Props to John Offutt, the real estate agent who helped us buy a house and made me miss the last ten minutes of this stupid episode when it first aired. Whee!
Previously on Dawson's Crap -- I mean, "Creek": Pacey warned Dawson that Joey wouldn't stay off the dating market forever; Pacey planted one on Joey, and she freaked out; she pretended that it meant nothing to her, and he pretended to go along with her; Dawson told Pacey that whatever else he might doubt, he'd never doubt Pacey's friendship, and Pacey felt like a big old heel.
Dawson "Dome-an Polanski" Leery and Joey "Snore-gia O'Keeffe" are strolling along a pier. Dawson invites her to "look at what [they've] become." Joey, I advise you not to; I'm looking at what you've become, and I just don't know how much longer I can hack it. Anyway, she asks him to explain himself, and he observes that most teenagers their age spend spring break getting drunk and engaging in ill-advised hook-ups in Florida (when they're in high school? Uh, okay), whereas the two of them will be spending it visiting his aunt, which he pronounces "ahnt" instead of "ant." There has been some discussion of this on the forums; some folks are saying Dawson's pronouncing it in a pretentious way while others are saying "ahnt" is proper. I would venture that pronunciation varies regionally; I'm from Saskatchewan and I've always said it "ant," but when I moved to Ontario everyone I knew said "ahnt." Then again, they also said "newFOUNDlind" instead of "NEWfin-land," so what the hell do they know? And who really cares? Yes. Exactly. Speaking of "who cares," Joey says that visiting Dawson's aunt is a ritual -- their ritual -- and that she loves the ritual and loves "Aunt Gwen." "And she loves you," Dawson assures her, causing Joey to smile delightedly, and to add rather expositorily that she can't believe Aunt Gwen is selling her house; Dawson can't either, and comments that it's like "the end of an era." Oh God, not more nostalgia from Generation I (as in "I really don't think you've lived long enough to have become so freaking jaded, Idiot"). Joey asks Dawson if he supposes they'll be able to "rope Jack and Andie into one of [their] famous late-night karaoke sessions." Dawson admonishes her that they had agreed to pretend the karaoke thing never happened. Joey fondly scolds him for being "ashamed of his roots." At this point, the person who should be most ashamed of Dawson's roots is the production hairstylist. As my esteemed colleague Sars has already remarked, it's so over-processed at this point that it looks like hay. And before we leave behind the subject of karaoke, I would like to remind everyone of my remarks of March, 1999, in my recap of "Be Careful What You Wish For," in which Andie and Dawson got up on stage at the Contrivance Club and "sang" the "blues": "...if Dawson ever sings again, I will kill myself." Let's hope I can get through this episode without making the ultimate sacrifice.
Dawson and Joey have by now arrived at a couple of parked SUVs; Pacey "Ross Geller" Witter is standing there with some other guy with, if you can imagine it, hair even less attractive than Dawson's, and says, "Look what I found." Joey can't believe it's actually "Will Krudski," and neither can I -- "Krudski"? They shake hands, and Dawson remarks that he hasn't seen Will since third grade, at which time Pacey was kicking Will's butt "around the playground." In an oddly affected accent, Will says that he had no choice, since Pacey was going around calling him "Will Kruddy." Well, OBVIOUSLY. Seriously, Will looks like he's wearing a toupee, his hair's so bad. Like, Will, Richard Carpenter called; he wants his 1975 look back. Pacey tells Will, "It's a good thing you moved to New Raleigh, because without you around, I became king of the playground." He then turns directly to the camera and says, "There's so much more excitement happening in New Raleigh, and you won't want to miss a second of it. Watch Will KRUDSKI and all his snooty private-school cronies in Young Americans, starting this summer on the WB. Then come back to Mighty Big TV and read the recaps of Young Americans, by Pamie. In conclusion, I'M SORRY." Joey asks what brings Will back to Capeside, and Will replies, "Uh, I'm Jake Hanson to DC's , trying to spin off the WB's version of Melrose Place -- duh, weren't you listening?" and then adds, "Um, I mean, 'Thought I'd surprise an old friend,'" indicating Pacey. Pacey says that, in the spirit of friendship, he invited Will and, apparently, himself to join Dawson and Joey on their trip to Aunt Gwen's. Sure -- what teenager wouldn't enjoy a weekend spent at the home of a woman he's never met, who's the aunt of a kid he hasn't seen since grade school? Plus, presumptuous much, Pacey? Dawson says it's fine, and Joey and Pacey exchange a tense look, though it doesn't last long as we hear the over-perked "Yoo hoo!" of Andie "What's My Plot, Again?" McPhee, who has arrived with two large suitcases and a make-up kit. Pacey asks after the whereabouts of "Jackers," and she says that he'll be spending "quality time with dad." Will hurries over to relieve Andie of her luggage, and they introduce themselves. While everyone else busies themselves around the back of the nearest vehicle, Joey and Pacey make awkward conversation: She thought he was "sitting this one out," and he says he'd planned to, but that when Will showed up, he thought he "should show him a good time, and..." He trails off, and she repeats, "And...?" Crumbling, he says, "And they could probably use a hand up there, so..." He books. She looks after him wistfully. Hey, why would Will come back to town after all this time? Other than to create a plot contrivance that will lead to the exciting new spin-off Young Americans, I mean? Could it be that Will has A Secret that will Shock our Heroes into a New and perhaps Alarming Way of Looking at the World? Who cares? Let's see a show of hands. No one? Thought so.
