By Evany
Lynette officially has Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which means she's in for a round of chemo and some hefty medical bills. Her estranged mother arrives at the house (Lynette's sister tipped her off), offering money and three months of in-home care while Lynette fights the good fight. Lynette -- who, it turns out, has many, many issues stemming from her mother's history of drinking, philandering, and beating her children -- tries to give her mother the heave-ho. The mother feels that forgiveness is in order, especially since she and Lynette now have some flaws in common (and thank you, Kayla, for tipping her off about Tootie), except that Lynette never actually sexed or even kissed Rick, and also Lynette isn't a drunk, and she doesn't beat her kids. But other than that, she and her mother are total twinsies. In sum: look for more Mother in Season 4.
Bree's back from her honeymoon and she's totally knocked up. Oh no she isn't! Actually, she really, truly isn't -- she's just wearing a faux bump so when Danielle's baby arrives, everyone will think it issued forth from Bree's tender loins. Meanwhile, Danielle is cloistered away in some nunnery, festooned with a bona fide bump, all because the Van de Hodges are trapped in some kind of 1950s nightmare in which lies and prop padding are somehow deemed less potentially embarrassing than simple teenage pregnancy.
Mike starts working nights so he can pay for the big wedding Susan's planning, and Susan is so moved by his efforts that she takes the pressure off with a super-secret surprise low-budget wedding. Only Julie and the minister are there, along with lots of cute lanterns and gross amounts of smiling and kissing, and the Awww Factor goes all the way up to eleventy.
Gabby hears that Mayor McBusive is contemplating running for Governor, which she forbids on the grounds that campaigning is boring. The Mayor says something shitty about how he's not going to let some idiot woman stand in his way, and Gabby calls off the wedding. But then the Mayor concentrates all his slickery politician science on winning Gabby back by making it seem like he's given up his delusions of Governorship, and the wedding moves forward without a hitch. But then! After the ceremony, Gabby overhears the Mayor talking to his dad (BJ Hunnicut from M*A*S*H!) about how Gabby was such a great choice for a wife because she'll for sure bring in the Latino vote when he runs for Governor. And Gabby is so shocked and so disillusioned and so...Gabby, she races off to kiss and presumably sex up Carlos.
And the reason Carlos is so receptive to Gabby's advances? Versus, say, trying to impregnate Edie? Earlier in the day, he discovers Edie's birth control pills and unceremoniously dumps her right in the middle of Gabby's wedding. He careens off to get drunk (and then subsequently get with Gabby), and Edie goes home to hang herself.
That's right, you heard me. Edie hangs herself. I know!
Previously on Desperate Housewives: Lynette probably has cancer, Susan and Mike are engaged, Victor always gets what he wants, and once there was this character named Bree.
Okay, so the season finale begins at the Mayor McBusive manse, which is ridiculously done up for the big wedding. Not invited but still omnipresent is Mary Alice, always at the ready with her plucky VO. "When Gabrielle Solis agreed to marry Victor Lang," MA sing-a-lings, "she was determined to have a very...[inexplicable ironic pause]...traditional wedding." A cast of thousands is busy setting up chairs, primping flowers, and generally flitting around like a pod of Disneylandian anthropomorph-mice and birdies. There is also an insane elevated platform with a garland-draped gazebo, a fifty-foot red carpet running up the aisle, and pots and pots of flowers that seem totally different from the bouquets Susan picked out for her wedding, which Gabby was supposed to have stolen for this very occasion. Nothing, in fact, about this whole setup looks like something Susan would have planned, so I guess the whole "Wedding Thief" storyline was just an excuse for a few lesbian jokes? If so, I'll forgive it, since Gabby and Susan's booze-and-chocolate-fueled bond-a-thon did do a nice job of character-building Gabby's Mayoral doubts, which, as we'll soon see, are mega-germane.
Inside, Gabby is gazing at herself in the mirror, and she does look very gaze-worthy in her strapless gown and oiled décolletage. MA narrates that Gabby is going the "something borrowed, something blue" route, with a borrowed hankie tucked into her cleavage, a cornball blue garter (straight out of the Knott's Berry Farm gift shop) on her thigh, and her "old" diamond earrings. MA: "But sadly for Gabrielle, something was missing, and she was about to throw a traditional fit." Bree, it seems, is late with Gabby's "something new" gift of a Swiss bracelet. Lynette and Susan are there (both looking pretty in completely un-matching dresses, so I guess the ceremony isn't that traditional...unless they aren't her bridesmaids? Whatever!), swiffering Gabby with lint tape, tszujing her dress, and generally trying to prevent a Bridezilla meltdown -- not an easy task, seeing as this is apparently the hottest day of the year, and Gabby's already complaining about how all the guests are sweating every which way but loose. Gabby, fretfully: "It is ten after, and Bree is never late. Where could she be?"
