The most potent aspect of that unraveling is the breakdown of composure as delays and isolation starts to take hold. Gordo's deterioration is a striking and slow-moving emotional wound, this sense that a single room and the endless monotony it provides is leaving him without much to look forward to, especially with Tracy now gone from his life back home. Michael Dorman plays that creeping madness with exceptional power, playing the part much like he does on Amazon's Patriot, where the pain is in his eyes and in his physical performance just as much as it's in the words not said. Ronald Moore's writing digs deep by showing how fragile man can be when cooped up in a just-as-fragile enclosure so far from help. Danielle becomes the ultimate voice of reason throughout, a stabilizing presence compared to Ed's more brash, matter-of-fact approach. Krys Marshall shines through, showing such kindness and compassion with her role, especially so during her conversation with Clayton as communications break down and it brings Danielle a more complex, level-headed view of what Gordo is going through. The idea of placing three people on the moon, and slowly collapsing their hopes and beliefs, is one that For All Mankind uses with great effect where it peppers the episode with the smallest slivers of damage being done upon them, things that have a culminating factor to them. There's no one thing that causes this deterioration, but a culmination. On a lighter note, though, is the acknowledgement of the power of television that runs through the episode. With the opening and The Bob Newhart Show playing a key role, a continuation from For All Mankind Season 1 Episode 6, "Home Again," and how matters only grow worse once the tape is ruined, the episode becomes this large love letter to television.
