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Take a defunct D.C., add Ally McBeal-ers as wet-behind-the-ears associates, stir rapidly, hold your nose, drink and vomit up this newest NBC creation. Maybe I should have gone to law school, because being a lawyer is clearly all about sex, non-witty non-bon mot repartee, sex, huuuuuge offices, sex, crying in front of a judge, burping contests, sex, and talking all about sex. Samantha Mathis says "panties" five times in fifteen seconds and I puncture my eardrums with a fork. "They Call Me Miss Tibbs" is gorgeous and has the only semi-interesting storyline, but she's dating some doofus who thinks that The Beatles shag cut is still hip. There's another guy who looks so much like Plasticman that I really can't remember anything else significant about him -- especially since The Halliwell sisters called me in the middle of his defining moment to tell me that they want the set of their San Fran house back. Finally, Andy Moffat is gay, and somewhat inclined to speak with a hybrid-accent, which could only come from Evelyn Waugh macking on Tennessee Williams. I wonder whether Blair and Tootie ever knew the real Andy behind that preppie exterior... Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Oh, lord, wait, I have to get this. (Rewinding…play.) "Tonight, first-year lawyers will discover that the best years are the first years." How original.
Two scoops of Urban Jumble with whipped cream and cherries to Mr. Totalot for his legalese, Mr. keckler for his unfailing patience and laundry detail, and to the rest of the jury on the First Years forums for posting more rigorously than this show really deserves.
Early morning sunlight filters through a stained glass door. The door flies open, and an aged Samantha Mathis walks into the lavender foyer, shouting, "Just because you don't open your mail doesn't mean you don't have to pay your bills." God, I can't believe we're two seconds into the show and I'm already having issues. Point of order: if the mail were sitting outside, it's fairly safe to hazard that it's just been delivered, and if it's just been delivered we can conjecture that the receivers aren't yet aware of its existence, and if the receivers aren't aware of its existence, there is no proof they weren't going to leave the mail unopened or unpaid…do you see where I'm going with this, Your Honor? Sigh. Besides, isn't taking someone else's mail a federal offense? Some lawyer she's going -- oh, I give up already. I mean, really, how many times can you predict I'll be saying that in each recap? Sydney Poitier comes tripping down the stairs. "Anna, you're here. Good, good, good, good, good!" she says. "Yes, Riley, I got your message, I'm here," Anna tells her. Okay, do we know who's who on the docket? Poitier is Riley and Mathis is Anna. Riley leads Anna into the kitchen, and Anna complains about all she has to do: "You know I have to clean my bathroom, write a three-hundred-page summary, find a husband because I don't know when I'm going to have another day off again, and I think my ass is beginning to fall, so this may be my only window of opportunity." Probably thinking the only way to shut up that whining maw is to get it drunk, Riley says, "Beer?" and holds up a cold one. Mmmm, a cold one…
The side door opens and Exposition walks in, helping a bearded Andy Moffat (because I'm sorry, but that's who Mac Astin's always going to be in my eyes) haul something heavy. "Actually, I met him at Jeffrey's," Andy Moffat is saying, and then he sees the two lawyerettes. "Oh, good morning, Anna," he says in precise tones. "Warren," Anna says, surprised. "How's it going?" "Ah, moving day," Andy Moffat comments vaguely, as if that answers her question. Anna turns her attention back to Riley, who's fidgeting with a bottle of Dos Equis. "Warren's moving in?" she asks. Riley tells her they needed another roommate. "You know, we have an extra room to rent," Riley offers hopefully. "So those were Warren's friends?" Anna states, staring after the men, the Light of Prospective Sexual Conquest dying out of her eyes. "Top floor, nice view --" Riley continues. "No, I don't want to live with friends," Anna tells her, chewing on an apple. "Right, only men who steal your credit cards," Riley says as Exposition takes the Dos Equis out of her hand and swigs long and hard. Anna turns around and makes a threatening fist. "I love you," Riley says sweetly, and they both chuckle. "You know," Anna continues, stepping on Exposition's foot, "just because they are Warren's friends doesn't mean they can't be straight." Yes, yes it does. It says so in the Gay Guy's Guide to Being a Lawyer. Right there in chapter eight, paragraph five: "Straight friends are strictly not allowed if you are to achieve the pinnacle of lawyerly gaiety."
"Five minutes," mutters Mr. keckler, grabbing the stain stick, "and I already object to this whole show." Overruled. The jury will watch the show because the cats need shoes!
Wading through her friend's raging hormones, Riley tells Anna she asked her over for a special favor, and she doesn't want Anna to get pissed. "Soda?" Riley offers hopefully. I'm sure everyone is supposed to be flummoxed by that offer and the beer offer. Not me, I'm smarter than that -- I know the soda and the Dos Equis are all a part of an elaborate favor that Riley apparently asks of her friend all too often. The writers are just trying to be crafty -- getting us right to the collective edges of our seats, they are. What would a can of soda and a beer in the morning have to do with a favor asked of a friend? Let's puzzle it. Anna looks weary. "Not again," she says. "Please?" "Riley." "Please?" "Riley." "Please?" "Riley." Oh, please. Weird: typing it that many times, the word has lost all meaning and it looks really foreign now.