Cut to some "clearly she's pregnant, otherwise why show nothing but her shoes and the back of her head?" shots of Bree strutting through the hustle and bustle of the wedding prep. Inside, Gabby kicks one of her presents and huffs that her wedding's "already ruined." Bree makes her big entrance, and we get a long, lingering reaction shot of the Ladies' shocked faces (Gabby: "Holy crap!"). Tight shot on Bree's head, which is looking stunning and glow-y with her hair all loose and tousled, as she cheerfully gives them a big hello. MA: "As promised, Bree had arrived with something new." We get a body shot that reveals Bree's full-on bump. MA, continued: "And she also brought the bracelet!" Um, exactly how long were they honeymooning in the Alps? According to the bumpometer, I'd say it was about six months...which seems like an insane amount of time. Doesn't Orson have a dental practice that needs running? But I'll say one thing for this unlikely plotline: it gives Marcia Cross a little more time to shed her pregnancy weight at a sane rate. It doesn't explain why she arrived ten minutes late, though -- as Gabby said, Bree would never, ever be late to anything. I could see that she maybe wanted to make an entrance, but the Bree I know would have found some other way to make an impact, one that didn't risk tardiness.
And roll just the abbreviated credits (oh, it's going to be a long night).
Three Days Earlier. Over a montage of the Ladies' family photos (including an egregiously Photoshopped pic of the Van de Hodge family), MA tells us that "there's nothing more important" than family. Good times, bad times...they're always totally there, etc. The final framed photo of the montage is of Edie standing awkwardly with an older woman, and the camera pans off the picture and its perch on the bedside table over to Edie and Carlos, who are writhing about in a sexual manner on the bed. MA: "And even though the time comes when they have to leave us, their voices still linger in our minds, and sometimes we can't help but listen." The camera keeps on panning to reveal that the same older woman from the picture is sitting to the bed, watching the proceedings and knitting. Edie and her cute Swiss polka-dot bra try to ignore her, but Mother just won't stop tsking about how there's no way that Edie's Pill-blocked baby-making plan is will ever ensnare Carlos. Edie: "You died alone in a trailer park, watching game shows. Why should I listen to you?" Trailer mom, leaning in close to breathe the hot, fetid air of prophecy right into Edie's Classic Slut ears: "This one's going to leave you like all the others. You're going to end up old and alone, just like I did." Edie sits up in a panic, and both Carlos and Trailer Mom are gone. It was all a dream.
Non-dream Carlos is downstairs in the kitchen, sweetly making Edie a fresh-fruit smoothie. The doorbell rings: it's Gabby, wondering why Carlos hasn't RSVPd to the wedding. Three days before the ceremony; isn't it a little late for this discussion? Gabby explains that if Edie arrives unescorted, everyone's going to think Gabby bitchily refused to let Carlos come. Carlos finally agrees to make an appearance at the reception, but not the ceremony: "You'll vow 'till death do us part,'" he tells Gabby, "I'll bust out laughing, people will stare..." Gabby immediately sees the wisdom of his words.
Meanwhile Susan is considering having an "elegant" chocolate fountain at her wedding. Mike: "I don't know: you...a big, white dress...melted chocolate?" Ha. Susan agrees, but then counters that maybe a "champagne fountain" is a better idea, one that routes the bubbly down the doom flumes of the ice sculpture? Mike wonders if maybe Susan's going a little overboard, but Susan thinks these are all "standard" wedding features, even the big release of the forty doves that she has planned, and all their guests are going to be comparing their wedding to Bree and Orson's and Gabby and the Mayor's. They are? And since when did Susan start caring about stuff like keeping up with the Joneses? Mike thinks that their friends would be more interested in "celebrating [their] love" versus making "petty comparisons. Susan: "You would think that, but no." She pats his shoulder and reminds Mike about how long they've been wanting this very special episode of a day, and Mike gives in. "About the doves, though: you...in a wedding gown...doves circling overhead...again, not liking those odds."
Lynette is on the phone with her sister, Lucy, while she makes PB&Js for the kids' lunches. From her one-sided conversation, we discover three key plot points: Lynette has been officially diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, chemo is going to cost a lot and her lame healthcare has a $10,000 deductible which she can't at all afford, and she has an estranged mother whom she doesn't want to know about any of this. (You'd kind of think we'd have heard about this $10,000 deductible when Tom had his surgery. Huh!) Unfortunately, sister Lucy is having money troubles of her own -- so much so that her husband has been reduced to handing out fliers for a restaurant, and (as Lynette tells Tom) "prepare to wince: there is a chicken suit involved." I so love that line. Tom nicely tells Lynette not to worry: he'll figure out the money problem on his own, leaving Lynette to just "focus on getting better." Tom instigates a belt-tightening policy, starting with his tennis club membership, which he so self-sacrificingly volunteers not to renew. Lynette: "Should you even be playing tennis after your back surgery?" Tom, hilariously: "Probably not." Lynette, as she kisses the top of Tom's head: "Well, in that spirit, as soon as I start chemo, I'll be giving up shampoo." All in all, a cute, funny scene. Also: all the Tootie stuff's blown over, I guess?
Somewhere in Switzerland. Bree and Orson are packing up to leave their hotel (featuring separate beds, Bert-and-Ernie-style). Bree, looking resplendent in a yolk-yellow cardigan with retro sweater clasp, is fussily packing up her toiletries. Orson picks up on her mood and reminds her that they can totally postpone their return, but Bree won't hear of missing Gabby's wedding. He cheerfully Felix Ungers that he'll be wrapping the dress she'll be wearing to the wedding in tissue so it won't wrinkle up in the luggage. Bree tearfully says how she doesn't deserve a man like Orson; in fact, she wouldn't blame him if he just up and left her. Orson, chiding: "Stop. I'm going to raise this child and love it as if it were my own." Whattttt? Wait, seriously...it can't be George's child, because that would make Bree like 16 months pregnant, right? Did some hanky get panked in the land of watches and chocolate?
