Previously: Dawson agreed to direct Pander's vanity project, Jack fought with his frat brothers, and Joey macked on Professor Creepy.
Audrey and Pander come slutting into someone's dorm room, exchanging particularly horrendous dialogue. This is so obviously The Vanity Project, though the fake-out attempt is a valiant one. Well, sort of. Audrey pours some Jim Beam and calls Pander's character "a snake and a con-artist" who's slept his way "through the entire student body and some of the faculty." Pander downs the shot and insists that he's "none of those things." Audrey gets all up in his face. "Then who are you?" she hisses. "I'm just the boy who's going to tear your soul apart," Pander breathes. They kiss. Ridiculous semi-pornographic music wocka wockas in the background. My head hurts already. Audrey pulls away abruptly. "This is ridiculous. I can't do this," she announces. "Cut," Dawson directs wearily, as we pull back to reveal that he's got his crew and equipment crammed into the back of what must be Audrey's room. Jen, sitting in a director's chair to the Head, stares dully at her boyfriend. Audrey explains that if she were a girl trying to seduce a boy, and she's "been that girl many, many times," she would never, ever, ever let the boy know she was even remotely into him! Because that's when the boys get bored! Dawson blinks exasperatedly and covers his face with his hands. "It's just feeble writing," Audrey finishes. "Hey, I'm right here," Pander yelps. Jen offers that maybe they should have made an animated film. Dawson makes a face like she's not helping (perhaps because she isn't. Have I mentioned that while I grudgingly like New Dawson, I hate New Jen? Because I do. She's so mealy-mouthed). He pulls Audrey into the corner and does some directing. "If he knows that she knows that he knows that she knows," he says, "you see what I'm getting at?" Audrey lies and says that she does. "Okay, let's shoot this scene before we get old and die in our sleep," Dawson chuckles. Jen pulls out a bullhorn. "Back to work, people!" she bellows. The bullhorn screeches horrifically. Pacey, holding the boom mike in the corner, shoots her a dirty look. Dawson just looks weary, and instructs Pacey not to dip the boom into the shot anymore. Pacey chews on a toothpick and cheerfully agrees. Everyone heads back to his or her marks. Jen snaps the marker and scrambles back to her position at Dawson's hip. "And…action," Dawson calls gleefully. Oh, barf. I could live the rest of my life without revisiting the Dawson Leery: Auteur Theory plotline.
Credits. Damn! I forgot to say a prayer for I.
Creepy's class. He's all, blah blah writing, blah blah life blah blah cliché blah. "When a work is intense, it's because [the writer's] life was intense," he says. Oh, God. Hasn't that whole A Writer Has To Live, Really LIVE thing been more or less debunked? I just find the idea that, in order to be a good writer, one has to drink oneself to death or stick one's head in the oven or, say, sleep with one's teacher a rather tired one. It's also the same excuse used by pretentious English majors to convince other English majors to have sex with them since the onset of academia. ["What's your point? (Heh.)" -- Sars] Joey's writing this all down frantically, and looking somewhat uncomfortable. Creepy asks the class what makes life "intense," then supplies his own answer: conflict. "Your desires versus your ideals, your head or your heart?" he offers, then asks the class for examples from their own life. Joey waves her hand in his face. "Out with it," he says. Joey stammers and stutters and says something about "a guy," and is finally saved by the bell. "Same Bat time, same Bat channel," Creepy says, dismissing them. Joey rolls her eyes and stomps off.
The Quad. Joey waits for the Creepy one. They need to talk, she says. "That was uncomfortable," she opens. "No, that was creative writing. Uncomfortable is taught down the hall on the left," Creepy snarks. Joey snips that "there should be a name for people who use sarcasm as a defense mechanism." Creepy smiles wearily. "There is: sarcastic," he tells her. Oh, fine: heh. Joey squeals that she's serious! And she's a little weirded out by that whole kissing thing they did. "I'm sorry, Joey. I'm a creep," Creepy says. "I've robbed you of your innocence." Dude, was that a shout-out? I think that might have been a shout-out! I live for the shout-out! "You're not a creep," Joey insists. Okay, that was a shout-out. It must have been! And if it wasn't, I'm pretending it was. Joey doesn't want an apology. She just wants to say her piece. Creepy's ready to hear it. And he's dialed down the smarm, which is a refreshing change, I have to say. Joey, having been given permission to say her thing, goes silent. "Whenever you're ready," Creepy prompts her. Joey flaps her arms and squeaks that she's "freezing" under the pressure. "Can I do this another time?" she asks. "Absolutely," Creepy says. And then Joey runs away. I was almost not grossed out by that entire exchange, but then I remembered that Joey is, like, eighteen years old and that Creepy is disgusting.
