Thanks to Kisle, the Couch Baron, Rathmel, and all lit majors past, present, and future on the Mighty Big TV forums.
Previously on Dawson's Creek: Dawson tells Joey how much he'd "missed this," but he means "making movies," and Joey thought he meant "mooning over her," so she gets bummed out; Pacey busts on Dawson for not preparing himself mentally for Joey's post-Dawson love life; Jack can't go through with his date with Ben.
Fade up on the Sanctum Dawsonorum, where Dawson "Thus Sprach Foreheadthustra" Leery edits his Witch Island dorkumentary. A duffel bag flies through his window, followed by Joey "Goes To Hollywood" Potter. "Nice entrance," Dawson says dryly, and Joey looks at the TV screen and asks, "Dawson, isn't there a limit on the number of times a person can watch their [sic] own movie?" Would you rather watch it, Joey? No? Didn't think so. Dawson excuses his self-absorption by saying that he has to prepare for the "Q & A session after the screening." Joey, taking off her coat, snarks, "How Sundance." Tee hee. Dawson tells her not to "blow this completely out of proportion," and Joey gives him guff for acting nervous -- but, it saddens me to report, not before referring to Dawson as both a "gifted young self-motivated auteur" and "Capeside's own Spielbergian wunderkind" in a sentence as chock-full of mispronunciations, tautologies, and incorrectly defined fifty-cent words as any ever spoken in the Sanctum, so I won't repeat it in full. I will, however, tell Joey to shut up. Shut up, Joey. Dawson stuffs various XXXL American Eagle items of apparel into his bag and admits to feeling a bit nervous, explaining, "It's one thing to be a big fish in the small pond that is Capeside," and Joey finishes, "But entirely another to swim in the talent pool with hundreds of your egocentric competitors." Um, first of all, "big fish"? You can't even drive yet, Craniac, so unless you want me to call you "Hammerhead" for the rest of the season, put a sock in it. Second of all -- oh, forget it. Dawson thanks Joey for the "gut-wrenching visual." Joey comforts him by telling him for the bazillionth time that his movie is good and that he is talented, and she sounds about as convincing as she usually does when forced to spout a bunch of complimentary bushwa about Dawson's filmmaking faculties, i.e. not very. Dawson smiles that all-too-familiar "ah yes, more of the praise I so richly deserve" smile of greatly off-putting smugness while Joey blathers on about how "for better or worse, this experience will only take you one step closer to realizing your dreams." Then she kvetches about having to spend the weekend with "a complete stranger," which Dawson agrees is "cruel and unusual," but Joey shrugs that she signed up for the college tour, so they've paired her off with a random student, and "those are the rules." Dawson asks if she's nervous, and she says yes, "but in a good way."
Cue The "As God Is My Witness, I Will Get The Hell Out Of Capeside One Day" Monologue Of The Week; the trip gives Joey hope that she will "make it out of here," and Dawson tells her he's never doubted that she would get out of Capeside. Joey mumbles, "Easy for you to say, Dawson," and Dawson tells her to "look at this weekend as an adventure," adding a bunch of bollocks about "our first foray into the real world" and "a glimpse into the rest of our lives," and as the surface of my eyeball begins to twitch, longing for a sharp object, Joey counteracts Dawson's upbeat prediction with a dire one of her own, one which sports a bunch of SAT words that, taken together, make absolutely no sense whatsoever. Then she smiles.
Credits. A cat's tail mistakenly finds its way onto the set of a Ginsu infomercial.
Fade back up on a crew team's four boat rowing up a river. Pan over to a campus, festooned with fall foliage and Gothic architecture. Dawson observes that he feels like Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, but with a much much larger head. Oh, sorry. Really, Dawson feels like he's meeting the aliens from that film. Joey informs him tartly that "we are the aliens." No comment. Walking beside them, Jack "Misery Date" McPhee asks Andie "Total Commitment" McPhee what she thinks. Andie, typically, launches into a complete history of The University That Dares Not Speak Its Name. Apparently, Harvard wouldn't lend its imprimatur to this episode -- go figure -- and the Harvard campus looks nothing like this one anyway (Duke much?) so I probably shouldn't refer to TUTDNSIN as "Harvard" in the rest of the recap. But, much like Andie, I digress. Dawson observes that Andie should write for the catalog, but Jack says that it is the catalog, which he thinks Andie sent away for "when she was about nine." "Class of 2005, baby, early admissions -- I am going to ace this interview," Andie sasses him back. Um, Andie, sorry to interrupt, but they call it "early admission," singular. Joey says she has to go meet her roommate for the weekend, "A.J. Moller." Oh, hello, Anvil. So nice of you to, uh, drop by. Andie burbles that Joey will have "a blast," and she knows because she took the junior tour last year. "As a sophomore?" Joey asks. "Early bird gets into college," Andie percolates. Not when she cheats on the PSATs, she doesn't. Dawson asks Jack what he has planned. Jack thinks he'll "just hang out, I guess, do the tours thing, figure out what damn grade I'm supposed to be in on this damn show." Okay, he didn't say that last part, but you can bet I did. The group, standing at the metaphorically convenient four-way intersection of a footpath, splits up for the day.