Mayor McBusive and Gabby are at the mansion, having a fancy get-to-know-you dinner with Mayor McBusive's dad, played by none other than Mike Farrell, the man whom this M*A*S*H geek (who wore her 4077 M*A*S*H shirt on more than one picture day growing up) will never, ever stop thinking of as Captain B.J. Hunnicutt. So McBusive Senior is smarming all over Gabby about her intense beauty, etc. Gabby, coquettishly: "I'm sure I have a blemish hidden away somewhere." B.J.: "That's a search I would relish." Ew. Rather than be offended, Mayor McBusive just tells his dad that Gabby is "way out of [his] league." And just when you thought this scene couldn't get any grosser, Gabby says, "Honey, he's a multimillionaire. He runs my league." Are we getting set up for some horrifying father-son B.J. three-way here? It's like suddenly we're in the middle of a particularly unsettling segment of HBO's Real Sex. Thank(GOD!)fully, talk turns away from the horrifying innuendos as B.J. McBusive casually mentions that some senator friend of his is interested in backing Mayor McBusive in the governor's race. The prompts Gabby to go on a long, endless, oblivious tirade about how she loathes being a campaign wife and she absolutely forbids her husband-to-be to even consider running for governor. The Mayor and his dad exchange uncomfortable glances as oblivioGabby takes a smug swig of wine. Did you know that B.J. Hunnicutt hailed from the very real Mill Valley, CA, home of the high school of yours truly? It's a M*A*S*H fact!
Late, late, later. Susan, with dreams of doves and chocolate fountains dancing in her head, rolls over to discover that Mike's no longer asleep beside her. She groggily sits up and spies topless Mike rummaging around in the closet -- and while I've never been a big fan of Stoneman Mike, I've got to say that his form is looking mighty mighty in this scene. Are you tired, Mike? Maybe you should take a seat. IN MY LAP! So Mike and his insane naked torso are up and at 'em at this dark, wee hour because he's expanded his business hours to an insane twenty-four-hour availability in hopes of making a little extra scratch to cover wedding costs. Susan: "You've been sneaking out while I'm asleep? What are you, a ninja plumber?" To stop the insanity, Susan Powter offers to "scale things back a bit" re: the wedding. Mike: "How? Have a ginger ale fountain? Make paper doves and hope it's windy?" So Susan dim-bulbs that she can just "max out" her credit cards. Oh, oh, Susan. Mike sensibly ixnays that genius scheme, but then he reveals the idiocy underlying his own dumb plans by mournfully going on and on about how he's not Ian, but, so help him, he's going to give his woman the "same dream wedding" that she was going to have with her stinking-rich ex-fiancé. It's difficult to know which one of these two is the bigger mental midget: the forty-something with the teenaged relationship to her credit or the macho, macho Mike.
Hodgkin's Lodge. The Scavorinis are all playing quietly around the table when someone starts ringing the doorbell with nutty persistence. Lynette hustles to open the door and is profoundly dismayed to find her mother, Stella, standing there, looking indignant. "Where do you get off having cancer and not telling me about it?" she huffs. Tom arrives, and Stella changes her cranky tune to a big coo for her "Tommy Boy." With Lynette standing off to the side, looking aghast, her husband and her mother kiss. But before the Real Sex cameras have a chance to arrive, Stella sends Tom out to pay for her cab ("Do not tip the driver, the S.O.B. wouldn't let me smoke!") and collect her bags. And in a complete failure of continuity, the bad-backed Tom heads off to pick up her luggage. Inside, Stella hands out a bunch of dud presents to the grandkids, underestimating their ages and completely skipping over Penny and Kayla, the new developments since she saw the family last over five years ago. Stella, regarding Kayla: "Is that Tom's little B-A-S--" Tom jumps in before she can finish with the remaining "T-A-R-D" and hustles all the kids upstairs. And in a continuity strike two, Tom leans over the back of the couch to pick up Penny, who clearly weighs more than the sacks of flour down at the Scavoria that he's forbidden to lift, and he manages it without a flinch.
Alone with her mother, Lynette tries to pretend that she doesn't need her mother's help, pointing out that Stella herself had breast cancer while raising three kids all on her own. Stella: "I was not alone. I had you." Tom returns from CARRYING PENNY ALL THE WAY UPSTAIRS (pfft!), and Stella tells him all about how thirteen-year-old Lynette ran the entire house while Stella was "curled up in a ball, puking [her] guts out." Lynette: "Well, that's what you get when you mix chemo and vodka gimlets." With "Plucky Old Broad" violins plucking underneath, Stella declares that no matter how hard Lynette tries to pick a fight, Mama Stella is here to stay for a nice, long, three-month infinity visit. And suddenly, the backstory behind Lynette's three seasons of bad behavior comes painfully into focus, and the sight is so murkily disturbing, Marc Cherry sends us into commercial to give us time to process it.
And sit back and let the strained strains of "Gimme Some Lovin'" wail you into the frantic spot for the doomed License to Wed! Dear Robin Williams: Please, just stop. Stop before somebody (no, Jim Halpert, no!) gets hurt. Put down the wacky voices, walk away from the zany faces, and say na-no, na-no to the shimmy dancing. It's over. You can let go now. We release you!