Liberty Hell, where Pacey is cooking breakfast. Enter Audrey. "You slept here again last night, didn't you?" she asks. Pacey makes some comment about it being her day off and why does she care and they're totally going to get together, aren't they? "Can I have that omelet?" Audrey asks. Pacey tells her that she cannot, and also mentions that now is not really a great time for a visit. "We had plans, you know," Audrey poutily reminds him. "Refresh my memory. That was the breast exam, right?" Pacey asks. Audrey rolls her eyes. "No. Running my lines!" she says. Pacey slides the omelet onto a plate. "To tell you the God's honest, Audrey, this is really not the best time for me." Cue entrance of the scantily-clad babe, insert dialogue about Pacey forgetting name of said babe (he thinks it's "Gina," it's actually "Rina." Both a Gina and a Rina are on staff at Dawson's Creek. This is a very shout-out-y episode). Naturally, G/Rina is rather irritated that Pacey has forgotten her name so quickly, and she gathers up her undies and storms off in a huff. "Have a nice life, Stacey," she hollers from the doorway. Pacey shakes his head and shrugs as the door slams shut. "On second thought, the omelet is yours," he says. Audrey grins at him, amused by this turn of events.
Homophobia is bad, mmmkay? But the frat rats missed the memo. Jack wanders late into a meeting over at Sigma Ew, and everyone turns and looks at him and acts generally uncomfortable. Bull's telling the bros that they're hitting a party at a sorority house that evening, so if anyone's looking for "some nookie," they can all meet in the living room at 11 PM and have sex with each other after the party. I mean, "go to the party together." Like sororities even have nookie-type parties. Maybe I'm not in the know, since I wasn't in a sorority, but when I was in college six hundred years ago, frat parties were where people went to get lucky, and sorority parties were where sorority girls wore short black cocktail dresses and strappy shoes and forced their frat boy du jour into posing for awkward prom-like photos. The meeting splits up. Jack looks tired and hungover. 35-Year-Old Eric, the only brother left in the living room, wonders if he's okay. "They're trying to make it up to you," he says. Jack explains that he's having a hard time getting over the fact that his brothers beat him up and left him alone in a bar to bleed. 35-Year-Old Eric is all, "Dude, you crossed a line." Jack points out that the time for graceful apologies on his part has already passed him by, and complains that he feels like an idiot. "You are an idiot," 35-Year-Old Eric says, not unkindly, and leaves the room. I can name several idiots intimately connected to this storyline.
Dawson's up in his attic room, editing the flick. Jen skips in, wearing very cute black tights decorated with polka dots. He makes a series of frustrated noises, then chuckles to Jen that the movie is really, really, really bad. And the ending is horrific. And they don't have time to fix it. And the real problem? Pander is "without a doubt the most pathetic excuse for a thespian there's ever been." Oh, I don't know. Did you see that scene where the Flash was singing into an ice cream cone? But I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Dawson and Jen stare at a series of bloopers between Pander and Audrey and look glum. "Jack and Grams have more sexual chemistry than these two," Dawson says grimly. Hee. I'm sorry, that was sort of funny. At least I'm not actively liking Dawson anymore. I'm just neutral on him now. Which is fine with me. The liking thing was freaking me out, but it's really hard to recap a show when you literally want to run the protagonist through with a long, sharp object, over and over again until he dies. Just ask Sars. , Pander comes stumbling into Dawson's room, wrapped in a blanket. Is he living at Grams's now? Or does he just wander around Boston covered in an afghan like a fool? "What'd I miss?" he asks. Jen and Dawson exchange looks. "Have a seat, skipper," Dawson offers. And then fires him. Pretty tactfully, though, saying that Pander isn't "right actor for this particular role." Pander shrugs and bows to Dawson's authority as a director, which shocks the Head. Pander agrees that they need to recast the part, if they can find somebody who's "sexy, charismatic, attractive and not burdened with a soul." He wonders where they can find a guy like that on such short notice. Jen chortles to herself. "I used to date him," she offers. Pander and Dawson turn to stare at her. "That's not a bad idea," Dawson says. "Oh, yes, it is. It's a terrible idea, and you would never make me do that, would you, Dawson?" Jen offers.
