Let me be clear about something: I don't care about plausibility in fiction. It's a mug's game to pick every nit, to hold every plot strand up to the unflattering light of reality. Problems arise when writers neglect to provide the ballast needed to keep our attention where it belongs, on the characters and the drama that spins out of their many interactions. Back in November, I wrote about how dangerously detached the series was becoming from these anchors, how the particulars of the third season seemed designed to problem-solve and shock, not to tell a compelling story that could stand on its own. Dana Brody's legitimate anguish was transformed into runaway schlock. Carrie's hospitalization was revealed to be a trick, a scheme devised to bait the audience as much as Iran. Akbari was a nothing, his connection to the 12/12 bombing too convoluted even to consider. By the time Brody commandoed into Iran, the emotional tether that had once kept me riveted to Homeland had snapped completely. When Brody's dangling body went slack, I felt nothing at all.