When we last saw Lucky and John Armstrong, they were begrudgingly handing themselves over to the authorities. Similar to John’s own hesitations, we too found ourselves questioning, “Is this really the best move?” Yet, it’s precisely scenarios like these in deceit-laden thrillers such as Apple TV’s Lucky that make us root for the outlaws. After all, watching the supposed villains slip through the cracks is part of the excitement.
This father-daughter team isn’t your typical batch of violent criminals. Instead, they thrive on the art of the swindle. Inside the FBI’s Los Angeles office, we get a deeper dive into their history of deception. Delivered entirely through Timothy Olyphant’s captivating performance, John recounts his first big score—$942 pinched from a charismatic preacher’s coffers. He marveled at the ease with which the preacher himself separated people from their cash. Barely more than a child, John recognized the allure in being swindled. He imparted this knowledge to Lucky, initiating her in the art of the con when she was just seven. For Lucky, this has been her entire existence.
This tumultuous journey has landed Lucky and John in a predicament where they must broker a deal to rid themselves of Billie Rand, the FBI, and the persistent Whittakers, Priscilla and Wayne. Rand demands Lucky orchestrate a meeting to lure in the elusive mastermind. Lucky agrees, perhaps a bit too quickly. There’s an uncanny sense that this surrender might be part of her deeper strategy. “I don’t need to trust her,” she tells John regarding Rand. “I already know her motive.”
The night leading up to the rendezvous, they find themselves housed in a hotel by the FBI, with Rand’s partner, Gates, keeping watch. For John, usually confined behind bars, this is sheer paradise. Lavish Egyptian cotton sheets, unrestricted hot showers, and plush hotel robes, all share the space with his brilliant grifter daughter, whom he trusts will eventually reveal her master plan to him.
Yet, John has it all wrong. What Lucky experienced in her life with Cary—a break from her usual shifty upbringing—was genuine. “I’m ready to find peace, Dad,” she admits, willing to relinquish the money for their liberty. John remains restless, forever the hustler, but Lucky reflects on their years of lawlessness, forever seeking the stability they never knew. “I should have been in school, learning algebra, and having crushes on boys, not running swindles with you!” she says, revealing how she often shielded John from his own rashness. This moment exposes more than intended. Episode 4 revisits Lucky’s original agreement with Rand, the very one shattered when John was jailed.
Lucky will have to convince Priscilla to set up the meet. Neither she nor Whittaker do business over the phone. And their conversation at Priscilla’s Malibu mansion is another insightful moment for Lucky, as we close in on the season finale. The women remark how much each has been known to sacrifice, with Cary as a common link. (Priscilla: “We’ve established we both have a blind spot for lesser men.”) But while she can appreciate Lucky’s wish to get out, she thinks it unrealistic. Even naive. “Wherever you go, there you are,” Priscilla tells Lucky, in whom she sees a bit of her younger self. Maybe advice she never took? “You’re not trying to escape a place, Lucky. You’re not even trying to escape the life. You’re trying to escape who you are.”
The collective DNA of crime is in all of them — it’s wrapped up with family, wrapped up with the grifter’s life. (Also Priscilla: “You’re gonna be me, sooner than you think.”) But in the meantime, the meeting place is set. Lucky is fitted with a buttonhole microphone and given a sham phone, for Whittaker to access the digital wallet. Once that happens, the feds are supposed to swoop in with cuffs and arrests. Rand will nab Priscilla and the elusive Wayne, as well as the skimmed millions. And maybe then, after all that, Lucky and John will be free.
But hey, never trust a crime show to do what it says it’s gonna do; twists and crosses are another thing we love about this genre. As Rand drives Lucky to the meeting point, John is still with Gates back at the hotel, where they hear a noise in the hallway. Come on, FBI guy! Why aren’t you wearing your vest? Gates is drawn out of the room, gets fired on by a decoy scrub, and takes that guy out, but is quickly jumped from behind, shot twice, and killed. Someone is making their own play, separate and apart from the big meet. John watches as the lock is shot out of his hotel room door. Maybe it would’ve been safer to just stay arrested.
Scratch-Offs for Lucky Episode 6 (“Wherever You Go, There You Are”):
- Episode 6 of Lucky features The Kills over the end credits, smartly, given this episode’s themes, with “DNA” off the duo’s 2011 record Blood Pressures.
- “Fiddle games and pigeon drops”: Lucky references these classic cons in her argument with John. In a pigeon drop, a mark hands over cash to the conner, convinced of a (sham) payday that will be even larger. And a fiddle game? Well, if you ask us, that’s what prediction markets should probably be called.
- John Armstrong had a nice moment with Gates, before all the violence. Con “artist”? That ain’t him. He’s just a con man, a tradesman, “nothing spiritual about it, no inspiration.” Art would imply creation, and John Armstrong doesn’t create shit. “It’s just nature. Survival.” Too bad he couldn’t con his attackers into keeping Gates alive.
Johnny Loftus (@johnnyloftus.bsky.social) is a Chicago-based writer. A veteran of the alternative weekly trenches, his work has also appeared in Entertainment Weekly, Pitchfork, The All Music Guide, and The Village Voice.