Props to Liz, Mister Patrick Leswick, Sars, and Glark, whose industry this weekend has truly shamed me.
Previously on Dawson's Creek: Jen ripped out Henry's heart, hammered it flat with a meat tenderizer, then sat on it and cut one; Andie decided that she had to keep busy, because if she stopped she'd realize how badly she hurt Pacey; Dawson met "cute" with Nikki and discovered that her father is Principatundé; Ethan intrigued Jack (and bored everyone else) with his world-weary man-of-the-Cape routine.
Through the panes of a glass door at Capeside High, we see Joey "Hot for T.A." Potter and Dawson "Alfred Bitchcock" Leery walking, unfortunately, toward us. Joey is asking Dawson, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you already own a camera?" What? He does? What, is he into filmmaking or something? Well, this is a fine time to spring that on the viewers. Dawson agrees that he does, but it's just a video camera. Joey asks what the difference is, and he says, "Well, imagine Schindler's List shot on a family camcorder." Okay. Can I also "imagine" that you didn't just compare your little cinematic doodles (emphasis on "doo" as in "DOO-DOO") to Schindler's List? Cool, thanks. He continues: "Video's a great format to learn on, but the look and feel is [sic] strictly amateur." Well, then it sounds to me like video is perfectly suited to...nah, I'll just let that one slide. He winds it up with some more blah blah blah filmcakes, indicating a poster of "the Arriflex," the school's only 16mm camera. They arrive at the door of a storage room filled with film cans and Nikki "Thunder Stealer" Green, who agrees that the camera "is a beauty." Apparently realizing that he won't be doing anymore auteurish pontificating in this scene, Dawson asks Nikki, in his most deflated tone of voice, what she's doing there. She says she's doing extra-credit work for Jordan's film class, with the bonus that she gets "to be near all the equipment." Dawson drawls, "Ah. How very earnest of you." If that isn't the pot calling the kettle "earnest," I don't know what is, Dawson, and you're clearly just bitter that you didn't think to offer your services to Jordan first. And by "services," I mean "lips," and by "Jordan" I mean "Jordan's ass." Joey is silent throughout this exchange, until Nikki addresses her: "You're Joey, right?" Joey confirms that she is, and adds, "I've heard wonderful things about your film." Nikki deadpans, "Really? From who?" and then they all smile. Well, that was kind of cute. Dawson says, "Speaking of equipment, hand her over." While pushing it past him on an A/V cart, Nikki says that the Arriflex has already been checked out. Dawson opines that that's "highly unlikely," and Nikki says that even so, it's "completely true." It turns out that Nikki's already had the camera for a week and has booked it for the four weeks straight, as well. Dawson tells her there's a one-week maximum, and Nikki says that she's already cleared it with Mr. Jordan. Dawson, exhibiting as much grasp on the way the world works as an especially dull three-year-old, whines, "There's a project that I want to start working on." Firmly, Nikki replies, "There's a project that I am working on." Dawson sighs (and does so loudly enough that the closed captions read "[SIGHS]") and asks when he will be able to take the camera. Nikki tells him he can have it when she's finished with it. Yeah, she knows what time it is. Joey smirks. Dawson asks when that will be, and Nikki tartly replies, "Filmmaking is not fast food, Dawson; you can't rush it." Joey snickers silently. Dawson maintains a "well, I never" look as the opening theme song swells, and my patience contracts.
Down to You contains a Man Show crossover? Now that's synergy.