Apparently, he would. Cut to Charlie's Den Of Inequity. He opens the door and does that Patented Charlie Leans Across The Doorjamb So As To Best Demonstrate Chad Michael Murray's Freakishly Long Torso Thing. "Jen Lindley! How you been?" he asks ungrammatically. "Busy," Jen chirps. "Just trying to wrap my head around this Lemon Diet Coke phenomenon." Me, too. As far as I'm concerned, it tastes like Lemon Pledge. Charlie drunkenly slurs something about how Jen can't live without him, and I'm pretty sure she refutes this, but I can't quite hear the dialogue because I'm too busy wondering aloud why Chad Michael Murray can't enunciate properly, for sweet Christ's sake. Jen does need a favor, she says. Charlie's not very enthused. "You get to make out with a really hot girl," Jen offers. "Okay, step into my office," Charlie says, and lets Jen into the bathroom at Al's. I mean, "into his room." Seriously, though, does anyone other than Fonzie use the phrase "step into my office," when not actually talking about their literal office? Okay, I do it at work sometimes, but only because "step into my cube" sounds so sad.
Worthington. The dorm. "The guy is unbelievable!" Joey says, stomping inside and flinging her bag on the bed. "I know!" Audrey squeals. She can't believe "he couldn't remember her first name!" She's forgotten last names, she admits, but first names? Gawd! "Who?" Joey asks. Audrey's mouth is wide open. "What? Wait. Who are you talking about?" Audrey asks. "[Creepy]!" Joey says. Audrey's all, oh. Joey yammers that she was all ready to give Creepy her little speech, but she just froze right up. "I couldn't even remember who I am," she says. "You're Joey Potter!" Audrey reminds her. Joey nods furiously and insists that she refuses to become a groupie! To be reduced to a babbling idiot at the mere mention of Creepy's name! Audrey's like, too late, baby. "But it's not a bad thing." Joey thinks it is a bad thing (and so do I). And she's going to drop his class. Should she drop his class? "Are you asking me or are you just having a soliloquy, here?" Audrey asks. Joey says that she doesn't want to spend the rest of the year pining over someone she can't have. "I've been there, and it's excruciating," she explains. "Breathe!" Audrey instructs, before asking Joey when she last felt "as completely and totally alive as [she] does right now." Joey smiles blissfully. Oh, Audrey. Don't be an enabler. The girls collapse into giggles. "Who were you talking about?" Joey finally asks. Audrey just groans and falls back onto the bed.
Frat. 35-Year-Old Eric and Jack are all alone in the house. I think I caught part of this on Skinemax last night. Jack's in the kitchen, fetching a brew. 35-Year-Old Eric's all standing in the doorway, checking him out. "Little early?" he asks. "For love?" Jack responds. Not really; he says, "Only if you're doing it alone." Which is almost as good a line. Jack informs 35-Year-Old Eric that they have "unfinished business." With Madden 2002. Ah, a manly pursuit of a different sort.
Grams's living room, where Charlie's auditioning for Dawson and Pander. Jen's feeding him lines as unemotionally as possible. "You can sleep with blah blah blah, not even you," she recites dryly. Charlie acts his little tushie off, though, and eventually goes in for the kiss (which is, I believe, in the script). Jen does a Talk To The Hand kind of thing and warns him that he'll find himself in "a world of pain" if he goes a millimeter further. Charlie groans and complains that she's not giving him anything to work with. "Acting tip: it's called using your imagination," Jen snarks. Dawson's like, I've seen enough, and sends Charlie to wait in the other room whilst he confabs with Pander. They agree that he's quite good. "I mean, if you're going for the brutally handsome, rippling abs, Tony Scott version of me, he's as good as we're going to get, right?" Pander asks. Hee. Dawson agrees, and mentions that now they just need to rework the ending. Pander gapes. He loves the ending! Dawson doesn't think it makes sense. Apparently, the ending features the guy killing the girl. Because she broke his heart. "Poetic justice," Pander offers. Dawson's like, no. Charlie wanders in and asks if he's got the part or not. Wrap this up, people: I've got figure skating to watch. Anyway, Pander wonders if Charlie can learn his lines in two hours. He can. He's in. Moving right along.
