Oh, for god’s sake.”)

The clerk is sufficiently impressed to offer sleazy concierge services, one of which we’ll see in action in a bit.

What happens when he gets to his room is exactly the sort of thing that drove me to write these posts: a series of things that, taken by a receptive viewer in the right frame of mind, are splendid, and only on repeated viewings do doubts creep in. The first time I saw the Kurgan put together his sword and swing it around, it was unabashedly awesome. About ten viewings later, however…

• Is a some-assembly-required sword really a good idea for fighting? Especially the kind of fighting these guys do? We’re going to see a flashback in which a swordfight causes A TOWER TO FALL DOWN!
• What is the point of some of those exercises he does? Some of them are probably relevant to combat, a few are at least good for coordination, but there are a couple that seem purely in aid of saying, “Look who has really pretty arms! This guy!” Well, noted, movie. Noted back in the flophouse lobby, for that matter.

When he’s done with this display, the door opens and a hooker enters, presumably fresh (er, “fresh”) from the desk clerk. “Hi, I’m Candy,” she says.

“Of course you are,” the Kurgan growls with more or less the same level of better-than-this nihilism I had when muttering in the back of my fifth-grade classroom. Yeah, yeah. You despise humanity. Join the club, Captain Pretty Arms.

In conclusion, I’d like to leave you with this bit of meta-commentary, since I knew writing this post was not going to be my finest moment as a sane human creature:

 

Next time: I scrounge up something for Found-Again Friday. I still can’t believe I watched Mister Frost!

Next time on TCBOM!: I wouldn’t call it a meet-cute…

Last time: Brenda found a sword and demonstrated some basic knowledge of police procedure. Hurrah!

8. Sword and farcery.

After the introduction of Brenda and her discovery of the sword, we move to Connor at the police station, being stared at by Garfield, the cop who was holding a big gun and doing a terrible Dirty Harry impression back when the Highlander was apprehended. Connor stares back, and Garfield begins to blink nervously.

I’m pretty sure this exchange is supposed to signify that Garfield is alarmed at some instinctual level by confrontation with an eldritch entity he can’t understand, but it also works at a level where Garfield is just a giant weasel with a limited supply of intestinal fortitude.

Lt. Moran tries in the most transparent ways possible to get Connor (or rather, Connor’s current identity as Russell Nash, antique dealer) to admit that he might, just maybe, be involved with making the headless Fasil headless. I’ve spent the past year listening to old-time radio mysteries, so I can say with some authority that this part makes detectives played by Jack Webb look like masters of subtlety. What I can’t believe, though, is that Moran has the sword. You know, that million-dollar Toledo Salamanca from last time? To his credit, it has been placed in a plastic bag, but I have serious doubts about whether in another interrogation room someone is, say, waving a Picasso canvas around and yelling at a suspect. Times were hard in the ’80s in the Big Apple, even without a bunch of immortal weirdos running around, but has no one in the NYPD got a camera these guys could borrow?

To add insult to injury, since it’s Fasil’s sword, it very clearly hasn’t beheaded anyone, yet no one thinks to ask Connor if he’s missing anything sharp.

The cops start tossing around theories of the crime, the first of which is that the two men fought over the valuable weapon in an antiques deal gone bad, and Connor/Nash killed Fasil—but not with that sword!—and then left the scene…but not with that sword.

This is where I start to wonder if they are spelling Moran wrong.

Connor, as they say, gives this opinion the consideration it deserves, sarcastically suggesting Fasil did it himself to protest the wrestling match they were both attending. Garfield suggests a sex-crimes angle, because Garfield is a giant weasel, and Connor slugs him. If you’ve spent the last few years reading any urban fantasy or paranormal romance, it seems odd that an immortal would take issue with someone suggesting he was gay now that we as a culture are knee-deep in fictional pansexual vampires, but I suppose that’s the ’80s for you.

There’s a suggestion of super-strength as Connor tosses police around, and every civilian at the station seems to be cheering him on.

 

Next time: I attempt to make it through Mister Frost again for Found-Again Friday.

Next time on TCBOM: The Kurgan enters the 20th century, and I try to control my glee.

 

Last time: Law & Order: Jackasses

7. Enter the nerd.

Now arrested, Connor is presumably dragged off to the police station—and the first time I saw this, it did my heart good, because Highlander: The Series never seemed to spend a lot of time on things like disposing of headless bodies. I had almost begun to assume immortals just dissolved, so the cops finding Fasil and wanting to know what happened was like a little beacon of logic shining out of the movie.

Cut to the crime scene: a headless body (yay!),  a lot of angry people who would like to know why their cars exploded, and the heroine/love interest of the movie, Brenda Wyatt (we can tell she is going to be the love interest because she looks like a cleaned-up version of Connor’s 16th-century girlfriend: the guy seriously has a type). She’s a consultant/crime scene investigator, which is good since the police at the scene are played by Alan “the captain on Police Squad!” North and John “Always put one in the brain!” Polito, who need all the help they can get.

After being harassed by the idiot cops, Brenda starts to look around the scene and finds what everyone else apparently missed: a giant, shiny sword lying around. Admittedly, she is later revealed to be a weapons specialist, but I like to think I’d have noticed that too. There are a lot of things I love about this scene, though: she is obviously excited by her discovery, she uses gloves like a real technician…mostly I like that they have an expert at something, since so far we’ve seen bumbling policemen, charging Scots, Fasil losing his duel, and the Kurgan losing his chance by making a villain speech. She’s a nerd about something, in an era when you didn’t always see that in movies.

Then the following exchange takes place:

Lt. Moran, who cannot parse the words “Toledo Salamanca”: A what?

Brenda: A sword, Frank. A very rare sword.

Moran: Worth much?

Brenda: Only about a million bucks.

Am I crazy for thinking that there would then be some extra care taken with that sword? As we’ll see next week, I totally am.

 

Read the next one: Connor vs. Police Squad.

Next time: Still trying to pick a Found-Again subject for this week.

Next time on TCBOM: Connor vs. the cops. A battle of…wits.