At the film festival's registration table, Dawson gives his vitals to a sassy girl with braided hair; every time he tries to elaborate on one of his answers, she cuts him off. When she asks him his favorite director, he of course responds, "Steven Spielberg," and she gives him a skeptical look and says, "You're kidding." Dawson's says he isn't. Sassy gets up to put Dawson's festival tape away, saying, "Steven Spielberg. Undoubtedly a gifted filmmaker, but I mean, come on -- where's the edge?" Dawson lines up for his photo badge picture and shoots back, "Edge is -- fleeting. Heart lasts forever." Sassy prepares to take his picture and snorts, "Say cheese." Hee! I know she's just a plot device, but I like Sassy anyway. She asks him to sign a release form, and while he does, she gives him the eye. Oh, no, Sassy, please don't do that. Then she says he didn't provide a synopsis of his film, and Dawson says he didn't have enough room and starts explaining the Witch Island thing, but he's barely begun when Sassy cuts him short again: "Another Blair Witch Project, gotcha." She dismisses a speechless Dawson with, "Good luck," and goes to see to the entrant; Dawson sighs. ["Sassy is my girlfriend." -- Wing Chun]
Joey knocks on the door of Room 381 in a dorm, then lets herself in to find a guy sitting cross-legged on his desk and working on -- what else? -- an iBook. She tries to introduce herself; he shushes her. A.J. has a "GO REVS" sign hanging on the wall behind him, and why a guy who looks like a seventh-generation photocopy of Chris O'Donnell in Scent Of A Woman has the logo of one of New York City's most famous graffiti taggers on his wall escapes me. Anyhow. A way-too-long, not-at-all-funny-even-unintentionally exchange ensues regarding the respective genders of A.J. Moller (the guy on the desk) and "Potter comma Joseph" (Joey), during which many unnecessarily long words are employed and the aforementioned A.J. acts like a right prick, talking down to Joey, sneering the words "high school" about a dozen times, and stopping just short of singing "baby, baby, stick your head in gravy" to her. Joey announces that she won't stay with him. A.J. basically dares her to do just that, telling her in a voice dripping with disdain that if she can't handle the co-ed experience, "maybe [she] should be visiting women's colleges instead." ["Wendy Shalit pops up from behind his bookshelf and yells, 'Yeah! You shouldn't even be talking to this guy without a chaperone anyway!'" -- Wing Chun] Joey glares at him, sets her jaw, and throws her bag down. Way to take the bait, Joey. A.J. then kicks her out of his room so that he can finish writing a paper, using a borderline-offensive Native American accent to do so. Joey objects. A.J. makes yet another snippy comment about her age, follows it with a pretty funny line about "idiot Econ majors playing Nerf basketball" in the hall, and gets back to ignoring her. Joey gathers her bag and leaves, slamming the door behind her. Hey, Mr. Stupin? Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy called -- they want to know why their checks haven't arrived.
Andie comes upon Jack outside, looking at a book. When she inquires as to what he's reading, Jack stows the book behind his back and stammers that it's a "guidebook to Boston." Andie hopes he didn't plan to "going off in search of Thoreau's butt-print at Walden Pond." Whaaaat? Jack says no, he hadn't planned on doing that. Andie suggests that Jack go to an art museum, and finally she leaves Jack in peace. After she's gone, Jack takes the book out again. It's the Pink Pages.