Jack and 35-Year-Old Eric are lolling drunkenly around Jack's room. 35-Year-Old Eric is wondering why anyone would want a girlfriend, of all things, because all she's going to do is "bitch and moan" and force you to watch "Notting Hill, over and over again." Oh, sweet Mary. I have never forced the boy in my life to watch a chick flick multiple times. I do sometimes make them watch football, however. While I feed them beer, and cupcakes. It's true. And yet, I am alone. Perplexing, no? Anyway. "I like Notting Hill," Jack offers. The boys laugh, and then they both lie back on the carpet and stare longingly up at the ceiling. "Dude?" 35-Year-Old Eric begins. "Yeah?" So many seductions in my own past have begun with those very words. "What was it like when you realized you were gay?" Oh, no. Oh, this is so embarrassing. This is so painfully cheesy. I can't believe they're actually going down this road. I think I'm just going to stick my head under my sofa pillows for about twenty minutes. Jack says that it wasn't something he just realized all of a sudden. "Well, what was it like?" 35-Year-Old Eric asks. Jack sighs, and says that so many people spend so much of their lives all "locked up inside themselves. And they never know that they have the key all along." I want to die. Why are they doing this to me? This scene is so silly! It's so goofy! It's so clichéd! It's so 1983 ABC Afterschool Special! Can't Jack just live the normal life of a normal gay college student? How much more entertaining would that be? 35-Year-Old Eric looks thoughtful. We get it: he's gay! He's gay, and he's also gay! Jack continues, saying that he always knew, "on some level," that he was gay. "Just like you always knew you were straight," he adds. 35-Year-Old Eric makes a "not so much" face up at the ceiling. "It's about realizing it was all right [to be gay]," Jack says. "Even though I don't really think that it is," Kerr Smith ad libs. "You're amazing," 35-Year-Old Eric breathes, then rolls over and props himself up on his elbow and makes moon eyes down at Jack. Oh, man. Cue The Music Of Forbidden Gay Love. "You're the kind of guy I want to be," 35-Year-Old Eric says. Jack's eyes get really wide, and for half a second I think they're actually going to kiss. See, I forgot that Kerr Smith doesn't think that teenagers need to see gay people macking. Straight people are okay, though. Don't ask him why. Jack peers up at 35-Year-Old Eric. 35-Year-Old Eric blinks and looks down at the carpet and then over at Jack again. Jack sits up abruptly and asks 35-Year-Old Eric if he wants to watch some more TV. Non-kissing-type TV. But 35-Year-Old Eric has work to do. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward. "Okay, I'll see you," Jack sings dismissively. 35-Year-Old Eric leaves. That scene was real bad.
Casa Creepy. The good professor glances over the top of his product-placed Gateway laptop (which I'm also taking as a shout-out, because I am writing this very recap on a Gateway laptop) and sees Joey pacing in his front yard, talking to herself. He opens the door and looks out at her. "Hey, you selling Girl Scout cookies?" he calls to her. "Have any those with the chocolate and the caramel? I love those." Me too. Man, Creepy and I have more in common than I thought. If only I could find a really hot young thang with whom to have an affair, in a horrifying abuse of my power. Joey grins self-consciously and tells Creepy that she's figured out what she wants to say to him. "I'll alert the media," Creepy says. Joey glares and asks if he could "lose the obnoxious glib for five seconds." Creepy looks chastened and tells her to go ahead. Joey begins by saying that she's sorry he kissed her. "I can't even begin to apologize," Creepy says, sounding actually fairly sorry. But Joey doesn't want an apology. "In a minute, I'm going to shake your hand," Joey says, and they're going to have "a silent understanding," and then she's going to leave and drop his class. "No great loss there," Creepy offers. "You know what? Screw you," Joey snaps, with something approximating actual emotion. "Clever, Joey," Creepy offers dryly, before explaining that she's "going to do great, with or without [his] workshop." Joey half-smiles. "Oh," she says. Apparently, according to Creepy, Joey's "got it." Or, rather, "It." It is "the gift, the touch." He doesn't have it, but blah blah blah. Joey is fast becoming the Donna Martin of this show, what with all the endless praise of previously-never-before-established talents. thing you know, she'll be saving fawns from forest fires. Anyway, because Creepy thinks she's all talented and whatnot, Joey decides that she doesn't want to walk away from him anymore. You know what, though? Nice acting job there from Ken Marino. He was almost not disgusting to me. And let me clarify; I don't find the actor unattractive. In fact, I think he sort of looks like Chris Noth, vaguely. But the character is so distasteful. She's eighteen years old, you perv! What is wrong with you?
