An unwritten rule in prestige television suggests that the second-to-last episode is for chaos, while the finale serves as the resolution. This holds especially true for limited series or those with uncertain renewals. Brad Ingelsby’s Emmy-nominated HBO drama “Task” embodies this principle, exploring the complexities of revenge and forgiveness.
The show’s sixth episode, “Out Beyond Ideas of Wrongdoing and Rightdoing, There Is a River,” was laden with unexpected deaths and plot twists, whereas the seventh episode, “A Still Small Voice,” adopts a more subdued tone. While it still features violence and excitement, these scenes primarily serve to resolve lingering storylines. The crucial moments in this quieter episode focus on dialogue rather than action. Following its renewal for a second season, the series transitions from a limited series to an ongoing drama, paving the way for fresh narratives and deeper character exploration.
A key moment in the episode is a monologue by Mark Ruffalo, earning him an Emmy nomination for lead actor. Ruffalo portrays Tom Brandis, a former priest leading an FBI task force investigating a series of murders and drug deals, along with an impromptu kidnapping, in Pennsylvania’s Delaware County. Amidst a complex investigation involving corrupt officials and child welfare issues, Tom’s personal life is in turmoil. His adopted son, Ethan (played by Andrew Russel), is incarcerated for the murder of Tom’s wife, Susan (Mireille Enos). Tom must grapple with whether to forgive Ethan, who acted due to his disruptive mood dysregulation disorder, and seek a reduced sentence or ensure he faces life imprisonment.
Brad Ingelsby, nominated for his writing on this episode, along with picture editors Keiko Deguchi and Amy E. Duddleston, and director Jeremiah Zagar, who captures Tom’s internal conflict, enrich the narrative. Zagar uses various camera angles to highlight Tom’s discomfort and guilt, portraying the weight of his decision.
Filming this pivotal scene took a full day. Ingelsby acknowledges the extended time for a monologue but aimed to ensure the words resonated as the story’s core. Despite Ingelsby’s anxiety about capturing the right tone, Ruffalo completed the monologue in just two or three takes. The filming began with close-ups, moving to wider shots, though the final edit favored the emotional impact of the tighter shots.
This approach emphasized the unpredictability of the situation for both Tom’s children in the courtroom and the audience. By the end of the monologue, Tom tearfully chooses to exonerate his son, if not fully forgive him, believing it aligns with his late wife’s wishes. He refuses to let Ethan’s uncontrollable actions define his future.
Ingelsby explains that introducing harsh realities early in the monologue was crucial for an impactful ending. “If we allow those things to lead, then I felt like the audience would feel like this is coming from an honest place. So, when we transition into the joy section, it also felt like it was honest,” he says.
Tom, once a priest, embodies a figure traditionally seen as infallible. Ingelsby drew inspiration from conversations with his uncle, also a former priest, who often cited philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel: “We are closer to God when we are asking questions than when we think we have the answers.”
Ingelsby describes Tom as a consoling figure with the right words at the right time, yet when facing his crisis, he is lost. Before writing the scene, Ingelsby informed Ruffalo that his character’s journey would culminate in this speech. The original draft was three pages long, but after revisions, it became a poignant monologue reflecting the difficulties of caring for someone with a mental disorder. Tom recounts the embarrassment of wearing a nametag at Ethan’s school and the exhausting weekends spent anticipating Ethan’s moods, capturing the family’s love and struggles.
“I really wanted to make it honest, and the way to make it honest is to lead with just how hard it was and then have a turn in the middle where he says there’s also a lot of joy,” Ingelsby notes.
Ingelsby’s interest in portraying families facing mental health challenges is not new. His other Emmy-winning HBO series, “Mare of Easttown,” also explores similar themes. Ingelsby’s personal experiences with his own son led him to research these topics, finding empathy in online forums with parents sharing their challenges.
“In all the testimonies that I was reading, I could see how torturous that could be. How there’s moments of love and joy, but then exhaustion and throwing your hands up,” he reflects. “We don’t get to hear about those people … I’m just interested in being able to use this medium to tell a story about a group of people that often aren’t illuminated in that way and do it with a lot of empathy and care.”
