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Uh, that was amazing. And they tell you right up front, following up on last week's semi-cliffhanger: Sheriff Romero checks out the scene (Dylan has just killed Shelby after he took the entire family hostage), gets everybody inside, and then constructs a narrative that removes all blame entirely from Norma, Norman and -- to his adorable big-boy-badass disgust -- even Dylan.
I mean, he makes himself the hero of it, but considering you're the Sheriff of a town without laws, I can imagine it's best to nip shit in the bud. Like you feel weird buying condoms and you throw trashy magazines on the pile, but if you're buying, I don't know, lice shampoo, suddenly a couple boxes of condoms wouldn't be so embarrassing as a distraction technique: This is my metaphor for how Romero can say, "Yeah, we had a sex-slave ring and people keep dying at Norma's house, but it's all over now, shut up." I'll just take this lice shampoo, and some uh, gum, and this bottle of lube. What.
The teaser ends with Norma and Norman pretty much totally ignoring Dylan in their relief at being free of six episodes' worth of horrors, like the assholes they are, but morning Norma's all about working Dylan's mommy issues. Right up until he tells her he's still moving out, even with the knowledge that Norman killed his father and is out of his gourd, at which point she turns back into her usual amazing self.
Under the house, Norman finds... Like sixteen dead Chinese girls! Just kidding, he finds a dog. That he names Juno -- which is after all just another name for "Mother," by way of "Goddess" -- and who, over the course of the episode, manages to symbolize every other lady on the show: First, she's a stray like Emma that Norman has accidentally brought to the house; then, she's Norma as Norman attempts to Petit Prince his way into their good graces; and finally, she's Bradley, when Norman and his creepy Nice Guy ways end up getting the dog run over... At which point he connects the dots back to Emma's dad, the taxidermist, with a chilling little shout about how taxidermy is the best thing to life. (Norma, are you listening? You in danger, girl.)
Norma's of course phenomenal in this episode, taking Emma on a road trip to soothe her mommy issues and Norman's Bradley-related shitty behavior, and then engaging in some (what can only be called) "hijinks," as they spy on Bradley and Norma finally learns it was Bradley, not Emma, that swiped his v-card. (Emma is, of course, in it to win it" At this point the whole family's got her head so spun I think a teamup against Norman sounds just as likely as anything else, given how much shit Norma's pulling on her even when she's not being out-and-out manipulative.) In the end, a huge fight about how Norman is not ready for a girl like Bradley -- and that, just in case, Norma has hired Emma to be a constant presence at the motel -- that sends her into her requisite physical-comedy freakout and him off for a huge (500) Days Of Summer blowout declaration of love.
You know I have no patience for that shit, and Bradley doesn't either. She tries half-assedly to explain to him the obvious fact that she was explicitly hooking up with him out of nothing but desperation, and he tears off into the night. But because B.Rad is a great girl, she goes running after him... Just in time for a meeting with Mother, who is busy giving Norman a talking-to (her literal words coming out of his literal mouth!) and who seems just about ready to murder her for Norman, when Bradley throws her arms around him, in tearful apology. It's like you can actually see her hugging Mother out of his body, it's freakin' amazing. Highmore, you're amazing.
So after Bradley turns him back human -- which, I know I always say I cry, but I mean that shit was beautifully done, just wonderfully written, and directed, and acted -- he arrives at the motel just in time to see his new dog get run over, thanks to his careful taming of her, and the episode ends with a fairly terrified-of-his-intensity Norma pulling the car around so they can take the bitch to Professor Quirrell.
(Did I mention the incredibly fucking uncomfortable -- kitchen, of all places -- scene in which Norma tries to explain the ways sexual intercourse, the physical act of love, causes women to be overcome by possessive and emotionally consuming waves of oxytocin, while caressing her own breasts? Because that sure as shit happened and it was totally weird: And exactly what's going on with Norman.)
(Or for another f'rinstance, the scene where Norma and Emma watch Bradley do yoga while hiding Father Dowling-style behind a brick pillar, and Norma imagines Bradley blowing her son in such vivid detail that I actually had to take a fresh-air break because I can't even handle that shit, and -- sometimes we need reminding -- I am not even his mommy? Just a concerned bystander who wants to give him many hugs.)
(Or the fact that both of these things happen after Norma walks in on Norman masturbating and doesn't even bother trying to play it off? Because it was subtle, for any other mommy, but you know Norma's crazy ass sat right down on the bed to him like a regular Chatty Cathy and held his hand while he desperately tried to lose his boner, and eventually gave it the side-eye as she was leaving, as if the boner were the uninvited party.)