Audrey and Pacey are running lines; she's wandering the room, he's lying on his back on her bed. Audrey looks over at him and tells him that she's going to start acting now. "Are you warning me, or telling me?" Pacey asks. Audrey just wants him to pay attention this time, so he can give her notes. Pacey nods, and Audrey proceeds to get into character by shaking and hopping. "Bring it! Bring it! Bring it on!" she yells. Pacey, on the bed, looks scared. Audrey snaps into seductive mode, slinking over to the bed, crawling on top of Pacey, and cooing that he's "falling in love with [her]." Pacey gulps. "Um, how can you be so sure?" he reads. Audrey straddles him and leans right into his face. "You can sleep with all the right girls and take all the right drugs, but in the end, you'll still be alone," she breathes. "Doesn't matter what anybody says, Gage, nobody wants to be alone, not even you." They stare at each other for half a second and then start eating each other's faces. Another half second later, Audrey leaps away with a yelp. Pacey wipes his mouth and swiftly covers his crotch with a pillow. I'm not sure how to react to that bit of blocking. The twelve-year-old in me is all, "Heh, boner gags." The old lady in me is all, "My word! I can't believe what they're showing on television nowadays. And at eight o'clock! What is this, UPN? Will no one think of the children?" And the last part of me, which I prefer not to name, is wondering why Pacey is so eager right off the bat. On the other hand, he is eighteen. Audrey squeals that she doesn't want to do this! "Of course not. Me neither," Pacey lies. "It would be
wrong!" Audrey continues. "It's obviously wrong, that's why we stopped," Pacey points out. Silence. "Any notes?" Audrey asks. Pacey shakes his head furiously.
Audrey's smooch-y muscles (a technical term) are getting a real workout, because thing you know, she's kissing Charlie. But it's just acting. She pulls away, a look of irritated disgust on her face. "Cut! Cut!" Dawson says. "It's just that my costar Charlie Sheen over here is ramming his tongue down my throat!" Audrey says. "It's like he's looking for my diaphragm!" I spend the fifteen minutes wondering if Audrey means her mid-section diaphragm or her birth-control-device diaphragm. Do girls still use diaphragms? They've always seemed so 1968 to me. Anyway. Dawson heaves a giant sigh and tells them to take the shot over again. "Pace," he says, "I see the boom dip into the frame again, I begin to forget our friendship." That was refreshing! It was almost classic dicky Dawson! But Pacey smiles cheerfully and agrees. Take twelve. Action. Mackery. Charlie's mouth is opened abnormally wide, I feel. He seems to be sucking her face into his throat. Dawson looks vaguely nauseated; Pacey, somewhat uncomfortable. Finally, the kids come up for air. "I never wanted any -- can we do that different?" Charlie asks. "Still rolling," Dawson instructs. More kissing. "I didn't know. I never wanted anything like this before," Charlie says. "Neither have I," Audrey replies. "Line," Charlie calls. "I'm afraid of falling," Jen supplies irritably. "I'm afraid --" Charlie begins, then interrupts himself to ask, "Would Gage really --" "For the love of God, just say it," Dawson grits. "I'm afraid of falling," Charlie says. "Don't worry. I'll catch you," Audrey promises. And…more kissing. "And cut," Dawson calls. Audrey pulls out of Charlie's embrace and cuffs him. She can't work like this, she says. "It's completely unprofessional!" she squeals. "And it's too intense, with you standing right there to me!" she snaps at Pacey, who looks mildly taken aback. Everyone stares. "You're a terrible boom operator," Audrey finishes lamely, then runs off. Dawson has no idea what's wrong with his leading lady, and he looks it.
