'The Americans': Out from the Cold War

There are plenty of Me Decade flourishes during "The Americans" premiere, from its clunky muscle cars to the requisite unflattering fashions. But unlike almost every recent series that's staged the 1980s' joie de vivre, there's a welcome absence of perma-brightness. If anything, the material possessions in tonight's episode are a nice visual contrast to the serious thematic business at hand, underscoring the tension between Elizabeth's homesickness and Philip's (Rhys) increasing urges to assimilate. "Pilot" doesn't excite all throughout, but it definitely excels at recasting the neon '80s as a real moment in global history, not simply the canvas for Brett Easton Ellis novels.

We love New Wave, or any other genre that grew out of punk's jagged discontent and softened it with synthesized melodies. But often, when depicting the Reagan era, directors forget that artists besides Flock of Seagulls and New Order were releasing hit albums. Not Mr. Weisberg. The unmistakable opening rumble of Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk" sets the tone as Philip and a fellow spy hide out by an alley, waiting to kidnap an infamous defector. The song's surreal measures and paranoid marching-band rhythms chase Elizabeth and Philip down late-night D.C. streets as they race to get their hostage to a ship that's bound for the homeland. It's an inspired selection, and brings to mind some of Paul Thomas Anderson's subversive musical choices in "Boogie Nights." It's another promising example of how Weisberg intends to undermine lazy '80s period recreation and startle us into the decade's reality. Good times.

Need a familiar, sort-of handsome but not implausibly debonair man in his 40s to embody high-level law enforcement or similarly authoritative figures? Then star of big and small screens, Noah Emmerich, is your veteran actor. Of late, the "Little Children"/"Truman Show" supporting player has been rather busy on TV, popping up as a guest in "White Collar" and "The Walking Dead." With "The Americans," he's finally plunged into series-regular territory. What do all three of these gigs have in common for the Divine Mr. Emm? He's either played an FBI agent or high-ranking CDC official. Why the slight typecasting? Because he's Noah Emmerich, goddamnit. Also because he's really good at being duplicitous, which comes in handy when, say, trespassing in your new neighbors' garages to confirm they're not KGB hours after charming them with congenial small talk. Or so we hear.