In other storylines, Bradley is pretty into Dylan (and vice versa), which means any positive Masculine Presence Points he's gaining with Norma are going to end up draining out of the Norman side of the house, if you see what I mean. Which is so sad, because he loves them both, but especially Norman. He also tries to talk Norma through her post-post-post traumatic disorder stuff -- sometimes Norma can kind of act out in a manic way, did you know? -- with Shelby's death, to no avail, and ends up the only person concerned about the titular Man In #9:
A very odd sex-slaver (played by the vulpine Jere Burns, who apparently has no real interest in aging) whose one billion red flags Norma seems determined to ignore because he's a paying customer, which -- after a kindly fellow business owner points out that she's now the owner of a "rape-slash-murder motel" after all -- is vastly more important to her usual delusional narcissism concepts about reality.
So between protecting everybody from this guy with an unknown agenda (obviously his agenda is shooting Chinese girls full of heroin and selling their bodies) and trying to warn Norman off Bradley (who actually has no agenda, besides just being Bradley, and assuming that Nice Guys understand that women are people, which is a dumb and wrong agenda to have because Nice Guys are the Worst) Dylan is pretty much just the all-around cock-block of the week. No good deed unpunished, although I shudder to think what'll happen when Norman walks in him nailing her, which they both seem pretty set on happening.
So. Best episode yet? I think so, but it had all the things I personally like: Norma's wacky physicality breaking up devastating/inappropriate family dynamics, Emma totally game to juggle Norma's fifty pounds of crazy, everybody talking about how great and yet totally vague Bradley is, Dylan being a goddamn trooper like always, Romero playing the situation exactly right, that amazingly complex intertwining of emotional and plot arcs twisting around each other, hilarious Norma manipulations, those parts where Norman's eyes will occasionally go completely black like he is a demon, and best of all: The parts where you want to physically rip through the screen and save every, every, every single one of them.
Week: Norma finally has to admit that surprise, Obvious Sex-Slave Dude is obviously a sex-slave dude, who has managed to score a blackout deal -- the whole motel -- for one week out of every eight. The tense peace with Romero can't last too long, Remo's gotta show back up, and psychosexually speaking, Norman's shit with Miss Watson (now that Bradley is no longer the primary object) is set to escalate into crazytown... And presumably Juno gets what's comin' to her.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!PREVIOUSLY
Norman produced for his mother the very same Asian sex slave he'd been convinced her boyfriend was keeping in the basement, and then -- long story short -- her boyfriend died.
MOMENTS LATER
Dylan hands his gun over easily to Romero when he arrives and the Sheriff confirms his Deputy is dead, and then just when they're all screwing their eyes shut tight waiting for the thunder to come -- except for Norman, who is still basically out of it -- he tells them all to head up to the house.
MOMENTS LATERER
Norma wraps up telling Romero the entire first six episodes, except for the part where Norman killed her husband to begin with, but including the entire sordid awful story with Summers and the belt and the carpet and the girl. It was deliciously excruciating to live through at the time, but on reflection I guess you can see how quickly you could tell it.
Norma goes a little haywire -- "So that's the whole story, so you know everything now, I have nothing more to tell you, that's the entire truth, you know it all" -- and Romero waits for her to eventually wind down. Good luck with that, mister.
Romero: "Here's the story. I've been suspicious of Shelby for a while, and kind of thought he might have killed Keith and thrown him in the bay, and he was hiding one of these girls on Keith's boat and I was getting closer and closer -- a hero, a hunter, an uncoverer of life's darker mysteries..."
Dylan: "Ugh, for real? Men really are the worst, Norma."
Norma/n: "Shh! Dylan, this is scintillating. A fascinating tale of derring-do. That saves our asses."
Romero: "...Just then! Knowing Romero was on the case, Shelby tried to move the girl and after a manhunt in which I did not call backup, because I do not need backup, we had ourselves a showdown. I killed Zach Shelby with this gun right here..."
Dylan: "Fucking A. That is my gun. I did all of this you're talking about. Also, why did I get shot in the arm in this story?"
Romero: "Meh. You got in the way..."
Norma/n: "You do tend to do that."
Romero: "...In the way of my justice."
Norman: "What about Jiao? Isn't she off dead in the woods somewhere?"
Romero: "I guess. That happened before I got here. And killed Zach Shelby. With my enormous penis."
Norma/n: "This is the best story we have ever heard."
Romero: "So we're all clear? That's it?"
Norma/n: "That! Is! It!"
Dylan: "I seriously was like the most unbelievably rad person and you guys are just... I mean, that's it?"
Norma/n: "That! Is! It!"
Dylan: "I got shot in the arm for you assholes."
Norma/n: "That! Is! It!"
They ruttle around on the couch like a couple of puppies at a puppy-party and it gets a little too skeezy for old Dylan, so he and his broken arm take off. They're still giggling and rolling around when he splits, and it's so uncomfortable. But also: That's it. I mean, every second since they got here has been misery, even the nice parts always with a black cloud of awful over them, so you can see why he's not really a part of the story -- he was a part of the awfulness until about ten minutes ago -- but still. Show some class.