Two actors pretending to be first-year lawyers and roommates come down the lavender halls. "All I'm saying is that I could spot you five points. It's something nice I could do for you," says a shag rug in human form. "You're talking a lot of trash talk, five foot nine," says the spitting image of PlasticMan. It's "talking trash," you goober. Might as well tie a sweater around your neck and meet Mums and Daddums for a really top-drawer round of golf. And is five nine supposed to be some sort of insult? Ever heard of Muggsy Bogues? "How do you expect to compete in jeans and deck shoes?" Shaggy says. "I can compete against you," snerks PlasticMan as Riley comes out of the kitchen. Shaggy kisses Riley on her cute little Exposition nose and says, "We'll be back three-ish." Riley asks where they're going. Rather thick of her, if you ask me, since they're "talking a lot of trash talk" and throwing a basketball around. However, Shaggy says, "A little street ball." Yeah, "street ball" on Nob Hill. PlasticMan makes some cryptic no-hard-feelings-better-luck--time comment to Riley. "Honey, you lost fair and square," the Shaggy D.A. tells his girlfriend, "and let's face it, it's a man's sport." Riley half-heartedly throws the basketball at his stomach. "It's a matter of genetics really," PlasticMan says, counting some money that suddenly appeared in his hand and handing half of it to Shaggy. "Don't be so sure," Riley says, stepping aside to reveal Anna slouched against the kitchen sink. "What's she doing here?" PlasticMan says in a panic as Anna walks over (man, Samantha, sweetie-darling-sweetie, put some cold tea bags on that luggage under your eyes, this isn't a cargo hold). "No, no, she can't play," Shaggy whines. "You said boys against girls," Riley insists. The guys complain, "She doesn't even live here." Riley tells Anna that normally she wouldn't ask this of her, "but these two --" "She brought in a ringer," Shag-Man whispers. PlasticMan says it's okay, because the contest is over and they won. Wait, boys against girls, they said? And of the people competing who live there, two were boys and one was a girl? Yeah, two-against-one sounds like even teams. Riley is still coaxing her friend: "I know you consider this a gift and I wouldn't want to exploit it, but," Riley gestures at the two guys, "they think that we can't beat them at this." "I can't believe this move," Shaggy says. I can't believe this dialogue. PlasticMan keeps saying Anna's not a threat. Riley offers Anna the can of product-placed Diet Coke, but Anna holds up a hand. "For amateurs," she says and walks past the guys. Heading towards the door, she opens her mouth and lets out a long, low BREEAHURUHERP. Anna walks past Andy Moffat, still gassing, and leaves the house. "Did I miss something?" he asks. Riley slings an arm over each of the chagrined talking-trash-talkers and accepts a dollar bill from each of them. "Clearly, she's a threat," Shaggy avers. PlasticMan laughs. Yeah, yeah, belching game, genetic code, the legal profession, male-dominated world: it's all the same anvil-laden metaphor they intend to shove down our throats for the rest of this series. Yawn.
Blessedly lyric-less credits starting and ending with the Fab Five plus Eric Schaeffer at the water's edge, with the Golden Gate painted on the background behind them.
e.e. cummings must be writing for this show, because first the show name and now the line "first thing you do…" (I guess that's the episode name, trying to lend a bit o'class to the show by invoking the Bard) are all in lower case. 'Cuz it's edgier. Yeah, as edgy as one of those odd knives you're supposed to use when eating fish in a fancy restaurant. What're they called? Fish slices? Tall glass-and-steel office building, busy worker bees inside. Riley, wearing a sleeveless fuchsia shell, collates some copies as a superior darts over and asks her to perform some cite checks, because "Trevor said [she] was the best." Riley rolls her eyes and complains, "I reviewed a report for Trevor one time then he went and told everybody about it and now everyone thinks I'm easy. Breach of contract, medical malpractice, fraud. They're just using me, passing me around. I am their first-year slut. For Hoberman?" Don't know who Hoberman is or what he had to do with that mini-tantrum of hers, but ANYway. "We prefer associate slut," the superior says. "I have one other little thing, a case." "I have four of my own," Riley snips back. My legal counsel, Mr. Totalot, says that if any first-year associate talked back like that to a senior associate, she'd be out on her over-educated fanny faster than you can say "rebuttal." You take what you're given and you keep your mouth shut. I guess this guy is just really nice, because he continues in wheedling tones and tells her he remembers when senior associates used to take advantage of him. "So cut me some slack?" Riley says in her surprisingly realistic cubicle. The senior associate tells her no, because the case is a favor for a client they really care about. Riley asks why he's giving it to her. "Because it's for his housekeeper's granddaughter," he tells her. Riley nods, "Who 'we' don't care about," she says, air-quoting around the "we." "Who put her baby up for adoption," Senior Assoc corrects her, handing over the file. Riley flips it open. "And now she wants to withdraw consent, only it's too late," Senior Asso says. "This is a real case," Riley says. "This is a great case. What's wrong with this case?" she asks the Senior Asso's retreating back.
Buzzer sounds at a prison, and Riley is being escorted by a prison guard, who tells her, "All visitors should be aware that the California Department of Corrections, in the event of a hostage situation, does not negotiate your life to effect an escape by inmates." Well, that's heartening. The guard shows Riley into a visiting room and says, "There are no exceptions. You can see your client now." Riley puts her stuff down and waits.