Andie percolates over to the admissions office, which looks like a living room, and announces herself to the secretary. The secretary -- played by Marla Gibbs, whose residual checks from 227 must have run out or something -- tells Andie that her appointment isn't until March. Okay, sidebar. At Ivy League universities, an interview with an admissions officer has pretty much no influence at all over whether or not a student gets admitted. You'd think Andie would know that. You'd think she'd also know that the dean of admissions has better things to do in March of any given year than meet with a junior -- things like, say, admitting year's freshman class, of which Andie has zero hope of ever becoming a member, because she falsified her answers on a standardized test. Nnnnnnnnext! Oh, wait, maybe she does have hope, because apparently Angry McPhee (tm Kisle) went to Harvard. Andie and Marla bond over their shared status as daddy's girls (don't ask), and Andie hopes she can get a quick meeting with the dean anyway. Marla shoots her down, saying that everyone else there has an appointment that day. I'd see Marla's point, but she's sitting in the most deserted admissions-office lobby in the history of higher education. Still, Andie looks crestfallen.
The Witch Island screening. Dawson watches the screen, looking tense but self-satisfied. Then he sneaks a peek at the audience's reaction and sees people laughing -- not with him, mind you. At him. One guy a few rows back has fallen asleep. The film ends and the lights go up, to very weak applause, and as a disoriented Dawson glances around, a woman two seats down from him gets up, mutters, "Been there, seen that," and swings her coat onto her shoulders so that it just misses hitting Schlemielberg in the face. An MC gets up and announces the Q & A to a rapidly dwindling audience, and Dawson sinks down in his seat, hoping to avoid notice. Eventually, though, he goes to the podium. Naturally, he speaks into the mic too loudly, causing a feedback whine, then introduces himself and asks for questions; in the audience, Sassy looks embarrassed on Dawson's behalf. For a moment, silence, before a girl in a motorcycle jacket raises her hand and asks, "Where's the Joey chick -- she here? She is hot!" Her girlfriend smiles lasciviously. Haw haw haw! Dawson doesn't answer. He and Sassy both squirm. ["Oh, I could drink a case of this and still not be full." -- Wing Chun]
We return from the commercial break to find Dawson stalking out of the screening room, Sassy in concerned pursuit. She asks if he's okay. "Fine," he snaps. She manages to stop him, finally, saying sympathetically that she knows "it can get pretty brutal when the lights come up." Dawson says he can handle that: "So what if my movie's not hip enough to arouse the interests of these pseudo-intellectual art-house snobs?" Sassy jokes that at least nobody "threw things"; Dawson, resolved not to have a sense of humor about it, snorts, "Thank god for small favors," and resumes stalking off. Sassy says, "You are upset." "Wouldn't you be?" Dawson demands. Sassy again expresses her condolences over "what happened in there," but points out gently that, by "riding the coattails" of TBWP, Dawson probably should have seen it coming. Dawson sputters in protest, "Before you eviscerate my work any further, why don't you at least tell me your name?" Sassy introduces herself as Nikki, "Nikki Greene," and continues to list the flaws of Dawson's film; of course, she points to the Joey character as "the most interesting part of your story." You lost me there, Nikki. Dawson says wearily, "Well, aren't you perceptive," to which Nikki snaps, "Don't patronize me. I'm trying to give you an honest assessment here." Dawson says something snide about an "unsolicited note session," and Nikki says something equally snide back about Dawson's not wanting to hear her out just because she's a "volunteer paper-pusher," and she sarcastically apologizes for trying to help, whacks him on the chest with the flat of her hand, and walks away.
The odious strains of Counting Crows usher us into the scene, where Jack waits on a bench under a sign that says "Gay Bus Stop." No, not really, but it might as well. A bus pulls up, and as Jack rises from his seat, two guys holding hands jog up to the bus and board it. Jack stands there, dismayed, until the bus driver asks him, "Well? Are you in or out?" Hardy har har. Well, except for the "hardy" part, and the part with the two "har"s. Jack gets on the bus. Riding, he stares at the two guys holding hands with a mixture of fear and envy.