Creepy's living room. He and Joey perch on opposite ends of the sofa in silence, before she sarcastically comments that she's so glad there's no awkward tension between them. Creepy agrees, saying that he's "so relaxed, [he] might fall asleep." Joey rolls her eyes, and Creepy stares ahead and then blurts out that he can't afford to lose his job. Joey doesn't want that! He's never done anything like this before! She knows! That's such a lie, by the way. I betcha Creepy's got an entire attic full of skinny little co-eds that he's somehow managed to seduce with his so-called "charm." "I've never met anyone like you, Joey Potter," he offers. Joey giggles that all the boys tell her that. "They're right," Creepy says. Joey breathes that this is her example for class: the conflict between her ideals and her desires. They're slowly leaning in for the kiss when her phone rings. They leap apart, she answers, she yammers, she has to leave. She takes her coat and bails, but is hardly out the door when she turns around, runs back in the room, takes his face in her hands, plants one on him, grins, and takes off.
Frat House Of The Corn. Jack's napping in his room when Bull and Blossom just fling open the door. "Eric told us you tried to kiss him," Bull announces. Jack is flabbergasted. I am not, as I have watched television before. Blossom thinks it would be better for Jack if he just 'fessed up. Jack sneers. "Yeah, I was just nancying around my room in my thigh-highs, and I thought to myself, 'I'm just going to lay a wet one on an unsuspecting frat brother, because that's probably a good way to smooth things over in the house.'" And Bull's all, "Jack," like he's someone's disapproving Christian Coalition Grandma. Jack flaps that he could never "do that" to any of them. Because none of them are really all that cute. And hold the phone for a sec: sure, it's not cool to go around kissing people who aren't interested in you. But 35-Year-Old Eric was all into him! There's nothing wrong with kissing someone who totally wants to kiss you! Jack would not have been in the wrong even if he did kiss 35-Year-Old Eric! It's 35-Year-Old Eric who's all in the wrong! I hate this show! "Wait a minute," Blossom says. "You want us to believe that [35-Year-Old Eric], like, fabricated this whole thing?" Jack stares at them and then sniffs that he doesn't care, because he's leaving! Forever! Bull smarms that they don't want that. I hate these guys. I sort of hate Jack too. Just because. "With all due respect, my brothers," Jack says, "get out." Man, Jack -- why won't you let them love you?
On the set, Dawson and Pacey confab. "I might have some insight as to why your ingénue is so exasperated today. And let's also say that, hypothetically speaking, I might be mildly culpable for her exasperation," Pacey confesses. Dawson raises an enormo-brow. "Forget I mentioned it," Pacey stutters at the sight of the brow. Dawson sighs that his patience? It's wearing thin. "Okay. Well, uh, here's the thing. I kissed her," Pacey says. "You idiot," Dawson sighs. And the hate? People, I think it's back. "Did anyone ever tell you the first rule of the universe?" he asks. "Energy is conserved?" Pacey guesses. "No," Dawson pronounces. "The first rule of the universe is, 'Never get involved with an actress.'" And then he chuckles. Good-naturedly! We were so close. Dawson pats Pacey and shakes his head, amused. Pander scampers over and points at Charlie. "Help, it's trying to think," he hisses. Apparently, Charlie has a "few ideas." "Script notes? Are you seriously trying to give me a reason to slap the silly out of you?" Jen snarls from across the room, before going ape-shit in Charlie's direction. Pacey lifts her off the ground and away from the boys. "She's got moxie," Charlie comments calmly. In the midst of the melee, Joey arrives. Dawson asks her to take Pacey and retrieve Audrey from the bathroom. She obeys. Then he takes Jen aside and tells her that he needs her to go home, because he doesn't want her to "have an embolism." Jen blinks innocently. "Dawson, he is evil. Isn't it possible that he is the anti-Christ, packed into the body of a handsome musician?" Now, that would be a plot twist I could really get behind. Dawson really needs her to go home. "It's the only way I'm going to get this thing done." Jen pouts. "But who will do the clappy thing?" she asks. Dawson reiterates that they'll "manage."