AM
Norman and Bradley make love under the sheets again, but this time in daylight. You know this is a masturbatory fantasy the second it starts, because Bradley was like explicit that they were not together or even ever hooking up again, but also because of this:
Bradley: "What if your mom hears us downstairs?"
Norman: "She's never gonna hear us. Trust me."
I don't buy it. He would maybe hook up down in the motel if the stars aligned just right, but no way would he do it in the same house as Norma. Which leads me to believe this is part of the thrill here, like, as long as you're boning Bradley you might as well throw some Roman Centurions or a Pegasus in, just for flavor.
Things are just getting good when ol' Norma just sweeps right in, talking absolute nonsense about the birds and how the motel is opening week and eventually just trilling actual birdsong, is how crazy and the whole time he's dying on the inside, carefully stowing his dick and then willing things to stop, horribly and so cutely. It's adorable, the whole thing is so sweet.
Norman: "You're pretty manic today, huh?"
Norma: "I prefer to think of it as filled with purpose."
She sits down incredibly close to his boner and takes his hand so she can keep hollering about life and possibility and birds and whatever, and how Sheriff Romero seems like a good enough guy after all, and everything is over, and it's going to be wonderful and the whole time he's like, She can tell. And as she's leaving, she shoots the bunched-up covers over his adorable self a very odd look, like she's angry at it.
UNDER THE HOUSE
Before school, Norman has been tasked with fixing the lattice under the porch. Under there he finds a terrifying, very strange and dirty little doggie, and because he is Norman, he tries very hard to make friends with the doggie. The dog is not so sure about Norman, because she is a wild stray, but also because he is weird as hell.
BREAKFAST
When Dylan comes in -- jacket over his shoulders due to the broken arm, which makes him look like he's about to start his first day at the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft & Wizardry -- Norma is cooking and has graciously plated him a delicious square meal, which she offers with a smile. Having never seen her smile at him before, Dylan is instantly alert to danger.
Dylan: "What is this. What kind of a trick is this."
Norma: "It's not a trick, silly! It's the most important meal of the day!"
Dylan: "Why did you do this. I am nervous about everything going on."
Norma: "Can't a mother make her ssssss... her child breakfast?"
Dylan: "Some mothers, but not you. Listen, you know I'm still moving out, right? Just because I protected you that one time and you gave me the first hug I have ever received in my life doesn't make you less crazy in the days to come."
Her affect, of course, changes instantly. The smile slides off her face like a sunny-side-up egg. I thought for a second she was going to do something to his breakfast, like send it flying at his head. So, I think, do they both.
Norma: "What? Did you not hear me say that Norman is the crazy one and that we need to always watch out for him in case he goes crazy again? Surely you can see why I would need help. He's such a handful, that Norman."
Dylan: "Yeah, nevertheless. I mean, I'm not leaving town. I can still help you. I just can't be in the actual plague miasma of your trainwreck life. I need to be apart."
Norma: "What did you get shot for, if not so I could swallow you whole?"
Dylan: "That was just me being awesome, which is the opposite of what I will be, if I continue to hang around here."
They get into a dreadfully awkward fight over the garbage can, and eventually he wrests the bag away from her.
Norma: "Fine! Take out my garbage! Great! What a good kid! Thanks!"
OUT BACK
Still wizarding around in his jacket, poor old Dylan mumbles dejectedly as he trashes the trash and then notices a super fucking creepster idling in the parking lot with sunglasses and a staring problem. Dylan, because he was raised by wolves, knows a monster when he sees one, so he steps up and wizards over into the dude's face.
Creep: "Can you tell me what happened to the Seafairer [sic] Motel?"
Dylan: "It is the Bates Motel now. New owners. Still crazy as shit, though."
Creep: "Perhaps I will take a room. Do you have any creepy rape suites available?"
Dylan: "We're not opening for another week, sorry."
Creep: "This is B.S. Where is Keith Summers? We're old monster business partners in the flesh trade together, obviously."
Dylan: "Dead as hell, my friend. Appendages chewed off by fish, is how dead."
Dude just rolls the window up on him, puts those devil sunglasses back on his menacing face and purrs on out of there. It is terrifying. Everybody in my house was like, "Norma, your new boyfriend has arrived."
SCHOOL
Norman's just normaning his way down the hall, hoping and hoping, when he finally spots her: Bradley, with all her satellite Bradleys hugging her and offering their condolences about her dead burned up father.
Norman: "BRADLEY! Bradley Bradley Bradley Bradley you're back!"
Bradley: "Hmm. Yes, hi. Can't hide behind death forever."
Bradleys: "That was so deep. Oh my God, death has made you so deep. Bradley, we wrote your book report for you. It is on The Odyssey, which is about a father who would do anything and risk any punishment to return to his family. Eventually, unlike your dad, he makes it home."
Norman: "Anyway. So will I see you later? And we can start planning our wedding?"