Dawson's Creek is brought to us by Center Stage, a.k.a. Showgirls, But With Ballerinas.
Fade up on Leery's Fresh Fishcakes. Within, Jen "And Here's To You, Skanky Robinson" Lindley sits at the bar with a clipboard. Henry "Pouty Louise" Parker sets a tray of clean glasses on the bar, then sidles up to Jen and taps her on the arm. She chuckles and tells him he has "to stop trying to impress" her, and he says that "it was the coach's idea" that if Henry was going to hang around the restaurant so much, he "might as well help out." Oh, right; I forgot there were some circles in which The Flash was known as The Coach. Jen sighs and happily wonders aloud how many guys would spend their spring breaks in a "fish eatery just to be in close proximity to their" girlfriends, and adds that he's a saint. Henry says, "Well, you know what they say: There's a fine line between 'saint' and 'moron.'" Huh? From beyond, Mother Teresa asks, "The fuck?" Anyway, non sequitur delivered, Henry trucks back into the kitchen, on his way passing a waitress who does a double-take at his departing figure. The waitress asks Jen who the new "b-boy" is, and Jen tells her his name, adding, "He's a funny little creature." Condescending much? The waitress corrects her: "Make that a yummy little creature!" No. I won't. Jen says, "Hm?" and the waitress declares that Henry is "so [her] type: Tall, lanky, a branch right off the DiCaprio family tree." Jen clutches her clipboard to her bosom and vainly prods, "Yeah? You think?" The waitress goes on to exclaim that Henry has "that cute little ragamuffin-with-a-dream look -- makes you want to take him home and give him a bath...and then maybe hop in the tub with him and..." By now Jen's face has fallen, and instead of informing the waitress that the b-boy about whom she's expressing her impure thoughts is Jen's boyfriend, Jen curtly tells "Shelly" that table nineteen needs a cheque. Shelly chirps that they just got their cheque, and Jen says that someone in the restaurant must need a dessert menu. This plot is so inane that I'm going to encapsulate it for you now and save us all a little time: Shelly has the hots for Henry. Instead of telling Shelly to back off, Jen gets increasingly snitty and passive-aggressive about keeping Shelly and Henry apart, because this week the writers have decided that it's Jen's turn, and not Henry's, to be the needy baby. To that I say, "Whatever."
The Gwensketeers are in a diner. Andie subjects Will to a "quick getting-to-know-you" quiz, first asking his favourite movie. Will says that when he was five, his father took him to see "a revival of Planet of the Apes," and explains, "which, if you knew my dad, is a really big thing, so I'd have to say that ranks as my favourite, but I'm really more of a book guy." Oh, God. So I guess from that sketch we're supposed to surmise two things: Will's relationship with his dad is strained, and he's An Intellectual because he likes to read. Way to shoehorn in the character development, writers! Not! Andie appreciatively observes, staring meaningfully at Pacey, that Will's favourite movie doesn't star Adam Sandler or Steven Seagal (because Charlton Heston is a more respectable thespian, I suppose), and asks Will what his favourite book is. "Well, that's easy," Will replies. Let's all say it together, shall we? "Catcher in the Rye. Salinger's a god." So...we've all seen better movies or TV shows that contained characters whose favourite book was Catcher in the Rye, right? We know what that stands for, right? He's not the kind of stock character whose favourite book is, say, On the Road, and hence always wants to travel and flout society's conventions; he's the kind of stock character who has a crappy father and feels that he -- like Holden -- is surrounded by "phonies" although he is, himself, authentic and pure. ["He's also the kind of stock character who doesn't stray far off the assigned reading list for sophomore English." -- Sars] Got it? Let's move on.
