Reunion

Welcome to this week's recap of Alias and a brand new tradition. Instead of firing up a few hundred martinis, I've decided to start a trend that I'm hoping I can continue throughout the rest of the season.

Ten Things I've Learned Since Watching Alias:

• If your plot sucks, blow shit up with CGI effects.
• If your story sucks, make major characters go after each other like bitches in heat.
• Secondary characters rule.
• Primary characters take on characteristics that make the viewing public want to KILL THEM.
• Getting drunk on tequila does NOT elicit huge hangovers.
• When in doubt, make stuff so confusing and convoluted that no one in their RIGHT MIND will be able to figure it out, nor will they care.
• Removing all interesting tertiary characters who might, on the off chance, make people care what is happening on your show is, apparently, a good thing.
• No one likes Mrs. Vaughn.
• Marshall is a spazz.
• Vaughn has no dick.

And in case you missed it in the opening paragraph, I AM SOBER. I watched this whole mess DEAD SOBER. I am SOBER while recapping. No, I'm not in AA, I'm just out of liquor. And Julio's on strike. Or on vacation. Or something. Ethan? I kicked him to the curb when I discovered his little penchant for stapling things to his nipples. No, I don't know WHY he does that, I just know I don't WANT TO SEE IT. I am currently between movie stars at the moment, but I am taking applications.

All of this might indicate to you that this would be a perfect time to get rip-roaring wasted. Especially considering that your friend and mine, Wendy Kroy, was busy putting away the better part of a fifth of lighter fluid while we watched this episode in tandem from our respective abodes. I would have to concur that being drunk, drugged, hit over the head with a plank, or drawn and quartered would have been far preferable to sitting DEAD SOBER through this serious yawn-fest of an episode.

But I'm just too damn lazy to go to the liquor store.

Oh, well, let the recap begin. It's gonna be a short one, people. Trust me. DID I MENTION THE SOBER?

Previously on Alias: The show didn't suck.

Moscow. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Land of borscht, Boris, and blinis. You know the drill. People lolling around on green grass in what I'm taking to be Gorky Park. William Hurt? Your career is calling. Remember, way back when, when you used to make GOOD movies? Yeah. Good times. So, Russian people. Tchaikovsky music on the soundtrack. Summer Russian weather. Look. Up in the sky. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a -- um, blazing fireball a thousand times more brilliant than the sun? Hmm. Gorky Park, she doth explode in flames.

Ovary Electric, Part Deux. Syd and Agent Sean are tits-deep in what looks to be a very expensive bottle of tequila while Patsy Cline warbles soulfully across the soundtrack. Don't email me that it wasn't tequila, either. I don't care. So, Syd and Agent Sean are getting well and truly hammered. Great. Everyone's hammered except me. I wish I were dead.

Syd's all, salt, suck, slam, there are advantages to losing all your crap in a fire. (Except, of course, for all the crap that she forced Agent Sean into shoving all around her new pad. Except for that boxed crap she didn't lose, right? RIGHT?) Agent Sean's all, salt, suck, slam, oh, yeah, right. Syd's all, no but there is! There are advantages to being dead for two years! Think of all that paper! Clippings and yearbooks and sweaters I was never gonna wearAgent Sean just watches Syd drunkenly. Hee. They both make cute drunks. SO DO I.

Agent Sean opens his mouth and places his size eleven trainer directly into it when he pipes up, "Yeah, but there must have been something that you had that you just loved, that it just kills you that you don't have anymore." Nice one, Sean. Syd goes all weepy-eyed. God. We. Get. It. You lost Vaughn. GET IT. Vaughn's married. ALSO GET IT. Lord, I can't wait for this one to end so we can get to the episode with Justin Theroux in it.

Yeah, so, Agent Sean's all, I meant a THING, you know, not a PERSON. Syd's all, yeash, I gotsh whash you mean. Hic. Syd sloshes her way through her announcement that her mom gave her a first edition of Alice in Wonderland that she always treasured, no matter how rocky the mother/daughter relations wound up being. Agent Sean tucks that nugget away in his memory stores for future reference. Then he makes a final toast tothe elephant in the room. By that he means Syd going to work with the Vaughns tomorrow. Nice toast, Sean. Remind me to book you as my best man at THE WEDDING FROM HELL. He kind of redeems himself when he declares that he's going to be her friend in there, at the CIA, if she needs him. Syd smiles beautifully at him. "Tomorrow's gonna be fine," she says. Then, almost to herself, "Dammit." Then they both slam their shots.