Joey and Pacey make their way to the ladies' room. "Something happen between you and Audrey?" Joey wonders mildly. "No! No! Of course not," Pacey doth protest too much. "Because if something happened between me and Audrey, it would be a whole horrible, terrible, awful thing, right?" Joey rolls her eyes. "Pacey, you're an idiot," she says. "Okay, if one more person calls me an idiot, I'm really going to start feeling bad about myself," Pacey retorts. Joey sighs, and explains that she'd prefer to see Pacey happy with someone like Audrey, rather than some random girl whose name he can't even remember. Finally, they get to the bathroom door. Joey announces that they're coming in. "What do you mean? I can't go in there," Pacey squeals. Joey grabs him by the ear and yanks him in after her. "Jo! Ow!" Pacey yelps.
In the bathroom, Audrey dabs at her girlish tears. "Audrey, you look great in that dress!" Joey opens. "Really?" Audrey asks. "No. Forget it! I don't deserve to talk to you. I don't deserve to be in the same lavatory as you." Joey smiles and shakes her head. "Why, because you kissed Pacey?" Audrey's mouth falls open. "What? You told her? How could you?" she asks Pacey. Loudly. Joey is still shaking her head and smiling. "He didn't tell me. I intuited," she says. "Really? That's amazing, Joey, you're very intelligent," Audrey chirps. Joey's not upset, she says. "You should be. Our friendship is like the specialest thing that's happened to me since I came here and what do I do? I step on it! Why? Because I'm weak when it comes to men!" Audrey says, shaking a finger at Pacey. Aw, their friendship is special! Mostly because Audrey is the bomb. Pacey grins at Audrey, as Joey explains that she loves them both and wants them to be happy. "You don't need my permission," she beams. "I'm giving you my blessing. For what it's worth." Saint Joey strikes again. Is there nothing she can't do? I can't wait until the episode where she turns water into wine.
Jack, tearstained, is leaving the frat forever, never to darken their door again. Ever. Ever! He's basically out on the porch when he senses 35-Year-Old Eric standing in the foyer behind him. I don't know how Jack knows he's there; it must be some kind of Gay Jedi Mind Trick. Because Jack is gay. In case you weren't aware. He likes boys, even though he never, ever dates them. Apparently, before Jack goes, he must impart his Great Gay Wisdom to 35-Year-Old Eric. "You know the truth, and you're going to have to live with it," Jack begins, talking to Eric very seriously, but not turning around to look him in the face. Because he can't turn around. That would count as darkening the door again. "You've got some serious issues to deal with. You need some serious help." 35-Year-Old Eric makes a giant "whatever" face. "I really hope you find it," Jack says. 35-Year-Old Eric stomps away. And Jack leaves the frat forever. Sweet fancy Moses, living through that plot arc has been like running a marathon. With one leg. And no lungs.
So, now Dawson's filming outside of what looks like some fancy-schmancy government type building thing. Joey walks up to him. Stupid Soulmates Piano twaps in the background as they smile at each other. She asks if he has any other crises for her to solve. Not unless she can fix the ending of the movie, Dawson sighs. "Do they end up happily ever after, or not so much?" Joey asks. "Not so much. He kills her," Dawson says. Not so much, indeed. Joey dubs this "depressing." And cynical, Dawson says, before launching into some long speech about how he's lost his hopeful Spielbergian side. "Apparently," he cracks, "I'm in my dark period." Joey looks thoughtful and tells him that she once saw a bit of graffiti scrawled on a bus stop bench that has never left her. "Hope dies last," she recites. She's never forgotten that, she says. "I think you're waiting for a sign," she says. He snarks that he's freezing his ass off doing it. Joey smiles. "Did it ever occur to you, Dawson Leery, that I'm the sign you're looking for?" she asks, and then walks away. Dawson makes a confused face, along with all the kids playing along at home. Joey turns. "It's going to be okay, for all of us," she calls. And then leaves. Dawson has no idea what's going on. Neither do I. She's…the sign? Of what? Was that…? Did they cut a scene from this episode? How is she the sign? What does she signify? Am I supposed to understand that? My head hurts. Recapping this show isn't supposed to make my head hurt! I mean, not from thinking about it, anyway. Smacking my skull against a wall, that's an entirely different story.