Andy Moffat asks Shaggy, "You think it should be higher on the wall?" who answers, "I think it should be lower in a drawer," and makes a face. Shaggy is sitting on a desk in an office -- so why does Riley have a cubicle? -- as Andy Moffat decorates. "It looks like --" Shaggy says. "It's not," Andy Moffat tells him. "Well, it's pretty damn close, man," Shaggy says, looking at the unhung photographic art (which is probably not unhung itself). "It looks laike whatevah you want it to look laike," Andy Moffat tells him, suddenly transporting himself to the Deep South. "It looks like what I don't want it to look like," Shaggy says, transporting us back to the West Coast. Andy Moffat puts a nail in his office wall. "Do you really think this is appropriate for your office?" Shaggy asks. "Well, it was appropriate for the Guggenheim, Edgar," Andy Moffat says mincingly. Andy Moffat tells him he's not embarrassed about who he is, "and this," he continues, "is not paint on velvet." Shaggy looks offended: "Are you referring to my Luchador, which is both fully dressed and black-light ready?" he asks. Some guy (called "Man" in the closed captions) tells them O'Donnell is back in his office. "So soon?" Andy Moffat asks, and flamboyantly flicks out his arm to check his watch. God, we get it. You're gay. Please don't offend your three viewers by portraying a far-fetched composite of every trotted-out stereotype there is. "How is he?" Shaggy asks. "How the hell would you feel if that happened to your ex-wife?" Man asks. Loving the mysterious air of non-tension they are attempting to create by purposefully ambiguous dialogue. "Though I guess you wouldn't know." Man says uncomfortably, looking at the is-he-is-he-not photograph. "Hey!" Shaggy says, annoyed. "For your information that's my photograph. It hung at the Guggenheim and it's exactly what you think it is!" Though why he feels the need to defend Andy Moffat -- who is totally fine with his homosexuality -- I cannot figure. "Great, you're gay too," Man says, totally bored, "O'Donnell wants you both in his office after lunch," and leaves. For this first time, we see that Shaggy is wearing a totally hideous brown and white paisley shirt with brown pants and for some unknown Dressing-In-The-Dark-While-Wearing-My-Sunglasses-At-Night reason has seen fit to put on a navy blazer as well. It's like he went jacketless to a chi-chi restaurant and they gave him a blazer on loan. Shaggy looks a little uncomfortable. "Sorry about that, Edgar," Andy Moffat says in measured tones. "Didn't mean for him to think you're on my team." "I hope he thinks we're a couple!" Shaggy says brazenly. "I hope not," Andy Moffat says. "You're not my type." "I can change!" Shaggy says, following Andy Moffat out of the office. Oh, a potential homophobe covering up said phobiness by claiming allegiance to the other side. How original.
Andy Moffat and Shaggy get off the elevator and greet a fellow embryo lawyer: "Oh, Joe, buddy, what's up? We hear O'Donnell wants to see us." Joe tells them O'Donnell has a case for them, and they're thrilled. Joe tells them that the senior partners are pissed at O'Donnell for taking the case: "They think it's going to be a waste of time, money and manpower," Joe tells them, "so he's putting you guys on it." Ba-bum-bum. PlasticMan (they still haven't told us his real name, so he is everafter PlasticMan, Keeper of the Plastic Face) shows up, wearing an eminently casual chili-red button-down shirt. "O'Donnell wants to see me," he tells them smugly. "Us," Shaggy corrects him. Joe tells the trio he can't believe O'Donnell's still doing this. "I mean the way that pathetic, over-fed piece of lox takes advantage of you first-years," Joe waxes vitriolic, "exploiting your lowly position for his own selfish agenda --" "Piece of lox"? I like that. I'm going use that. Andy Moffat asks Joe how he can talk about their boss like that. "Well, he pays me to," Joe explains. "He pays me to berate him. He pays me to remind him what an immoral excuse for men's genitalia he really is." "Okay," Andy Moffat says, waggling a finger, "that is sick!" What's so sick about it? Letting loose all your ire on your boss sounds pretty healthy to me. In fact -- Sars? Uh, nothing. Anyway, Joe shoots back that he'd do it for free.
Lena Horne croons, "It's very clear, our love is here to stay. Not for a year, forever and a day --" which always reminds me of Billy Crystal making out with that chick at the University of Chicago when Meg Ryan drives up and starts laying on the horn before they fall in love. No such pure love is happening in this scene. Anna is pinning up her hair and says, "My panties! Where are my panties?" Why does she have to say it out loud? So we'll know she had sex, of course. The camera pulls back, and we see a messy room with a guy lying face down in the bed. The fact that there are clothes strewn all over the room and that the guy is naked (naturally) and twisted up in the sheets with his head where his feet should be should tell us that they had wild sex last night. Either that, or he's dead. But if we still didn't catch on, Anna frantically gets dressed and looks for her "panties." She manages to say "panties" five times in twenty seconds. I timed it. She searches under the bed, pillows, naked guy, and even manages to look up to the ceiling. Ewww. If they're stuck up there, I don't think she'd want them back. The phone in the room begins to ring as Anna mutters that she can't be late for work. "Sean?" she says to the naked guy, "Sam?" O-ho! She doesn't even know his name. More gender-swapping roles for Samantha Mathis. First the belching contest and now this. The answering machine comes on and says, "Hi, this is Steven, I'm on break now --" "Steven!" Anna says in a Eureka-esque tone and tries to shake him awake. But he appears drugged and doesn't twitch a muscle. Anna glances at her watch and gives up, whining, "Those were my favorite panties." Can I just say how much I've always hated that word? "Panties." It just sounds vaguely indecent like they have to be made of lace and satin. Also, it's so nasal. Peen-tees. Look in a mirror when you say it -- you screw up your nose and curl your lip back. It's not attractive. Briefs, underwear, undies, knickers -- anything is better than panties.