I've thought this actress was a good choice, but something about the eloquently awkward and noncommittal and brutally realistic shrug she gives him as she's walking, backwards, away from him, is just perfect: She's just bein' Bradley, man. Don't cage her up -- she's barely there to begin with.
Did you know the Nice Guy thing is an actual stage of human male development? Oh, it's some sick shit. Basically Jung has it set up, you know, with the anima inside the man (look out, Norman!) and the animus inside the woman, and so -- as a natural consequence of the male privilege that has defined us as long as there have been people -- men go through a thing throughout their lives where they look at women as defined through this personal, internal female self.
And the other major contrasexual archetypes are already filling up with experiences and numinosity -- the Goddess, the Mommy -- and informing it (watch out, Norman!), so a lot of male development actually is about navigating these waters consciously, about seeing the ways that other people don't and do line up with your experiences, with those changing and developing personal archetypes and continually refining them all, down there in the lake under the concrete. (This is also what The Odyssey is about, which is why so many of those run-ins are with goddesses and demigoddesses: why Penelope has to do everything she can to keep the men off her back while she waits for her husband; why Telemachus must plunge himself into the world of men without a guide, because he's fatherless; why Calypso eventually has to let Ulysses go.)
And then there's the Dream Girl problem, which is that the more vague you come off -- Jung's word was "elfin" -- the more they can project their shit on you, because you just absorb it, because you have no conflicting qualities that would contradict the projection and force them to think about their insides versus your outsides and how they are actually two completely different universes. Bradley is a prime example -- Serena van der Woodsen, anybody named Daisy in any story, The Virgin Suicides -- because she knows better than to say or do anything that's gonna bite her in the ass later. But that bites her in the ass, because you're more than just a receptacle for other people's desire, and hopefully you can convince some people of that before you get your heart broken.
But just like lots of people don't ever get around to understanding that other people are people -- that they're just as real as you -- lots of men aren't ever called on to think about women that way. Like, for example, one of the steps in anima development is figuring out that women are capable of telling right from wrong. Which sounds like some sick shit, but not when you think about how most male judgments of women have to do with them being "irrational" or "a little bit stupid" or whatever it is. I mean, it's sick shit either way, but if you think about it developmentally, it's no sicker than figuring out that pets can feel pain or your parents don't go away when you close your eyes or whatever thing you need to learn. And usually the world forces you to learn these things.
But the world is tilted a certain way where it's not necessarily going to force you to figure these things out about women -- and that, in fact, this is so pervasive that women also have to figure this stuff out. Like White Pine Bay, the world is -- until very recently and for the most part still -- a story told exclusively through male eyes. Devouring ones. And so when you hit Nice Guy level, what you're really talking about is a Thing you don't understand, but has something you want and you've received just enough information to form a very, very blurry hypothesis about how to get it.
And then every time you try one of these magic tricks -- "showing emotion" or "being nice" or "acting like women are people" -- and it doesn't work, well, that's going to piss you off. Especially if the world is already tilted so you mostly get what you want without even having to ask. I am always glad I am not a woman, because this world would turn me into Norma Bates very quickly, no question; I am usually even more glad that I am not a straight man, because that is some embarrassing, sad, ultimately disappointing bullshit to come with -- and factory-standard, at that.
And Norma Bates's son? The second self of a narcissist and therefore the center of the universe by virtue of being an extension of the actual center of the universe? His world's gonna be tilted, um, more than most. He knows women are people -- they are, in fact, his entire world -- but that doesn't mean he's ever gonna get used to seeing things that aren't there.
He's brilliant, sensitive, tender and sweet, and those are all qualities that confer some pretty clear vision on you. But ask any smartest guy in any room what the hardest thing is and it's going to be that when you're right about 99% of everything, that 1% is the killer thing: Because you're never going to figure out that you're wrong about it, because you're basically never wrong. And when that happens, you can either go crazy or just proceed with the idea that it's the world that's wrong.
You and I know -- because we are not teenage boys -- that Bradley has been upfront with him since they met, and there is actually no confusion to be had here. And Bradley knows that he was an easy mark and probably in retrospect won't be figuring it out in time to save himself. But Norman? Norman's not like us, he's not like anybody: He knows the world is wrong on this one and anything Bradley says or does (or doesn't say, or doesn't do) is just going to get recapitulated into the confabulation. The difference between a Nice Guy, a Stalker and a regular person is simply a matter of degree.
But in the meantime, you're just Penelope: You have shit to do, regardless of whatever feelings they're feeling.
A LOVELY RESTAURANT
Norma: "Hi! I'm Norma Bates! You're the manager at this lovely restaurant?"
Liz Morgan: "I am Liz Morgan. Check out my beautiful face, which is not happy to see you."
Norma: "Well! I am the proud owner of a new motel in town and I wanted to do some networking... I could advertise your restaurant to my out-of-towners and you could..."
