Guerilla Film-Making

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. "Andaction," 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 clich 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.

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. Andmore 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.