Andie asks what he wants to be when he grows up, and he says he doesn't know: "Happy, I guess." Which, I guess, means he isn't happy now. Oh, boy. What a trooper! So unhappy and book-loving and authentic and poorly parented and badly coiffed! Boy, I just want to take him home and drop-kick him straight off the screaming balcony and onto the rusty pile of trash below. Well, I actually don't want to do that to Will, but to the writers who thought they could flesh out a character an audience could care about by means of a minute-long bullshit session in a diner. Like, you can make that cheque payable to B-A-R-R-Y L-E-V-I-N-S-O-N. Dawson tells Will that Aunt Gwen is also a Salinger freak. So that means she's...well, see above; we already covered that one. In an even more shamelessly clumsy segue, Andie asks, "So what's your Aunt Gwen like?" This question wouldn't have come up at some point before they were actually ON their WAY to STAY at her HOUSE? Like, maybe when Andie was invited? Joey says Aunt Gwen's an artist, and "incredibly talented," and "she paints, and she reads great books, and does yoga, and she lives life on her own terms." Wow, she doesn't sound like a cliché at all! As Joey winds up this description, she and Pacey lock eyes and stare at each other some more. Andie asks Dawson whether Aunt Gwen was ever married, and Dawson says that she was, once, to an "uptight lawyer" and had "the picture-perfect suburban life," but then she realized she wanted to be a different kind of lazy writer's stereotype, and met Richard -- a"crazy, bearded painter about twenty years older" than she -- and left her husband for him. Pacey asks whether they'll be meeting Richard, but Dawson says that he died last year. Andie remarks, "Wow. That's sad," but Will argues, "I don't know. Isn't it better to have a short time with somebody that you really love, than a lifetime with somebody who's basically your roommate?" Pacey and Joey are staring at each other again; she nods. Sensing I'm about to get a baseball bat to the cranium from Dramatic Irony, I duck, but when the dust settles I turn around to see that Dramatic Irony's been pinned to the ground by his cousin, Undramatic Non-Irony. Phew!
At the restaurant, Mr. And Mrs. Flash sit in a booth, where they're approached by someone named Megan whom they evidently haven't seen in a while. They both hug her and ask where "Tom" is. Her face falls. Moments later they're sitting outside and Mrs. Flash is telling her she's "so sorry" and that "he was a wonderful guy." She asks how they are, and The Flash starts to answer, "Well, actually --" but Mrs. Flash interrupts to lie, "We're great!" and to further lie, "[Dawson]'s a terrific kid!" Actually, that could be true, depending on how you define "terrific." Megan congratulates them on making their dream of opening the restaurant come true, and says that the reason she came to see them was that she found a copy of the toast from their wedding, which Tom had written. Mrs. Flash takes it, and wonders how she's supposed to carry an anvil around in her purse. ["Dude, the guy was The Flash's best man. Wouldn't they have heard that he died? Wouldn't they have attended the funeral? I know people lose touch, but come on." -- Sars]
Although The Flashes were sitting in bright sunlight, it's now dark outside as the SUV pulls up to a really nice house. "Wild Thing," performed by some screaming, tone-deaf chick, plays on the soundtrack.
Cut to Dawson, struggling with his bags and pushing open a kitchen door. A blonde in a purple shirt stands "dancing" in front of a piece of "art" but she sets down her palette when he comes in to clap and hug him. Then she hugs Joey, exclaiming, "How gorgeous did you turn out?" Will enters , but Aunt Gwen (for it is she, played by Julie Bowen, a.k.a. Carter's girlfriend Insurance Betty from ER last season) brushes past him without comment and identifies Pacey. He assumes his reputation must have preceded him, but she tells him they've met before, years ago, at a picnic, which Pacey spent chasing Joey around and teasing her mercilessly. She introduces herself to Andie (who calls her "Aunt Gwen," which I think is okay for Joey, who's not family but has known her forever, but I happen to think that Andie should call her Ms. Gale's-Maiden-Name until she's invited to do different -- I'm just sayin'), and incorrectly identifies Will as Jack; Pacey introduces them and Aunt Gwen quietly tells Will, "Friend of Pacey's? Not a good sign." Like, ha ha, not.
Then it is night, and Joey emerges from the bathroom in a robe and runs into Pacey in a tight grey tank top. He looks pretty good. People, I'm not made of wood. He says, "Hey." She asks if their conversation this weekend will consist of nothing more than "monosyllabic grunts," only she mispronounces it "mono-SYLL-a-bic" instead of "mono-syl-LAB-ic." He reminds her, "This is neither the time nor the place to be discussing events of weeks past." She says that there isn't anything to discuss, and that she thought they'd agreed that it was no big deal. "It isn't," he replies, looking everywhere but her face. She insists that, if that's true, there shouldn't be any "weirdness" between them, and he agrees that there shouldn't, but that they may have a small problem.