Establishing shots of Capeside, clearly filmed in August. The credits reveal that this episode will feature the return of Michael "Henry" Pitt. Well, thank God. Before we see her, we hear the voice of Jen "Still Here" Lindley, telling Jack "Baby Steps" McPhee that he needs to give her an explanation before he puts three boxes of cereal in their cart. Uh, no he doesn't; three boxes is about the minimum you can have for sufficient cereal variety. Besides which, when they show them maneuvering their cart around The Tiniest, Twee-est Market in Massachusetts, it's obvious that the store could not possibly stock more than two boxes of cereal at any one time anyway. Anyway. Jack tells her that Grape-Nuts™, Cocoa Pebbles™, and Cap'n Crunch™ are each the perfect cereal for different times of day. (Minute-long cereal monologue = MBTV shout-out? You make the call.) Jen cracks that this speech is proof that he's Andie's brother (I'm not sure how, but whatever), and takes the Pebbles and the Cap'n Crunch out of the cart, claiming that he's a bad grocery shopper. NOT. Speaking of which, I could really go for a bowl of Lucky Charms right now. But I am too dedicated to take a recap break now. As Jen goes off to re-shelve the offending cereals, Jack mutters, "Fascist," to which she replies, "Pig." (Jen uttering the word "pig" = MBTV shout-out? I want to believe!) Someone in front of Jack's cart remarks, "At least you fought the good fight." Jack looks up to see the eyebrows of Ethan "Parker" No-Last-Name-Yet, and, under those eyebrows, Ethan himself. Jack, flustered, manages to sputter, "Ethan. From the train, Ethan." Ethan chuckles and says, "I prefer just plain 'Ethan.'" Jack shakes his head and asks what Ethan's doing there. Ethan says that he's food shopping: "I hear it's pretty standard in one of these places." Is this "witty" "banter" going to go on much longer, or am I going to have to go down to keckler's and borrow some of her Pimm's? Jack explains that he'd thought Ethan was going back to private school last weekend, and Ethan says that he did, but that he came back for something called "Capefest." Jack asks what that is: "Is it like a feed-the-poor type thing?" Ethan scoffs, "Which one of us lives here year 'round?" Gee, I forget, but I can tell you which one of you is breaking ground on a sixteen-bedroom villa on my last. NERVE. And it's not Jack. Ethan says that it's a free concert in the park, and continues up the aisle as Jack calls after him, "So it's like a 'palooza type deal?" Ethan says (essentially) that it is, and adds that there's a campsite outside the concert, and that he's going to get a spot the day. Jack nonchalantly says that it "sounds like a blast," and Ethan tells Jack that if he's "a fan" (of music? Have we found out what band is playing yet?), he should come. With a little too much enthusiasm, Jack proclaims himself "a total fan." Ethan gives him the "tell-tale fan quiz," and asks who Jack's favourite Foo Fighter is. Jack says, "Courtney Love?" Aw. She's mine too. Ethan basically laughs in Jack's face, and tells him that he's "in the alternative nation, just not quite in the right zip code." Jack looks embarrassed. Ethan starts to leave, and then, brushing past Jen, tells Jack, "You should come anyway." Jen checks Ethan out and gives Jack a "right-on" look, remarking, "Cute!" Jack says, "Gay." Jen says, "Aren't they all?" Ethan: Seriously, shut up.
Back at Capeside High, Andie "Teacher's Tick" McPhee is asking a Mr. Broderick whether she can speak with him a moment. Before I continue recapping this scene, let's review. Sars has, on several occasions, noted the similarities between Andie's character and that of Tracy Flick, the character played by Reese Witherspoon in the 1999 film Election. In the movie, Tracy was the extraordinarily perky thorn in the side of put-upon teacher Jim McAllister, played by Matthew Broderick. And here, in this very episode of Dawson's Creek, we have a never-before-seen teacher by the name of Mr. Broderick. Dear DC writers: Subtle! Not. Love, Wing Chun. Anyway, Mr. Broderick is very snotty and assumes that Andie wants to audition to appear in the school play (later revealed to be Barefoot in the Park), but in fact she wants to be the show's assistant director. When she finally gets a word in edgewise to tell him that, he replies, "Well, why didn't you just say so?" Like, ha ha. Not.
At the Seat of the Single Father (formerly Estrangement Estates), Dawson and Joey enter with Dawson mimicking Nikki: "'Filmmaking's not fast food, Dawson.'" Dude, that sounds nothing like her. Joey reminds him that Nikki is entitled to the equipment too. Dawson whines, "Look, you check out a camera, you return the camera in a timely fashion. That's all I'm asking." Because she knows that Dawson is not, in the slightest, upset that Nikki is breaking the camera-use rules, but that in fact he's annoyed that she beat him to it, Joey just chuckles to herself. They arrive at the French doors separating the kitchen and the family room, and Dawson says, "Uh, Mom? What's going on?" The camera pulls back to reveal the room picked nearly clean of its furniture, and Gail "Poodle-Head" Leery, looking guilty. She mumbles something about taking some furniture over to her place. Dawson says, "Oh. Okay." She says she's only taking the contents of the family room and the guest room, and that it's part of the settlement. She adds, "I asked your dad not to say anything because I wanted to explain myself." What's to explain? Criminy! While Joey stands behind him looking wicked uncomfortable, Dawson says pretty much what I just did, and Gail tells him that she needs him to keep being "positive about this," because it'll make things easy on everyone. Dawson says, "I aim to please." Uh, you need to re-align those sights, because you're missing me by, like, a mile. Gail hugs him and thanks him for understanding. The agitated strings of foreboding pulse on the soundtrack while Joey asks Dawson if he wants to talk. He says, "What's there to say?" "About what you're feeling?" Joey prods. Dawson says he's thinking that his parents are finally divorced and he's glad it's over. You and me both, little man. Joey looks skeptical and says, "I said 'what you're feeling.'" He says, "I'm still working on that one," and stomps off. Joey looks distressed. Whatever.