On campus, Joey finds Dawson brooding on a bench under a sign that says "Wunderkinds." Really, it does. Okay, so it really doesn't. Anyway, Joey asks how the screening went; Dawson makes a choking sound, and when Joey laughs that "it couldn't have been that bad, could it?" Dawson whispers, "It was an unmitigated disaster." Joey looks sad for him and says very nicely, "What do those hipper-than-thou film brats know, anyway?" You may insert your own "plenty"-related comment here. Dawson thinks the film brats might be right. Joey sits down beside him and says he doesn't mean that, but Dawson thinks that maybe "the problem with having such a big dream is that you never stop to question whether or not you have the talent to back it up. What if I, I simply don't have what it takes to be a great filmmaker?" Dawson, Dawson, Dawson -- buck up, little camper! Joel Schumacher doesn't have what it takes to be a filmmaker, period, and he isn't exactly starving, right? Joey makes her customary "you the man" noises, remembering aloud the day that movies "became something more to" Dawson than just a way to pass the time, and she reminds him that he had the courage to go after his dream: "And you know what? I'm really proud of you." She puts an encouraging arm around his shoulder. Believe it or not, this scene -- which had off-the-charts annoyingness potential -- turned out sort of sweet. Sort of.
In a nifty segue from "sort of sweet" to "requiring insulin," we find Andie back in the admissions office, presumably after lunch. Marla Gibbs lets herself in to discover Andie waiting there; evidently, a janitor let her in, but Andie tells Marla not to worry, she "didn't touch anything." Um, Marla? I'd count the petty cash just in case; Andie's track record isn't so great in this department. Andie also brought Marla dessert. Marla shakes her head and says, "And I thought I'd seen it all," because nobody had ever thought of sucking up to the secretary of the admissions office before. At Harvard. Because nobody wants to go there. Hey, wait -- okay, never mind. Andie thought she might steal (geddit?) a moment of the dean's time if he got back from lunch early. Marla admires Andie's "chutzpah," but informs her that the dean is "a notoriously late luncher." Andie slumps into a chair. Marla asks her what's the matter, and Andie mopes, "Nothing." Marla informs Andie that she has seven children, and that none of them attended Harvard, and that it "didn't seem to bother them much." Andie says, "So you don't think I'm going to get in." Marla says she's given up trying to predict which students get accepted. Andie murmurs, "So, you had seven kids," and Marla tells her that one has become an investment banker, two have become doctors, "the three girls are married," and one of her kids didn't go to college at all and "plays horn in a jazz band downtown," and she asks Andie which of her children she thinks is happiest. Gee, Marla, thanks so much for that "success and fulfillment for women = marriage" subtext. Not. Andie asks if Marla means that she should "avoid medical school and Wall Street, don't get married, and skip college," and Marla says that whether or not Andie goes to Harvard "will have little or nothing to do with what kind of person you turn out to be, or whether you find fulfillment in your life." Nice speech, but if I'd heard it at Andie's age, I wouldn't have listened to it either.
Cut to a lecture hall, where Joey sees A.J. walk in. He comes over to her and tells her she picked a good class to visit. "Don't tell me you're in this class," she grumbles, and he shrugs, "Kinda." Joey grudgingly offers him a seat, but he says he can't sit down, and Joey remarks that the "professor's really late." A.J. tells her that they do that a lot, and that a "poor undergraduate teaching assistant" then has to lead the discussion. He means himself, it seems, because he proceeds to do just that. Yeah, that happens all the time. At Harvard. Where fifteen or twenty applicants compete for each TA slot at the graduate level. Who wrote this episode, a Yale graduate? Anyway, A.J. makes a big show of saying that the professor has gone to a semiotics conference, and an even bigger show of announcing the presence of high-school students in the class (which looks severely underpopulated for a lecture for English 101, as it says on the blackboard), and says he thought they'd take a break from their "great books discussion" to ask some of the high-schoolers what books they "consider great." "Great books discussion"? A.J. calls on Joey. She crosses her arms and says combatively, "What's my favorite book?" "You read, don't you?" A.J. sneers. Joey, for reasons I don't understand, chooses not to plant a size eight in A.J.'s doughy ass, instead answering firmly, "Little Women." A.J. smugly rips on it, calling it a "less successful version of Jane Eyre"; Joey defends it, outlining a few of the plot points, none of which I remember from either the book or the three film versions I've seen. Dear writers: please call a construction company and get a backhoe out there to remove that rock you all live under. Everyone IN THE WORLD knows the plot of Little Women -- except, apparently, you people. Get the Cliffs Notes, and a clue; Joey's summation was riddled with errors. Signed, the English-speaking world.