We pan up from a bedroom floor, where the other three kids are sacked out in sleeping bags surrounding a double bed. Okay, this house is huge. And we just passed the living room where there were at least two couches I saw. But whatever. None too quietly, Joey demands that Pacey "do something about this." No one wakes up and tells her to shut the hell up, which is what would really happen if that many sixteen-year-olds were sharing a room -- trust me. Okay, now we can see Pacey in full, and he's in these really nice loose-fitting drawstring pyjama pants that show a small margin of white underwear waistband. I'm having dirty thoughts about Pacey. Help me. Anyway, Pacey asks Dawson to give up his sleeping bag to Joey and share the bed with him, but in a total departure from his character, Dawson refuses. Will, still awake, announces that he doesn't intend to bunk with Pacey before Pacey even gets a chance to ask, and Andie is fast asleep and snoring. If I were Joey, that would be enough to send me out to sleep in the SUV -- or at least THE COUCH -- but whatever, she makes a big production of rolling her eyes, and then yells -- so inconsiderate! -- "But if I feel so much as a --" Before she can finish, Pacey snaps, "Joey! Get in bed. And while you're at it, get over yourself." WORD. They get in bed, and immediately she takes issue with his butt touching hers, but he insists, "My butt wants nothing to do with your butt, okay?" They fight over the blankets. I fight to stay awake.
I like buying things as much as the guy, but that Discover ad where a member of some indeterminate "tribe" becomes "a true man" buy getting a credit card and buying a Nintendo 64 and a puffy red parka is pretty gross.
Speaking of "gross," I gather that "when you're a khaki," you have no rhythm. Poor Jerome Robbins has issued a press release decrying these ads. From his GRAVE.
In the morning, Joey and Pacey lie stiffly in bed. Pacey opens his eyes and, although her back is to him, Joey does, too. He sits up a bit to try to get a look at her while she slumbers (aw!), and she obligingly pretends to sleep (aw!). Then Aunt Gwen yells at them to get up and spoils the mood. Pacey makes a show of groaning, as if the sound woke him. Joey sits up, clutching her robe closed. Joey, I have to ask: I know you didn't know Pacey would come, so for whose benefit, exactly, did you pack the strappy nightie? They're called "a t-shirt" and "a pair of shorts." I'm sure they sell them at American Eagle Outfitters; you may want to look into that.
Aunt Gwen has set out a truly humbling spread of food. Mmm, breakfast food. She babbles on about the great plans she has for their dinner, but says that, first, she needs to shop, and that she will need Dawson and Joey to help her. She encourages Will, Pacey, and Andie to "explore the somewhat limited charms of [her] humble little podunk town" (because they're used to the metropolis that is Capeside, I guess), cautioning them that there's neither a multiplex nor a "monster truck show," but that there is a "kick-ass little pool hall." Will says he loves to play pool, and Pacey concurs. Andie asks, "What is it with guys and pool? It's a phallic thing, right?" Shut up, Andie. Will murmurs, "I'll teach you," and she says, "Okay, you're gonna teach me how to hit a ball with a stick?" Shut UP, Andie! Blah blah blah bantercakes, pool it is.
The Flash putters around in the restaurant kitchen. Mrs. Flash asks him how he feels, he puts on a brave face and says "it royally sucks" that the BEST MAN AT THEIR WEDDING DIED but that he doesn't think there's anything to talk about. She prods him until he admits he wishes he'd called Tom more: "I wish a lot of things." She hands him the speech and suggests that he read it, saying that it was nice to see herself and The Flash through Tom's eyes. The Flash hesitates, then says he doesn't "feel like taking a trip down memory lane," and flounces out past the poor chef trying to pretend he isn't totally overhearing this whole conversation.
Jen takes a seating chart to the door of the restaurant and spies Shelly the waitress flirting her ass off with Henry. She strolls up and, passive-aggressively saying things like "hon" and "team player," demands that Shelly cover two sections instead of one. Jen watches Shelly go, and then lies (to Henry) that she's not jealous. Henry's hurt that Jen isn't at all jealous. Whatever.
In the pool hall, Will is having a crappy enough game that Andie is gloating. Long story short, Pacey and Will make a big show of looking like they suck, attracting the attention of two other burly pool-hall patrons, who challenge them to a game. Will and Pacey accept the challenge.