The first-years are assembling in a dark and impressive office. It's even more impressive because there are two separate doorways to allow entrance into this Star Chamber. The boys come through one of them. "Elbow-grease," Shaggy is saying, "explain that one to me." "Uh, I dunno," PlasticMan answers. Anna trots in through the other doorway -- breathless, of course. "Hi," she breathes, flings herself into a chair, and gasps. "Cold chair!" she explains, which of course doesn't explain anything to the guys, but we are in on the secret. See, it's cold because she's not wearing panties. Isn't that just too Sharon Stone for words? The camera pans down, allowing us to see her shapely legs, which she crosses as she tugs at the already short-short hemline of her skirt. "I can't believe O'Donnell's back so soon," she says. "Yeah, we hear he's taking it really hard," Andy Moffat says. "Oh, yeah, it's a terrible shame," Joe says, standing behind the boss's empty chair. "I mean, it's tragic. I mean, it's really sad --" he pauses and shakes his head. "Not sincere enough, huh?" Joe asks the group. "Try not smiling when you say it," PlasticMan suggests. "Dig your nails into your arm," Anna offers. "Stare at the ground and don't say a word," Shaggy says finally. "I just feel really bad about it," Joe says, arms crossed, eyes on the ground. Everyone but Shaggy agrees that he's much more believable that time. O'Donnell walks in, broodily wearing all black, and flings himself into a chair without making eye contact with any of them. "My ex-wife," he begins looking at his hands, "ah, a lovely woman, was going to marry this really wonderful guy, Dr. Heineman. A good man. You know what he did?" Sensing it's a rhetorical question, the first years are silent. O'Donnell continues, "He left her standing at the altar." The camera pans to Anna, the only woman in the room, who bows her head in sympathy with the jilted bride because, you know, it's every woman's worst nightmare. Whatever. "So now, as a result, I'm back letting that vindictive, cold-hearted, she-devil, spawn of Satan suck my bank account dry. We're filing a complaint," O'Donnell finishes. So, he's filing suit because she wants alimony again from him? Isn't she legally entitled to that? All the first-years give each other tentative looks. O'Donnell rethinks what he said: "All right, this is crazy, right? I mean, I've just gone completely too far. I mean, a lawsuit like this would completely destroy this man's life. I mean, I'm a very good lawyer." I mean, this show really sucks, right? I mean, I can't believe someone actually paid money to get this on the air. Joe leans over O'Donnell and shows him a file: "This is what you paid her last month in wardrobe expenses." That convinces O'Donnell. He points at Anna and PlasticMan: "Okay, you two draft a complaint, okay? Breach of contract, promissory fraud, intentional infliction of emotional distress." Anna and PlasticMan take notes. "You two check for marriages, any history of medical malpractice," O'Donnell says, pointing at Shaggy and Andy Moffat. "Wait, wait, wait," O'Donnell says, having another change of heart, "I shouldn't be doing this." Joe shows him another listing: "Health club." "Okay, subpoena all his bank accounts, his children, his kids. [So are the 'kids' he's referring to goats, rather than the already-mentioned children? Script editing, please!] I want you to personally serve him with summons and a complaint. Which will not be easy because he knows we're coming after him," O'Donnell says, shaking his head. "And boy are we coming after him."
Anna and PlasticMan have a little tête-à-tête, where PlasticMan accuses her of wearing the same clothes from yesterday. "Trust me, I'm not wearing everything I wore yesterday," Anna says. Oh, just make an announcement over the P.A. system already: ANNA HAD SEX LAST NIGHT AND LOST HER FAVORITE PANTIES AS A RESULT! THAT IS ALL. Back-and-forth flirting, sexual non-tension, and PlasticMan (whom Anna calls "Miles," but it's too late) pronounces that she had sex last night. Anna tries to hedge, but PlasticMan says he'll ask Riley, who purportedly "can't keep a secret to save her life," so Anna admits to spending a "lovely night with a very nice gentleman." PlasticMan corrects her, saying she slept with "some computer marketing moron" she met at a bar. Anna gets mad that Riley "has the biggest mouth" and corrects him, saying she met him at a dinner party. "He should've been me!" PlasticMan says. Should I even bother mentioning how inappropriate this conversation is for the office? No? Okay, I won't. "He can't hurt me. Can you make that promise?" Anna asks him. Well, we knew this was coming. PlasticMan says he wasn't "the hurter last time." "And I was? Come on [oddly long pause -- trying to remember the character's name, eh, Samantha?]…Miles, I didn't hurt you, we both knew what that night was." "So you're telling me this is how you want it to be? You're free to do what you please with whomever you please?" "Yes," Anna says walking away. "And so am I?" PlasticMan asks. "No!" Anna says. "I didn't think so!" PlasticMan shouts and then looks around, belatedly aware that the WHOLE OFFICE COULD HEAR THEM.
Riley meets with her client in prison. Riley briskly goes into questioning her about her child, ascertaining that the baby is almost four months old and that she has no idea where the father is. In the middle of all this, the woman asks Riley sullenly, "Why do you talk like that?" "Like what?" Riley asks. "Like that," the client says. Riley ignores that and tells her she really needs her to answer her questions. Riley asks if there are any other relatives who could be guardian to Marissa, the baby. The woman starts to cry and says, "My grandmother," but it appears that the grandmother doesn't want the baby. Riley asks why she initially wanted the adoption in the first place. The woman shakes her head and says, "When I get out of here, my daughter is going to be grown. My lawyer said maybe I'll get parole, he wasn't sure. He said I got a raw deal. This is my first offense, Miss Kessler." Riley reminds her that she was convicted of felony murder. "You understand how serious that is, don't you?" Riley asks her, in slightly condescending tones. Her client comes alive: "I sat in the car! I didn't go into that store!" Riley reminds her that the man she was with killed a nineteen-year-old boy. "He was just going to get some things we needed, he didn't even ask for money and I'm not asking for forgiveness but I got a raw deal and my daughter shouldn't have to pay for it!" her client sobs. Riley thinks for a minute and tries to collect herself as prison doors slam in the background. "You had ninety days to legally withdraw your consent to adoption, why didn't you do it then?" she asks. Her client tells her that the baby was born in the prison, and she didn't think she had a whole lot of choices. Riley describes the adoptive parents as mid-thirties, excellent health, never been in debt, financially secure, he's a prof, she teaches Special Ed, and both have excellent driving records. Riley throws out a hand like, "What more do you want?" Her client says, "So you say I'm gonna lose my baby to them?" Riley says she's just informing her of her options, and she doesn't have any, since the couple has the law on their side. "Look, unless you have some reason why you believe they wouldn't be good parents or would harm your child in some way, you don't have a case," Riley says, and asks why she doesn't want them to adopt her baby. "They're white and nobody told me that!" the client says. Riley's jaw drops. Okay, it doesn't exactly drop, but it gapes a little.