A.J. then asks the class if they think the book qualifies as a great book, "worthy of inclusion in the literary canon," or just as a "perennial American classic." "Perennial"? A girl with horn-rimmed glasses deems it "completely anti-feminist in spirit." Survey says? EHHHH! Another girl pipes up that the heroine gives up her dream to get married and start "popping out babies." Um, not in the one I read. Survey says? EHHHH! A guy pipes up, "Alcott's a minor writer," and grouses that she wrote "purely for money." "Minor writer," yes, but on the sell-out question, survey says? EHHHH! And by the way, Piping-Up Guy, if you want to accuse a writer of impure motives, try pointing that finger of yours at Dickens. But first, shut up. All of you. A.J. sums up, in an infuriatingly patronizing tone, that "we can't say a book is great just because we identify with the hero or heroine." Joey glares at him, but she says nothing.
After class, A.J. follows Joey and asks her to wait, and she snips, "Why, so you can sic one of your over-educated minions on me? Try again." A.J. apologizes half-heartedly, but Joey won't have it; he then tries to justify his behavior by telling her that, well, she wanted the real "college experience," as if this episode so far bears even the faintest resemblance to anything collegiate. Joey bitches him out -- he acted insensitively blah blah blah he barely knows her blah blah blah A.J. has forgotten the fun part of the college experience blah blah blah semioticakes. A.J. looks taken aback; he apologizes, genuinely this time, and suggests that they "start over" and that he show her "what college is really all about." Joey looks skeptical.
Cut to Joey, doing a kegstand while frat boys chant -- oh, sorry, back to the screening room. The audience stares at the screen, rapt. A few of them discuss "who shot this" as generic somber music plays and people make awed remarks. Dawson looks half entranced and half in shock. When the lights go up, the audience applauds enthusiastically, and then I have to go downstairs and sign for an anvil, but by the time I get back, the audience is on its feet, giving Nikki a standing ovation. Dawson looks puzzled as Nikki gets behind the podium, smiling and nodding.
If you got me a Sears Portrait Creation for Christmas, go get your money back. Go on.
Back at the film festival, Dawson comes out of the screening room to find Nikki pounding on the front of a candy machine. He approaches her, and she explains that she needs "a sugar fix after all stressful experiences." After treating us to a row of product-placed candies, the M&Ms do us the favor of dropping, and as Nikki retrieves them, Dawson sneers, "'Stressful'? Come on, that was a love-fest." Nikki gives him a look and snaps, "Don't sound so overjoyed," and Dawson tells her -- get this -- not to "be falsely modest." Holy pot calling kettle black, Batman! Nikki says loftily that "if it had been the other way around," she would have enjoyed Dawson's success. Um, I doubt that, and so does Dawson, saying acidly, "So you're not only a better filmmaker than I am, you're a better person." I hate to say this, but -- zing! Nikki absorbs the hit before asking if they can "start over again." Ah, yes, the whole "starting over" leitmotif. I think we get it. I know the writers will repeat it until both my eyeballs run red down my cheeks, but we do get it. Dawson says yes.
Nikki asks what Dawson thought of her film, adding, "Constructive criticism only, please." Dawson busts out the faint praise by calling it "technically accomplished," and Nikki calls him on it, and Dawson says, "It's better than 'derivative,'" and goes on to throw all of Nikki's other comments back in her face. Nikki regards him for a moment before admitting that maybe she went off too harshly on Dawson earlier (whatever), and Dawson accepts her apology, then wants to know why she didn't mention before that she also had a film entered in the contest. Nikki says she doesn't lead with her chin, because "you can get hurt that way," and Dawson agrees with that. ["However, he fails to add that, due to physiognomy, the boy can't help it." -- Wing Chun] As she fixes him with a look, Dawson musters up some polite congratulations and leaves Nikki alone with her chocolate.
Andie and Marla at an outdoor café, bonding. Andie says she might write her essay about her mother's illness, and she reminisces about the time she found her mother sitting in the creek, and says she'll never forget that. Marla asks if she can "lay a dose of truth" on Andie, and Andie says okay, so first Marla tells her always to wear comfortable shoes (word), and then Marla tells her, "Let yourself off the hook for things over which you have no control." Again, word. Marla goes on to say that Andie's mother couldn't get over her brother's death, but Andie shouldn't punish herself for that, or for finding a way to get over it herself. Marla then apologizes for butting in, but Andie says not to worry about it, and offers a theory about children losing their minds as a form of empathy with their parents who have lost their minds -- or something, I don't really understand what she means. Then Andie says she can't believe she's bonding over coffee with Marla, and Marla coughs up another pearl o' wisdom, this one about how life can surprise you in a thousand different ways. Funny, then, that this show never surprises me at all, eh what?