In a totally typical tourist-town Twee Shoppe o' Crafts and Tchotchkes, Dawson flicks through a rack of unframed art. Aunt Gwen asks what he's looking for, and he tells her he wants something for his wall. She recalls that his walls are covered in movie posters, and pulling one piece out, sarcastically opines that it wouldn't go with his "film-geek aesthetic." Dawson quietly informs her that he took down all his posters, and she jokes, "Amistad wasn't that bad, honey." He tells her it was more like "a crisis of faith" blah blah "tired of having this larger-than-life dream"cakes. By this point Joey has wandered over in time to hear Aunt Gwen comment on the lack of physical affection between Dawson and Joey. She asks them to tell her why, and they do, each taking a sentence in turn in that way that's supposed to make us see that they know each other so well, they should be together, that they're soulmates and not, say, BROTHER AND SISTER. Joey concludes by saying, "And then he asked Pacey to look out for me..." Quizzically, Aunt Gwen asks what Pacey has to do with anything, and Joey hesitates, then guiltily chirps, "Uh. Nothing. But. Just. There you have it." Aunt Gwen asks why Dawson and Joey aren't together now. Aunt Gwen...no, I don't have the energy. Suffice it to say that they just couldn't produce Pepcid AC fast enough to meet the demand.
Outside the pool hall, Will and Pacey are walking down the sidewalk in broad daylight counting out bills, as if that isn't conspicuous, and Andie is shrieking that she can't believe Pacey and Will hustled the pool hall dudes. Blah blah blah cheatcakes (like you're one to talk, Ruth Shalit), she finally shuts up when they give her her share of the winnings. to Will, Meredith Monroe looks about fifty. The kerchief doesn't help.
Oh God. Okay, while Aunt Gwen, Pacey, Andie, and Will all...wash...a horse...that Aunt Gwen owns, I guess from the proceeds of her crappy-ass art, Dawson and Joey sit above them in the hayloft and, of course, talk about "old times." Dawson asks her whether he seems different to her. She asks what he means, and he says that after devoting "all this energy to reinventing" himself, he doesn't feel any different. You don't look, sound, or act any different, if you ask me. You certainly aren't doing any of those things better. She says that he is different -- that he used to have to be the centre of attention, but that lately she'd noticed him receding into the background "to let others shine." From where we recappers sit, that has meant that Dawson's appearances have been limited to no more than four scenes per episode -- and we've enjoyed it. He smiles, and says that this trip is reminding him of what they're good at: "We make sense in each other's lives. Always have."
Joey's smile fades a bit as she looks at her feet. The Piano of Poignancy starts up as she warns him, "Things are changing, Dawson. People evolve, and some things drop away." Dawson intensely says that "things don't have to be a certain way" and that "growing up doesn't have to equal growing apart." Oh, God, sell it to Hallmark; don't peddle that shit to me. She tells him that it does. Man, her lips are chapped! Dawson says she needs to find faith: "Faith that, whatever set us off in different directions is the same thing that'll --" "Bring us back together," she finished for him, smiling wearily, and adds, "I take it back. You haven't changed a bit." He says, "I'm starting to forget why." "'Why' what?" she asks. "Why we're not together," he replies. Dude, see above. Plus, you used the word "soulmate" so much that it not only lost all meaning but has been officially retired from the English language. Joey gazes at him guiltily. Pacey appears beneath the hayloft and invites them to come down and help with the horse-washin'. Dramatic Irony tries to struggle to his feet, but Undramatic Non-Irony is sitting on his back, leafing through the new issue of InStyle. "Hey, have you read this yet?" he asks me. "No, so don't get any food on it," I reply, "and shut up because it's almost the commercial." Before either Dawson or Joey can answer Pacey, the camera pans down to the toe of Joey's shoe, where "DAWSON + JOEY CODEPENDENT I MEAN BEST FRIENDS FOREVER" is carved into the wood.
So anyway, did I mention we bought a house? At this point, when the episode was airing in Eastern Standard Time, our agent was walking down our street with our signed-back offer.
Okay, didn't anyone at Tommy Hilfiger's ad agency listen to the lyrics of "American Woman" before they put it in an ad that appears to be celebrating American Women? It's a song by a Canadian band! It's not really complimentary to American Women! It's quite anti-American, in fact. "I don't need your war machine"? Hello? That's why it really annoyed me when Lenny Kravitz covered it, like, hi, YOU'RE an American Woman, according to the terms of the song. Except for the "Woman" part, but still.