Liz: "I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm guessing I'm the first person you came to, just by happenstance, which is lucky because I'm actually going to be compassionate and explain the situation in detail. I am not comfortable being in a handshake agreement with you, and nobody is going to be and you are screwed. See, this is the WPB and that self-serving Sheriff story currently circulating does not do you any favors."
Norma: "Why whatever do you mean."
Liz: "I mean like you dated a sex maniac? Who died at your house? Which was owned by another sex maniac? Who died?"
Norma: "Yes, but the only way that would be embarrassing is if I got raped at some point, which I officially did not."
Liz: "No, I'm afraid it's embarrassing either way. Sorry."
Norma shows off several of her best faces, the sad demented ones like some lady on the bus being the most heartwrenching, and -- she's her son's mother -- even stands there for a while waiting on the world to nudge itself back into being a kind, just and most importantly Norma-serving place, but it just never does so she takes her shame and her box of brochures back out to the car.
BACK AT THE OFFICE
Norma, weirdly, checks the schedule as if to make sure she hasn't accidentally made any reservations without her own knowledge, but it's still empty. Outside, the creeping creeper Jake Abernathy creeps.
Norma: "Hey, guy jostling the doors of my closed motel in the dead of a rainy night!"
Jake: "I'm Jake Abernathy. I think I left some of my shit here. Have you seen any comic books around? Or maybe some sex slaves?"
Norma: "Nope, nothing like that. Listen, how can I serve you?"
Jake: "I want to stay in room number nine. Only room number nine. I have money."
Norma: "Let me just get you a key, then."
She nervously dicks around for a second -- is that a 6 or a 9? -- and then brings it out to him.
Norma: "There's towels and whatever and I just am very happy that my dream is coming true and we have guests staying here finally and the amount of red-flags going off right now cannot possibly break my spirit and so if you need anyth..."
(Slam!)
Norma: "Mmkay. Welcome to the Bates Motel! Please don't get blood on the carpet, we just had a... oh, never mind. Momma's tired."
LATER
Dylan parks down the hill, notices the car and lights and Satanic sex rituals being performed, and wonders what on earth is going on. For the record, he has replaced the blown-up truck of Weeping Dead Ethan with a larger, even more extended-cab black truck.
Dylan: "So somebody's staying in the motel?"
Norma: "I guess it's a soft opening? He said he had a standing reservation at the Seafairer, [sic], every two months for a week. I was like, Be our guest! Check me out, a small business owner."
Dylan: "Check me out, cockblocking you like usual. That dude is creepy times a million, Norma. This is no way for a dream to come true."
Norma: "I don't think he was weird! He was perfectly normal!"
Dylan: "He sat in the driveway for like ever, watching me toss the garbage. He namedropped Keith Summers, for God's sake."
Norma: "Those are perfectly normal behaviors!"
Long-suffering, good old Dylan heads over to Room #9 to at least do the bare minimum of due diligence.
Dylan: "Hey, sorry to interrupt your sex murder or whatever, but could I get at the very least a driver's license and a credit card? Because this is a business?"
Jake: "Ugh, so plebian. Here's my license for five blurred seconds, and several hundred-dollar bills for you to suck on."
Dylan: "Then I guess I will."
Dylan: "Put this on your Toldya So Bingo board -- he paid in cash and... What are you doing now?"
Norma: "Scrubbing the blood off my home's front porch in the middle of the night, obviously. Like a maniac, because I am a maniac."
Dylan: "Stone is porous, you can't scrub blood out of it. If it were a truck we could blow it up, but since it's your house..."
Norma: "I'm gonna keep scrubbing. You know that about me. And also, what, I'm just gonna wait? Another beautiful morning in White Pine Bay! Listen to those birds! Oh, and check out that location where my boyfriend bled out after accidentally raping me and nearly killing everybody. Does that sound like something I would stand for?"
Dylan: "No, but that's not the point. The point is that what you are doing is meaningless."
Norma: "You talk a good game about moving on, but listen. Those bitches in town wouldn't take my brochures. It was like that part in Pretty Woman, only I never got to go shopping. Awful."
Dylan: "The WPB is a town without pity, it's true. But it'll blow over. At this rate, somebody is going to be lit on fire or turn up in the harbor by tomorrow."
Norma: "If we don't do a bang-up business, we'll be marked as failures! I will be the laughingstock of White Pine! They will win. And I will be god damned, Dylan Texas, if I let that happen. Those fuckers are never going to get one over on old Norma Bates."
Dylan: "You're gonna wear yourself out eventually, I guess. Have at it. Oh, and here's the money your stupid ass forgot to ask for, 'small business owner.' You're welcome."
AM
Dylan: "You know how I'm moving out as quickly as possible? Because check out your mother scrubbing her knuckles raw outside in the middle of the night, if you please."
Norman: "I can't go with you. You know that."
Dylan: "No, I get it. I'm not even gonna... whoa, where did you just go?"