Regina: I'd be thinking everything was gonna be fine too if I'd just DOWNED HALF A BOTTLE OF TEQUILA.
Wendy Kroy: You are so bitter when you don't drink.
Regina: Oh, bite me, gay boy.
Wendy Kroy: Okay, you need a vodka enema. STAT.

The day, Syd stumbles into Oops Center with her hair piled messily on top of her head, wearing a pair of flip-flops, some yoga pants, and a sweatshirt that looks like it might have just crawled out of her laundry basket. There are dark blotches under her eyes, and she's draining a Super Gulp of all its liquid caffeine refreshment. Mrs. Vaughn walks up and trills, "Hi, there!" in her super-confusing-British/Aussie/Virginian accent. Syd force-feeds Mrs. V. the business end of her cruller, smacks her around for a bit, then kicks her ass out the door. "Screw you, Blondie," Syd snarls, returning to the Oops Center halls. "What're YOU all lookin' at? Huh? I'm hung WAY over. No calls till after three."

Or, Syd just ambles into Oops Center looking for all the world like she didn't lick the inside of a tequila bottle the night before. I hate her. Wendy seemed to think that the blurriness of the office surroundings was an indicator of how Syd's hangover might be affecting her vision. I begged to differ.

Wendy Kroy: Oh, please. My office looks like that EVERY damn day.
Regina: Huh. Could that be because you drink EVERY damn night?
Wendy Kroy: Well, DUH. I'm not kidding, dude. Drink something. Anything. You might very well be a bigger bitch sober than drunk.
Regina: Oh, tell me something I DON'T know, Fancy Pants.

Syd makes it into the Conference Room of Endless Expositions and greats Mr. and Mrs. Elephant warmly. There's a little forced nice-nice between Mrs. Elephant and Syd, but then Marshall saves the day by showing up and delivering to Syd a mix CD of music from the past two years. Blah blither blather, I made it as a gift but flim flam flummox, it's also supposed to trigger some memories or some such shit. After another AWKWARD moment wherein we're all supposed to FEEL HOW AWKWARD this all is, in case we didn't know this already, Marshall leans forward and anvils, "Awkward!" DID YOU KNOW HOW AWKWARD THIS MUST BE? BECAUSE I HAD NO IDEA.

Thank Christ. Dixon's here. Turns out that at exactly 4:47 pm something bad happened in Russia. Yeah. I know. The whole "47" thing. Don't care. Also don't care what happened in Russia. I'm assuming this has something to do with that flaming ball of poo or whatever that burned its way through Gorky Park. Yuck yack yick, Dixon says something about a falling satellite and how it triggered Russia's early warning system. What? With the who?

Wendy Kroy: Who knows?
Regina: Who cares?
Wendy Kroy: Who needs another drink?
Regina: Who needs a good spanking?

Oh, but there's more. So much more. There's something about Sark and some dude named Oranskyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Oops. Sorry. Nodded off there for a second. Oransky dude brought down his own satellite, and he and Sark discussed meeting to move on to Phase Two. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Huh? What? Man. Now I know why I drink through these things. Or are they usually this boring and I'm just too drunk to know it?

Dix says something about trailing Sark to Mexico City. Wait. Wasn't Sark just IN Mexico City? Didn't he just, like, escape from there to some secret Covenant hideout? Oh, fuckity fuck it. Oh, and once again, if you find language like that offensive, well, I'm really fucking sorry.

Syd pipes up that, even though there's already a team in place to surveil Sark in Mexico, she'd like to go along for the ride if the plan is to nab Sark. Yeah, Syd. That makes sense. He wouldn't RECOGNIZE you or anything, now would he? Jesus. Worst. Spy. Ever. Dix states that they're not going to nab Sark. Syd's all, the what? Mrs. Elephant's all, I HAVE THE WORST ACCENT IN THE WORLD. Oh, and the NSC believes we can learn more from Sark by tracking his movements. Syd's all, YEAH, YOUR ACCENT SUCKS. AND YOU STOLE MY BOYFRIEND. Oh, and your whole "let's not nab Sark" idea is fine in theory. But I still hate you. And your eyebrows. Mrs. Elephant's like, oh, sure, like YOUR brows are any better. And what's up with the blue eyeshadow, PRINCESS DISCO?