Carlos has just finished depositing his sperm into Edie's Pill-infertilized soils, and the second he finishes the job, he props her legs into the air -- he does not cuddle, he does not bother with sweet talk, he does not collect two hundred dollars. Edie mistakes the gesture as an attempt to get back in line for another ride on Magic Mountain, but no, this is just a fertility-boosting trick he picked up in his extensive baby-making research. "Look, you're no spring chicken," he oh-so-kindly tells her, "and those eggs aren't exactly farm-fresh." Edie starts to object -- because really, what isn't sexier and more flattering than having your own rotten eggs thrown in your face? -- but when Carlos starts cooing about how it'll all be worth it when their "beautiful, beautiful baby" pops out, she reluctantly agrees. While she's lying there with her legs up the air like she's doing the upside-down bicycle move they used to make us do in gym class, she asks him to go get her a beer. Carlos happily informs her that alcohol is out, too, but only until she finishes breast-feeding. He hustles off to get her a "nice herbal tea" instead, and her face falls. Boy, deceiving a man into thinking you're trying to have his baby just so he'll fall in love with you is hard work. And who wants to work if there isn't a row of reward beers refreshing you along the way? Not Edie.
Tom and Lynette are in their room, and she's curled up in a ball with her face buried in a pillow, and they're in the middle of a whisper-fight over the presence of Stella: Lynette wants her gone, and Tom thinks they really need her to stay. Lynette thinks they can handle the kids and the restaurant and her treatment; after all, they have Mrs. McCluskey. Tom points out that they can't pay Mrs. McC, what with their money troubles. Except that Tom actually has managed to obtain the $10,000, just like he promised Lynette he would. Lynette looks amazed and hopeful until he reveals that the money came from Stella, who actually volunteered it without his even having to ask -- somehow, I don't think that counts as the great self-sacrifice his money-getting volunteerism implied? Lynette, livid and near tears, her voice ragged in that patented Upset Lynette way: "Tom, you don't know half the stuff she did to us. She would get drunk and smack us around. She would meet some new guy and drop us off at her sister's for a week because he wasn't into kids." Lynette? You had me at "smack us around." Don't worry, there's absolutely no way that Tom would let a historically abusive woman watch over his kids. None! Oh but wait.
Tom, like he's being understanding: "Okay, so she was a crappy mom! But you said yourself, she has mellowed!" What? Hunh? And then, THEN he really shits things up by reminding her that he's "been pretty understanding lately." No stinking way! He's throwing Tootie in her face? If having Stella stay with them really, truly is the only solution (and why do I have a feeling that Tom hasn't even tried to find the money on his own -- Gabby was ready to write Susan a check for $10,000 just last week, surely she's someone they could hit up for a loan?), then at the barest minimum he should be assuring the once-abused Lynette that Stella will never, ever be left alone with the kids. But downplaying Lynette's fears and experience is just beyond bad. Worse still, it just wastes whatever warmth we had going between them, starting with the poignant hand-holding at the doctor's office from the end of the last episode and then the fun tennis lesson/shampoo joking just a few scenes ago. I thought this cancer was going to wake these two up and put the important things into perspective, and then all the petty bickering would fall by the wayside, at least initially. Where is the cancer honeymoon period? I was so looking forward to the cancer honeymoon period! Once again, you start to warm to a plotline on this show, start to anticipate something good about to happen -- Tom and Lynette are going to fight this cancer together and relocate the love and move on from their Tootie troubles! -- but then it all gets derailed somehow. It's like when your boyfriend leaves an empty carton of milk in the fridge, and you go to grab the it -- your bowl full of the cereal at the ready -- but rather than that satisfying heft of fullness, you get nothing but empty disappointment. This show is an endless series of empty milk cartons, tempting you with their promise but ultimately failing to moisten your cereal.
Meanwhile, Stella is right outside the door, listening to all Tom and Lynette's bickering and looking...mad? Conniving? But certainly not contrite. Lynette: "Great, so in the middle of everything I'm dealing with, you're going to throw Rick in my face?" Outside the door, Stella hears the word "Rick," and her face rearranges itself into an opportunistic "hmmm." Oh ick. Lynette spells out what it is, exactly, that Tom's doing here in this scene: the price of him forgiving her for the whole Tootie non-affair is that she has to forgive her mother, the woman who used to beat her. Thanks, Tom! This whole situation is so depressing and wrong. Tom is a monster and Stella is up to no good, and Lynette has to deal with both of them while she's sick with cancer? She's done a lot of maddening things in her day, but I don't think she deserves this. But, more importantly, what oh what did I do to deserve having to watch the whole mess unfold?