Outside among some trees, Jack is going on about how great Capefest is going to be: "Sleeping out under the stars, fresh breeze off of that ocean, the call of the wild..." Jen says she's more concerned about the call of nature. I'm more concerned about the fact that they're sleeping in a nylon tent. Outside. On Cape Cod. IN JANUARY. They stop, apparently randomly, and Jack suggests they set up camp. Jen says, "I thought I'd go to extreme measures to get in some guy's pants." Jack takes umbrage at the notion that he's trying to get in Ethan's pants. Word; he'd have to machete those eyebrows for three or four days before he could even see Ethan's pants. He adds that Ethan is the first gay guy he's ever even "conversed with," and that all he wants is to get to know him. Gently, Jen says that she knows, but reminds him that he's about to take a big emotional leap, and that before he takes it, he should be able to admit to himself that he is, in fact, taking it. (I must add here that her hair looks very pretty -- not over-styled, and not crispy with product, but soft and curly.) Jack insists that he just wants to get to know Ethan, and Jen says he should still take heed of her advice, and let Ethan come to him. Jack says he's going to go see if he can find Ethan. Way to take heed. Jen watches him go, looking resigned.
In what appears to be the school auditorium, Andie (looking very officious) sits beside Mr. Broderick as he runs auditions. Cue the standard montage of crappy monologues, but then a random guy does a passable line reading, and Andie whispers to Mr. Broderick that the actor has "a certain dramatic flair." She asks what he thinks, and he says he thinks he's getting a migraine. Girl, GET in LINE. Mr. Broderick tells her he has someone else in mind. She says there are no more "someone else"s. Long story short, he's thinking of Pacey, who then appears (late, natch) to read. He and Andie see each other and make matching "Well, that's just fucking great" faces. My sentiments exactly.
Nikki reads on a porch swing. When she notices Dawson sidling along beside her, she warns him that this better not be an attempt on his part to repossess the camera. He pauses a moment, then says, "I just want to reiterate something." She closes her book, folds her arms, and invites him to "reiterate away." He says, "I get this little ego trip. I know you're the principal's daughter, but that does not give you the right to be selfish or rude." ["The football coach's son doesn't have that right either, Snooty Pebbles." -- Sars] She cuts him off: "Dawson, I didn't know you wanted to use the camera." He softens, but clenches again when she adds, "But you're just going to have to get used to it." Go Nikki! Nikki is my new girlfriend. Before Dawson can formulate a witty or indignant rejoinder (something along the lines, I'd imagine, of "I want it! I want it! You're mean!"), Principatundé comes out of the house to greet his "second-favourite student filmmaker." Dawson genially shakes his hand. Principatundé says that he's heard Dawson and Nikki have become "fast friends." Reluctantly, Dawson plays along while Nikki smiles uncomfortably. Principatundé invites Dawson to stay for dinner; Dawson and Nikki simultaneously (yet politely) protest, but Principatundé declares that as Dawson's principal, he's going to "pull rank," and promises not to talk too much about his talented daughter. Aw. Dawson goes in.
Jack prowls Capefest looking for Ethan, who he finds. Sitting. In a tree? ["K-I-S-S-I-N-G?" -- Sars] Whatever. Ethan makes the startling observation that Jack "decided to show," and Jack says, "Well, one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Aw. I think that's trying too hard, but it's still sort of cute. Ethan asks, "You here by yourself, or with?" Jack says he's with a girl, and quickly clarifies, "She's a friend of mine...setting up our tent." He asks about Ethan's status, and Ethan dramatically replies, "All by my lonesome." Dude. Shut UP. Jack looks around shiftily, clearly with no idea of how to continue the conversation. Ethan suggests that they grab a bite to eat, or take a walk, and Jack eagerly says, "Yes! To, uh...to both." Ethan gets out of...his tree? and tells Jack, "I'll lead the way." See how it's all metaphorical and shit? Yeah, me too.
