Episode Report Card Wing Chun: D | 2 USERS: B- YOU GRADE IT The Reluctant Hero
By Wing Chun | Season 2 | Episode 8 | Aired on 11.24.1998
Over at Capeside High School, we get a voice-over of some bored, cranky authoritative man saying, "Witter, Pacey," instantly making me think it's a guidance counsellor. The guy continues (from inside, now): "Grade point average 1.7 [ouch!], currently failing Biology, and U.S. History. Extra-curricular interests: none. Tendency to be disruptive in class. Has difficulty with tests requiring a number 2 pencil. Let's see, here: Career Aptitude Test? I didn't realize that it was possible to fail an aptitude test. This shows that you have absolutely zero career objectives." Yeah, like you're one to talk; you're a guidance counsellor (and yes, I know they're an easy target, but there is a good reason for that). "Congratulations," continues Mr. Bitter, "most people with your academic record can't walk upright." Surely that kind of psychological battering is in violation of some school regulations; I mean, I never thought I'd say this but I really think that Pacey deserves better. Sure, he's obviously lazy, but he's not a bad kid, and this guidance counsellor is not behaving in a very professional way if he takes such sadistic pleasure in Pacey's difficulties. (This is not to say that I objected to the behaviour of the English teacher last week; at least teachers do generally have cause for their hopeless attitude: hard experience.) But I digress. Pacey shrugs and asks what his options are. Evil Guidance Dude answers, "Summer school. Followed by a return engagement of your sophomore year. And if, by some miracle, you make it to graduation, a life of leisure. Until welfare reform kicks in, that is." MAN! Someone call Superintendent Chalmers on this guy. Poor Pacey doesn't even have the self-confidence to glare at Evil Guidance Dude, but just gazes downward, licks his lips, and generally looks dismayed. "What?" says Evil Guidance Dude. "No witty comeback? Now I'm really disappointed in you, Pacey." Pacey throws his head back and groans. I am organizing an angry mob to go set Evil Guidance Dude's house on fire. Who's with me?
Then we get Dawson excitedly running down the hall calling to Joey "Archie or Reggie?" Potter, who, when he catches up with her, looks alarmed. He tells her they won, "The Boston Film Festival: we won the Jurors' Prize for the Best Short Film in the Junior division." Um, first of all, yeah right. Second of all, whoever wrote this episode should have put a whole lot more conditions on that award, like maybe "Best Short Film in the Junior division among Directors with Bad Dye Jobs originating on Cape Cod and featuring a Porcine Performer in a Leading Role." Anyway, whatever, I will TRY to believe that horrible film won anything outside the Razzies, as will Joey who gets excited too, as Dawson reads from the letter: "'The clever send-up of the horror genre shows a profound understanding of the traditional Hollywood machinations [except that Dawson pronounces it "massinations"] and turns them upside-down in an entirely refreshing and entertaining way,'" and I really doubt an official letter like that would use adjectives so indiscriminately and excessively, but if I'm suspending my disbelief that far, I guess it can be suspended that little bit more. Joey grins a little scarily. Dawson reads on: "'Writer-Director Dawson Leery and Producer Joey Potter have been allotted a budget of $2500 toward their next project,'" and I think they'd call it a grant or an award, and not a budget but WHATEVER. And Dawson reiterates for Joey, whom I guess he thinks is not so bright, "It's a cheque for $2500 to finance our next movie. We've already been pre-accepted into their winter workshop." Joey looks dismayed, and certainly less excited than Dawson, and says, "We?" "Yeah," says Dawson. "I mean, I understand that we said we'd give each other space and I totally respect that" like NO YOU DON'T "but I was wondering, I mean, hoping, that you'd still produce. Think about it; we could actually rent equipment. Say goodbye to halogen lamp lighting or shopping-cart dollies. And if we move fast we could get it finished by the summer, maybe travel with it to other festivals," and I hope Joey is seeing what I do -- that Dawson's plans are pitifully unrealistic -- but is trying to spare his feelings by telling him, "Dawson, I'm really sorry, but I don't think I can do it. I mean, I don't think I have the time right now. I just signed up for some art classes, and between work and school --" "We made such a great team!" Dawson says, even more pitifully. Joey nods sadly, but says nothing. Dawson recovers as quickly as he can and says he understands. Joey says, "Listen, this is amazing, you should be thrilled. It's incredible." Dawson stammers a bit and answers that he is, and then takes off, presumably to go nurse his fragile ego. Joey gazes distressedly after him for a moment until Jack "Not Wanted at the Orgy" McPhee comes up behind her and asks if she's got a second. She says she's late for second period. Jack says he wants to make things right between them: "It was a full moon." Somewhere, Sars sticks a fork in her eye. "I know that's no excuse, but I'm really sorry. Just tell me what I gotta do to get our friendship back on track here, because this whole silent treatment thing is killing me." Joey says she hasn't been giving him the silent treatment, but that she's trying to figure things out. Jack says she's been avoiding him like he's got some kind of disease. I can attest to the fact that he's giving me a rash, but Joey insists that she's just had a lot on her mind lately. Jack: "So you're not mad at me." Joey: "I think you had it right the night of the dance. Um, more than anything I guess I was mad at myself." Jack: Oh, well, then, you know, get over it already. This whole inner personal turmoil thing, it just kinda wrinkles up your forehead." Both: "chuckle." Wing Chun: "Please shut up, both of you." Jack: "Besides, I miss hanging out with you." Bell: "Ring." Joey: "Gotta go." Jack: "Yeah, see ya." Wing Chun: "WHATEVER."
In the cafeteria, Dawson is pecking at the keyboard of a pretty top-of-the-line-looking notebook computer which looks better than the one I am writing on at this very moment. And, okay, I admit that I am not in high school now, nor have I been for some time, but when I was in university occasionally you'd see the odd person using what was then called a "laptop" computer in class, and everyone would hate that person and assume that he or she was a pretentious jerk, which was usually the case, and is here as well with Dawson who pays no attention to Jen as she approaches until she says hey, and even then all he says is, "How's the hangover?" like how about a hello, or how about looking at her for longer than a split second, or can't you spare the energy as you swim across LAKE SUPERIOR? Jen says, "Post-Advil, it's fine. So, what are you writing?" Dawson flicks his eyes back at her to answer, "A script." "Really, that's great," says Jen. "Yeah," says Dawson, "great, and, funded," and hands her the letter. She reads it and marvels, "Twenty-five hundred dollars? Dawson, you won. You actually won?" And I guess Dawson does have time to talk to Jen as long as they're talking about him because she actually looks at her and smugly answers, "Yeah. Yeah, I did." Jen says, "Congratulations, I am so proud of you," and smiles quite nicely and sincerely at him. Aw. "Well, thank you!" beams Dawson. "So how does it feel to be the star of an award-winning film?" and, okay, it's all well and good to crow a little when you get something like this, but take it down a notch, Dawson, because there is such a thing as modesty, and you'd do well to at least learn how to fake it. Jen says, "An honour. Although next time, I would like to request that you extend my dialogue beyond 'help' and 'aaahhh'." Dawson says, "It's a deal."