By Demian
"New Directions!" Mr. Schue begins right there in the music room, and the group's name sounds even filthier when it makes up the first words of the episode, but that's sort of beside the point, I guess. "I'd like to introduce you," Mr. Schue continues, "to our new show-choir consultant, Jesse St. James!" The camera pulls back a bit to reveal a smiling Jesse St. James standing at Mr. Schue's side while Rachel bursts into immediate and obnoxiously enthusiastic applause from her place over in the cheap seats with the rest of the children. "I don't trust this guy," Frankenteen announces to the room at large. "How do we know he's not just gonna trick us into doing something stupid so his alma mater wins?" "I don't think I need to do much tricking to get you to do something stupid, Finn," Jesse replies, and point to Mr. St. James. Hilariously enough, all of the kids visible in the reaction shot are popping their eyes out and mouthing stuff like "Hooooo!" and "Buuuuurn!" except for Finn, who just sits there looking like a slackjawed dumbass, and Santana Lopez, who casts an appraising eye upon Jesse St. James all, "And people think I'm a bitch? Damn."
Mr. Schue insists that Jesse's merely a consultant and promises that he himself will be making the final call on all aspects of the group's impending Nationals performance, because that's such a comfort to us all given the impeccable judgment Mr. Schue's always shown in the past. Mr. Schue also tells the kids, "We should continue with our successful trend of doing original songs for the competition," and do I need to point out that once is not a trend? Good, because that's not really the point of all this. The point of all this is that Mr. Schue is also of the opinion that they should perform one group number and one duet. Finn immediately and loudly claims the duet should be his and Rachel's, boasting, "We killed at last year's Regionals with 'Faithfully'!" "Yeah," Quinn mutters at his side, "you killed us -- we lost." Wow. Is this gonna be an episode where everyone just dumps on Finn for an entire hour? 'Cause I would be totally fine with that. Just saying.
Jesse interrupts at this juncture to note he agrees that Rachel should take one half of the proposed duet. "But Finn," he adds, "I think it's best if you sit this one out." Here it comes. "Fact is," Jesse continues, never letting that bright, upbeat tone I love so much leave his voice, "most of the other guys in here are better singers, and Mike Chang -- who can't even sing -- can at least dance. You kind of sing and dance like a zombie who has to poop." Kurt, Puck, Lauren, Sam, and I dissolve into giggle fits while Frankenteen immediately gets all outraged and such, lurching about in his chair and bellowing, "You see what I'm talking about? This guy's a jerk!" Meanwhile, Mr. Schue -- and God love him for this -- doesn't even bother disputing Jesse's assessment of Finn's so-called gifts, and instead chooses to suggest that Jesse be a little "gentler" with his criticisms. "Gentle?" Jesse eyebrows. "I'm sorry," he states, of course not sorry in the least, "I didn't realize we were training for the 'Good Try!' ribbon at Nationals -- I thought we were in it to win the whole damn thing." Lauren Zizes is intrigued. "And there's only one way we can do that," Jesse suggests. "Poison darts?" dear little Brit-Brit guesses.
By Demian
Jesse ignores her completely to lay out Vocal Adrenaline's historic strategy as far as these competitions go: "Identify your best performer, and build the entire performance around them." Seems pretty solid to me, but I'm not one of the children in the cheap seats, several of whom appear to have qualms -- qualms that are in no way alleviated when Mr. Schue announces they'll be holding auditions for New Directions' "star performer" later in the episode, after he posts a sign-up sheet out on the bulletin board. Instead of, you know, asking for a show of hands, because I guess we need some hallway-sign-up-sheet drama during this episode. Finn of course whines that the proposed auditions don't fit in with the Glee Club's established ethos, or whatever, but he's quickly shouted down by the other kiddies -- Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen foremost amongst them -- and then it's time for the title card.