We continue in this fashion for what feels like an ETERNITY, Syd going SQUEEE! SCREE! SNOOOT! at Mrs. Elephant, and Mrs. Elephant lobbing it right back at her with a NNNNERT! and a TWEEEE! and a FRRRRUUUNNN! Ostensibly, they're arguing about whether or not it's a good idea to go after Sark, but really, Sydney's just being a snitty bitch and Mrs. Elephant's just being an uppity bimbo. There's more screeching and blatting going on during this moment than has ever been heard in the howler monkey cage at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

The PMS Sparring Match comes to an official end when Michael "Who's Your Daddy Now" Vaughn shouts out, "All right, ENOUGH." Okay. I get that Syd and Mrs. Elephant don't dig each other's chili right about now. GET IT. But this scene just puts both the characters in a bad light. Syd comes off as unprofessional and winds up resembling a harpy with a good boob job, and Mrs. Elephant just ends up appearing officious and overly procedural, as well as a kind of British version of Hillary Clinton.

Captain Forehead blah blahs something about how capturing Sark, while putting a smile on his face, won't bring an end to the Covenant. Syd and Mrs. Elephant look properly chastised. Dix closes the meeting by telling Weiss and Syd that they're leaving for Mexico City in an hour. The group scatters, and Mrs. Elephant snits and swivels her shapely little butt down one of the hallways. Captain Forehead follows. She's all, "I HATE HER!" Oh, THAT'S mature. I'm surprised she didn't follow it up with, "She ate all my Froot Loops and then took my prize! She's such a meany!" I mean, what, she couldn't say something like, "Your ex-girlfriend's an irrational and unprofessional brat and I'd appreciate, in the future, not having to be the victim of her venomous tirades. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a donut in the cafeteria that has my name on it. No, we will NOT discuss this here. We'll discuss it at home, in bed, where ALL arguments about ex-girlfriends should be taken. Good day, sir." That, at least, would be less annoying than, "I hate her!"

So Vaughn just says something about how Syd's been through a lot. Mrs. Elephant's all, I STILL HAVE THE WORST ACCENT EVER. Vaughn's all, yeah, yeah you do. What is that? An Aussie-Brit blend or something? Mrs. Elephant's all, well, kind of, but my dad's a Virginia senator, so, you know, it's anyone's guess at this point. Vaughn's all, oh, well, screw it. I'll just make out with you, right here in the hallway. That oughta shut you up and make you forget all about that big bad Spy Barbie. Vaughn shoves his lips up against his wife's and, sure enough, she just beams at him as if the last five minutes never happened. Man. I could really use a kiss like that. Preferably one that could make it seem as if this whole EPISODE never happened.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Oops Center, Syd's practically stomping through the halls. She runs into Spy Daddy, who asks her how the first briefing with Mrs. Elephant went. Syd's all, it was great! We shared recipes and hair tips and old "Did Michael ever tie YOU up and spread you with warm honey?" stories. I loved it! Jack's all, spare me the emotional recap, Gidget; I wanna know if Mrs. Elephant was outwardly hostile toward you. Syd's all, you bet your sweet ASS she was. But of course, I was pretty snitty toward her, so, you know, all's fair in love and war, right? Jack pulls Syd over into what was formerly known as the Clandestine Corner of Secret Spy Kisses, and yeah, before you can say it, that's a wee bit "ew!" for my tastes. But I try to ignore it. Jack tells Syd that the NSC is running their own investigation into the Lazarey death. Syd's all, dude! You think they know it was me that killed him? Jack's all, no dude. Chill. But don't chill for long, right? Because the NSC got their hands on a video of the murder, and Mrs. Elephant's in charge of the investigation. Syd's all, dude. How long do you think we can hold off the truth? We should just come clean. Jack's all, oh. Okay. If you want to be subjected to a bunch of tests and procedures that'll recover your memory, fine. Be my guest. Tell the truth. Syd's all, okay, bring it on! Or did you forget that I actually WANT to regain my memories? Jack's all, yeah, but, see, it's not like they hypnotize you or anything, right? They go in and pick your brain. No, literally, dude. Pick at it. With little pickaxes or something. Anyway, you could get permanent brain damage. "That is NOT happening to you," grits Jack, in that Super Spy Daddy way he has. "Not while I'm alive." Once again, Sydney almost cries. Jack tells her to focus and do her job. He goes on to order her to go to Mexico City, and he'll stick around and try to fuck up Mrs. Elephant's investigation in as many ways as possible. Aw. He's such a nice daddy.

And now is the time in the recap when we do The Alias Dance.

