Previously on Ally McBeal: Ally hallucinated and whined. In case you forgot the first thousand times they told us, John and Richard went to L.A. Also, Larry hired that new chick, and Ally whined some more.
Ally's on an operating table and we see surgeons working on her heart. "Wait a minute -- this heart's been broken. This heart's been destroyed! I can't fix that!" the surgeon yells, before throwing the fake heart into the trash. Ally wakes up, gasping, with Larry snoozing to her, and we see exactly why her heart's been broken. It's because she wears ugly blue sweatshirts with sequins sewn on the little triangle under the neck.
"It was a dream, Ally," says Renee. Ally weirdly points three of her fingers at Renee's face as she explains that something weird happened at dinner with Larry the night before. He kept staring at her as she ate dessert. Yeah, it is pretty weird that she ate dessert, isn't it?
Larry explains to his new associate (what the hell is this woman's name?) that he'd tried to have an engagement ring put into Ally's blueberry cobbler, but that the jeweled dessert had gone to the wrong table, instead. It had gone to the table of a man breaking up with his girlfriend, and Larry considers that an omen. As a freakily superstitious person, I have to say that I agree. I think it's an omen portending that this episode will suck more than usual. Dread fills me. Corretta (I found out that was her name later, but I'm going to save myself time and use it now) says that she thought the proposal idea was corny, but that a couple named "Ally and Larry" should be expected to do corny things. Heh. Word. Larry asks Corretta to cancel his lunch with Ally. Then Gail O'Grady walks in and greets Larry. She's playing the role of his ex-wife, Helena. She and Larry leave for lunch. Corretta is properly surprised and annoyed at these circumstances, which are bound to end in grief or at least a poor attempt at physical comedy.
We see a scene of an airplane fade into a scene of Richard exiting a taxi in nasty tan leather pants. We learn that he's gone back to L.A. to help Jane (Alexandra Holden -- remember?) with some pesky nude photos she did that are about to be published in "Maximum." She thought she was posing for them as test shots for a movie. She signed a contract that gave the photographer the right to use them as he pleased. If her father sees them in the magazine, he'll kill her. Yeah, and I'll bet if her father sees her in the platinum blonde, obvious as hell wig she's wearing in this episode, he won't even recognize her. What the hell? I can't decide what's worse -- the wig which is so, so Frederick's of Hollywood, or the fuchsia vinyl strap she's using for a necklace. Richard, of course, has to see the photos. Jane pretends to demur for a couple of seconds but then acts shy and coy while Richard's tongue CGIs out of his mouth. He declares that the pictures are tasteful, since "they don't show George W." It's crass and shouldn't be funny, but I give the line half a smile because I'm so bitter about the idiot's election. Richard says that he'll schedule an immediate conjunction hearing, declare the pics unconstitutional, and scare off Maximum with threats of "punatory" damages. But first he'll call John.
John corrects Richard's numerous legal malapropisms and tells Richard that he shouldn't be practicing law without adult supervision. Richard hangs up on John after Nicole, Jane's bikini-clad roommate, walks in. Nicole would be passably attractive without the nose ring, brow ring, fucked-up hairdo, and drugged-out attitude. Plus, she's a semi-outie, and I'm not down with that. Either be an innie or an outie, people, but don't try to ride the fence about it. Richard makes penis-y remarks to Nicole. She tells Jane that he's funny, but then adds in a slightly lowered voice that he's old. Jane says, "Shut up!" like any besotted twelve-year-old would. Richard makes one of his goofy faces -- which are actually cute and/or funny, unlike those of most of the rest of the cast.
John stands in front of the mirror in his office and preens to his favorite Barry White song played at high speed. Ally walks in and makes the face she always does when someone else does something weird, as if she never hallucinates or screams for no reason. John says something unfunny. Ally sports a sleeveless top, which has been designed to wrinkle above her breasts as if her breasts are any wider around than the rest of her torso. She babbles to John about her fear that Larry will dump her, and I see that the armholes of her top are too small. She goes on and on, rolling her eyes in horror-movie fashion, and I wonder if she's spent some time in the tanning booth lately. She looks all smoothed out this week. Maybe it's body makeup.
At the local ice cream parlor, Helena and Larry discuss the omen that was or was not the mistaken blueberry cobbler. Larry frets about the folly of marriage in general. Helena asks the waiter for a canister of whipped cream. There are waiters at ice cream parlors? They give customers whole cans of whipped cream? For some contrived reason, Helena squirts whipped cream onto her finger and then smears it on Larry's nose.