"I just don't know what you're so angry about!" Crazy Terri protests. We've slammed over to Sue's Lair, where the blinds are rather ominously drawn and Sue herself is on a rampage. "Honey Badger," Sue seethes, "I am lactating with rage!" Good one, Sue, and I've often felt the same way myself, oddly enough, but are we still doing that thing with those nicknames from a few episodes ago? Because I really can't bring myself to refer to you as "General Zod" anymore. Sue ignores me, as is her wont, and points out that Nationals are in one week, and that New Directions has already purchased airline tickets to New York -- airline tickets Sue specifically asked Terri to screw up. "I asked you to recruit an expert computer hacker," Sue continues while Terri gazes mutely back at her, looking as meek as is possible for someone as insane as Crazy Terri, "and you bring me this?" At that, the camera follows Sue's disgusted pointing finger to land on none other than Howard Bamboo, who whimpers, "Do I get a supervillain nickname?" "Your nickname is 'Panda Express,'" Sue instantly decides. "But I'm not Chinese," Howard Bamboo protests. "Neither is the food at Panda Express," Sue retorts, and: Ba-dum-bump! Sue Sylvester, ladies and gents! She'll be here all week!
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By Demian
In any event, Terri insists she's got things under control. Any official school itineraries must be processed through "the Lima Heights Travel Agency," so all they need do is contact the agency in question via The Maharishi's e-mail account -- "GettinFiggywithit," naturally -- and they can send the kiddies anywhere they want. The one problem, of course, is that no one knows The Maharishi's AOL password, for yes, gentle reader, The Maharishi's still using AOL Mail. "Principal Figgins is an idiot," Sue correctly points out before adding in a relevant aside, "something America's chock full of." "What is the most common password in America?" she rhetorically asks. Terri thinks real hard for a second, and eventually comes up with "1234." Of course, she's right, and Sue leans in over Howard Bamboo's shoulder -- the light from the monitor casting an especially ghoulish glow on her face -- to command, "Compose an e-mail requesting a flight that's routed through Tripoli." "Tripoli?" Crazy Terri squeaks. "Are we trying to have the Glee Club killed?" "Or kidnapped and killed," Sue shrugs. "Someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Crazy Terri guesses. "You have no idea," Sue replies, and unfortunately, the expression on her face is not quite as steely as one would hope it would be at this moment, for reasons we shall soon discover.
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By Demian
Hall. Mr. Schue's on his way to post that unnecessary audition sign-up sheet when Becky Jackson -- who's sporting her civvies, not-so-incidentally -- and her mom approach to request a private chat. One quick slide over to the auditorium later, and we're listening in as Becky declares, "I want to be in Glee Club." "Why?" Mr. Schue does not directly wonder, though Becky's explanation is quick enough in coming: Sue unceremoniously booted Becky from the Cheerios -- which we witness in a quick, almost throwaway sideways smear to earlier that morning -- and poor Becky's been at loose ends ever since. "Becky's been totally depressed," Mrs. Becky claims, adding, "She hasn't been eating." And it would be remiss of me not to point out at this juncture that, according to this episode's apparent timeline, this would mean that Poor Becky has not been eating for all of two or three hours. Crisis! For his part, Mr. Schue pulls a totally dick move and denies Poor Becky a spot in Glee by claiming that the club's focus on Nationals is far too intense at the moment to allow for any new members, despite the fact that Poor Becky's evidently proven herself in the past to be quite the competent assistant for Sue, and God knows Will could use as much help as possible when it comes to getting his shit together, but whatever. The fact that none of this makes any sense whatsoever isn't really important, I suppose, because this entire subplot's been crammed into this episode only so that Sue might experience some sort of Moment Of Grace at the end of the hour, and because of that, I'll be doing my best to ignore it.
Unfortunately, I can't, because the very scene begins with Will storming into the near-empty teachers' lounge, where he immediately pounces upon Sue with, "You are a terrible person! Becky was loyal to you, Cheerios gave her a sense of purpose, and then you just rip it away from her for no reason!" "I do have a reason," Sue calmly replies. "She reminds me of my sister." "What does that have to do with anything?" Will splutters. Sue: "She died yesterday."