We get the first exterior shot of the house. It's a classic Victorian on the corner of a quiet street. Andy Moffat, Anna, and Shaggy are assembled in the kitchen, laptops open, researching and discussing O'Donnell's case. Anna, wearing a tiny tee-shirt that says "Lucky!" above a pot of gleaming gold, whinges that she knows all first-year associates get used and taken advantage of, but "this is the first time [she] feel[s] dirty!" Somehow I doubt that, but we'll move on. "I feel like I'm working for a tabloid!" Anna whines. Shaggy, who had started to unbuckle his pants at the table, mutters something and goes to the bathroom. Andy Moffat says, "Okay, foinding something oin Dr. Hoinemahn is proving to be vehry difficout." I had to rewind this scene seven times because of the way Mac Astin delivered his line: first of all, it's very stilted and unnatural -- almost as though he was reading it right off his laptop screen -- and secondly, he apparently decided he couldn't really do the Deep South accent again, so he went for an amalgamation of British glottals and New York rising diphthongs. Andy "Cum-Linda-Richman-Cum-Tony-Blair" Moffat announces that Dr. Heineman has been honored by every humanitarian and environmental group possible. From the bathroom, Shaggy asks, "How are we going to serve this guy with a summons?" PlasticMan walks by and closes the door, asking how they are going to get him to keep the bathroom door closed. Andy Moffat asks how they are going to get him to "hit the bowl." Okay, that's just gross and unnecessary. They all decide that Dr. Heineman is a prince beyond price and that the smartest thing he ever did was leaving O'Donnell's ex-wife, who sounds icky anyway. Then the conversation becomes all about Anna and PlasticMan as they argue when it's considerate to leave someone and when it's not. Andy Moffat and Shaggy make like they're going to leave, but Anna and PlasticMan force them to stay as they continue their public airing of grievances about each other, thinly veiled as an argument about Heineman and O'Donnell's ex. Riley comes down, grabs something from the fridge, and says, "Work till three, stress till five." Wha? Does she mean A.M. or P.M.? Must mean A.M., because otherwise it doesn't sound like that bad of a day to me. But since she's the only one appropriately dressed for work, I'll let it go. She kisses Shaggy and tells him she'll see him later. Suddenly, they are all in a panic about being late for work. There's very un-funny, un-charming confusion over who gets to wear some scarf, and they all run out the door, but not before Shaggy philosophizes, "You know, guys, if we're always working, it's not working, it's life!" "Fine, then we're late for life!" PlasticMan says. Deep, very deep. In the sense that they're all in the shallow end of the pool.
They all come out from some form of underground transport -- the MUNI or the BART, I guess -- and split off in twos: Shaggy with PlasticMan and Anna with Andy Moffat. Immediately, both sets start talking about PlasticMan and Anna and how nylons and numb knees and the best sex each of them ever had was involved. No, we don't get anything out of that, other than they had kinky sex and don't feel the need to keep it to themselves. Suddenly, it's nighttime, and just as suddenly we are in a bedroom with moving, groaning sheets. Oh, just -- stop. It's Riley and Shaggy, who can't manage to "hit the bowl" or keep the bathroom door closed when peeing. I bring that up because he's just so gross, and the idea of him in bed -- must. block. image. Shaggy accuses Riley of "faking," but agrees it was "one of her best" because after five years of experiencing them, he can tell the good ones from the bad. More moaning and slurping, and then Riley asks if he ever thinks about what it would be like to be in jail. Shaggy makes some stupid comment that people in jail have more sex than they do. Riley's serious. Shaggy reminds her that the woman sat in a car while her boyfriend killed a kid. Riley says it's not that easy to remember that when the woman's in front of her, crying about her baby, but admits that she can't get personally involved. Shaggy tells her she already is personally involved. Riley says they come from two different worlds so she can't tell her client what she thinks she should do. They cuddle and talk about having kids together. They're not ready now, but maybe when they're free from debt. "Coming down the hallway, I can hear everything," PlasticMan announces from the other side of the door. "And roommates," Shaggy adds. They talk about the chances of having really screwed-up kids, and Shaggy says, "Who do you know that isn't?" He rolls on top of her and fakes an orgasm. Still not funny. Still really gross.