Joey is gazing at a painting of Aunt Gwen's house that looks for all the world like it was made using a paint-by-numbers kit. There's even a big sun at the top that looks like an upside-down fried egg. Anyway, Joey dooms her own budding art career by saying that she likes that one best, and Aunt Gwen feeds her some malarkey about having painted it when she was married and in an art class where she was instructed to close her eyes and paint the future, and that "the rest would take care of itself." Joey does a double-take and marvels, "You painted this before you lived here?" Yes, dear. And Olestra is good for you, and JFK was shot by a single gunman, and this show will survive past season. Not, not, not, not.
Joey asks Aunt Gwen whether she has any regrets about the way in which she and Richard "came together." Aunt Gwen hunkers down and announces that she got married too young, and "sold out in a big way" by staying in a relationship that was safe and comfortable until she met the man who made her feel alive for the first time. Lord. She then leads Joey over to another wall and points out a painting that is so hideously appalling that it hurts me to describe it, but I will. It's another paint-by-numbers-looking abomination depicting the heads and shoulders of an (I'd guess) eleven-year-old boy and girl -- with halos -- framed in a near heart shape, surrounded by grass at the bottom and tree branches at the top. It's horrendous. I hope the prop person responsible for commissioning this blight on the good name of art did the honourable thing by taking a chainsaw to it, dousing the pieces with kerosene and setting it aflame, then extinguishing the fire by urinating on it. It's. That. BAD. Pacey comes up beside Joey as she's gazing at it and says, "Hey." She says "hey" back and, after an awkward moment, heads back over to the kitchen area. Pacey stares at the painting, no doubt thinking, "I could shit a better piece of art than that." And if he isn't, he should be, because he could, and probably has.
At the restaurant, Henry comes out of the kitchen all in a tizzy to inform Jen that Shelly just offered him no-strings-attached sex. She asks what he told Shelly, and he says he told her that he had a girlfriend. She asks whether he finds Shelly attractive. He stammers that he doesn't. Jen rears herself up and spits, "You know what, Henry? Go have sex with her. Go off and make a million babies, because I don't care anymore. Don't you dare tell me that I'm jealous." She stomps off. I guess that makes two of us who "don't care anymore." Wait. Not two. TWO MILLION.
Andie finds Will sitting out on the porch. She tells him he's a mass of contradictions: "The well-read pool shark? The blue-collar academic?" The bored Canadian? Wait, that's not him, that's me. He asks whether the colour of his collar was "that obvious," and she says it was about as obvious as the fact that he's "pretty darn smart." So...it was rather subtle, then. She asks what makes him so unhappy, reminding him of what he said in the diner, and he says it's too many things for him to mention. She asks him to pick one, and he says his dad's a jerk; he's a "total townie" who works in the factory and "treats [Will's] mother like crap." She says she's sorry. Yeah, now he's happy. Plus, Meredith Monroe is practically a pensioner and he doesn't even look like he's old enough to shave. I'm just sayin'.
At the restaurant, the Flashes bicker some more about Dead Tom and their own even deader marriage.
Montage alert! Karaoke montage alert! Dawson stays on the couch, so I live on to write. BUT FOR HOW LONG? After Pacey attempts "Wild Thing," Aunt Gwen calls Dawson and Joey up "to perform their very own special number." Dawson must enjoy my recaps, because he insists, "I'm not gonna sing," and I guess Aunt Gwen hates my recaps because she drags him up bodily and forces a microphone into his hand. I also guess that the loss of her Richard is still too recent for her to have established any romantic life of her own in his absence, because if she had, she might not be PUSHING so HARD for Dawson and Joey to get back together, like, back off, Gwenta! The opening strains of The Monkees' "Daydream Believer" -- once a favourite song of mine -- tootle on the karaoke machine and then....
...Hey. Undramatic Non-Irony here. Wing Chun just leapt off the roof and impaled herself on some of that rusty trash in the back yard, so since Dramatic Irony seems to have fallen asleep on the floor in her office, I guess I'm safe to finish the recap. Anyway, as you may have guessed, Dawson starts singing "Daydream Believer" in a pretty wussy tenor, which Joey matches note for note -- who knew her voice was so deep? She's not bad, though. Pacey watches miserably (as do we all, though for a different reason), and then wanders outside. Joey's face falls as she watches him go.