Bradley is stepping out of a car and Norman is rapt with attention. Dylan follows the magnetic ley lines of his intense stare, takes the girl in, takes Norman in and tries to connect the dots. But he can't, because Bradley is beautiful -- perfect, for our purposes -- and Norman is just Norman. He's still staring when Bradley comes near, forced to say hello. She can't take her eyes off him either. Norman tries not to notice.
Bradley: "You work for Gil, right? My dad used to work with him. Jerry Martin?"
Dylan: "Oh, shit. That's... I'm really sorry."
Bradley: "Thanks, that's really sexy of you to say."
Norman: "You better get that food home! Before it gets cold!"
Dylan: "Wait, for real that is the booty call girl?"
Norman: "Yep. And we are very much in love."
Dylan: "As I was instrumental in making this happen, I'm doubly sorry for what's clearly about to happen ."
THAT NIGHT
Checking on Norman -- as we know now she must do a lot more of than we could have surmised -- Norma hears a banging sound downstairs. An invader. And since everything is safe now, she wonders if it's Dylan. It is not. It's just a screen door, bashing in a sudden wind. And all that safety Dylan brought into the house just leaks right out again.
SUNDAY AM
Emma: "Just me, feeling very freaked out because I managed to get the one sex slave I was trying to save murdered, and you guys totally left me hanging and Norman is kind of the worst boyfriend ever. And also, did you get a dog?"
Norma: "Why is there a bowl of fucking dog food on the porch? Oh, hey. I just realized you were talking. Let me go get Norman with my sugary-sweetest voice so you think I adore you."
Norman: "Tell her to leave. I can't handle it. I hate it when people project their romantic obsessions on you without your consent; it makes you feel like an object. Like, how is this my problem that you're all in love with me and shit?"
Norma: "Uh, she's totally sweet and very much into you. And will die soon."
Norman: "Maybe sometimes you don't lead people on, Penelope? Sometimes that works out better. Think about that wisdom. Now excuse me, I have to write Mrs. Bradley Bates on my notebook eleven thousand more times and then she will love me."
Norma: "In closing, I would just like to get very volatile for a second about how you are attracting strays to the house. Stray bitches. And then I have to deal with them."
Norma: "Emma, that boy can be a real piece. Sorry he's dogging you like this. Also, not at all sorry, because you stole his virtue and sullied him forever."
Emma: "Okay. Can I still stare at you like a startled ghost for about ten minutes? I kind of wish I had a mom and you're kind of the most awesomely insane person I ever met."
Norma: "...You know what, why don't you come with me into town. I need to pick up some window sheers and it's time for my semi-annual display of concern for another living being."
Emma: "That sounds pretty rad. Can we do donuts in the parking lot while you scream your face off?"
Norma: "More than likely, my dear."
ON THE ROAD
Norma: "How do people talk, how to do human talking... yes. Emma, Norman has been distracted lately, so I wouldn't take it personally. You know, between the rapes and murders and sex slaves and arrests and whatnot. Dylan fuckin' everything up all the time."
Emma: "He does seem to be pretty distant. Pretty distracted."
Norma: "Any thoughts on that?"
Emma: "I go to school with her, obviously."
Norma: "Hold up, you're not sleeping with him? What the hell, there's another girl?"
Emma: "Yeah, her name is Bradley and she is perfect. Gorgeous and popular. And super kind, so you can't even hate her. It's the worst."
Norma: "That is the worst!"
Emma, characteristically: "She is like a locomotive of sexual energy."
The crazy light goes off over Norma's head in a big way, almost like Emma planned it rather than just talking in her usual hilarious Emma way.
Norma: "I'm so sure some high school cheerleader is all that big a deal."
Emma: "Don't be a hater, Mrs. Bates. We can go spy on her in her yoga class if you want, after we pick up the window sheers..."
Norma: "You are in it to win it, little girl."
Emma: "But I mean, that would be crazy. Right?"
YOGA STUDIO, IMMEDIATELY
Norma: "Listen, and I'm saying this as much to myself as you, high school boys are ephemeral* in a lot of ways. He might be into her this week, but it doesn't mean anything. You hear me, Emma? IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING. SHE'S NOT ALL THAT."
Emma: "You be the judge."
*(What she actually says is "high school boys are not deep," which my brain heard several rewinds in a row as "high school boys are not people," which frankly. Either way she means, Penelope's got shit to do, whatever feelings they're feeling.)
They peeeeeek around the corner, into the studio and watch Bradley do a bunch of sensual yoga, and eventually Norma kind of fugues out and can't stop imagining like every possible sexual act. It's disturbing and graphic and still just adorable, even the blowjob part that kind of gave me nightmares.
Emma: "We gotta get some food in you, Mrs. Bates."
Norma: "Yeah, I'm losing the plot. You know what, though? I know that girl. She showed up at my door the first day we lived here! Sniffing around like that, just imagine."
Emma: "No problem."
