Martin is in New York filming this random murder-titled show, which also stars Selena Gomez and Steve Martin. I assume, therefore, he is not playing a wizard. Or the devil. But he should be. This person SHOULD be a dapper, batty department-store stylist whom you suddenly want to tell all your secrets, and he twinkles a few of them into existence. Or, arguably better, a charismatic overlord of the underworld who sweet-talks you into minor spiritual concessions in exchange for what seem like trifling-but-welcome life advantages, which eventually stack up so high that they rot you from within, while his hair thickens with every piece of you that symbolically crumbles.
Here, he has clearly just explained to Steve Martin that if he’d like Thomas Keller to be his personal chef, that’s fine, but he’ll have to deliver the contents of that bag to an emotionally fragile old lady, with no questions asked and no peeking. As he leaves, he sees in his mind’s eye that in an hour Steve will leave the bag on the counter and his girlfriend will open it. Martin is not happy. Arrangements will have be made. But that’s the next episode.