In the dining room at Leery's, Shelly continues to flirt with Henry. Jen watches for a moment, and then marches over and snaps, "All right, Shelly, that's it -- get your boobs away from him! This is my boyfriend that you're fawning all over, and I don't appreciate it." Shelly asks, "Why didn't you tell me?" (Yeah -- duh, Jen, like we couldn't all see where this was leading HALF an HOUR ago. Well, at least I could: As Undramatic Non-Irony, it's my job.) Jen says that it's because she has "issues," and then yammers on about how Henry is special and she's been waiting for "one like him" and doesn't plan to "give him up up without a fight." She also throws in phrases like "slutty wench" and "throw down," and finally says to Henry, "Happy now? I'm jealous," before storming out. Way to cause a scene at your place of employment, Jen. I'm sure all those patrons will be happy to have you as a hostess the time they're in the mood for fishcakes.
Joey walks outside to Pacey's chair. She asks if he's okay, and he says, "Not so much, no." She asks what's wrong, and he says, "Well, it's the history. It's killing me. How can a guy compete when you two have your own karaoke routine." Exasperated, Joey yips, "You're not supposed to compete. We're supposed to have our own hist--" She stops herself. He gazes at her. "I didn't mean that," she says, and he asks what she did mean, and she says she doesn't know anymore.
Pacey tells her that the "little arrangement" they have "sucks -- it sucks up one side and down the other. It's uncomfortable, it's weird, and I hate every minute of it." She asks why, if he hates it so much, he came at all, and he tells her that for a smart girl, she "can be pretty daft sometimes; I came here to be with you!" She knits her brow as he goes on, "When you like somebody, proximity is a good thing, regardless of how they feel about you" -- she looks down -- "or don't, as the case may be," he concludes, brushing past her. She turns around and says, "But I felt it." "What?" he asks. "This morning," she explains, "your arm brushed up against me in bed, and...I felt it." "How did it feel?" Pacey asks. "Engorged!" Wing would yell, if Dawson's musical vomit hadn't driven her to her own grim death. "It made me feel alive," Joey admits. Pacey sighs. She rubs her head. He says, "Okay. I'm going to kiss you now." "You can't!" she protests, but he replies, moving slowly toward her, "Jo, you can't say something like that to me and expect me not to kiss you, so that's exactly what I want to do. I'm going to kiss you in about ten seconds, and if you don't want me to --" By now he's very near, and concludes, "Well, if you don't want me to, I guess you're just going to have to stop me." He goes in, and lays one on her, and she totally kisses him back -- and despite Joey's being infused with the energy of my brother-in-law -- Unromantic Non-Intensity -- it's actually a pretty good kiss until they're both pulled up short by the sound of someone clearing his or her throat behind Pacey. They break apart and see that Aunt Gwen standing there. They both look ashamed, as if the kiss had anything at all to do with Aunt Gwen. Pacey mutters, "I think maybe I should head inside and sing myself some more karaoke. Because lord knows that's what I want to be doing right now, is singing myself some karaoke." Aunt Gwen judges that a "splendid idea." Joey slouches. Aunt Gwen says, "Well, at least now I understand why you and Dawson aren't together." Joey bites her chapped lip and says, "I know you just saw that, and I can explain --" but Aunt Gwen THANK GOD says, "What I just saw is none of my business," and then spoils it by adding, "but I think you should tell Dawson." Joey shakes her head and says, "It was just a mistake." Aunt Gwen says, "Something tells me that when you kiss a boy, it is not a mistake." Joey looks increasingly distressed, and Aunt Gwen goes on: "You should know I am the last person on earth who is going to judge you, but you cannot be reckless with someone else's feelings. What if that had been Dawson that had seen you and not me? Do you think he would ever be able to erase that from his mind?" Aunt Gwen turns on her heel and crunches the gravel back to the house. Gee, thanks for the great advice, husband-leaving crap-painter. Are you sure you aren't actually Henry Parker's Aunt Nosy?
Hey, a promo for a show called Young Americans! And that kid Will is in it! And it premieres in the summer! Who knew? What a wild coincidence!
Pacey mopes in the living room. Andie observes that he looks "a little storm-cloudy." He says he'd just been thinking that now would be a good time to start that "debilitating drug habit" he'd been considering, and then mutters that he's just kidding. Andie says that Will is not what she'd expected, and "sweet." Pacey blah blah blah expositioncakes, like, we all saw the promo -- shut up! Andie says that Will told her about his dad, and Pacey is surprised that he did, and then asks, "Do you like him or something?" Andie shrugs and says, "Maybe! Maybe not!" and then -- whoa, I may not be able to finish the recap because I just got called into work on this speech of Andie's: "But don't you think it's better to just be honest and open about things like this? I mean, who wants to carry around this burden of guilt over moving on -- which, by nature, has to happen? I want you to be happy, Pacey." Pacey chuckles.