MEANWHILE
Norman is coaxing the dog, which he has named Juno -- another name for Hera, which is another name for Norma Bates -- onto the porch. It's the whole Petit Prince thing, that taming thing, that "I will be so quiet and still and you won't even know how close you're getting" thing, that I do think is pretty accurate about love, but only if you don't know you're doing it.
HOWEVER
Norma has motherfucking had it with this kid and this dog and the whole mess.
Norma: "You don't know anything about that dog. She could have another owner who misses her and is taking her to Prom. More than likely she has had her share of owners. You think you're special? You think you're her first? Look at that creature."
Norman: "Mother, she's totally safe. Just scared. Obviously lost. She has no home. She's lonely. Normal is having a dog."
Norma: "Well, you got me with that last one. Fine. But I'm not taking care of her."
Norma: "Norman, come sit down for the weirdest thing that has ever happened."
Norman: "Sure, I don't see anything ominous about that at all."
Norma: "Sex is a serious thing, Norman."
Norman: "I could have sworn we were talking about a dog."
Norma: "There is nothing funny about this conversation I have now surprised you with. You have to be CAREFUL."
Norman: "I know about all that."
Norma: "I don't mean protection, I mean you have to be CAREFUL."
Norman: "Say it in more florid, awful detail."
Norma: "You don't know that girl well enough to be screwing her."
Norman: "First of all, yikes. And second of all, she's totally nice."
Norma: "That remains to be seen. Personally, I don't think nice girls come to your doorstep looking for a guy one day after he moves in. Or sleep with someone they barely know. At the age of 17, no less..."
Norman: "Hold up, you have a dossier on this person?"
Norma: "Bradley Martin. I know everything, Norman. Everything all of the time."
Norma's always-flawless body language launches into overdrive now, as she points and touches various spots all over her body in a totally freaky way -- half-clinical half-careless -- as she's talking. And oh, what is she saying?
"Norman, did you know that having sex with a woman literally affects her physical being? There are chemicals that are released in a woman's body during and after sex that actually alter her. It's like a science experiment. It affects her mind, okay? That's dangerous stuff. That's not something you want to be dabbling around in for fun."
He pulls her back, simply by declaring in his guileless forceful way that yes, I know what you're talking about -- in the most insane way possible -- and yes, I am not a jerk that will just cause girls to go crazy in love with me, except they do and will and yes you are right that oxytocin is a thing and this is why chocolate is delicious, but listen the hell up: I like this girl. This one particular girl. Stop trying to figure out who is the bad guy, who is the man, in this situation: I am devoted to her and she to me. Whatever first sexual experience you were planning on me never happening, this was ideal. So quit.
Norma: "Okay, I buy it. But you know I'm not going down that easy. I have hired Emma to work at the motel several afternoons a week."
Norman: "Is that where you were all day? Hanging around with my spare girlfriend?"
Norma: "Yeah, and I gave her a job and I love her and you will marry her and then she will die and I won't ever have to worry about any of this ever again."
Norman: "What I'm hearing is that you think I can't handle Bradley, like she's too awesome for me, and therefore I should go with weird oxygen girl."
Norma: "Obviously, but I would never say that out loud."
Norman: "I am about to throw a total fit, lady."
Norma: "Come on, you're not actually dating Bradley. When was the last time you did anything, or got more than a few seconds of face time, or she answered a text, or..."
Between Dylan and Norma both trying to save him from the face-melting explosion of awfulness he's about to bring down on his own head, Norman has motherfucking had it. He stomps his wonderful self all around the place for a while and then heads out into White Pine Bay, to lock this shit down once and for all.
BRADLEY'S HOUSE
Bradley: "Oh, shit. Hey Norman. You know, growing up in a Bret Easton Ellis novel has made most of us here in town pretty jaded? So like, could you not just cross-apply our sexual neurasthenia into this equation and understand that we never, ever have to have this..."
Norman: "As I have made perfectly clear in my many, many voicemails, emails, anonymous letters, postcards and psychic messages that I know only you can hear, we are in love. Got it?"
Bradley: "I mean, but no we're not."
Norman: "We are in love. You are acting ridiculous! Stop being afraid, I'm here to save you and protect you forevermore. Do you need support while you break up with Richard Slymore? Do you need comfort while you navigate the choppy strange waters of our innate spiritual connection?"
Bradley: "No, I need you to take it down like a million notches."
Norman: "Just let me finish. There is no point hiding from it anymore. I know how we feel about each other, I know we're both just scared and confused. I know we have a connection. Every time I see you, it's there. Making love to you was a peak experience. For both of us."
Bradley: "This is some ugly shit, Norman. I am real sorry about this."
Norman: "Sorry about what? It'll be a June wedding, we can both still go to college. My mommy can make us breakfast every day."
Bradley: "Norman, I want you to listen to me very carefully for one second, okay? Not to what you think I'm saying, or the tonal gradations in my voice that you can later decide were significant. The actual words. You feel me?"
