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B+
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A-
We get a nice sampling of old ER moments before the new episode starts. We're reminded that Abby is an alcoholic who's been sober for five years, and that she was around when schizophrenic Paul Sobriki terrorized the hospital, stabbed Carter, and killed Lucy. Finally, Abby confessed to her mom, Sally Field, that she'd had an abortion and never told her then-husband, Richard.
It's minus-29 degrees in Chicago -- so, just another spring morning. Abby "The Twelve Steps of Post-Christmas Letdown" Lockhart is lying in what looks like the coziest, warmest bed ever. My bed-envy radar is bleeping like an episode of The Jerry Springer Show. Through the wall, she can hear the couple upstairs -- at least, I think they're upstairs -- bickering loudly. The husband seems to think his wife is a bitch of some sort, so she throws in his face that she's paying for his education right now and that he treats her more like a slave than as an equal partner. He would prefer it if she'd kindly wait five minutes each morning before unleashing her inner hellcat, and she requests that he seal his baconhole for two seconds. You've heard this love story before. The prattle doesn't matter; what does is that Abby looks tired and a mite haggard rolling out of bed, as though she's used to waking up to this particular verse of "Shut Up, You Fucking Bitch (This Fork Ain't Just for Eatin')" and isn't overjoyed to know all the words. "Both of you shut up," she mumbles. The phone rings, and she ignores it until Sally Field's shrill voice fills the air. "Hello, Abby? Are you there?" she asks. "Abby? I thought I'd catch you before your shift." She's calling to wish Abby a happy birthday. Smiling as much as she ever does, Abby picks up the phone to thank her mother for remembering. She seems genuinely pleased.
Across town, or so I presume because it's an easy transition, Sandy Lopez puts the kettle on and rushes back to bed. Evidently it's cold, a problem that could be solved by eschewing her tank top and boxers and investing in some righteous flannel pajamas. Sandy snuggles up against a lump. The lump jumps. It's Kerry "Cold as Ice" Weaver, shocked by her lover's chilly feet. They spoon, Sandy cupping Kerry and giggling that Kerry snores really loudly. Laughing, Kerry protests innocence, and the mock argument devolves into a flirtatious pillow fight and tickle session. They retreat under the covers.
Given that Sandy has just exposited that it's 7:30 AM, it seems weird that John "Too Low for Zero" Carter is now wheeling Gamma inside her house. Apparently she's an early riser and she lives on the edge by tempting frostbite at every turn. Carter informs her that he's hired a nurse to take care of her; Gamma, put off, insists that her half-dozen servants could amply do the job. "If it gets any colder, I'm wintering in The Bahamas...alone," Gamma says pointedly. Suddenly, the thermometer plummets below minus-40. The world's coldest wind blows down the stairs, and her name is Eleanor "Mary McDonnell" Carter. Gamma reads my recap. "Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?" she mutters, underscoring my point. Apparently, Eleanor didn't notify anyone of her plan to visit, and claims she's there to help out with Gamma's recovery. "How are you feeling, Millicent?" she asks, coldly. "I've been better," Gamma says, eyeing her suspiciously. The Ice Queen exposits that her husband, Stephen Keaton -- or "Jack Carter," if you prefer -- is stuck in Kansas City on an extended business trip. Carter blinks hard. "We missed the pleasure of your company at Christmas," Gamma lies. "You know how the holidays can be," Eleanor frosts, her smile never quite reaching her empty eyes. Carter is also shocked to learn that Eleanor, who has always preferred staying in hotels, will deign to sleep at the manor. "It is freezing in here," Gamma crabs quietly.
“ 'It's good to see you,' Eleanor says casually, pecking Carter almost imperceptibly and leaving a perfect icicle on his cheek. ”
A pretty, low-key redhead stands on the ground floor of Abby's building, her grouchy husband sitting on the steps. He's played by Matthew Settle, a.k.a. smoldering Lt. Speirs on Band of Brothers. He's got shaggier hair and sports a knit cap, but there's definitely some smoking embers in there, hinting at the hottie within. He condescendingly grills his wife about all the things she probably did to mess up the car, but she swears she checked everything. "Did you leave the lights on again?" he accuses her. "No, I didn't," she answers patiently. "You probably did," he sighs. Abby appears, clearly uncomfortable at having to pass the couple whose domestic unrest she knows quite intimately. Matthew asks her for jumper cables, but Abby takes the El and isn't equipped with them. He angrily snatches the keys from his wife and lopes outside. Brushing aside his rudeness, the woman eagerly introduces herself to Abby as Joyce, saying that she and her husband just moved to Chicago from Virginia; she excuses him by claiming he's "not a morning person." And from what we've heard before, he's not a night person, either. I guess the afternoon is when he really comes into his own. Joyce is white as snow, and Matthew's aura is a lot darker, so that helps us unravel the tricky good vs. evil equation in this relationship. Joyce notes that they're in 205, which is apparently right to Abby, although when we heard them fighting before, we saw that they live upstairs. "I guess we're neighbors," Joyce says happily. "Just a wall between us," Abby says wryly, trying to leave. Joyce offers her a ride to work. "It's really cold out there," she warns. Abby declines politely. Just then, Matthew enters and barks that, of course, Joyce flooded the engine. She shoots Abby an "Oops, color me embarrassed!" look. "Welcome to Chicago," Abby says, fleeing outside. Once there, when the full weight of the chill wallops her in the chest, she curses, "SON of a BITCH!" and takes off toward the El station.