And if you were thinking of getting up to wash the bad taste of that scene out of your mouth, eyes, and brain, don't go just yet -- we've got some more unpleasantness warmed up on deck! So Mayor McBusive is lying in bed, sorting through some papers, when Gabby pays him a surprise visit; it's the eve of their wedding, so they're supposedly sleeping apart tonight. She's wearing a cute turquoise raincoat, which she tears open to reveal a shortie orange-and-pink nightgown (cute, but it was much hotter when Bree did it). Gabby pouts and baby-talks that she's "horny," which is one of my all-time least favorite words, right up there with "poop" and "panties." (You may be tempted to use them in a sentence -- and wow, what a sentence that would be -- but you wouldn't be able to enjoy the triumph of it for very long, as you'd soon find yourself choking on my knuckle sandwich, served with extra-spicy mustard and a big glass of Hawaiian Punch.) So Gabby hops onto the bed and picks up one of the papers that the Mayor's been looking over and notes that it's "polling data," which, see, I don't buy -- if she were really as "---ny" as she claimed to be, she would have just swept all that stuff onto the ground all in a heated rush. But then we wouldn't have the following ugly scene where she accuses him of going forward with his bid for governor, and things quickly descend into a screaming match. Gabby: "I already married a man who put his career before me, and I swore I wasn't going to do it again." Mayor: "Well, I swore that I wouldn't let a stupid woman hold me back." He immediately regrets it, and tries to pretend that it's just all the "pressure" talking. Gabby: "Well here's one less thing you have to worry about: our wedding." And before you get going with the "you go, girl"ing, don't bother...because you only get the length of one commercial break to celebrate.
Great news: Christina Applegate is in a new "comedy" about amnesia, "and that's a problem" as the saucy announcer tells us, "because she can't remember the name of the show!" Yeah, it's called Sam I Am, and I can already see the headlines now: "Audiences Forget To Tune In To Sam I Am!" and "So Funny, I Forgot To Laugh!"
What's the old saying? "So-and-so's so [word that means in the mood for sexual congress], the crack of dawn better watch its ass?" Well B.J. McBusive shows up at Gabby's door even earlier than that to spin her a web of lies about how A) he's there without the Mayor's knowledge; B) the Mayor was only considering running for Governor as a way to win the approval of withholding Father B.J.; and C) Father B.J. is here to tell Gabby that last night, Mayor McBusive told B.J. to shove all his millions of family dollars and also the race for gubernatorial glory. Gabby softens at the news that the Mayor "blew off eighty million" for her, and when the Mayor arrives five seconds later (B.J. to Gabby: "Is there a back way out of here?"), she relents and gives her back-on-again fiancé a big conciliatory hug right out on the front porch. B.J., who watches the whole scene unfold from the comfort of his gigantic stretch limo, which the Mayor magically fails to spot, smiles a revolting crocodile smile. Did you know that B. and J. don't stand for anything? B.J. is his full name, in honor of his mother, Bea Hunnicutt, and his father, Jay Hunnicutt. It's a M*A*S*H fact!
And now for another fantastically painful scene -- actually, they pretty much all hurt from here on in. So Edie is running late for Gabby's wedding, and we see her grabbing some cash out of her wallet just as she's heading out the door. Do you mean to tell me there isn't an open bar at Gabby's wedding? That is very hard to believe. Edie opens the door, and whoops: Paperboy Danny is standing right outside, here to pick up his monthly payment. Edie yells for Carlos to pay the lad and scuttles off to the ceremony. You can see where this is going, right? And yet, sigh, still we must live through it. Carlos doesn't have any cash, so he goes into Edie's purse, which she conveniently left right there on the counter, and but of course he finds the birth control pills. Why wouldn't the otherwise always crafty Edie see this potentiality coming a mile away and just pay the kid with the money she has right there in her hand? More importantly, why would she choose such a terrible hiding place for something so vastly incriminating? Most puzzling of all, why is Edie wearing white to a wedding? The Edie I know would be wearing red.
And keep that inquiring mind stretched and at the ready, because here comes another scene that makes zero sense: Bree and Orson's cab pulls up in front of their house, and Andrew comes bounding out to help with the luggage. And, as though she's been perched at her window for the last three months, just waiting for this moment to arrive, Julie comes racing over to ask where Danielle is. Bree starts dropping clunker lies about how Danielle fell in love with a Swiss boarding school while they were all off traipsing around in the Alps. So that's where Danielle is now: the Alps! At her beloved new Swiss chalet boarding school! Julie looks puzzled: then why hasn't Danielle been answering her cell phone? Andrew lies that the Alps has super-bad reception. And why hasn't Danielle been answering Julie's emails? Bree lies that Danielle's lack of an answer can only be blamed on her extreme rudeness, which Bree is going to take her to task about when she phones her daughter tonight. And now for some unasked Qs: How is Bree going to call Danielle if her cell phone doesn't work in the Alps? And if she's available via landline, why can't Julie call her on that number? And why is Julie even trying to talk to Danielle, seeing as they're complete enemies ever since Danielle slept with Julie's boyfriend? And who here doesn't know by now that Bree's pregnancy is totally fake and Danielle's actually the one who's having the baby?
And now for the big "You Mayor Kiss the Bride" scene. You'd think that Gabby and Mayor McBusive would be the focus here, but it's nothing but the Edie-and-Carlos show. While Gabby and the Mayor exchange their vows, Edie slips a waiter her twenty (so that's what the case was for!) along with instructions to keep the liquor flowing her way. Carlos walks up and busts her mid-boozy-sip. She tries to hide the glass, but he no longer has any reason to care about the hypothetical health of the hypothetical baby; he just shows Edie her birth control pills and tells her it's over. Edie does a valiant job of trying to convince him that she did it all for the glory of (their) love, but he's well beyond caring. He walks away, grabbing a bottle of champagne on his way out (smart!), and Edie just stands there, her face a tight fist of pain and salty regrets, with half the wedding guests turned to watch the carnage. Hip-hip, Nicolette Sheridan!