Norman: "Inside every part of myself, all the time. Beating out a sweet tattoo. It's the cord of communion, Bradley."
Bradley: "Actual words, okay? I do not like you in that way. We had sex but that's what it was. It was great, you're great, but I am not Truman and this is not your Show."
What Bradley Says: "I shouldn't have done it with someone like you."
What Bradley Means: "I never should have pulled this shit on somebody as special as you, that actually cares for me and would actually take things this far."
What Norman Hears: "Like you're good enough for me."
Eyes suddenly black as coal he tears off into the night, flapping his arms like he does, and she follows, shouting for him to stop, turn back, let her talk him down. Make it right. He can't hear Bradley, though, because somebody else is speaking. Her words, coming out of his mouth.
Mother: "Personally, I don't think nice girls come to your doorstep looking for a guy one day after he moves in. Or sleep with someone they barely know. At the age of 17, no less. I mean really, what kind of girl does that? Invites you over to have sex with them after their dad dies?"
Mother's ramping up for some serious damage, some violent scary shit, when Bradley finally catches up to them. He whirls on her, it's scary and sad and -- given the way this show operates -- not entirely out of the question that he is about to bash her head in.
Norman: "I don't think you're a nice girl."
He starts to fugue out, you can actually see the thing moving in, taking the wheel and then -- because she's Bradley, because she's amazing -- Bradley pushes past the dark clouds gathering, throws her arms around him, drives the demon out. Just instinctively she does this -- embrace-as-exorcism -- and Mother falls to her. For now.
Norman comes back to himself, almost gratefully, and they cry there together in the road. Just a boy and a girl who want more than anything to be happy. No demons, no Mother. Just a mistake everybody saw him about to make, and the heartbreak to follow: "I'm really sorry," she says. "I wish it was different."
It's not a lot, but it's enough. Just barely enough.
MOTEL OFC
Jake: "Hey, sorry to startle you. I just wanted to say how nice it is here. Better than when Summers ran the place, for the most part."
Norma: "I hope the amenities are on a commensurate level with what you were..."
Jake: "How are the reservations going?"
Norma: "Zilch."
Jake: "Well, word of mouth is everything. I know the women of WPB aren't helping you out, but I'm a man from an even wider world than that. Let's set up an arrangement like I had with Summers, and I'll do what I can to get the word out."
Norma: "Sure! Awesome. Room nine every eighth week? I'll just type that into the..."
Jake: "The whole motel, actually. First week of every other month."
Norma: "Blackout dates are... Well, I guess I'll be getting paid either way, so you're on."
Norma: "So this is what, like for the other people you work with?"
Jake: "Kind of!"
Norma: "What kind of business are you in, again?"
Jake: "Sales."
Norma: "Sales. And you always pay in cash..."
Jake: "And no room service. Nobody fucking around. We like privacy."
Norma: "And there's that... Listen, this sounds pretty much like the most illegal thing in the entire world, actually."
Jake: "Don't be silly!"
Norma: "Okay I won't!"
OUTSIDE
On his way home, feeling whatever is opposite of his last triumphant return from Bradley's but at least not permanently relinquishing his mind to anybody, Norman spots Juno on the road, and she's happy to see him, and then you know what happens and it's just too awful. He's crying with his most cryface-face ever, carrying this limp dead dog, the guy who ran over her feels bad, but not that bad, Norma comes running out with her Spidey-Sense all activated by Norman's feelings, and Norman's just screaming his head off, walking like a zombie.
Norma: "Norman, get out of the street, what are you doing?"
Norman: "I killed my dog! I'm taking her to Emma's dad. He can fix dead things."
I don't know why -- I mean, I totally know why, but you know what I mean -- that sent a shiver down the spine, just that particular wording. It's creepy in a way that's specific to the overall legend and franchise, but also... oh, honey. No he can't. That's an angle I hadn't thought of: We use taxidermy to hold onto things, after they're gone. To pretend we never lost them. Because we lose so much anyway. He can fix dead things.
Norma: "Well, this is crazy."
Norman: "IT IS NOT FUCKING CRAZY."
Norma: "Whoa, the black eyes. Okay, I'll get the car. Jesus."
Terrified for him, she runs for the car, and he stands there with her in his arms: His first victim. The first one he killed out of love, instead of anger. The first one that counts.
Norman, weeping: "I was wrong, Mother. About everything."
Norma: "Oh. I'm so sorry, honey."
Norman: "Now go get the car."
WEEK
Professor Quirrell does stuff to Juno; Jake Abernathy is shocked that Norma is shocked by his obvious sex-murdering predilections; Miss Watson's existence messes with Norman's tenuous grip; other amazing, shocking things occur. This really is just the best show.
JACOB CLIFTON is a freelance writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. He currently recaps The Good Wife, Bates Motel, and Defiance for TWoP. Jacob can be found online at jacobclifton.com, Twitter, and Facebook, as well as a regular column for Tor.com, Geek Love.
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