On another part of the beach, we re-join the conversation in progress. Ethan is telling Jack, "After the train ride, I thought for sure you'd ask for my number." Jack says, "Yeah, well, typical paranoia set in. What can I say?" Ethan says he figured as much. Jack asks why Ethan didn't ask for his number, and Ethan smugly replies, "Because I could. It's more important that you learn to ask; you're the newbie, remember?" Uh, whatever you say, Queer-Gon Jinn. GOD, could this guy be any more condescending? I'm thinking he can't. Jack mumbles, "Yeah. Newbie. Uh, the barely-out gay kid soon to have his heart broken, right?" "Good recall!" says Ethan. Jack says there's not much he's likely to forget about that conversation: "That was a first for me." Incredulously, Ethan asks, "That was your first time talking to another gay kid?" Jack says that it was, "unless you count the internet," WHICH WE DO. Ethan says, "I...I don't." Well, of course you don't, jackass.
Jen struggles "comically" with the tent. Some guy walks by holding such a tiny piece of food in his hand that it's impossible to tell what it is until Jen demands to know where he got it, and he points up the beach to another guy who's "a genius with a veggie burger." Like it takes any skill to barbecue a veggie burger. They only come in two states -- Hot and Not Hot. It's not like you can master the skill of cooking a veggie burger blue rare or medium well. Whatever. We then hear the voice of the veggie burger genius exhorting his fellow Capefesters to "get 'em while they're hot" (see? Hot), and Jen abandons the tent to go get her some. Of course, the veggie burger genius is Henry "Freshman" Parker. Without looking up, he asks, "Would you like your bun toasted?" and Jen replies, "I thought you'd never ask." He turns his puppy-dog eyes skyward and says nothing. "Hey," she beams, and he pouts, "Hey." She admires the crowd he's managed to assemble, and he tells her he doesn't have time for small talk, and asks if she wants a burger or not. She looks momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovers her composure and says that she does. He fusses with the grill, continuing not to look at her, and she asks him if he'd mind helping her with her tent. He looks at her. She grins back at him far too widely. Yeah, he's the guy you should get to help. Henry stares at her some more, and then tells some guy behind him to take over the grill for a minute.
As they stroll through the camp area, Jen remarks that Henry never told her he was a vegetarian. He replies that she never asked. Finally catching her snap, she says, "Do I detect a note of ambivalence in seeing me?" He doesn't seem ambivalent to me; he seems to have decided pretty definitely that seeing her is a bad thing, but anyway he says, "That would be correct." She asks if there's any particular reason for that, which is spectacularly disingenuous of her if you ask me, and apparently if you ask Henry too, because he says, "You mean besides the fact that you led me on for the sole purpose of crushing me underfoot?" Jen looks stricken, and says, "That's not true, Henry, and you know it." Henry says, "You could have fooled me." Jen asks what he means, and Henry says, "Don't tell me that you're not taking some small satisfaction in...being on the requited side of unrequited love." Jen says she thought they agreed to be friends. "Friends?!" Henry spits. "You haven't even noticed, have you?" "Noticed what?" Jen asks. Henry loses it: "That we haven't spoken in over a month! For the past four weeks I've been giving you the silent treatment and it hasn't even registered on your radar screen! Hell, I could have fallen off a cliff ten thousand feet for all you care...You know what? You can put up your own damn tent!" She really had that coming -- not for refusing to go out with him, but for playing up to his veggie burgers like none of that other stuff happened.
In the dining room at Green Grove, Principatundé has completely forgotten his pledge, and is gushing about Nikki: "You're looking at the probably the only little girl in America who wanted a Super-8 camera for her tenth birthday." He chuckles, and adds, "Nikki, should I tell him the name of your first cinematic achievement?" With pleased horror, she gasps, "Don't you dare!" Undeterred, Principatundé announces, "A Day in the Life of Daddy." Dawson smiles rather nicely, plainly enjoying a conversation that is, for once, not about himself. Principatundé says that Nikki followed him around all day, and she describes herself as "James Cameron of third grade." Since James Cameron isn't...you know...a documentarian, it might have been more effective if someone had done some research so that she might instead compare herself to Barbara Kopple or Errol Morris or Phil Joanou or Alek Keshishian or Michael Apted or even Michael Moore. But I guess the writers don't have access to the IMDb, or anything. Anyway. Principatundé asks Dawson whether Nikki has enlisted him for her new film. Dawson, fishing, says that he doesn't even know what it's about, and she replies that that's between herself and her crew. Trying manfully (except for the "man" part) not to pout, Dawson says, "So in order to bask in the glory of this mind-bending idea of yours, I have to offer my services?" Ugh, Dawson -- don't use the phrase "my services." Please. Nikki asks if that's an offer, and Dawson asks her if she's asking him for his "help." Nikki corrects him: "I don't need any help, Dawson." Before Dawson can respond, Principatundé butts in: "I think it would be a great idea for you two to work together." Nikki and Dawson simultaneously demur, rather forcefully, and Principatundé says, "Sorry I mentioned it." Dawson and Nikki sneak glances at each other. Does anyone think that their mutual animosity and intense competitiveness will eventually evolve into attraction? Because I don't.