Mrs. McCluskey, looking sweetly girlish (and also insane) with a bunch of fresh pink roses on top of her head, comes up to Gabby after the ceremony and asks her if she knows what the deal was with Carlos and Edie. Gabby: "I don't know, and I don't care. Today, I am so full of love, I can forgive anyone anything." Mrs. McC smiles at her, mildly confused by the new, free-love Gabby. But then Gabby sets the world right again by leaning in and muttering: "But if you do see them again? Call security."
Gabby moves along to the table where all the Ladies are sitting, which is currently being positively regaled by a hilarious lie Bree is spinning about how she initially mistook her morning sickness as an allergy to chocolate brioche. Imagine! Susan and Lynette grill her about the due date ("not until the fall") until Bree swings the conversation back to the woman of the hour, Gabby, whom she chides for not having yet introduced her to the Mayor. Gabby gasps and heads off to go find her new husband so he can come and meet Bree. While she's gone, Bree remarks at all that's happened since she's been gone: Susan's getting married, Bree's "having a baby" (quotes used to indicate lying). They all turn to Lynette to ask her what she's been up to, but she just says she has nothing new to report -- because really, a happy wedding would have been a terrible place to start in with the cancer talk. But as Lynette rushes to say how "fine" everything is, her voice catches in this strange mucus-bubble sound which is very small and yet huge. Ladies and gentlemen: Felicity Huffman!
Gabby finally finds the Mayor: he's inside, talking to B.J. McBusive. Gabby's just about to call out to her brand-new husband when she hears him say, "I'm exhausted, I'll be glad when this day's over." Her face, which started out in a big smile, crumbles and she holds back, listening. B.J. compliments the Mayor for picking the best wife ever: "With her bringing in the Latino vote, the governor's mansion's as good as yours." First of all, ew. And second of all, what Latino vote -- aside from Carlos, what other Latinos live in this Desperate world? And third of all: why are these two men standing in front of a roaring fire on the hottest day of the year?
The Mayor tells B.J. that he isn't so sure if Gabby is going to go along with the governor's race, seeing as he basically promised her he wouldn't run. B.J.: "You're the husband now, things have changed. Be nice, buy her a few pretty things. Trust me, you'll be able to tame that little spitfire." And then! The Mayor says, "I'm not too worried, I've always been able to manage my assets." Oh, Mayor. And oh, B.J.! Have you maybe noticed that all the older-generation parents on this show are all revolting? Lynette's, Gabby's, Susan's, and Rex's mothers are all heinous, and Bree's stepmother is a total icicle in a wig -- though we love you, Carol Burnett! Tom's dad is a philanderer, Susan's dad is a huge disappointment. Carlos's mother at least loved her son in some way, but she was generally pretty scheming and awful (and look where it got her). And Edie's mother is depressing and accusatory -- or at least that's how she comes across in Edie's dreams? Could an entire generation really be this off-putting?
So the abusive Grandma Stella is at home alone with the children. They're all watching a super-loud movie, and when it ends, Stella gives an "amen" and sends the kids packing. Kayla (wearing a super-cute snap-up Western top with little stars all over it that I so wish came in Size Evany) lingers behind, wondering if she can't stay inside and watch another movie. Stella, absorbed in a magazine, bored-soundingly tells Kayla that Lynette said one movie was the limit, and Lynette's actually going to be home soon, so.... Kayla cats that Lynette is always home one hour later than when she promises all her babysitters. Stella finally hears something that interests her, and after calling Kayla "an observant little monkey," she pumps the girl for info about Rick. Kayla is only too happy to oblige: "If I tell you, could I watch a really good grown-up movie?" Stella, thrilled: "If it's a really good, grown-up story!" How is it that these two are practically the only ones in the family not blood-related?
Back at the Sham Wedding. Susan brings Mike a sampling of appetizers, but she finds that he's fallen asleep sitting up. She sighs sympathetically, and then she spots the reverend who conducted Gabby's ceremony mingling in the crowd. After buttering him up with a few compliments (because what doesn't improve with the liberal application of butterfat?), she asks him if he's busy later. What, Mike falls asleep for one second and already Susan's off looking for a new date? I jest.
Gabby lets herself into the gift room and finds Carlos sitting there, skunk-drunk on champagne. His second bottle. Carlos, all covered in champagne sweat: "I'm sorry if I ruined your wedding, but if it's any consolation, I also ruined my life." He goes on to reminisce, with the guileless nostalgia of the truly sauced, about how great he had it back in the Gabby days, back when he had a house, career, and most of all Gabby. He snaps out of his reverie and pats Gabby on her knee, apologizing for dumping his troubles onto her -- on her wedding day of all days! Gabby, who's clearly just reeling from the vileness coming out of her new husband, stares at him for a beat, and then she dives in for a big old kiss. Carlos looks surprised for a second, then his hand comes up to the back of her neck and pulls her in deeper. And just when things start to look like they're getting interesting, we break for commercial.
What is this new show, Dirty Sexy Money? Do I want it anywhere near my television? This currency that's covered in the kind of dirty and sexy that makes those CSI crime-lights glow?