Jen runs into Jack on her way back to Grams's. He's sitting on a bus stop bench, carving "hope dies last" into the wood with a penknife. Not really. Really, he's lighting a cigarette. Jen sits down to him and take the cig out of his mouth. "What's happened to you?" she asks quietly. Jack stares ahead bleakly. "It's hard to say. I seem to remember the two of us hanging out in front of the coffee stand at the beginning of the year. Then the dumb guy with a dream comes up and invites us to a frat party, and after that it's all kind of a blur." Jen makes a sympathetic face. Jack finally looks over at her and wonders if he can ask her a question. She nods. "Did you like Notting Hill?" Jen's mouth drops open. "Are you kidding? I loved that movie!" Jack's face finally cracks into a grin.
Over at the set, Dawson has a breakthrough about the ending. Do any of you really care? Neither do I. Basically, he cuts the whole part where Charlie has to kill Audrey, and he tells her to do all sorts of vague things, and when she doesn't quite get her motivation, he tells her to "shoot first, ask questions later," and it just occurs to me that that was a little play on words. With the shooting of the gun and the shooting of the movie? Clever, that Leery kid. Well, not that clever. He announces to the crew that they're going do to the last scene in one long shot. "Think Orson Welles, Touch of Evil," like, you wish, Dawson. That one long shot in Touch of Evil is like twelve minutes long and basically unparalleled in cinematic history. ["And the likelihood of more than a couple kids his age even knowing the shot he's talking about in the first place? Nil." -- Sars] In other words, good luck with that. And…action! Yammer, yammer, acting, acting, yammer. "You ruined my life," "I did a bad thing," "It was all part of the trip," "Journey," "Moment," "Life," blah blah blah. And then in the middle of the scene it starts to snow, and Audrey looks up into the sky and laughs and Dawson's all gesturing at the crew to go with it and then Audrey and Charlie run off together and that's the end of the movie and Charlie still has a gun stuck in his waist band and I totally don't understand how snow makes you not want to kill people. But Dawson's chuckling happily, and everyone else is transfixed by the magic of weather, so I guess he fixed the ending. Way to go with that! Or whatever.
Pacey and Audrey. He's sorry about the kissing; he doesn't know what came over him. Her, either! "It was kind of Method," Audrey explains. "I've been watching a lot of James Lipton lately." They stand very close to each other and do that whole "You're not my type," "You're not my type" thing, and then they start with the kissing. "You're not my type," Audrey repeats into Pacey's face. "You already said that," Pacey reminds her. "I know. I'm just convincing myself," she murmurs. More kissing. "How's that going for you?" Pacey asks. "Not so good," Audrey replies. More kissing. More kissing. She has to go home. He'll give her a ride. Yeah, I'll just bet. "How do you do that thing?" Pacey asks her, looking down at her face. "What thing?" Audrey asks. "You smile, and the whole world lights up." I thought that was Mary Richards. And I know that only twenty percent of people reading this got that joke. What can I say? My mother loved Mary Tyler Moore. I saw a lot of hair-tossing and twirling when I was a little girl. Audrey grins. "Acting!" she says. "Beats the hell out of work," Pacey says. They kiss some more. I was all against the whole Pacey/Audrey romance thing, but I'm over that. Hey, at least they're having a good time and they're not hurting anyone. Who am I to criticize? Oh, right. Well. Shit. Hmmm. I still got nothing. Can I get back to you on this week?
Joey's walking home in the snow. The streets of Boston are deserted. Or are they? She suddenly bends over and picks up an already-packed snowball. "2 and 3 is the count," she begins, settling into a pitcher's stance. Joey, Joey, Joey. If you're at a 2 and 3 count, then you're sitting in the dugout, because strikes are second in the count, and everyone knows that when you have three strikes, you're out. Anyway. I guess I can't expect Joey to know that. "Bottom of the ninth. Sammy Somebody is at bat." Sosa? Just a guess. "The wind-up…the pitch!" She hurls the snowball at a sign, hitting the bulls-eye. "And the crowd goes wild," Joey crows, flinging her arms over her head. Aw, that was sort of cute. Who hasn't those moments, all alone, when they find themselves providing the play-by-play for their own lives? Well, I have, anyway. So Joey struts off, planning her new career as a fast-pitch softball whiz who leads a rag-tag team of fellow orphans to Olympic gold. "To be continued," the screen promises. "Continued" from what? I mean, what the hell kind of cliffhanger is that?
week: The continuing canonization of Saint Joey Potter. And a vampire arrives in Boston.