John and Ally walk down the sidewalk, and you know they have to be on the way to the ice cream place, right? Ally babbles about sugar highs and "gooey" sundaes. I hate the word "gooey" when used to describe food that the speaker likes. No -- that's incorrect. I hate the word in any case. Outside the parlor window, Ally spies Helena dabbing whipped cream all over Larry's face. She walks in with her customary murderous look of public violence in her eyes. Larry casually introduces Helena as his ex-wife, and then greets John. Ally asks what they're talking about over ice cream. They say, "Nothing." She says great, then maybe Larry can talk under it, instead. She dumps his bowl on his head while the comedic music thumps. The other parlor patrons gleefully watch as Ally dumps Helena's bowl on Larry's head, too. If I hadn't already hated Ally eons ago, this scene would have changed my mind. Like everything else on this show, her rude behavior is taken way beyond too far when she pours hot fudge on Larry and then shoots whipped cream all over his face. Larry does nothing. Still wanna marry this bitch, buddy? Ally leaves with John in her wake. "She seems nice," says Helena, and Larry agrees that she's a real sweetheart. I'm sorry that Robert Downey Jr. and Gail O'Grady had to appear in this scene.
An Al Green song plays as Ally sits on her bedroom floor and broods. She remembers Larry telling her that he can't handle goodbyes and that he leaves notes in lieu of bidding farewell aloud. What the hell does this tacked-on flashback scene have to do with anything? I guess it has everything to do with the fact that Robert Downey Jr. has suddenly left the show.
We see a shocking profile shot of Renee's tight red sweater as she and her huge, huge breasts follow John to Ally's bedroom door. Ally won't let them in. With those haunting mammary glands gliding around, who could blame her? Renee takes off for work, leaving John to bang on Ally's door alone.
At Larry's firm, the man himself sits there in his undershirt while Corretta towels his head vigorously. What is she -- his valet? Larry says that Ally's dumping ice cream on his head is another omen. Hmm. I guess there's a fine line between an omen and a vulgar display of psychotic behavior. Corretta dishes up a bunch of sassy, common-sense advice. She's a valiant player, but her mildly humorous antics won't save the Titanic that is this show.
Richard, Jane, and Nicole confer with Maximum's lawyer, a stereotypical older white man with an expensive suit and plastered-down hair. "Can I call you Hank?" Richard asks him. "I suppose, but it isn't my name. It's Henson. That's my first name. Why don't you call me by my last name? It's Lyne. One syllable, easy to pronounce, and about as easy to remember as the requirements for a valid contract." Even though Henson isn't really my type, I'm kind of in love with him now. Richard tells Henson to stop talking to him as though he never went to law school. "Did you?" Henson asks. Richard says, "On and off, many times. Take off your shirt, Nicole." Nicole shows off her red Wonder Bra. Richard makes some nonsensical argument about Nicole's pictures not being published in Maximum and Jane, therefore, having no right to expect that hers would be. Henson gives this the attention it deserves. Jane pleads with him, saying her father will disown her if the pictures are published. "Have a heart!" says Richard. "I have a conscience, Mr. Fish, and it will be tested when I try to bill my client for this ridiculous conference," says Henson. Damn, he had some good lines. Who wrote those?
John sits with Ally on her bedroom floor and listens to her whine about all of Larry's shortcomings. Long story short -- she broke up with Larry twenty minutes before because she can't trust him.
At some outdoor café, Jane and Nicole try to make Richard feel better about his failure with Jane's case. Nicole says only that Richard's funny. She's not clever, but she's honest. Richard wants to give one last shot at the motion he has scheduled for 3:00. Nicole asks whether she'll have to remove her shirt again. Richard says that they'll save that for appeal. "He's funny," she tells Jane again. I look at her piercings and remember the part in Pulp Fiction where John Travolta says he doesn't want the chick with all the shit on her face and then Eric Stoltz says, "That's my wife." I almost laugh. The kitchen timer I set to remind me of my laundry buzzes loudly, startling me. I press stop on the VCR and I see three scary, scary fucking clowns from some PBS kids' show which may or may not be called The Big Comfy Couch. The clowns' faces, coupled with the thought of the word "comfy," leave me with a queasy feeling that doesn't bode well for the rest of the hour. The woman with the painted-on freckles and red plastic nose leers at me through the television screen. I swear to God, I wouldn't shed a single tear if clowns were outlawed in all fifty United States as well as in Canada. I think that's the only way I could be safe while writing my recaps.