Lynette is home from the wedding of the Mayor to the Latino Vote -- no sign of Tom, weird...but I'll take it (he really hasn't been much fun this entire season, has he?) -- and she finds Stella sitting on the couch, sipping on some kind of Drink drink. Lynette makes a mildly snarky comment about how amazed she is that all the kids are asleep with cough syrup miraculously untouched. Stella: "Boy, you're just waiting for an excuse to give me the boot." Lynette: "Well, if history is any indicator, I won't have to wait long." Stella, baiting her hook: "So, you don't think people can change?" Lynette thinks that "at a certain point, people are just who they are." Stella, on the other hand, is sure people change, why just look at Lynette, always so perfect, "and then along came Rick." The shot hits home, and Lynette turns around and stares at her mother, all wide-eyed. Lynette, with a glass of wine swinging wildly in her hand, admits to there being some Tootie trouble, but unlike her drunken slut of a mother (I paraphrase), she never actually put the needle on the record with Tootie. They jab at each other -- At least Lynette has a husband like Tom to come home to! Stella had a husband, too! But he was boring! And so Stella cheated on him and drove him away, even though he was the only stable influence Lynette and her siblings ever had! Etc.! Etc.! -- and then the fight reaches its sickening climax, when Stella reminds Lynette what she, as a little girl, said to Stella when Stella was diagnosed with breast cancer: young Lynette said Stella had "earned it" and that "it was god's punishment." Hoo boy.
Lynette pours herself another glass of wine and knocks it back in a violent jolt. Stella, tauntingly: "How you feeling now, Lynette? You think you're being punished?" Lynette stands there, looking like she's just been slapped, and then she weakly reminds Stella that she "never did what [Stella] did," as in, she never actually consummated anything. Stella, gleefully: "No, you just wanted to." Lynette, all business now, tells Stella to take her money and shove it, more or less, and Stella responds with this impassioned speech about how Lynette doesn't know what she's in for with the cancer, and that Stella is going to stay, "holding [her] hand every damn minute," no matter how bad it gets. And when it comes right down to it, Lynette won't be strong enough to fight both her mother and the cancer; it's one or the other, cookie. Stella heads upstairs, and Lynette just stands there, looking defeated. I can't...quite...tell...is this a threat or a loving, motherly gesture disguised as browbeating? Either way, I think it's going to be pretty painful to watch, and I'm not looking forward to witnessing this whole bitter tale drag out into Season 4. Yay?
Bree is lying in bed and typing out an email to Julie on her laptop. "My new school in Switzerland," the email reads, "is AWESOME." She pauses to call out to Andrew, "Do young people still say 'awesome'?" Andrew, brow furrowed: "Not so much. Try 'off the hook.'" Bree: "'Off the hook'? That doesn't even make sense!" Andrew: "Fine! Type in 'groovy,' see if I care." I like helpful, kind Andrew, but is it wrong to say that I also kind of miss the villainous, Hempy-stealing Andrew, too? And why does it all have to be so one or the other, black hat versus white hat with Andrew, vanilla or chocolate? The phone rings, and it's Danielle, calling from a nunnery three hours to the north (i.e., not Switzerland). Bree is delighted by the timing of the call, as it affords her the chance to ask whether Danielle would describe her school as "off the hook." Danielle wouldn't. She would go with a choicer selection of words, such as "crappy" and "a freaking nightmare." The camera pans back to reveal Danielle, lying on the bed in much the same position as Bree, with a matching baby-plumped stomach. Danielle begs to be allowed to come home, but Bree reiterates that Danielle is staying where she is until the baby comes, and then she sing-songingly reminds Danielle that they'll be driving up to visit her this weekend. Danielle rolls her eyes in Danielle-ian frustration and hangs up on Bree just as she's getting to the part about how she's baking Danielle's something-something squares.
Bree is sitting there, looking shocked, with the disconnected phone in her hand. Orson comes in and offers to fill up a tub for Bree, and Bree sighs a big frustrated sigh about how "lovely" it would be to take a bath. Orson helps her up, and then he helps unfasten the Velcro on the faux-baby bump that we all knew Bree was hiding as of twenty-five television minutes ago. But with the frantic way the Desperate music is thrumming, you'd think this big bump reveal was some kind of surprise or something. Orson comments that it's almost time to move up to "six-month size," and Bree sighs like this is bad news. Lady, a faux-bump is like a magical lamp! You just rub it and you instantly get a seat on the bus or a table at a restaurant. Plus it's a great spot to store secret snacks, especially chocolatey ones that benefit from getting all melty! Which raises the question: where did they get this collection of bumps -- down at the Bump and Grind (part pregnancy subterfuge supply store, part coffee shop)? -- and where can I get myself stocked up with my own set of prop bumps?
But yeah, this is the dumbest plotline ever. In this day and age, the potential embarrassment of being discovered faking a pregnancy (which is going to happen the first time anyone tries to touch her bump, and from what I hear from my pregnancy-experienced friends, that happens like twenty times a day) is so much worse than the mild mortification of having a pregnant teenaged daughter! Ugh.
Poor Mike gets another midnight call about a plumbing problem, and he groggily sets off to go take care of it. The second he's gone, Susan springs into action and rushes into Julie's room. Julie is dressed and just hanging up the phone, and she does a fake southern accent that makes it clear that she was the lady who just sent Mike on a wild plumbing chase. Cut to...