At some courthouse, Riley waits for her client and is greeted by Dan Gaynor, the lawyer for the adoptive parents, who are also there with the baby. Riley protests that it's cruel and unnecessary for her client to have to deal with seeing her baby. "I'm not even sure it's legal!" she protests. "Oh, it's legal, believe me," Gaynor tells her, and says he has to think about the welfare of the baby; Riley shoots back that she has to think of the welfare of the mother. They get into an argument about what is best for the baby. Gaynor says perhaps Riley could convince her client to settle out of chambers, but Riley assures him that won't happen. "God, I hate having to fight cases like this, they remind me just how screwed up this system can be," Gaynor says. Is he trying some Jedi mind tricks on her, or is he really being sincere? He tells her that the odds of getting another couple to adopt the baby are to impossible, and that if Riley wins the case, it's the baby who loses, as she'll be bounced in and out of foster homes for the rest of her life. I don't see how that can be true, since the baby is only four months old and there are thousands of people out there on waiting lists for adoption, regardless of the race of the baby. If the baby were eight or nine, I would believe it the endless-line-of-foster-homes prediction, but not for a newborn.
Oh my god, what a cute orange kitten!
Really bad cut back from commercial. Seated at a long, highly polished table and surrounded by his first-year minions, O'Donnell faces his ex, a blond, pouty woman in a red dress (natch). Oh, it's the chick from Romy & Michelle's High-School Reunion. "I'll take that as a no?" O'Donnell is saying as we try to recover from the Really Bad Cut. "I'll take more tea!" the ex spits and whips her glass across the table. O'Donnell tells her that Dr. Heineman has a really clean record, and Anna (also wearing red) chimes in that he's a model citizen. "It going to be really hard getting anything out of him until we get something on him," O'Donnell tells her. "And I don't want to hurt him, Sam, I just want what's fair," the ex says. O'Donnell tells her that what she thinks is fair will kill this guy. The Ex tells him that the good doctor doesn't have any skeletons in his closet. "He's a good guy," Ex says, and looks at Anna. "I got a good one, I just couldn't keep him," she says dramatically.
"You know, in Popular, the overacting in this scene would be really funny, but in First Years it just stinks," Mr. keckler tells me, passing back the jug of tequila.
Ex looks at O'Donnell and suggests dropping the case. "No!" PlasticMan shrieks, sticking his thick neck further out of his mock turtleneck. "Honey, he hurt you," O'Donnell says. "Yeah, and he should pay for that," PlasticMan says. "Yeah, him, not me," O'Donnell clarifies. "Don't let him get away with this, Mrs. O'Donnell, because if you do, you're saying it's okay and it's not," PlasticMan says, jumping up and getting all impassioned. He gets more impassioned about men and women throwing things away like trash when they don't work anymore, blah blah blah relating this all to his own love lifecakes. Anna looks very moved by this speech. I feel movement too. I think it's the movement of my dinner up my throat.
Back to the Life of Riley. The judge (ooh, look! It's Mac from Night Court -- glad to see he moved up the ranks from court clerk to judge) tells the assemblage that he realizes how hard it is for both parties, but reminds them that although it's not a trial, they all have to conform to proper procedure. Riley's client cranes around to look at her baby, so she must've been pretty shocked when she saw the couple holding a really fake-looking doll! Why didn't they just cover the baby's face rather than using a garden gnome? The judge goes on to say that the case is highly irregular since the ninety-day period was up, but he assumes there are extenuating circumstances. Riley just sits there. "Counselor, that's your cue," he prods gently. Riley jumps into action and argues that her client's consent was given under misrepresentations because she wasn't told the couple was white. "By counsel?" the judge asks. "After all the years he's been doing this? I tell you, Counselor, I find that very difficult to believe. By the way, how's your dad feeling?" the judge asks. Gaynor thanks him and tells him he's much better. The judge tells him to tell his father when his knee heals, he's got a new set of woods to try out. Riley looks from one to the other in disbelief.
At a restaurant, a waitress smiles flirtatiously at the group of guys, and they all agree that she smiled at Shaggy, who's wearing a putrid yellow sweater over some nasty brown plaid shirt. PlasticMan huffs that he's the one she should be looking at, since he deems Shaggy to be scruffy. "Some women find that attractive," Shaggy preens. Not when they find out you have trouble hitting the bowl. Andy Moffat offers another reminder from the writers that he is indeed gay by saying that a lot of men find that attractive: "Not me, though, I prefer a clean-shaven look. No facial hair, no back hair either." "You don't have to share that," Shaggy tells him and turns back to his bone with PlasticMan: "I'm not scruffy. Why am I friends with you?" PlasticMan, with a mouth full of Steak Exposition, says, "Well, you're friends with me because I defended you in Little League when the kids said, 'Fat's at bat! Fat's at bat!'" PlasticMan chuckles with Andy Moffat over this bon mot. "That was me defending you," Shaggy corrects him. "Or maybe it was because I stopped the stoners in shop class from kicking your ass 'cause you were the fat, rich geek," PlasticMan continues. "Again, that was you," Shaggy says. "So, what was your problem? You had a thing for fat kids in high school, was that what it was?" PlasticMan asks without missing a beat. Little League in high school? "I cannot believe you were once fat, Miles," Andy Moffat says. "What about all the things I did for this guy? I took on the stoners!" Shaggy whines. Andy Moffat says he can't believe Shaggy was once in shop. PlasticMan starts to choke, and we all know what is coming because we all saw it on the promos whenever we tried to watch anything on NBC. PlasticMan ends up on the floor with a man standing over him saying, "I'm a doctor," and PlasticMan rolls over, grins and says, "And you've just been served, Dr. Heineman." Several things. First off, you don't have to serve a summons, subpoena, or complaint in person anymore -- just if you want to waste time and be dramatic. Secondly, if they are in a place where the good doctor lunches, isn't the probability sort of high-ish that he won't be THE ONLY doctor in that whole restaurant?
