Further Thoughts on Echo

*A few spoilers.*

I liked Echo quite a bit, and when it comes to Deaf representation, the series already has one over on Hawkeye in that Maya’s dialogue is filmed so much better. I really enjoyed Maya’s introduction in Hawkeye, but I kept yelling for the camera to pull back—why put Alaqua Cox in so many close-up shots when a lot of her performance is on her hands? Echo films with way more medium shots, which offers a better showcase for Cox’s work.

Another thing I liked about Maya’s role in Hawkeye is that the show doesn’t ignore the implications of having a Deaf character—Maya doesn’t just magically understand what everyone is saying, and one of the other Track Suits frequently interprets for her. Echo takes this even further, and we see different ways that she communicates. She gestures or use her phone to write notes to someone when ASL isn’t an option, and it’s clear that lipreading doesn’t tell her everything. When Fisk steps in as her surrogate father after her dad is killed, he hires interpreters for their “family dinners,” and later in the series, he pops up with some special technology he’s had developed to interpret for them, superimposing signed images of his speech in Maya’s vision and turning her own signs into spoken words in his earpiece.

But when Maya’s mission to take over Fisk’s operation brings her back home to Oklahoma, we discover that everyone in her family can sign: her late parents in flashbacks, her grandparents, her uncle, and her cousins. Because Maya’s mom was Deaf as well, I get the impression that her grandma probably started the whole thing. When Taloa was young, I imagine that Chula and Skully decided to learn how to sign, so by the time Maya came along, she was born into an already-signing family. And that is huge. 90% of Deaf people are born into hearing families, and so many of those families don't learn their Deaf child's language.

Now, it's true that none of them are especially great at it, but that makes sense to me. I think it’s realistic that some of Skully's lines get really simplistic/stilted, because he can’t remember how to sign a particular sentence more fluently. And when Henry brings in a mortician to help patchy Maya up following an injury, he tries to interpret for her, but there’s a moment when the mortician rattles off some medical jargon and he just shrugs.

And keep in mind, Maya has been living in New York for 20 years. There's no mention of video chats with the family members she was still in touch with, and yeah, the time apart probably contributes to the rustiness. Still, everyone has kept up their signing for literal decades even though Maya wasn't around anymore. Think about the hope inherent in that—none of these family have seen Maya since she was a kid, but they don’t want to stop signing because they’re still waiting for her to come back.

This is in contrast to Fisk, who, again, pays for interpreters and pays for the development of fancy interpreting software. He does care about Maya in his own effed-up way, but that care doesn’t extend to putting in the time to learn how to communicate with her in her language. After all the years she spent under Fisk’s influence, it’s probably a little overwhelming for Maya to come back to Oklahoma and be surrounded by family members who’ve kept up their signing in her long absence.

And I love that, besides the main benefit of being able to build a meaningful relationship with their granddaughter/daughter/niece/cousin, this knowledge helps them out in other ways. Skully covertly rags on Biscuits in front of customers in ASL when he's interfering at the pawn shop. When Fisk’s goons lay a trap for Maya at the skating rink, Henry warns Bonnie off by discreetly signing at his side so they won't notice. And after Bonnie is captured, she pretends to interpret for Maya with Fisk's goons but really communicates with her in secret so they can figure out how they're going to escape. While it’s not quite as dramatic as the family in A Quiet Place, Maya’s family is able to get ahead of a dangerous situation more than once, just because they all know how to sign.

Top Five Imprints: Echo (Dollhouse)

Despite her main-character status, Echo isn’t my favorite of the Dolls.  In part, it’s just hard to match up to actors like the chameleonic Enver Gjokaj, but I think it’s also partly plot.  The ongoing story of Echo’s evolution interests me more than her week-to-week engagements, and I definitely like the character better when the show gives me forward momentum on her plot.  Still, there are some definite imprints to like here.  These are my favorites.  (Some spoilers.)

Taffy

I mentioned this imprint when I reviewed my Sierra Top Five, Eliza Dushku’s version is cool as well.  I like the way she’s somehow cavalier and all business, at the same time.  Her blithe, flirty demeanor initially makes some of her team members (she’s a safe cracker) doubt her abilities.  When it’s time to put up or shut up, though, she works her mad skills with unrufflable aplomb.

Rebecca Mynor

Echo’s first outing as Rebecca, the deceased wife of a client reenacting a memory he didn’t get a chance to make, is brief but memorable.  I enjoy it because a) the client clearly wants his wife as she was, with no alterations, and b) it shows how an imprint can veer from the intended fantasy.  When they’re interrupted by Dollhouse-related complications, Rebecca jumps to the conclusion that it’s due to dirty dealings in the client’s sudden wealth.  Specifically, she’s convinced that it’s “porn money” and spends the rest of the engagement bickering with him about it.  Hee!

Alice

This one’s a bit of a cheat, since it’s more about Echo’s development than the imprint.  Alice is 100% fantasy, a naïve (dumb?) “good girl” for the client to corrupt.  She has no agency, real self, or capabilities; she’s just a plaything for a gross rich boy.  However, over her episode, spurred on by some trigger memories and an experimental drug, she becomes capable and autonomous.  There’s a hint of Echo within her, struggling against her limited design. 

Susan

Another brief one.  First, props to Topher for the idea – a pro bono engagement to mentor a troubled child with an idea of her own best possible future.  Susan is a different sort of imprint for Echo, and really, for the show.  She feels well-realized, insightful and empathetic, with the weight of someone who’s crawled back from incredible hardship.  Just a great job all around.

Terry Karens

Echo’s short stint as deranged, woman-abducting serial killer Terry Karens (suffice to say, the whole thing comes about through a colossal mistake) is a good one.  Dushku captures Terry’s manner, simultaneously repressed and unhinged, well, and the entire scenario is really creative.  I love that, despite the wild impossibility, the women Terry has abducted realize that, somehow, Echo is Terry and compartmentalize the whys so they can deal with the immediate threat.