Vonda and some guy sing a Nancy and Frank Sinatra song at the bar. Elaine dances with Mark, and Melanie dances with John. Déjà freaking vu. Melanie is dressed like a flapper for some reason. She and John smash their faces together and she asks him to walk her to her apartment. John makes a goofy face.
In the dingy hallway of her complex, Melanie babbles and ticks about how it's the first time she's ever invited anyone to her apartment. She opens the door and we hear magically tinkly piano music as John looks around. At first I can't tell what's so special. It looks sort of like Ally's apartment, in fact, but with more knick-knacks. There's the same overall warm color scheme with a few touches of bright cools. Then we see that it's all one room. John asks where the bed and "commode" are. Melanie flips switches, making the bed come out of the closet and the toilet come out from under an ottoman or something. Of course John gets all hot over that, because of his stupid-invention fetish. He tells Melanie that her apartment is magical. I knew he'd say that. They start to kiss, but Melanie has to scream first and cause John to scream, too. Then they try to kiss again, and there's a loud noise and the room moves. John thinks it's an earthquake but it's not. Melanie tells him that her apartment is actually an old service elevator. Hey, that is pretty magical -- to have closets and a toilet in an elevator like that. We get the spooky swooping-down overhead camera, which must be from a Hitchcock movie or something, and the elevator apartment sinks down. What freaking ever.
We get our regular camera-over-Boston shots after the theme song, but this time, as the camera goes over that one big pointy building, the camera jerks and there's a crashing sound. I think that was David E. Kelley saying "screw you -- screw you with a big building" to his viewers.
John doesn't show up at the Fish & Cage morning meeting because he's haunting Melanie's classroom again. Ling comments on the disgusting puppy-doggish nature of his infatuation with Melanie. Richard says "excellent" and moves on. Although I haven't said it much lately, I still love Greg Germann and hope he finds a better gig after this show crashes and burns. He instructs Ally to represent Roth Public Relations firm, which has been sued by a receptionist they fired for being fat. He tells Mark to take second chair. I'm confused because I thought it was established last season that Mark was the better lawyer. Richard explains that Roth PR wanted a female lawyer. Ally pretends that she's too morally indignant to take the case. Nelle expresses surprise that the PR firm admitted they fired the woman for being fat. Richard says that he saw her picture and she was a "beast." Then he tells them all that he's entered the staff in a charity twist contest, and everyone forgets about the fat chick. Chubby Checker will perform. Woo hoo. Nelle says, "I don't twist." Richard wants to add a $1000 bet to the fun. Mark wants in on that action, since his partner will be Elaine, and everyone knows she can dance her booty off. Nelle still doesn't twist. Ling is a champion twister, she informs us herself. An animal noise plays while Ling and Ally look at each other, because all women are vicious, catty, jealous, dog cow pig horse giraffes. So Ally's in. Can't wait to see her twist her thing. Not.
Melanie strums a guitar and sings "Mr. Bojangles" to her class. I'd be annoyed if my kids' teachers traumatized them like that. The kids rock back and forth, probably because they have to pee. Then they sing along, as if they know that song. Maybe they do, though. Maybe their parents force them to listen to that album and Peter, Paul, and Mary, too. John sings the word "dance" and everyone laughs at him. The recess bell rings and all the kids run out like a swarm of seventies-tune-singing locusts. One little boy asks Melanie when they're going to see Mr. Bo again. She answers vaguely and shoos him out. She explains to John that Mr. Bo is a homeless guy on Tremont Street, and she'd like to introduce him. You know how they love homeless people on this show. Hannah of nakedsometimes.comwas kind enough to e-mail me this advisory: "Anne Heche pronounced Tremont St. 'Treemont,' when anyone who lived here for more than two seconds knows it is Trimmont St." I'm not surprised at all.
Elaine informs Ally that Mark and the new client are waiting in her office. Ally complains that this is silly -- that new clients don't hire lawyers on the day of trial. Elaine says, "Anything can happen around here Ally. You keep forgetting we don't live in a real world." I have to smile and say touch to that one. Then Ally says, "Does chauvinism live in the real world? Firing a receptionist for being fat? Is that what the world has come to?" Well, I'm fat, and I started being a receptionist in November. I'm not one anymore. I got promoted to Communications Manager. Maybe my world's not real, either, though. I mean, there are plenty of fat women in my world who actually get to have sex. There are lots of gay men who aren't completely dismissed and belittled. There are lesbians who don't serve as masturbatory fodder for straight men. There are even people who aren't lawyers or teachers or judges. I admit, however, that I'm sheltered. I don't socialize with many people who watch Ally McBeal, Golden Globe winner. I guess that makes mine the loser world, huh?
Ally is surprised to discover that the new client is a woman. "Et tu, Portia?" we see her thinking. The woman's name is Jerry Hill. She's played by Brenda Strong, who looked familiar to me. I checked the IMDB. Brenda was in lots and lots of movies, but I recognized her from The Craft, because that's the kind of movie I bother to remember. She was also in Sports Night and Starship Troopers. That Brenda gets around. Ally assesses the facts. The receptionist was fired for being overweight and therefore not attractive enough to do her job. Ally again balks at taking the case, fingering her chin and lower lip all the while. Ms. Hill says, "I need you, Ms. McBeal." Ally doesn't believe people should be judged on first impressions. Jerry Hill points out that Ally certainly seems to be judging her. Speaking of superficiality, I just have to say that Mark's looking pretty sweet in this scene. He has this new gelled-volume '80s thing going on with his hair, and his eyes are all sparkly hazel or green. He's also keeping his mouth closed, keeping me from imagining what some of my readers would say about his teeth. I don't care, though. I'd do him. Oh, wait. I forgot. I'm fat. Let me get back to doing my job until I get fired, then.