Back on the beach, we start eavesdropping on Jack and Ethan mid-conversation. Jack is saying, "You knew that young that you were attracted to men?" Ethan says no, that he knew that young that he was "different." He adds, "Being gay isn't about what sex you're attracted to. It informs so much of who and what you are." Jack says, "You lost me." Ethan explains, "You haven't talked to another gay kid, so you definitely haven't kissed one, right?" Jack says that's right, and Ethan says, "But you still know you're gay." Jack agrees, and Ethan asks how Jack knows. Jack says, "I just know, I guess." Ethan says that people (thought he doesn't specify who) want to define "gay" by who a person sleeps with, but that "it isn't about that." Instead, he says it's about moments, like the moment Jack was too nervous to ask for Ethan's number, or like the conversation in progress. He winds up by saying that being gay is, finally, "not just a part of your life. It's everywhere. Unlike my stuff!" D'oh! Someone pinched Ethan's gear while he was off lecturing in Homosexuality 100.
At Capeside High, Andie and Pacey meet awkwardly at the foot of a flight of stairs and hesitate for a moment before Pacey gestures, "After you." Andie: "I want you to quit." Pacey: "No." Andie: "This is my after-school activity." Pacey: "Tough bananas." Andie: "Quit!" Pacey: "If I stay in the play, I'll get a 'C' in English. Plus Broderick thinks I might be good." Andie: "Broderick is a terrible English teacher and an even worse theatre director." Pacey: "So?" Andie: "I got into this to get over you, and now you're here." Pacey: "Yeah, but..." Andie: "'But' nothing. You suck." Pacey: "You quit then!" Andie: "Fine, don't quit." Pacey: "Fine, I won't." Both of you, CRAM IT.
At Green Grove, Dawson is getting his coat, but not before instead getting the idea to do a little snooping in an adjacent room. Nikki comes upon him and asks, not unkindly, what he's doing. He says, "Your film geekdom is definitely not evident in your bedroom décor." Nikki correctly divines that Dawson's room is "wall-to-wall Spielberg one-sheets." Dawson observes that she says that like it's a bad thing, and she says it's not -- just that "there's so much to be passionate about, it seems kind of silly to only focus on one." Dawson counters, "Yeah, but if you're lucky enough to find that one thing, why not just immerse yourself in it?" Nikki says that he shouldn't get her wrong -- she loves film -- but loves it because it allows her to explore all the other subjects that interest her: "If all you care about is film, then you're just going to end up making movies about other movies. What good is that?" That's pretty good advice, I think. A pensive look settles on Dawson's gargantuan face.
Nikki sits down on the bed and apologizes for her father: "Ever since the divorce, he does this really aggressive thing when it comes to me making friends." Dawson asks her if she's "cool with" the divorce. She wryly lists the by-products of her parents' divorce, including shuffling between their homes, veiled comments her parents make about each other, and their relentless insistence that she always look on the bright side of things, and concludes, "I'm just dandy." Dawson says that her demeanour would lead him to believe that she's not affected by any of it. There's that steady, observant, filmmaker's eye. Bravo! She says it's a well-crafted disguise: "Inside, I'm just another angry kid." "How angry?" Dawson asks. "Angry enough to make a film about it," she chuckles, and asks him about his parents' divorce. He takes a beat; she apologizes for prying, and he says that since she was honest with her, he owes her as much. (Really, he's anxious to turn the conversation back to himself -- but y'all already knew that, right?) He says that most of the time he's fine: "Maybe I'm just self-obsessed, but I don't think about it that much, you know?" "Maybe"? He goes on to say that sometimes it just sneaks up on him -- "the disappointment of being the product of something that didn't work out" -- and that since one's parents are one's primary examples of love, it's hard to come to the realization that his weren't strong enough to...but then he suddenly becomes aware that he's shared too much, and books, calling over his shoulder that she should thank her dad on his behalf.