Oops Center. Marshall's enjoying a cup of coffee when Spy Daddy and Mrs. Elephant enter his office. Jack's all, Marshall! Any luck? Marshall's all, yeah, considering our Russian security camera source, it's not too bad. The screen shot is basically the back of Syd's head and a portion of her face. Lazarey is in the background. Mrs. Elephant makes Marshall freeze and blow up the frame. IN A BRITISH ACCENT. I'm sorry. Am I repeating myself? The picture that comes up on the screen is primarily pixilated. Mrs. Elephant, in her NON-VIRGINIAN ACCENT, is all, that's not enough to identify her, is it? Marshall's all, oh, well, for everyone ELSE that's not enough. There's a lot of things Marshall can't do, apparently, and I'm not going to list them here -- but what he CAN do is extrapolate images from indistinct photographs. Mrs. Elephant's all, how long will it take you? Marshall's all, gimme 72 hours to identify this woman. Mrs. Elephant's all, good. Thank you. Jack just looks grimly at the entire procedure.

Mexico City. I got nothing funny on this, people. Particularly because they filmed in Mexico City LAST WEEK, and they're probably using the same DAMN FOOTAGE. If it's orange or yellow, it's a good bet they're in MEXICO CITY. Whatever. Syd's in this copper-colored van with Agent Sean, and she's donning this costume that, um, I think she sported back in a episode (don't email about WHICH episode, okay? I just spent the past twenty minutes looking for it). Poncho, braids, hat. Yeah, minus the hat, that's pretty much the outfit she sported in India or something. Agent Sean's all, aww yeah. You look good, girl! Syd's all, I'm gonna KILL the costuming department because, dude. Does this shit look RIGHT to you?

Agent Sean hands Syd a pair of sunglasses that, conveniently, have a camera built into their frame. There's some ultra-cute-cute between the two of them, hopefully signaling to us, the viewing public, that these two would make a GREAT COUPLE. As Syd goes to exit the van, Sean goes, "Syd, we're here for surveillance only, okay? Nothing tricky." Syd kind of looks back at him like, yeah. That's SO gonna happen. Syd exits the van.

Wendy Kroy: Oh, god.
Regina: What?
Wendy Kroy: What in the FUCK is she wearing?
Regina: A disguise.
Wendy Kroy: Okay, in MY world? We don't call that a disguise. We call that SHIT THEY SELL TO TOURISTS.
Regina: Heh. Yeah. Poncho and sombrero. Marshall's "disguise" skills are second to none. I suppose, though, considering that he's the TECH GUY, he probably didn't attend the Fashion Institute of Technology or anything. I mean, what? Is the CIA cutting costs or something? They don't have a DISGUISE GUY?
Wendy Kroy: Honey? Drink. Now. Or I'll have to hang up.

Syd then walks into the main area (of what? oh, don't ask that question) and looks around. There's Sark. He looks like he's spotted Syd. Syd practically throws herself at a postcard carousel. She tells Sean that she's seen Sark and that he looks GOOOOD. Okay, she didn't say the GOOOOD part. But he DOES. As Syd watches, Oransky shows up and sits across from Sark. Syd takes a few shots of them. Sean uploads them, and Vaughn, Dixon, Marshall, and Mrs. Elephant see them on Marshall's screen. It should be noted that Mrs. Elephant looks pointedly at Mr. Elephant during this. Vaughn just ignores her. I'm not sure why she's looking pointedly at her husband, except perhaps it's the creators' way of showing what a jealous evil bitch she is or something. I really don't know.

Back in the Disney backlotoops! I mean, "Mexico City," Syd watches as Oransky pulls some pictures out of his briefcase, closes the briefcase, and drops the photos on top. Syd's all, I gotta get closer to get shots of this. Sean's all, don't get TOO close. Vaughn's watching carefully. Mrs. Vaughn's watching Mr. Vaughn carefully. YEAH. WE GET IT. SHE'S ALREADY JEALOUS. Just do us all a favor and get rid of her, okay?

Syd moves closer and turns near a spinning tower of sunglasses. She watches and takes photos through the sunglasses viewing mirror as Oransky and Sark blah blah about someone revealing themselves and how the pictures Oransky's taken are the new target. Sark likes the name of whatever this thing is: Medusa. Marshall's all, the images are good, sir. He looks up at Dix. Dix gets the message and tells Syd to get the hell outta there. Unfortunately, Oransky's seen Syd and her frankly BLATANT attempts at eavesdropping, and he says, "That woman is watching us." Syd bails just in time and runs out to the market area. Worst. Spy. EVER.

"Retriever, I think I've been made," she says. You THINK? I mean, perhaps if you hadn't been BENDING OVER THEIR TABLE AND LICKING THE PICTURES, they wouldn't have fucking NOTICED you, dumbass! Sean's all, "Mountaineer, stay put. I'm comin' in." Dix, on the horn, tells Sean that he should stay put because the exits might be blocked. On Sark's end, Oransky's all, she may have seen the photos! Sark's all, then make sure she didn't.

