This episode of The Hitchhiker is what happens when someone tries to write a cautionary tale about the dangers of fame, identity, and fantasy… after doing shots of whiskey and reading a Sylvia Plath poem through a rearview mirror. It’s called “My Enemy,” but frankly, the real enemy might be the script, or maybe the wig department. Still, it stars Joan Severance, which means you’re at least going to enjoy looking at your TV—even if you’re not quite sure what’s going on in front of it.
So here’s the plot: Joan plays a successful actress, the kind that stares off into mirrors with a cocktail and mutters things like, “I don’t know who I am anymore,” while wearing $500 worth of silk and dead inside. Tired of her cushy, glamorous life—and possibly suffering from an undiagnosed case of soap opera fatigue—she decides to hit the eject button and reinvent herself. But instead of starting a pottery studio in Santa Fe like a sane person, she checks into a motel, gives a fake name, and starts pretending she’s just your average, mysterious woman with cheekbones sharp enough to slice ham.
At first, she’s loving it—low-rent motels, diners with bad coffee, conversations with strangers who don’t recognize her. It’s all so real, you know? So gritty. But this is The Hitchhiker, so things are going to get dark—and fast.
She meets a man (Ron Lea), who may or may not be dangerous. Or maybe she’s the dangerous one now. Or maybe the real danger is what happens when you forget who you are and start believing the lie you made up over a martini and a midlife crisis. Whatever the case, the second half of the episode descends into the familiar surreal murk that this show loves: dim lighting, suspicious glances, conversations that sound like rejected monologues from a community theater noir, and one of those slow-burn reveals where you realize—oh crap—our poor Joan has painted herself into a psychological corner.
The twist? She gets trapped in the identity she created. It’s not a game anymore. Her fake name starts becoming her real life. The escape she sought becomes a prison. She’s no longer pretending. She’s just… gone.
It’s a neat idea, but like a martini with too much vermouth, the execution waters it down. The pacing is uneven—meandering in the first half and then rushing to the finish like it suddenly remembered it only had 26 minutes of airtime. And while Joan Severance brings her usual icy allure and magnetic presence (seriously, the woman could read a weather report and still make you question your life choices), the script gives her little to do besides look confused, sexy, and then just sad.
As for the production? It’s pure Hitchhiker aesthetics: neon lights bleeding through motel blinds, saxophone licks mourning their own existence, and The Hitchhiker himself (Page Fletcher) skulking around like Rod Serling’s divorced cousin with a gambling problem, whispering something about how “truth wears many masks” or whatever pseudo-philosophical line they handed him that week.
Final Verdict:
“My Enemy” is a stylish but shallow cautionary tale. It flirts with existential dread, dips a toe into identity crisis territory, but never quite delivers the full punch. You get the feeling it wanted to say something about fame, reinvention, or the masks we wear—but it got distracted by Joan Severance’s lipstick and forgot to land the plane.
2.5 out of 5 stars.
One star for Joan looking fantastic in existential despair, one for the decent (if overcooked) twist, and a half star for the motel décor, which looked like it might’ve doubled as a murder scene in a different HBO show. Not terrible, but you won’t remember it by morning—just like the fake name on Joan’s motel check-in slip.
