‘Ozark’s “Sanctified” Is an Audio Masterpiece

Heading into the midseason finale of Ozark Season 4, it was clear that “Sanctified” was going to be good. How could it not be? With the head of the Navarro Cartel finally negotiating his freedom with the FBI, this was the chapter Ozark has been building to for years. Yet not even those high expectations could prepare viewers for how vulnerable, delicate, and inspired director Robin Wright‘s second episode was. “Sanctified” is an exercise in absence — the absence of expected conversations, visuals, and sound itself. In the cracks of that silence rests one of the most devastating episodes in Ozark‘s history. Spoilers ahead.

From its very first moments, “Sanctified” makes it clear that this installment is different. The episode starts with a flashback as Marty (Jason Bateman) visits a ghost from his past: Bruce Liddell (Josh Randall). Before Bruce infuriated the Navarro Cartel, roped Marty into this madness, and fell to his death out of a Chicago window, Bruce convinced Marty to go in on an office building with him. As Bruce tries to convince Marty to buy, the camera switches to modern day Marty getting ready, the voice of his dead friend eerily punctuating his movements as he rolls up his sleeves. Now fully back to present day, Marty negotiates the purchase of another office building with another man named Bruce. There’s no soulful sigh on Marty’s end as he does the deal and certainly no on-the-nose dialogue like “I miss him.” There’s just a man going about his day with the voice of his dead friend lingering in his ear.

“Sanctified” is full of brilliant audio moments like that one. After learning that the FBI will take over their role in the Navarro Cartel, Marty and Wendy (Laura Linney) lay down on a raised podium covered in worn Christmas decorations. Without looking at each other, they hold hands as Marty sighs. For once they’ve found a moment of peace, and the camera gives us the same privilege. It’s a lasting, quiet shot that feels like the show itself is releasing a breath it didn’t know it was holding. Later, when Omar Navarro (Felix Solis) is captured by the authorities thanks to Agent Miller’s (Jessica Frances Dukes) double crossing, the sound is muffled, a choice that communicates his absolute shock. Even Agent Miller’s choice is marked by absence. Though we see her frustration with her bosses, Ozark never shows us the moment when she decides to throw her entire career away to follow her morals and arrest Navarro, shielding this wholly good moment away from its narrative about bad guys. Still later, Javi Elizonndro’s (Alfonso Herrera) acceptance of the deal the FBI once brought his uncle is played alongside Darlene (Lis Emery) and Wyatt’s (Charlie Tahan) wedding. As Javi says “We do” to the FBI, Wyatt says “I do” to Darlene. In this moment, they are the same, two cursed men who are destined to be destroyed by the vows they just took.

Each of these moments speaks volumes while hardly using any words. Silence is the home of Marty and Wendy’s relief after what feels like a lifetime of being on the run. It communicates Omar’s raw anger paired with his sinking sense of disappointment that he was right after all. The U.S. government cannot be trusted. Silence holds Javi and Wyatt’s blind hope, two men who know better than to take these oaths and yet took them anyway; because what if they’re wrong? But more than anything else, what the silence in “Sanctified” does is teach us, the viewer, to expect more in the presence of less. Each of these small moments ask us to imagine the dozens of unexpressed emotions hiding in this calculated absence. That subconscious training is what makes what comes next so powerful.

When Ruth (Julia Garner) finds Darlene and Wyatt’s murdered bodies, the camera never shows us the gore. In fact, the episode barely lets us hear Ruth’s increasingly panicked calls or baby Zeke’s crying. Instead, it drowns her cries in Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans’ jarring score. The next moments happen in near silence as Ruth drives to the Byrde household. There are glimpses of intimacy in these moments. The music that pounds throughout Ruth’s drive has a frantic rhythm that imitates a heart beating far too fast. Similarly, we are given a shot of a tear-stained Ruth before she makes a call to Frank Cosgrove Jr. (Joseph Sikora). But more than anything, what these quiet driving scenes communicate is an almost polite distance akin to how you may treat a close friend who has just lost a loved one.

It’s a brilliant move because it’s one that perfectly understands our relationship with Ruth. We knew Ruth when she was little more than her last name and a sour reputation with the law. We’ve seen her fight, scheme, and elbow her way to become Marty’s righthand woman. We’ve seen her lose her father and lover. And, most importantly of all, we’ve seen the extremes she’s undergone to make life better for her beloved cousin, Wyatt. We’ve seen her bury bodies, plan murders, and sacrifice her own body all for a chance to give Wyatt a future. And now he’s gone.

It’s a masterpiece of a collaboration, one that perfectly marries Robin Wright’s powerful direction with Miki Johnson’s devastating script and Garner’s award-worthy performance. All of the subtle audio tinkering that happens throughout “Sanctified” leads to these final minutes of Ruth in her truck. Wright and Garner both understood that in this moment, glimpses of Ruth’s wet eyes, her quivering lips, and one silenced scream were more than enough. Four seasons in, we know Ruth as intimately as we know some of our own friends. She never needed to prove her pain with long, theatrical sobs. Ozark understands that as well as whatever pain we may imagine for her will be far more shattering than anything that can be captured on screen.

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