The Foundry

Everything about this episode bugs me because it is put together well enough to hold your attention but it is so obvious where it goes that it has no spark. It is another ghost story when the boys fall for a red herring. Mary has trouble to adjusting to computers and modern hunting techniques. There's some tension among the family that they can't put into words!

There are worst episodes in this season but this is a the perfect example of why this is such a weak season.

"The Foundry," the third episode of Supernatural's twelfth season, directed by Robert Singer and written by Robert Berens, is a deft blend of classic ghost-hunting chills and poignant family drama, marking a significant turning point for the Winchester family dynamic. The episode opens with a chilling prologue: a couple is lured to their deaths in an abandoned Minnesota house by the sound of a crying baby, only to be found frozen and lifeless. This urban-legend-inspired setup immediately reestablishes Supernatural's horror roots, with the use of a creepy doll and the motif of children's spirits amplifying the unsettling atmosphere.

The central plot follows Mary Winchester, still struggling to adjust to her resurrection and the modern world, as she insists on taking the lead in investigating the mysterious deaths. Her determination unsettles Sam and Dean, who worry she's using hunting to avoid processing her trauma. The investigation quickly reveals that several children have died in the house over the years, their spirits trapped by the vengeful ghost of a father who killed himself after losing his daughter. Mary's empathy for the children and her instincts as a hunter shine through, but her decision to act alone nearly proves fatal when she is possessed by the father's ghost and attacks Dean. The resolution comes as Sam burns the ghost's remains, freeing Mary and the trapped children's spirits in a sequence that is both suspenseful and emotionally charged.

Parallel to the main storyline, the episode features a comedic and surprisingly effective "buddy-cop" subplot with Castiel and Crowley. The unlikely duo teams up to track down Lucifer, who is now inhabiting the body of rock star Vince Vicente. Their dynamic is laced with humor-Castiel's awkward attempts at undercover work, including the infamous "Agent Beyoncé" alias, provide levity, though some critics felt the comedic riffs were at times tonally jarring compared to the main plot's gravity. The subplot culminates with Rowena outsmarting Lucifer, casting a spell that sends him to the bottom of the ocean and temporarily neutralizing his threat. This arc not only advances the season's ongoing Lucifer storyline but also showcases the growing competence and agency of supporting characters like Rowena.

What truly elevates "The Foundry" is its exploration of Mary's psychological turmoil and her impact on her sons. The script draws subtle parallels between Mary and Dean, highlighting shared traits such as their stoicism, love of classic rock, and difficulty expressing vulnerability. Scenes like Mary jamming to music in the Impala or bonding over bacon and jerky with Dean are both endearing and bittersweet, as they underscore the family's attempts to reclaim lost time. Yet, the emotional core of the episode is Mary's realization that she cannot simply pick up where she left off. In the episode's devastating final moments, Mary confesses that she is mourning not just John, but also the little boys she once knew, and that she needs to leave to process her grief. Dean's reaction-a mix of pain, shock, and emotional shutdown-is powerfully understated, while Sam's empathetic support for his mother is equally moving.

The episode's direction and cinematography reinforce its themes of isolation and longing. The haunted house is rendered with atmospheric lighting and claustrophobic framing, heightening the sense of threat and loss. The editing maintains a brisk pace, effectively balancing the tension of the ghost hunt with the quieter, more introspective family moments. The use of flashbacks and hallucinations-particularly Mary's vision after being touched by the ghost child-adds a layer of ambiguity, inviting viewers to consider whether her connection to the supernatural is deeper due to her time spent dead.

Performance-wise, Samantha Smith delivers a standout turn as Mary, capturing the character's blend of strength, confusion, and sorrow. Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki are equally strong, their portrayals of Dean and Sam reflecting the brothers' evolving responses to their mother's return: Dean's anger and sense of betrayal contrast with Sam's compassion and understanding. Misha Collins and Mark Sheppard provide comic relief without undermining the episode's emotional stakes, and Rick Springfield's Lucifer continues to bring a fresh energy to the season's overarching threat.

Critics generally praised "The Foundry" for its return to Supernatural's roots, blending a classic ghost story with meaningful character development. The case-of-the-week format allowed for a self-contained narrative that still advanced the season's larger arcs, particularly the emotional fallout of Mary's resurrection and the ongoing hunt for Lucifer. Some reviewers noted that the monster plot itself was somewhat formulaic, and that the comedic elements in the Castiel-Crowley subplot occasionally disrupted the episode's tone. However, these minor flaws were outweighed by the strength of the performances and the emotional resonance of the Winchester family drama.

Culturally, the episode continues Supernatural's tradition of using supernatural threats as metaphors for real-world grief and alienation. Mary's struggle to fit into a world that has moved on without her echoes broader themes of loss, change, and the difficulty of reconnecting with family after trauma. The episode's willingness to let its characters sit with pain, rather than rushing to resolution, demonstrates a maturity that has come to define the series in its later seasons.

In conclusion, "The Foundry" is a standout episode that balances classic horror, dark humor, and emotional depth. Its exploration of Mary Winchester's grief and the shifting family dynamic grounds the supernatural in genuine human experience, while the ghost-hunting plot provides suspense and nostalgia for longtime fans. By the end, the Winchesters are left more fractured than ever, setting the stage for a season that promises both introspection and new threats. The episode's lasting impact lies in its refusal to offer easy answers, instead inviting viewers to reflect on the complexities of family, loss, and the search for belonging.

Cass and Crowley were a bit fun i suppose. It's a typical ghost hunting. Mary's intentions seem well conbeyed... I just don't care for it. This Lucifer dance is also getting old.

So Mary Winchester gets brought back from the dead by The Darkness, and almost immediately she is complaining about being alive. Her happiness at seeing her two sons lasted about five seconds, because they were not the children she remembered. Now they were a couple of thirty year old alcoholics.

Another oddity is that Mary was under 30 years old when she died, yet she comes back way into middle age. How do you get old and wrinkled if you died young??

Instead of taking off on a cruise with Mom, or a trip to Europe, Asia, or Alaska to have fun and spend quality time with Mom, they hand her a flashlight and a cellphone and start hunting critters. Mom is not familiar with computers and the internet, so her sons look at her like she is a loser.

Generally, Mom and her kids have less than zero chemistry, and I have to wonder who picked the actress that plays Mary Winchester? She looks dreary, depressed, and miserable in every episode that she ever appeared in. What a drag.

So it is no surprise when Mom tells her kids that she is moving on, because she needs "space and time," to get over the fact that she cannot stand to be around her two sons, and keeps hoping that she was dead again. Good times, sadly scripted by really bad writers.