"Your client is lying!" Gaynor is saying, back at the adoption hearing, and Riley objects. Gaynor reminds her this isn't a trial. "What, I can't object?" Riley shoots back. Riley says that her client didn't know the Mitchells, the adoptive parents, were white and that since she's not opposed to having her baby adopted, she has no reason to lie or withdraw her consent unless she was misinformed. Gaynor says he offered a meeting between the three people, but the mother declined. Riley says her client was going through postpartum depression and, never having been in jail before, wasn't in the best frame of mind to meet the people she was giving her baby to. The doll begins to cry, and Riley's client cranes around to see her, only this time, they've replaced it with a real baby. "I'm not the only one who's crabby!" the judge says, and asks Miss Spears (Riley's client is given a name for the first time) if her only objection to the Mitchells is their race. Miss Spears nods and says, "Yes, sir." Gaynor says the Mitchells have agreed to live in a racially integrated neighborhood and send Rosanna to a racially integrated school, and they already go to a integrated church and plan to observe all African-American customs and celebrations, and they intend to adopt another African-American child in a few years so Rosanna will have a sibling of the same race. Okay, who the heck is Rosanna? The baby's name is Marissa, as the mother clearly stated in Riley's first meeting with her. Did the editors screw up or have the Mitchells already begun removing the baby from her roots by changing her name? The judge asks what Miss Spears thinks of that. "Marissa," is all she says, "her name is Marissa." Well, I guess it's the latter, then! Riley tells the judge that the Mitchells' ability to love the child isn't the problem, but the issue of their being able to give an African-American child a sense of security and identity is. She shows him a thin stack of papers and says studies show that a black child raised by a white family can never truly understand its culture and develop a positive self-image. Riley stands up to get some drama going and says, "We live in a country where we learn about George Washington, not Sojourner Truth. We see the Civil War through the eyes of Abe Lincoln, not Harriet Tubman. Understanding these oppressions and victories gives a child a unity with heroes and a hope that maybe one day they can achieve the same. Can these people give this child a true sense of herself and her history?" The judge tells both parties to leave chambers and try to come to a decision, but if they are unable to, he is prepared to give them his.
Riley goes home to her family. In a nutshell, she's got a black father and Jackie Taylor from as her mother. Woowee! The plot thickens like the paella Riley's mother just happens to be making when Riley surprised her parents and sister for dinner. Riley sets the table and looks around sadly before smiling from her secure position in the bosom of her family.
Back at the office, Anna and PlasticMan are working late in their separate and VERY LARGE offices. PlasticMan shouts to Anna, asking if she's found anything on the good doctor. She hasn't. PlasticMan shouts again, "You mean, you haven't found anything on his tax returns?" "No." "Financial investments?" "No." "Charitable contributions?" "No!" "Good, just making sure you weren't doing a better job than me," PlasticMan says. They both chuckle, and, unbeknownst to Anna, PlasticMan puts his headphones on. Anna reflects out loud that PlasticMan makes her laugh, but that afternoon he almost made her cry. She closes her eyes and says, "What you said today, to Frances? Look, don't say anything, I wanna say this. I learned a lot about you today, Miles." Blah blah blah he's open, she's closed, pouring out her heartcakes. Naturally, PlasticMan has his headphones on and can't hear the splat and ooze as she spills her guts all over her VERY LARGE office floor. She tells him she understood what Frances was talking about because she also let a "good one" get away. "Miles?" Anna calls out. "You could say something!" She walks out of her VERY LARGE office and sees PlasticMan plugged into his 'phones. Anna stalks back to her office and strikes a pose, hip cocked, arms crossed and steams.
Back in the conference room with the big glossy table, O'Donnell tells his minions that the Ex, Frances (who I strongly suspect becomes a recurring character as long as this show lives), has decided to drop the case. Everyone is aghast. Andy Moffat asks if he might be allowed to inquire what changed her mind. "Well, Warren, to paraphrase, she said it would be more fun to take the money out of my assets. She's dropping the case." Joe, morphing into Igor the Insulter, steps forward and says, "She wasn't going to until he dropped his pants." "Come again?" Andy Moffat says, as the rest of the first-years gape. "Yeah, he couldn't keep his briefs in order. He slept with her, and, like it always does, it ended with the yelling and the fighting and her deciding to keep giving him a fiscal colonoscopy instead of Dr. Heineman. Is that what you wanted, sir?" Joe squeaks. "Not bad," O'Donnell says clapping him on the shoulder. "Well, I can be worse," Joe tells him hopefully. "Play with it," O'Donnell suggests, and they leave.
It must be quitting time at Tara, because the receptionist says polite farewells to Dewey, Cheetham, and Howe, and then as the elevator slides shut she says, "They're gone." Suddenly the busily silent office is loud with the bustle of people leaving. Oh, they're sneaky ones. PlasticMan offers to take the train with Anna. Anna tells him it's okay because "the five" drops her in front of her apartment. "It's eleven-thirty!" PlasticMan exclaims. It is? Okay, okay, so they do work late; I'll give them snaps for keeping the reality element there. Anna tells him she's got pepper spray. "Well, try not to use it on me because I'm walking you home," PlasticMan tells Anna. Then Andy Moffat asks the question that NBC hopes will keep viewers tuning in on Monday nights instead of watching That Other Lawyer Drama: "Do you think they're going to Have Sex?" "NO!" PlasticMan and Anna collectively answer, as Shaggy puts his fingers up in the sign of the cross.