Has anyone organized a campaign yet to rescind Tom Green's Canadian citizenship? No? I should get on that. ["And stick us with him? No way, no how. You keep him." -- Sars]
Mmmmmm...Biiiiiiiig Maaaaaaaaaaac.
Dark has fallen over Capefest and Jen is sitting on the floor of her unpitched tent, with a sleeping bag wrapped around her head and shoulders like a shawl. Poor Jen. Not. Jack comes up and reaches out a hand to pull her up, whereupon she starts babbling at double-espresso speed about seeing Henry, before glancing to her right and seeing Ethan standing there. Jen abruptly shuts up so that Jack can introduce them. Ethan offers to help her with the tent and Jen accepts in a particularly sick-making way: "Relieve me of all of my feminist illusions about the equality of the sexes concerning spatial relations." Dude, if you can't assemble a tent, it's because you're lame, not because you're a girl, so just cram it. Ethan goes to work and Jack takes Jen aside to tell her about the theft of Ethan's gear, and to ask if she wouldn't mind if he stays in their tent. Jen is initially amenable to this plan, until Jack tells her to make herself scarce for a couple of hours -- say, until midnight. She makes outraged noises, and he brusquely tells her again to get lost. Jen angrily suggests that she and the car instead go back to Grams's house and pick Jack up in the morning, and adds, "Besides, Jack -- I thought you two were just getting to know each other." She flounces off. Jack looks distressed.
In another part of the forest, Jen is drawn to the sound of passable folky acoustic guitar-playing and pretty terrible singing. It's no surprise that Henry is responsible for both. I could transcribe the song (which Sars informs me is a real Springsteen number), but I just don't have the patience, besides which, I figure that a day without Teen Poetry is a good day. Jen looks enthralled.
At the school, Andie and Mr. Broderick preside over a rehearsal. After dark. On the same day as initial auditions. Whatever. Mr. Broderick gives Pacey some pretty terrible and incomprehensible direction that boils down to his wishing Pacey to act "louder and angrier." Andie tries to offer contradictory direction, but Mr. Broderick shouts her down. Pacey ends up giving an appalling performance, of course. The only noteworthy bit in this scene is when Mr. Broderick tells Pacey to quit gesticulating. As Mister Patrick Leswick said a looooong time ago, there really is too much "hand acting" on this show.
Back at the campsite, Ethan is thanking Jack for putting him up and checks once more to make sure Jen won't mind Ethan's using her sleeping bag. Jack assures Ethan that she won't, since she's "a bit of a night owl." Ethan asks, all non sequitur, if Jen's an old girlfriend; Jack says she isn't, but that they "did get set up once." I'm surprised that the writers even remember that! Jack and Ethan get into the tent. Ethan beds down and says goodnight. With evident disappointment, Jack mumbles, "Goodnight." Ethan asks if Jack plans to turn off the light. Jack asks if they might talk a little while longer. Ethan begs off, due to fatigue. Jack reluctantly kills the lamp.
As Henry packs up his guitar, Jen wanders over to tell him how great his song was. Not. Henry says, "Whatever." Word. Jen says she didn't know he could sing, and Henry mopes, "I think we've established there's a lot you don't know about me." Seriously -- when is Jen going to catch her damn snap already? He starts to walk off and she hurries after him asking him to wait. He turns around and barks, "Why?" She quietly says that she wanted to talk to him, and he wearily says, "You can't keep doing this to me." She asks, "Doing what?" and he replies, "Trying to be my friend and then pushing me away when my feelings scare you." Jen tilts her head to one side and admits that she misses him (although when she describes what she misses, it sounds more like she misses the attention). Henry says he used to spend every day thinking and dreaming about her, and every time she walked by, he lost himself. He asks her if she knows what that feels like, and she admits that she doesn't. Henry says, "Then you couldn't possibly know what it feels like to have that person not have the same feelings back." Jen makes a face of dawning comprehension, but Henry's not finished: "Look, I'm sorry you miss how I looked at you, but I don't miss how you never looked at me." He walks off. Jen's face reveals that she FINALLY realizes how much she unwittingly hurt Henry. They walk off in opposite directions. Okay, I never liked Henry that much, and I am generally a Jen fan, but she really, really was long overdue to hear this speech.