...Mike's truck, rolling down a deserted forest road, when out springs the reverend, holding a dry-cleaned suit for Mike to change into. Cut to...
...Mike, looking dashing in his suit, and also a little annoyed. "Mind telling me," he asks the reverend, "what Susan's up to?" And the reverend says, "Ask her yourself!" They arrive at a clearing that's been magically, Disneylandianly transformed into this secret romantic garden with lots of candles and paper lanterns and a beautiful, rough-hewn sort of gazebo thing. Mike, who clearly was steeling himself for one of Susan's horrible disasters, smiles a great little smile that makes my heart go pitty-pat. Aw! Susan looks really pretty, and sort of impossibly busty, and Julie is there, also looking nice. Everyone giggles, and it's really a great little moment. Mike: "Who knew downsizing could be so romantic?" Indeed!
And I won't even let the fact that there aren't enough witnesses (don't you need two?) or that they don't have an actual marriage license distract me from the aw. Nor will I bother with the fact that there was no earthly way to set this all up in time, given that Gabby's reception just ended. How did they possibly buy all the lighting and build everything in the-- okay, I'll stop. It's very cute and romantic and I love it. And huge ups to Marc Cherry for not killing off Mike -- I know the temptation to give in to the irony of killing of Mike during the sleep-deprived drive to the site of a fake plumbing emergency was probably huge. But thank the Cherry that Susan and Mike got the happy ending instead, because we really needed at least one upbeat couple in this depression-logged finale. And yet...I'm a little worried about what you're going to do with this happy couple come season. I fear it's just going to become an endless string of rehashed I Love Lucy plotlines, and I don't know how much "Susan, I'm home!" I can stand. Though maybe Mike and Susan could start solving crimes together? That could be a fierce kind of awesome! I mean, "off the hook."
And it's MAVO Montage Time! Aww, after being tenderized by sweet ceremony, I'm actually feeling quite warm toward our weirdo, MA, and maybe even a little nostalgic-in-advance for the months we'll be spending apart. What the hay?
So part one of the montage: Mike and Susan toast each other with champagne as the underage Julie looks on empty-handed, a square without a drink. MAVO: "Family: there is nothing more important."
Lynette looks forlornly on as Stella...cuddles a teddy bear? Yeah, I don't get it either. MAVO: "They're the ones who show up when we're in trouble."
Gabby looks on as the Mayor and B.J. chat in the living room. MAVO: "The ones who push us to succeed."
Orson watches Bree as she hangs up her faux-bump in the closet. MAVO: "The ones who help keep our secrets."
And now we come to Edie, who stands in her house with a big drink in her hand, looking pretty rough around the edges. MAVO: "But what of those who have no family to rely on?" Edie puts down her drink, and we see that there's a note there: "To My Beloved Carlos," it reads. MAVO: "What happens to those poor souls who have no loved ones to help them in their hour of need?" Edie slowly removes a big, long scarf from her neck, then she stands on a chair and tosses the scarf over a rafter. MAVO: "Well...most learn to walk life's road by themselves." The camera zeroes on in Edie's feet, standing on that chair. MAVO: "But a sad few of US..." did you catch that, Mary Alice referred to Edie as one of "us"? You hear a strange knocking sound, and then the camera pans across a framed photo of Edie and Carlos, then shifts to that same photo of Edie and her mom from the beginning of the episode, and then comes to rest on Edie's feet, which are now swinging without the aide of a chair to hold her up. MAVO, continued: "...simply stop trying." What? Huh? I call bullshit. I know that we've been handed this lame Needie character for the past couple of episodes, but this is just ridiculous. Where is the Edie who went after Karl with a rake when he dumped her? That Edie would never kill herself over some guy she's been dating for a just a few months. And how could she not leave a note for Travers, her son? And I'm sorry, that specter of the "trailer mom"? Tacked on at the beginning of the episode? That is not nearly enough of an explanation for Edie's sudden suicide. The writers have gone beyond simply killing off Edie -- they've gone and Sirhan Sirhan-ed her character, too. Ugh, ugh, ugh! Poor Edie. All she wanted was a Pepsi.
And that's it! The end! And the only good thing I can say about this finale is that Mike and Susan's wedding was really nice. That, and I'm very happy it wasn't a two-hour-a-thon like last year. Oh and B.J. Hunnicutt! The bad: I guessed the truth of Bree's big mystery way too easily, Lynette and Gabby's storylines were way too depressing, and the show itself felt like it was spinning its wheels for the first fifty-five minutes, just skipping over the frothy fun parts (what, they're not going to show us Carlos and Gabby having sex, REALLY?) and shortcutting right to the misery. And the ugly? The only OhMyGod of the whole show was Edie's suicide, which came from so far out in outer left field, and was so was untrue to character, and so "Hey, I have an idea!" that it really was nothing but shocking for shocking's sake.
So that's the end of Season 3. Will Carlos come busting in just in time to save Edie's neck? Will Bree's ridiculous baby scheme actually fool anybody? Will Lynette live to bicker with her mother another day? More importantly, will any of you be back to watch it? You'll just have to wait until September to find out.
Until then, then! And thanks so much for reading these recaps, everybody!