Henry finds Jen crying in the kitchen. She admits that she was jealous. He says it's okay to be jealous. She blah blah setting traps to keep people away blah blah you broke down those walls, blah blah what if I lose you blah blah insecuritycakes. He says he kind of liked it when she was jealous.
The Flash invites Mrs. Flash to join him at the bar. He read the toast and then got the urge to see Tom again. He's started watching their wedding video. They kiss on the TV screen within the TV screen. The Flash had a mullet at their wedding. He talks some more about letting her go when she moved to Philadelphia but, really, who can get past the mullet? Who wants to? An ovary busts out an acoustic version of "Daydream Believer" accompanied by piano as the Flashes dance in the present day, and on the video. I start to wonder whether I should bother going on.
And then I'm called in AGAIN on the scene! Man, how much Undramatic Non-Irony can one episode contain? I better get double time and a half for this. Dawson sorts through some old photos depicting younger versions of himself and Joey doing karaoke in simpler times. She approaches tentatively, planning to break the news, but Aunt Gwen conveniently interrupts them. She offers to leave but Joey says it's okay, and takes off, instead. Aunt Gwen has a painting in her hands, and tells Dawson she thinks it might help him "find [his] way back." Oh, thank God Wing Chun isn't still alive to see this -- it's the l'il Archie painting of Dawson and Joey, only it's shot in an EVEN TIGHTER close-up. Dawson beams at it. "Way back to what?" he asks, and she suggests, "The way back to what made you this little daydream believer." Hey, y'all, don't forget what's probably going on between Pacey and Joey outside EVEN NOW. Right? That's what I'm here for! Then there's the usual praise-for-Dawson-from-a-tertiary-character as Aunt Gwen tells him how imaginative and brilliant he is, and instead of, oh, THANKING her, or, maybe, DENYING it, he simply says, "I can't find the inspiration anymore! It's easy for you -- the evidence of your talent is all around you." What, the house? The evidence that she was able to meet a rich old guy and fuck him dead so she could keep his house? Because he couldn't possibly mean her excremental paintings. It seems that Aunt Gwen is more on my side: "When my time is up, I want to know that I did one thing well: Loved somebody. The rest of this is just an expression of that one thing." She asks him, "What's your one thing?" He doesn't know, so she tells him to close his eyes and paint his future. She asks him what he sees.
Acoustic "Daydream Believer" starts up again. Fade to the yard, where Pacey sits beside a fire. Joey walks out and sits beside him, leaving enough room for the Holy Spirit between them, as the nuns used to tell Wing Chun's mom when she was in high school. Pacey assures her that he doesn't plan to kiss her again. When she says nothing, he asks what's going on, here, and she says she doesn't know. He asks whether she doesn't think he deserves a better answer than that. She tells him she's been trying to get him out of her head, or to pretend that her feelings are "some bizarre hormonal glitch," but it isn't working. He asks whether she really wants it to work. She whispers, "I tried to tell him." Pacey asks what happened, and she says she couldn't find the words, which is ironic (and from the floor, Dramatic Irony rouses himself enough to mumble, "It really isn't"). Pacey asks her what she would have said, and she sighs, "I don't know." He shakes his head and tells her he doesn't believe her. She gets up and starts snitting at him that she doesn't have any answers, and he shoots back that that's only because she's been too scared to ask herself the right questions. He reminds her that he knows how he feels, and she knows how he feels, but that the real issue is how she feels: "So how do you feel?" he asks. "Awful," she replies. He says he does too, and explains: "When I was kissing you tonight, I don't think that I've ever felt better and worse at one time in my entire life. I mean, the very idea that Dawson or Andie would find out about us is killing me. It is tearing me up on the inside to have these feelings for you, but I can't get rid of them!" He finally stands, and declares, "I can't keep on kissing you, Jo." She asks what he means, and he says, "I mean just that. I can't keep on kissing you. All right? I've done it twice now. I can't be the one that's always initiating this; I can't be the one who's always giving you the answers." She sniffles, looking at the ground. He asks her to look at him, and she says she can't. He asks, "Please?" and she gathers her composure and looks up. He says, "If you felt even one shred of what I feel for you, then we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation." He starts to walk away, but she grabs his hand as he passes and kisses him. I have to admit, it's another pretty great kiss. In fact, that whole scene was pretty good; if Wing were here, she'd observe that it's nice for crusty old married broads like her to remember what it's like when a relationship first starts up and it's all scary and exciting. Plus most of the reason the scene was good was that, since Katie Holmes really phoned it in from the SUV parked up the path, Joshua Jackson did enough acting for both of the performers in it.