Oh, blimey. A.J. brings Joey to a room which he calls the "rare book and manuscript library." I visited the manuscript vault at my university a few times. It didn't look like a rec room, and you couldn't just stroll right in and fondle the Victorian-era folios, either -- the room had a device by which, in case of fire, all oxygen would get sucked out, suffocating anyone trapped inside in minutes. But at Harvard, I guess you can walk in and smear your bodily oils all over the Gutenberg Bible if you want. Oh, hold on -- not! Not not not not NOT! God! Okay, so A.J. takes an Alcott first edition (whatever) off the shelf, reels off a few factoids about it to Joey, and urges her to open it. She does, and they read together from the part where Jo and Meg attend the sniffy party at the Gardiners', and Jo and Laurie run into each other behind the curtain and make awkward conversation, and at the same time, Joey and A.J. make significant eye contact. Cue The Mrs. Potter Memorial Little-Orphan-Joey Dead-Mother Reference, just in case the man at the helm of the oil rig in the middle of the Indian Ocean missed the crucial bit of information that Joey's mother has in fact passed away, as Joey says her mother used to read the book to her, so she supposes she reads it and rereads it as a way of remembering her mother. You'd think bringing up her late mother in every damn conversation she ever has would keep the memory alive, but apparently not.
A.J. nods sensitively at Joey's tale of woe and murmurs, "So it's like a friend, the book," and Joey says, "Yeah. Exactly." A.J. observes that you can never have too many friends. Joey asks him what his favorite book is, and A.J. answers The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe, and he cringes all dramatically even though that book has worn a lot better than Little Women since my childhood. Joey teasingly calls his choice "rather infantile," and he admits that it is, but adds, "Like all the best things in life, simple, sweet, magical." Did everyone get that? Because I did. I got it.
Jack sort of tiptoes along a neon-lit corridor, towards the loud music coming out of a club, and as he enters the club itself, he gawks at gay men of every hue and stripe standing around with drinks in their hands and dancing with one another. Cut to a tight close-up of Jack, who looks decidedly nauseated indeed and staggers toward the bar. The bartender asks what he wants, and Jack stammers for a moment before a relatively cute guy in a tight t-shirt comes up beside him and comments that Jack doesn't look like he could handle much more than a beer. Jack's jaw drops as Relatively Cute Guy tells the bartender, "Make that two," and Jack stammers some more about RCG not having to do that, and RCG tells him he wanted to, and Jack thanks him, looks utterly panicked, and stares down at the bar. RCG laughs and says, "You're adorable." I agree with RCG -- Kerr Smith does wonderful things with "stark terror" -- but Jack just stares at him before laughing nervously and looking away. RCG tries to soothe Jack by offering to "start all over" (ooh! ooh! leitmotif! got it!) and continues, "You're not adorable, and I am not attracted to you." Jack sort of smiles, but then he catches himself and practically turns his back on RCG in discomfort. RCG suggests going elsewhere, correctly figuring that "this probably isn't [Jack's] scene," and Jack looks increasingly scared, and RCG says they can just talk yadda yadda yadda and reaches for their beers, and just as RCG mentions "get[ting] to know each other better," Jack bolts while RCG isn't looking. RCG turns around, beers in hand, to see a small puff of cartoon smoke where Jack was standing. Aw, poor Jack -- he looked really overwhelmed. I hope he learns to run towards the hotties soon, instead of away from them.
Film festival awards. The winner is announced. Nikki arranges her face to accept the accolades, but she doesn't win after all. Dawson claps politely but looks confused. Nikki bolts.