Larry wears an ugly tie as Corretta tells him not to give up on Ally. She says a bunch of crap about infidelity and insecurity. Larry points out that he can't just kick his ex-wife and the mother of his child out of his life, however much Ally would prefer it. Corretta remarks that he's sounding a little bit like a loser. Larry corrects her -- he's a two-time loser, and he's afraid of strike three. Okay...so now he doesn't want to marry her, right? I can understand that. I just wish he would admit that it's because she's a violent psychopath.
Ally's still reminiscing sadly in her bedroom. See, this is why they should have made RDJ shoot all his scenes three months ahead of time -- to save the viewers all the tacked-on flashback scenes. Renee walks in so that she can be the latest receptacle for Ally's whining. Her hair looks like shit. I can't stand it when she pastes it down on top and lets the sides fly all over the place. Ally eventually quits talking and leaves for work.
Elaine, Ling, Nelle, and Mark engage in a little schadenfreude in the lobby of Fish & Cage. Ally walks in and everyone stares at her. She narrows her eyes like Gary Coleman and says, "What?" and then walks off. John enters the lobby after her and all the gossipmongers lean in for the carrion. Ling smiles as she asks whether Ally is devastated or crushed. John replies sarcastically but mildly. I think this scene is pretty overblown. I like to waste several hours a day gossiping with my co-workers as much as anyone else does, but there's no reason to take pleasure in the misfortunes of others, even if the others are as annoying as Ally. I mean, there's this one woman at my work who annoys me and we make fun of her all the time, but I wouldn't cackle if she broke up with her boyfriend. It's much more enjoyable and morally palatable to make fun of her mannerisms and memos instead.
Richard calls John's cell using a tiny microphone and earphone attached to his own cell. He's come up with a plan for Jane's case. With the use of the headphone and microphone, John will listen to the proceedings from afar and feed Richard his lines, "just like that show Cyrano de Burger King." Richard begs John for his help, saying that if he wins, he just might get sex. Then he turns around and sees Jane listening to his phone conversation. Without missing a beat, he asks her, "Am I right, Jane, or is that overstating it?" "You might," she confirms. Feedback and static cause Richard to tell John that he will call back during the case. Jane's wig makes her look like a washed-out monkey as she expresses the wish to be able to pay Richard for his services. He says that the naked pictures are enough. She goes on saying that she shouldn't be in L.A. where she's constantly on the edge of disrespectability. She should be learning about theater in Ohio or somewhere. Richard makes some polite reply and Jane is compelled to kiss him, complete with sucking of his upper lip. Richard does the "we really should go do something else now" après-kiss thing that always annoys me on TV. No, you really should make out now. Why wait? I mean, I know they have the motion coming up, but Richard should say, "Hey, that ruled. Let's come back here and make out hard-core as soon as the motion is over" instead of "we really should blah blah blah now" as if the kiss didn't happen. Ugh. That's so infuriating. Why do my favorite TV characters do that? Why don't they just get it on? WHEN DO I GET TO HAVE SEX, DAMMIT?
Whoa. Hey...sorry. Sorry about that. I'm just a little...I'm just a little overwrought, is all. Come on -- we really should get back to the recap now.
In her office, Ally calls her mom and makes a big, big, stinking deal that she's not calling because something's wrong. All the office gossips are poking their heads around the door. Don't they have plot lines of their own to work on? No, I guess they don't.
Helena goes to Larry's office, where Corretta informs her that he and Ally broke up. Corretta leaves at Larry's request, and then Helena tries to talk sense into her ex. Larry rants incoherently yet still amusingly about the fact that it's not Ally, it's him. Helena points out that he's unhappy since he and Ally have been apart. Where's Larry going to sleep tonight, I wonder? He moved in with Ally too soon. I mean, I know that building extra bedroom sets costs money, but come on.
