‘Dexter: Resurrection’ Just Leveled Up

Spoilers

This week’s episode of Dexter: Resurrection — the fourth, “Call Me Red” — was written by Alexandra Franklin and Marc Muszynski. Before those two joined the Dexter universe (they also wrote for Original Sin and New Blood), they were writers on Polly Pocket, an animated series about an 11-year-old who shrinks to four inches tall.

I don’t know why I bring that up, except that it’s hilariously discordant. But also because Dexter behaves with a sort of infectious, childlike wonder in this episode. He’s finally finding his people! Granted, that’s not new for Dexter — throughout the series, he seems to find a new kindred spirit every other season. Someone with whom he can share his secrets and urges, someone who gets his love of murder. In New Blood, it was his son, Harrison. But in Resurrection, he’s got a whole passel of new serial-killing friends!

This is the episode that elevates Resurrection from good, old-school Dexter to something approaching greatness. The show has recovered its sense of humor, and while the stunt casting could feel obnoxious, it’s mostly just joyous. Peter Dinklage! Krysten Ritter! Neil Patrick Harris! Uma Thurman! David Dastmalchian! And honestly, my favorite: Eric Stonestreet, who plays something like the Trinity Killer crossed with Ned Flanders — a good family man who occasionally murders people so he can be the best husband and father possible. He’s the Ponytail Killer! And I love that for him.

Dinklage plays Leon Prater, a billionaire venture capitalist who loves to collect things, including, apparently, serial killers. With help from his right hand, Charley (Thurman), he brings together the best killers in the country for dinner parties, show-and-tell, and trophy sharing. He’s not a serial killer himself, just giddy about hanging out with them. He also pays them generously to attend his events, and as long as they behave, the checks keep coming. It’s a win-win! Unless one of the killers gets greedy. Then Prater has to step in. Even serial killers get owned by an oligarch.

As the group fawns over Prater’s collection of murderabilia (Gacy’s clown suit, Dahmer’s fridge), Dexter — still posing as the Dark Passenger killer he offed last week — bonds with his new friends. He feels at home! Seen! Connected! Except the Dark Passenger was a vegetarian, so while everyone else digs into lavish meats, Dexter’s stuck with pan-seared cauliflower and kale scones. Pauvre Dexter.

A shame, then, that Harry’s code requires Dexter to kill other killers, picking them off one by one, starting with the most obnoxious: Neil Patrick Harris’s Tattoo Collector, a guy who murders women with great ink. What a dick. (Even Ritter’s Lady Vengeance can’t stand him.) So the next day, after nearly hooking up with Lady Vengeance, Dexter makes his excuses, tracks down the Tattoo Collector, and — coitus intermurderus — interrupts his next kill to plunge a knife into his chest in his now-familiar murder room. Good times! Neil Patrick Harris is great in his brief turn: a skeevy, serial-killing Barney Stinson with bad hair. So fun.

Not as fun? Dexter’s old Miami colleague Angel Batista is closing in on Harrison. He thinks Harrison has either taken up his father’s legacy or is covering for the Bay Harbor Butcher. Batista confronts him, reminisces about the old days (his sister used to babysit Harrison), and accuses him of killing the hotel date rapist. And because Harrison — unlike his father — has a pesky moral compass, he almost turns himself in. That is, until Dexter finally reveals himself, alive and well, having survived Harrison’s attempted shooting. “Dad?”

I don’t know what it is about this season of Dexter, but it just feels different. Like everyone’s happy to be back. Maybe it’s the dash of empathy Dexter has now — he’s less the monotone sociopath, more a caring father. And also a serial killer. Who says those things are mutually exclusive? Maybe it’s the New York setting. Maybe it’s the return of Harry’s Dark Passenger. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but everything old feels fun again. It’s not just nostalgia. In fact, it’s the opposite: The character feels fresh and alive again. Maybe they should bring in more writers from Polly Pocket to keep the momentum going.