At a turning point in season three of The Americans (and a turning point for the entire series), Paige Jennings (Holly Taylor) learns the truth about her parents: They’re KGB spies posing as American citizens. Like nearly ever major event on the show, this is a crisis that was long coming, and yet still manages to arrive as a surprise. After weeks of arguing over their daughter’s future, Elizabeth and Philip Jennings (Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys) come home to find at least some part of the decision has been taken out of their hands. Paige is old enough to start asking questions and demanding answers, and, with great reluctance and care, her parents try to give her what she wants.
Unfortunately, what Paige wants, and what she needs, aren’t necessarily compatible. The Americans is a routinely grim, resolutely tragic series, and one of the core engines that drives its impeccably crafted misery is the understanding that no matter how many wigs the Jennings might don, they can never truly separate their lives from their work. Paige requires the truth, but, being a teenager, she expects that truth to be available in clear, distinct lines, when reality is a lot more complicated. Every subterfuge carefully constructed to provide the Jennings with the cover they need to do their jobs becomes an agonizing betrayal. In one scene, Elizabeth tries to heal some of the damage by telling Paige a story about her real grandmother. Paige listens to her mother explain, and then says, “How can I believe anything you say?”
The scene ends right after the question, because there is no answer. Trust is an essential part of how the Jennings go about their business, using and manipulating the needs of other people to create relationships that can then be exploited for ulterior means. And both Elizabeth and Philip are experts at their work, even if their efforts cost them dearly. While The Americans’ gray skies and no-real-winners approach to spycraft gives the series an illusion of realism, the consistently high-quality expertise of its protagonists pokes holes in that illusion. It’s doubtful real-life agents are quite so adept at, well, everything. But that exaggerated expertise is essential for the series’ exquisite sense of tension, and for making sure each character is perpetually on the verge of catastrophe.
It also makes for a startlingly effective metaphor of the tempestuous sparring between teenagers and parents. For much of the first half of the third season, the debate was centered between Philip and Elizabeth, with Philip wanting to protect Paige from knowing too much, and Elizabeth wanting to make Paige a part of their “real” lives. With Frank Langella as their new handler, manipulating from the sidelines under the guise of calm, reasonable authority, the fight played out much like any mother and father arguing over the future of their children. What’s striking is how such a familiar issue lends itself to the tactics the two spies were already using outside the home. Operating with the best of intentions, Elizabeth and Philip treat their daughter like a potential asset, pitting themselves against one another as they try to manipulate her for her own good.