John is in his office wearing a headset and waiting to receive Richard's transmissions. On easels along one wall are blown-up, foam-board mounted photographs of Richard and other people -- the kinds of photographs that cost nine dollars per square foot to make. I know this is supposed to be farcical, though, so I'll move on. The case starts out okay, but then Richard repeats a remark of John's that he's not supposed to repeat. Then John asks Richard to buy some time with a nose whistle while he thinks. Richard instead says, "Your honor, Martin Luther King once said, 'I have a dream,' and he climbed that mountain with Abraham Lincoln..." John manages to save Richard by making his inanities flow into a meaningful argument. Then a phone-sex operator cuts into their line and they get cut off. Richard is on his own. He asks the judge whether he reads the legal language printed on the backs of his parking tickets and such. The judge scolds him, saying that a lawyer should know what a contract is. He says that Richard is acting like a layperson who doesn't know any better. "Exactly, Your Honor," says Richard. "Jane Wilco is simply a layperson who didn't know any better." He points out that Maximum had legal counsel and Jane didn't. Okay, yeah, we know he's gonna win the case. Enough, Gwen. Quit recapping every last detail.
Larry and Ally talk in one of their offices. He explains that he was meeting Helena at the ice cream parlor to talk about Ally. She is skeptical. He says what we all heard him say in the promos -- that he's failed as a husband and a father and that the biggest lie of all would be to promise that he'd never fail again. Yeah, he has a point there. I mean, I'll agree with anything he says if it gets him away from that harpy Ally. He walks off as Vonda sings some trite crap.
Ally walks home in her ugly plaid trench coat. Then she has wine with Renee and tells her that Larry's gone. "I'm gonna get a note," she foresees. Okay, could you please hurry up and get it, then? I thought this episode was ending five minutes ago.
It's the day, and Ally's walking down the sidewalk again. She hallucinates herself pushing a baby carriage, then crashes into her mother, played by Jill Clayburgh. Her mom hugs her as she cries. I cry a little, too, because I feel sorry for Jill Clayburgh for not having anything better to do.
The judge voids Jane's contract. She hugs Richard and asks how she can thank him. "Uh, sex?" he says. She tells him that he didn't fly all the way out for sex -- he did it because he's a nice person. She wants to go out and do the Hustle. He says his flight's leaving at 2 PM. She tries to coax him to stay, since he left early last time. "Last time it was wise. This time it's necessary," he says, as if that means something that makes sense. I guess random, nonsensical break-up speeches are contagious.
Ally's mom tries to make her see reason while they sit at a table in some restaurant. She says that Ally only broke up with Larry yesterday and that they can still patch it up. The waiter comes up to take their order and Mommy McBeal tells him they aren't eating or drinking. When he looks askance at this, she says, "We're here for the ambience. Could you beat it, please?" I hope the waiter gets the manager to throw them out of the restaurant, but I'm pretty sure it won't happen because the writers of this show seem to have fetishes for rude women. Ally babbles on and on about craving baby carriages and reciting Gloria Steinem. Mommy McBeal doesn't blame her for wanting a family, because "family's everything." Whatever -- way to discount everyone in the universe who decides not to procreate. She hopes things work out with Larry and blah, blah, blah. The waiter walks up and passes on the manager warning that if the "ladies" aren't going to eat, they need to surrender the table. "I'll give you the table. Would you like something to start with? Perhaps the chair?" says Jill Clayburgh as the "this is supposed to be funny" music plays. Geez, why doesn't someone just kill these hags and put them out of everyone else's misery?
Richard packs his bags and Jane asks why he's such a tease. He thinks for a second, and then suggests that she move to Boston and work at Fish & Cage. That way she can support herself while taking acting classes. He doesn't ask her for sex or anything. Whatever. I couldn't care less if Jane moves to Boston and becomes a regular on the show. However, if she does, could she please also LOSE THE WIG? Or, at least, give her a big strawberry-blonde beehive one. If you're gonna be cheesy, be cheesy all the way.
Ally walks into the F&C lobby and the screen's all black and white. Elaine informs Ally that Larry called. Ally doesn't care. Then Elaine says that he just came by to see her. Ally's face brightens as the film turns back to color. Then Elaine shows Ally the note Larry left. The music is sad. Ally stares into space, her gaping lips swollen with collagen, for several thousand fractions of a second. Then she turns away. "Don't you want to open it?" Elaine asks. "No, I know what it says," Ally replies, walking away and closing her office door behind her. Nosy Elaine rips open the envelope. The note says, "I LOVE YOU. GOODBYE."
I have to admit that I was pretty affected by that. My eyes came pretty close to watering. Strangely, though, I think it had more to do with the handwriting than the actual situation. What kind of person writes such a harsh dumping note in all-caps?
week: for some unfathomable reason, Ally attends a prom. She wears an ugly dress, doesn't fix her hair, catfights with a teen girl, and dances like Olivia Newton-John in Grease.