PlasticMan and Anna sit in Japantown, eating food out of take-out cartons while watching a couple compete in the CCHA tongue hockey finals. "Do you ever feel as though the world is conspiring against you?" PlasticMan chomps at Anna. "No," she chews back, "think they're going to move out of my doorway?" "I think they're going to do it in your doorway," PlasticMan tells her. "Hey!" Anna shouts, "I really want to go to bed so why don't you?" The saliva-covered couple laughs and moves along. Anna and PlasticMan get up and walk over to her door. "I love this place," Anna says looking around. "It's cheap, it's tacky, it never lets me forget how much money I owe." PlasticMan and Anna look at each other, and it's awkward, oh, it's awkward. Well, it would be if there were any sexual tension whatsoever between these two. Anna thanks PlasticMan for walking her home. She notes that they aren't flirting and that it's nice. "You know, I'm actually thinking of going upstairs and doing my roots!" Anna says by way of testimony. "And I got a stomach thing going on from the dim sum and I'm looking forward to spending some alone time in my car," PlasticMan tells her. What is with the obsession this show has with the gastrointestinal tract? Besides, didn't he tell her they would take the train together and then he would walk her home? Oh, I know -- it's because he's a SuperHero and has his own private car on the BART in which he can blow all the plastic bubbles he wants. Of course they kiss, because a guy telling me he's feeling like Gaseous Clay is definitely a turn-on, and the writers also want to make perfectly sure they kill every last bit of that non-sexual tension they were not creating. She calls him "an arrogant pig" and he calls her a "tease" and that he "see[s] right through [her]!" They "tcha" at each other, and Anna slams her door. A second later, she opens it and says, "Miles, this is much better." PlasticMan just looks confused. Well, who wouldn't be? This is just dumb, given that it's the first episode of the show, the viewers haven't formed any sort of bond with any of the characters yet. They have no reason to care at this early stage whether or not PlasticMan and Anna get together, because the viewers are just getting to know them as characters. So, now that the writers had them kiss and the viewers absorbed this scene at a time when they haven't formed much of an opinion of the characters, it's really not going to create much of an impact if they ever kiss again. In fact, I doubt the viewers will even be anticipating it. It would have been as if Buffy had kissed Spike in the very first episode -- the show would have lost all that lovely and extremely important tension that has been building for years. Years, people, not mere minutes!
Riley tells Miss Spears that, by refusing to come to an agreement with the Mitchells, she risks never being allowed to see her baby again. Miss Spears tells her that she doesn't want her daughter to ever lay eyes on her again. "Miss Kessler, when my daughter grows up, I want her to hate me. I want her to be angry at me for leaving her. I want her to be so mad at me for screwing up my life. Because if she is, it'll be because she believes she deserves better and she'll expect better from everyone else. She won't let anyone treat her badly and she won't let anyone give her less than what she deserves!" This actress delivers this speech with such passion and conviction that it stands out as the best performance in the whole episode. Riley asks her if she's willing to take the chance that her baby won't get adopted and be shuttled in and out of foster homes for the rest of her life. "As kind as those people are, they don't know what it's like to live out there and they can't teach her that. Miss Kessler, I want my baby to have a chance. She was born unfairly and that's my fault but I can give her her dignity, I can give her her self-respect, because maybe if somebody had given it to me, I wouldn't be here." Riley responds by telling her all she went through in her life having a white mother that people didn't believe was really hers. She goes on to say that, throughout her life, she was faced with the fact that she was never enough of one race, but she never felt as though she were missing out because she had two whole parents who loved her. Interesting that they gave her this story line, because I do believe Sydney Poitier comes from a biracial family. Maybe not as much "interesting" as "obvious."
Back in the judge's chambers, both sides admit that they haven't reached an agreement. Riley says that her client is prepared to take a polygraph to prove she wasn't aware of the Mitchells' race. A lot of back-and-forth with rising voices about a full report on the Mitchells given to Miss Spears by Gaynor and Miss Spears' not being able to read. Finally, Riley makes Gaynor admit that he can't swear on a stack of hotel Gideons that he told Miss Spears the color of the Mitchells' skin. The judge looks thoughtful, and Mrs. Mitchell makes a liar out of Tom Shales of The Washington Post by speaking. She tells the assemblage that she and her husband were so desperate to start a family that they didn't even consider the race. The judge says that Riley's client wasn't properly informed in his opinion, and rules in her favor. He tells the Mitchells they have forty-eight hours to surrender the baby, "if that's enough time to pack up her things," he says in a voice full of tears. Riley looks from the distraught Mitchells, who clutch Marissa/Rosanna closely, and cries quietly. I have to say I got quite emotional in this scene when I put myself in the Mitchells' position and imagined anyone trying to take my cats from me. But I was also turning the tape off and on, trading off with the Academy Awards when they were running through that "In Memoriam" list, so that was probably the reason for my weepiness. Yeah, that's it. Riley bends down to her client, who is brimming with tears, and tells her, "This has to be your decision." Miss Spears whispers, "Tell me what to do," and cries. "They love her," is all Riley says. Miss Spears looks at her baby one last time before looking in her lap and says, "Take her." "Counselor?" the judge says. Riley tells Miss Spears that as her lawyer she has to tell her that Miss Spears' decision is final and she can't appeal it. Miss Spears doesn't object. Riley stands up and says that her client withdraws her petition and agrees to let the Mitchells adopt the baby. Gaynor tells the Mitchells to take the baby outside, because, let's face it, the mother has suffered plenty. "I want to go," Miss Spears tells Riley. The judge tells Miss Spears that when she's up for probation, he will speak on her behalf. Miss Spears turns and walks away. The judge says that they still have some business to clear up. He turns his attention to Riley: "I understand how difficult this was for you, Counselor, and I commend you on your professionalism." Several tears slide down Riley's cheeks and meet at her chin. She sits down. It's over.