In the Sanctum Dawsonorum, Dawson is removing all the Spielberg posters from his walls. Joey comes in the window, looks around, and asks, "Have I stepped into some parallel universe?" and then asks the follow-up question of whether his re-decorating has anything to do with his parents. Dawson says he doesn't know what it's about; all he knows is that he was at Nikki's house today, and that in the course of talking to her, something hit him (and, as we know, it unfortunately wasn't a bus): "The kid who hung these posters up? I'm not him anymore." Joey looks puzzled. He explains (sort of): "I don't see the world the same way. My viewpoint then was so limited. And now, I don't know what I see, but I don't see this." Joey, trying to catch up, says, "So you were at Nikki's house -- your worst enemy --" Dawson cuts her off to say that, in the first place, she isn't his worst enemy, and that, in the second, Joey seems to have missed everything he's said. She tells him the she never thought she'd say it, but he's "such a sell-out." Dawson quits his poster-rolling long enough to snap, "What?!" Joey goes on: "First Eve practically tugs you around town by a dog-collar, and now this new film girl breezes into town and you're tossing your whole identity out the window." Dawson stomps to the other side of the room with all the grace and poise of an ourangoutan escaped from a lab in which experiments were performed to compromise its motor skills, and insists that he isn't doing that at all, and that, to the contrary, for the first time in his life he's getting close to finding out what his identity is. Yeah, he's going to need some therapy before he can even contemplate staring down that prospect. Yeesh. He concludes by saying that Nikki helped him to sort through "this weirdness" surrounding his parents. Joey screeches that she wanted to talk to him about that, but that he didn't want to talk. Dawson agrees that he didn't want to talk to Joey about it, and then, flapping his arms some more, demands, "How did this become all about you?" Now that is ironic. Joey says it became all about herself because Dawson "ran" to Nikki. Dawson starts to say that he didn't, but dissolves into arm-flaps instead, and actually stomps over to the corner. When he turns back, it's to tell Joey that an abiding theme of their friendship is that whenever Dawson expresses the tiniest interest in a girl other than Joey herself, Joey attacks him. That's true, actually. Joey doesn't deny it, but snaps, "Oh, and you don't attack me." Dawson decides that the best way to demonstrate that he doesn't attack her is to point his giant, accusatory finger at her and remind her that he has "not once asked about Mr. Ivy League." Joey suggests that Dawson's failure to ask about A.J. is worse than her attacking Dawson. Dawson's not done pointing yet, and points, "My choice is civil." She says, "I'm not civil?" He says that she isn't civil, she's yelling, and she yells that he's yelling too. Oh, God, BOTH of you just SHUT UP! He pauses, perhaps to decide whether he should start pointing with his other hand to avoid a repetitive stress injury, and as he hesitates, she snaps, "Out with the old, in with the new, huh? Have fun." She climbs out the window, which Dawson closes behind her. Joey, dude, get a life. Fixating on someone who's already inexorably fixated on himself is just not going to get you anywhere.
Maybe Sarah Michelle Gellar's born with "it." Maybe it's Maybelline. I'm not coming down on either side of that debate.
Morning at Capefest. As the camera pans over the campsite, we hear Ethan's voice telling Jack he's going to go get some breakfast before the music starts. Oh yeah -- the music. He thanks Jack again for letting him share his tent (and no, that's not what the kids are calling it these days), and Jack says it's okay. Ethan says, "Aren't you forgetting something you're supposed to ask me for?" Jack, who still has sleep-face (aw!), says he doesn't think so, and Ethan prods, "My number?" As he rhymes off the reasons Jack should have said number, Jack gets annoyed and points out that the night before, Ethan didn't even seem interested enough in Jack to want to talk to him. Ethan protests that he was tired, but that has nothing to do with his wanting to be Jack's friend. Jack repeats, "'Friend.'" Ethan sighs theatrically and says, "I figured you were probably interested." "You're not," Jack deduces dejectedly. Ethan says, "Even if I was, I would never go there with you. You're so not ready." Jack sniffs, "How could you possibly know what I'm ready for?" Ethan says it's not that he's not interested in Jack; it means that if Ethan's going to stay in Jack's life -- and he wants to -- he's a lot more likely to stick around this way. Jack clarifies, "So you are interested." Ethan chuckles, "No comment." Jack looks relieved, and says, "As much as I didn't want to admit it, you were the first guy that I was ready to take that step with, and you said no. I guess I should be somewhat discouraged." Ethan has the good grace not to say anything, and Jack adds, "I'm bizarrely optimistic just to know that there's someone like you out there." Ethan writes down his number and hands it to Jack, telling him to take care. I still don't like Ethan at all -- at all, mind -- but I'm glad that Jack likes him and that Ethan had the presence of mind to take care of Jack's feelings, in his own pompous way.