Dawson follows her. "What now? Time to rub salt in the wound?" she sneers while booking away, but Dawson says, "You were robbed," adding that her film was the best at the festival, "hands down." Nikki doesn't want to hear it, suggesting that he "dispense with the mock compassion," and Dawson perseveres, so Nikki turns on him and says she wants to be alone. Dawson doesn't understand why she's so upset, and Nikki reminds him of how he felt when his film bombed. Dawson says "there's a huge difference" between her experience and his, and when she demands to know what, he tells her that he learned he needs to make better films, and she learned that film festivals don't always "reward the meritorious." "Meritorious"? Okay, you know the part in The Abyss where the pink liquid fills the divers' helmets, and they have to inhale it to help them "breathe"? I need that, only with Maalox. Anyhow. Nikki's face falls: "I wanted to win, Dawson." They gaze at each other. Dawson admits that her film "wasn't just technically brilliant; it was inspired. It inspired me," and that it reminded him why he got into film in the first place -- not to win festivals, but to reach people, and Nikki did that. Nikki arches a brow, but she smiles a little; Dawson goes on that he won't give up until he reaches that goal himself. Nikki asks, "You really liked my movie?" and Dawson nods and says, "I really liked your movie." Nikki smiles at him. Dawson looks mildly smitten. For a scene with Dawson in it which contained film-related dialogue, this one could have really bugged, but it wasn't that bad.
I don't know about the new Mentos ads; I liked the old ones better. And have you ever seen Morgan Fairchild and Hillary Rodham Clinton together? No? Coincidence? I think not.
Dawson and Andie run into each other on the stairs the day. Dawson asks how Andie's weekend went, and she says she didn't have the experience she expected, but maybe the one she needed, after having "a chance encounter" that "yielded a little clarity." "Yielded"? "Clarity"? Andie asks Dawson if he got what he came for, and Dawson says he did, "also in a most unexpected way." Andie philosophizes about the way expectations can close people off to new experiences, and she uses the word "serendipity," prompting Dawson to snicker, "Who was this 'chance encounter' with, Deepak Chopra?" Oh, fine -- heh! Andie smiles, "Yeah, something like that."
Cut to Buffy, moping around her dorm room and -- oh, no, my bad, it's The Artist Formerly Known As Parker from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, asking Jack if he's saving the seats across from him. Jack says he is, and The Artist says, "No problem, say no more," and looks around for another seat, but Jack quickly relents and moves his bags, saying he doesn't know if his friends will even show up. The Artist gratefully stows his gear and slumps into his seat, asking Jack to wake him when they get to Capeside. Jack asks, "You're going to Capeside?" "Yep," The Artist sighs. "Me too," Jack says. Then he smiles. Ware the way, Pinhead -- ware the way!
Dawson strolls down the car, holding three coffees, when Nikki calls out to him. He asks what she's doing on the train, and she relates that she's "doing the divorced-kid shuffle"; they chat about divorced parents and agree that having them sucks. Shortly thereafter, Nikki reveals what we've all known for weeks, namely that she is Principal Greene's daughter. Giggles all around at this "wild" "coincidence," and then Dawson starts to fill her in on the prestigious film lab of Mr. Jordan (whaaaaatever), but Nikki has already gotten herself into said film lab by e-mailing Mr. Jordan: "He's giving me a sort of -- private tutorial." The way she says that makes me think Mr. Jordan is giving her a tutorial in more than film, but anyway, Dawson says oh-so-casually that he didn't know Mr. Jordan "did that sort of thing." Nikki gives him guff: "You can handle a little friendly competition, can't you?" Dawson stares at her and then sort of laughs. Well, I'll give Dawson and Nikki this much -- they have more chemistry than Dawson and Joey.
Meanwhile, Jack gets the scoop from The Artist. The Artist goes to a sniffy prep school, and when Jack asks what brings him back to "claustrophobic Capeside," The Artist says ruefully, "Heartbreak. I need a little parental TLC, some chicken soup, and the comfort of my childhood bed." "Long relationship?" Jack asks. "Two years," The Artist says, adding, "It feels like a divorce, I swear." Jack sips his coffee, unaware of The Masculine Pronoun Of Great Portent lying in wait for him in The Artist's utterance, and The Artist continues, "Not to mention that I see him every day at school -- it's like we're broken up but still living together." Jack can't help staring at The Artist, who smiles and asks, "What's the matter, I get under the gaydar?" A chastened Jack looks at his lap; The Artist says that everyone tells him he's the straightest gay guy they know, then asks Jack, "What about you?" "What about me?" Jack says. "Can people tell right away?" The Artist asks. Jack makes a face and asks, "How can you tell -- is it that obvious?" The Artist, who should really give the whole world-weary routine back to Jen soon because it's starting to work my nerves, chuckles indulgently, "Actually, yeah. I mean, not in a raging queen way, but more in a --" and Jack breaks in, "More in a -- what way?" and The Artist finishes, "A babe-in-the-woods, newbie way." "Newbie?" Jack repeats worriedly, and The Artist expounds, "Any sweet inexperienced young gay man destined for a broken heart." Jack and I both roll our eyes, and Jack grumbles sarcastically, "You make it sound so inviting." The Artist, all superior: "Let's face it, most guys are clueless." Jack, all scared: "How do you mean?" The Artist, looking out the window wistfully: "You'll see." Jack doesn't look like he wants to see, particularly. The Artist asks Jack his name, and they introduce themselves. The Artist's name is Ethan. Ethan, Jack; Jack, Ethan. Ethan, eyebrow tweezers; tweezers, Ethan.