Vaughn picks up a headset as Mrs. Vaughn watches jealously. She DOES. Vaughn directs Syd out of the market. Syd heads to the exit. Unfortunately, Oransky picks himself up a nice young girl and puts a gun to her head, dragging her out into the open marketplace. He's all, Gringo in the Marketplace! Eh? Poncho? You know who you are. Well, it's certain that WE all know who she is.

Syd finally comes out, gun pointed. Oransky points his gun at the girl. Okay, let's just end this quickly. It's orange-tinted and obviously borrowed from the production of Traffic, so it's safe to say that A) we ain't in Mexico City and B) this girl ain't gonna die. Syd and Oransky go back and forth, and the only thing that makes this entirely annoying and useless scene come to an end is when Vaughn speaks to Syd and tells her, after seeing Oransky's earpiece, about some mission in Thailand. "Chai Son," he says. "Get ready. I'll tell you when." As the already fumingly jealous Mrs. Vaughn watches, Vaughn and Marshall work together to figure out the frequency of Oransky's earpiece.

Back in Mexico City, Syd kicks her gun over to Oransky. Oransky wants Syd to kick over her surveillance gear as well. Syd's all, yeah, might wanna hand over the girl first. Oransky's all, um, yeah, I'll just take that surveillance gear and THEN we'll talk about the girl. Meanwhile, back at Oops Center, Vaughn and Marshall have pinpointed Oransky's earpiece frequency. Vaughn's all, can you boost a feedback loop? Marshall's all, how loud? Vaughn's all, 180 dbs. Marshall's all, oh yeah. Mrs. Vaughn's all, MY HUSBAND USED TO SLEEP WITH THIS WOMAN AND I STILL DON'T HAVE A NORMAL ACCENT.

And again in Mexico City, Oransky's demanding that Syd toss over her sunglasses with the camera in them. Syd finally removes them and tosses them over. Oransky stomps all over them. Then he's all, yeah, okay, we're gonna walk outta here. You, me, and the girl. Vaughn's on Syd's earpiece going, "Just a second. Almost there." Which would be pornographic if Vaughn weren't so dickless this season. Suddenly, Vaughn gives Marshall the "now" signal and Marshall hits a button, and the frequency hits WAY too high a level in Oransky's earpiece, as well as in the earpieces of his henchmen. Syd dispatches the henchmen fairly quickly and shoots Oransky in the shin. He runs off as Syd is dealing with everything else. After the dust clears, she informs base ops that Oransky got away.

Sean removes his earpiece, sighs. Vaughn removes his earpiece, sighs. He turns to Mrs. Vaughn and smiles. She smiles right back at him. Oh, like, what? She wasn't JEALOUS during that exchange? She SO WAS.

Ovary Electric, Part Deux. Syd and Sean are, um, making pizza dough? I dunno. Syd's all, we know Sark was looking at a satellite photo that involved the Kremlin. We don't know why. NO, WE DON'T. Sean's all, yeah, but we know it has something to do with Medusa, right? Syd's all, when I was at SD-6, I conveniently think I remember Sloane mentioning something about a Project Medusa. Sean's all, are you high? Do you remember what it means? What it's about? Syd's all, no. All I remember is the myth. "A woman so ugly that, if you looked at her, you turned to stone." Oh. Okay, Syd. Try NOT to point your finger so clearly at Mrs. Elephant, okay? Agent Sean's SO onto Syd, though. "Sounds like the myth of my college girlfriend," he says. "She actually dumped me for a roadie at a Duran Duran concert. How embarrassing is that?" Okay. OKAY. Shout-out? Oh, yeah. I think very much so. Agent Sean then asks for the oregano. Syd acts all mopey when going for the oregano. Because, even though Sean's Duran Duran roadie story didn't involve Vaughn, Mrs. Vaughn, or Dead Spy Barbie, Syd, of course, must turn everything into being all about her AND START DROPPING THE SOB BOMBS. God. "Come on, Syd," says Sean, trying to cheer her up. "Don't do that. You weren't dumped. You were dead." Actually, that's not really much of a cheering up job, is it? Syd, feeling that, in circumstances such as these, it's best to rip open an already gaping wound, grab some nice crumbly sea salt, and just dump that whole canister right in there and rub it all in, goes, "I haven't even asked anyone how they met." The Exposition Fairy shows up, her wings looking rather ragged. "I'll tell ya how they met," she spits. "NO ONE GIVES A SHIT THAT'S HOW THEY MET. Whadda YOU care, anyway, Barbie? Nowwhere are those beer nuts I requested?"