It's morning in the Capeside High auditorium too, where Mr. Broderick is nowhere in evidence, and the play's Corie is bitching that she blew off a date to come to a "non-rehearsal." She had a breakfast date? Whatever. Pacey suggests that Andie run the rehearsal herself, and she eventually agrees, giving direction that clearly runs counter to what Mr. Broderick was doing. Again, I say unto thee: Whatever.
Jen, moping through the trees, sees Henry pouring himself coffee out of a percolator. He pouts that the stage is "over there" and asks her if she's lost. She replies, "Kinda." But he's speaking literally and she's speaking metaphorically. You see? She says she came over to apologize "for being careless with [his] heart," and for thinking that just because she's older, she knew better. She says that she stayed up all night thinking about what he said, and that she realized that he's right, and that she doesn't know what it's like "to completely lose yourself in someone else," but that she'd like to. She concludes, "If one of us is younger than the other here, I don't think that it's you, Henry." He says, "You got that right." No -- run away! Instead of running away, he picks up the percolator and asks her how she takes her coffee. Nope, this is only going to end badly, for real.
Pacey and the girl playing Corie are running a scene in a comparatively natural tone. Mr. Broderick stops them by applauding and telling them he likes where it's going. Andie looks elated. Pacey starts to give Andie credit for the direction, but Mr. Broderick steps all over him to attribute their improved performances to all the exercises he did with them. (Repeat the above for...oh...five minutes.) Then Mr. Broderick has an argument with Andie over the set design that ends with him telling her not to think, but to follow orders. She slams the designs down and stomps out. Pacey races after her to convince her to come back, but she protests that it's too hard, not worth it, blah blah blah quitcakes. She's wearing a zippered cardigan, and for some reason she's attached what looks like a fuchsia koosh ball to the zipper pull. I wouldn't mention it, except that it's quite distracting. Pacey winds up by saying that he needs her to stay with the production. She finally decides not to come back, and he hugs her, tells her he thought that's what she'd say, and runs away while yelling, "See you at rehearsal! I can't hear you!" She moans, "I said no!" a few more times. Do you think she'll relent? Because I don't.
Apparently Capefest is over (I guess they couldn't afford to get the Foo Fighters to appear), and Jen and Jack are packing up their gear. Jack says that he got the gay equivalent of the "let's be friends" speech. Jen twits him a bit about his kicking her out of the tent -- all for naught, as it turned out -- and Jack apologizes for being self-involved. Jen says he's forgiven, and adds, "It's a happy turning point in a girl's life when her gay best friend finally dumps her for another boy." Jack says that he's unnerved by Jen's good attitude, and he asks what he missed. She confesses that while she was wandering around, she "may have inadvertently stumbled upon somebody." He asks her who, but she's vague about the details.
In the suddenly quite Spartan Sanctum Dawsonorum, the man himself lies on the bed contemplating his bare walls. He turns at the sound of a knock at the window, where Joey is asking whether she still has "ladder privileges." She comes in, telling him she comes bearing gifts, and unfurls an "Imagine" poster with John Lennon's self-portraits on it. She reminds him of the summer they found a stash of Dawson's parents' Beatles albums and listened to them on the porch for hours. Dawson recalls that Grams kept yelling at them to turn down that "hippie music." Hee! Joey recalls that Dawson wanted to be John Lennon -- "to write songs and change the world through music." Dawson doesn't seem to remember that, and Joey says that he wasn't limited then, and she just wanted to remind him of that. Dawson takes the proffered poster.
She sits on the bed and says that even though jealousy sometimes gets the best of her, she still hears him; she goes on to say that no matter how much they yell, or how quiet he is, she hears him. Dawson smiles and says he hears her too. She says that she knows that what's going on inside Dawson is huge, and that it's okay if he doesn't share it with her, as long as he keeps trying to share it with someone. He doesn't answer directly, and instead asks her if she wants to help him hang the poster. She looks dismayed, but gets up with him to put it on the wall over his bed. They step back to admire it, and Dawson asks Joey if she thinks "John here" will inspire Dawson to "walk [his] own path." Joey says, "You've always walked your own path, Dawson; you just needed to widen it a little." Yeah -- because the reason no one can walk that path with him is that once Dawson and his head are on it, there's no room. Joey adds, "And be on the lookout for your Yoko." Ha! He wishes.
week on the Creek, the kids enjoy "a weekend away," during the course of which Dawson and Jen talk about their failed relationship and Pacey and Joey make goo-goo eyes at each other. That's a shame.