Carter trots downstairs and catches The Big Chill donning her coat and wrap. He assumes she's leaving, but it turns out she's filling Gamma's place at a Pediatric Cancer Society function. "She wasn't planning on going," Carter says. "She just does that for effect." Well, then Gamma is a bitch. Seriously, why else would she promise to attend stuff and then bail? For sport? Eleanor flatly states that the society actually seemed to expect Gamma's presence, so she's happy to substitute. She makes a remark about seeing Carter that night, and he's astounded that his mother will be staying. "Unless I'm not welcome," she prods coldly. Carter, aware that his parents are divorcing, wonders if she's just covering for his father, who by the last report was in Denver, not Kansas City. Suddenly, he realizes that his mother thought Stephen would still be there; she claims they left things "open-ended" and seems a tad unnerved that Carter knows about the divorce. "It's good to see you," she says casually, pecking him almost imperceptibly and leaving a perfect icicle on Carter's cheek. She leaves him speechless.
Beyond Repair
“ Mary McDonnell isn't doing a very good job. Her way of playing a closed-off patrician matriarch is to enunciate too much and restrict her speech to a monotone. It's so grating it could shred cheddar. ”
Carter follows his frosty mom. "What are you doing?" he asks. "You show up uninvited..." "Uninvited?" Eleanor bristles. "...And now you're making health-care decisions?" Carter rants. Frosty the Snowman plays it off like she was just being an obedient daughter-in-law, heeding Gamma's wishes, but Carter isn't having it and basically implies she's useless. Chilly O'Frigid sits down and self-righteously says she's suffered through enough abuse at the hands of Gamma -- she doesn't need her son to turn on her, too. A heated Carter burns the Ice Queen by explaining rather angrily that HE is the authority on Gamma's situation, and all decisions pass through him. To be contrary, he's calling to demand that the nurse return. "I'm not leaving this house," the ice sculpture swears. "I don't care if I'm uninvited. I'm not going to let your father break up this family." Mary McDonnell isn't doing a very good job. Her way of playing a closed-off patrician matriarch is to enunciate too much and restrict her speech to a monotone. It's so grating it could shred cheddar. Carter, half out of the room by then, turns right back around to challenge his mother's fairly revisionist take on the family history. "You checked out of this family twenty years ago," he snarls. "I refuse to let you [spin] this with you as the injured party!" Queen Zero Degrees tries to sweep past him to her bedroom, but Carter grabs her to block her exit. She's either trying to keep a stiff upper lip, or it's just frozen that way after years of being the coldest woman alive. "Step aside," she hisses. "No! I got stabbed!" Carter yells, shoving her backward so she'll stay and confront this. "Where the hell were you? Same place you've been my entire life -- someplace else." She gulps and stammers that they got stuck in Tokyo, and Carter claimed he was fine. "Well I wasn't fine," Carter says. "It wasn't okay." She can't look at him, gritting her teeth and asking if he's trying to blame her for his drug problem. "I'm blaming you for not being my mother!" Carter shouts sadly. "Bobby died and I lost a mother." Bobby, his brother, died when both boys were young. Eleanor spaces out, trying to catch her breath. Her lips tremble and her eyes are liquid. Finally, some decent acting from her. "May I go to bed now?" she whispers, haltingly. Carter sets his jaw bitterly and lets her pass, glaring at her back. He sits down hard and sighs, wounded. "Yeah," he mutters. "Run away."
Abby staggers toward her apartment building and tries to let herself in, but the door sticks from the cold. Fortunately for her, Joyce is loitering in the lobby and opens it from the inside. "I'm guessing it's going to stay cold for a while," she says. "I warned [Matthew] that January wasn't the best time to move, but that's when his semester starts. He's in law school." From what I understand, Virginia winters aren't a picnic either. It's not like they should be unfamiliar with seasons. Abby asks if Joyce is locked out. "Fight," Joyce smiles ruefully. She went to the store and picked up some beer to pass the time, figuring that he'll be asleep in half an hour. She and Abby make small talk -- Abby's from Minnesota, Joyce is from Idaho, "the potato part, not the white-supremacist part." Wow, someone's been aching to shit on Idaho. Unless, as punch lines go, Idaho is this year's Kentucky. Joyce offers Abby a beer. "You look like you've had a long day," she says. Abby seems grateful for this, the only modicum of sympathy she's received all day. She screeches her wagon to a halt, parks in front of a hydrant, and accepts the beer, sitting on a step and taking a very nervous sip. Joyce catches sight of a birthday card in Abby's mail pile and toasts that she made it through another year. Abby laughs wryly and clinks bottlenecks with Joyce as AAA arrives and tows away her illegally parked wagon.