Elsewhere in the station, A.J. hopes he didn't keep Joey up all night, and Joey says he talked for eight hours about Ulysses. ["Which I guess is her way of implying that she got a full night's sleep." -- Wing Chun] A.J. babbles on about feeling passionate about literature or something. Joey smiles. A.J. -- dubbed "Mr. Staypuft" by the Couch Baron, and in truth he does look a little fluffy in this scene -- asks Joey, "What about you, Joey Potter? What are you passionate about, what do you ache for?" Better dialogue, I'll wager, but Joey says she doesn't know; she wishes she did, but for the last couple of years, she'd gotten wrapped up in Dawson, and she knows that's pathetic. She trails off, and A.J. asks if they're together, and Joey says no, which prompts A.J. to throw out a higher-math principle that no English major worth his salt would know about. He does a terrible job explaining it, but sums up by saying that Joey needs distance from the situation. They flirt a little. A.J. asks if could "phone" her sometime. Joey says, all smiles, "It wouldn't suck." All right, all RIGHT -- aw. A.J. has a pen, but neither of them has a piece of paper, so Joey takes about a month to write her number on A.J.'s hand while he googles at her. Then they take another week or two to say goodbye before Joey can get on the train. Dawson happens by as Joey is boarding and introduces her to Nikki, and Joey says hi to Nikki and Dawson and turns to wave at A.J. again, and Dawson asks all nonchalantly, "Who's that?" and Joey answers just as nonchalantly, "My roommate," and Joey squeezes past him and Nikki into the train car, and Dawson hangs back to let the girls go ahead of him, and as he starts to follow, he looks back at A.J. and furrows his gargantuan brow.
Back in the Sanctum, Joey and Dawson kick back on the bed and discuss. Dawson feels like the prospect of going to college looms a lot larger now, and Joey agrees, wondering, "Is it the light at the end of the tunnel, or an oncoming semi?" "Or is it both?" Dawson asks. Joey says the concept will take some getting used to. Dawson glumly asks if Joey has ever had moments where the world snuck up and blindsided her. Um, Dawson, her mother died and her father got sent to jail twice -- she probably has. Idiot. Anyway, Dawson keeps feeling sorry for himself and telling non-jokey jokes about working in fast food, and after he gives Taco Bell its shout-out, Joey shuts him up by saying that life isn't all about winning: "You have to find joy in the process, you have to love what it is that you do." Dawson says, "Good point," and asks Joey what "life lessons" she learned this weekend. Joey thinks for a moment, then muses, "Well, college to me has always been about getting the hell out of Capeside, right?" Dawson nods, and Joey says that now she thinks college might have more to it: "I mean, it's scary, sure, but -- it's this world filled with these deeply passionate people, I mean, people who get excited about books and ideas and theories and -- it kind of excited me." She shrugs, sort of embarrassed. Dawson says sadly, "My suspicions have been confirmed," and Joey asks, "What do you mean?" and Dawson intones, "You are a really -- big geek," and then he smiles. That sounds super-irritating, but for Dawson, it was funny. Joey makes a "like, ha ha, not" face and folds her arms and flops back; she's silent for a moment before asking him, "So is it just me, or does this room seem a lot smaller all of a sudden?" It's just you, Joey -- take Dawson's head out of the room, and it appears normal size. "Really?" Dawson says. "I was just kinda thinking it seemed safe." They each think that over for a second before Joey sits up and says, "I'll see ya, Dawson," and Dawson says, "See ya, Joey," and she goes out the window. Fade out on Dawson looking troubled.
Last recap of the year, folks. May the new year bring you health, wealth, and happiness, and the writers a thesaurus, a dictionary, and a one-way ticket out of North Carolina.