Insert comedic needle scratch here.
Or don't, actually, because this is one of those moments wherein Glee suddenly decides it will become Very Terribly Serious Indeed, and we in the audience have one of two choices to make: Go with it, or reject this development for the shamelessly manipulative ploy that it is. Guess which option I'll be going with this evening. But please don't think I'm terribly happy about it, especially because Jane Lynch takes this wretched and vaguely insulting material and turns it into one of the best, most effective, and most affective performances she's ever given us on this show, and it depresses me to no end to see so wonderful an actress so woefully abused. Granted, if we're being honest about it, she's been woefully abused for pretty much the entire season, with Sue gradually morphing from the hysterically nasty yet intensely focused nemesis she once was into an out-of-control psychotic whackjob entirely lacking in apparent purpose, but still. The bottom line is, they lost me immediately with this little plot bomb, and the subsequent storyline that stretches out from it will, at best, annoy me whenever it pops up for the rest of the evening, despite a fantastic and deeply felt performance from Ms. Lynch.
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By Demian
Bleh. I can't even really point and laugh at it, either. I mean, Jean Sylvester's no Dead Scott, that's for sure. Or Ponce De Leon, for that matter. Even if the Glee Club did sing at their funerals, too. Ooops! Spoiler!
Anyway, yeah: Sue's sister, Jean, died of complications from pneumonia, in the middle of the night, in her sleep, at The Home. At Jean's insistence, Sue had left Jean's bedside earlier that evening to get some shut-eye, and so was not there when Jean passed -- of course -- which is making Sue feel especially guilty. Will attempts to console her, but Sue freezes him out, so he has little choice but to leave. Scene.
Hall. With the camera nipping at her heels and an entirely unimportant voiceover floating somewhere above her head, Rachel strides up to the bulletin board and adds her name to the unnecessary sign-up sheet. She's fourth on the list, by the way, after Santana, Kurt, and Mercedes, and when Frankenteen lumbers past on his way elsewhere, she calls out, "Hey! You haven't signed up to be the lead vocalist at Nationals!" Finn does his best to ignore her and trudge onwards, but Rachel of course will not let it drop, and she chases after him, all but shrieking, "You're the male lead of this group! Everybody looks to you for guidance!" By now, she's planted herself directly in his path, so he has little choice but to mumble, "I don't need Nationals to feel good about myself." Rachel blathers something about all the hard work they've put in over the last two years, and Finn mutters something about Jesse St. James destroying all of that hard work with one or two witty comments, and waaaaaaaaaaah! Here's a nickel, Finn. Go scrounge up nine more of them, then go find one of the three operable pay phones left in this country, and then go call someone who cares. Long story short, he's "Lima good," not "New York City good" -- and yes, we can easily argue he's not even the first, but I'm trying to keep this brief -- so he'll not be auditioning for the lead at Nationals, thank you very much. With that, Finn mopes his way into this evening's first commercial break.
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By Demian
Lair Of The Sue, where we find Sue about to peruse a brochure from the "Lima Forever Cemetery & Funeral Home" when Kurt and Finn come a-knocking on her door, bearing floral arrangements. "Put 'em over there with the rest," she tells them, nodding towards a grouping of similar arrangements on a nearby table. "There were more," Sue notes, "but I had to throw some of them out. I'm allergic to pansies, and I don't mean that as a swipe at either of you." Liar. I hope. And when the hell did Sue get a "Gossip Hurts!" poster in her office? Was it there before she resurrected The Muckraker? Because that would make awesome sense. Whatever. The point of the scene that follows -- in which she addresses Finn and Kurt as "Herman Munster" and "Eddie Munster," respectively, by the way -- is that Sue confesses she can't bear the prospect of packing away Jean's things, and she refuses to plan a funeral. Oh, and in case you were wondering, there will be no Carol Burnett this evening, for as far as Sue's concerned, Doris Sylvester "said her goodbyes years ago." There is a brief flash of the Old Sue when she clearly includes both Finn and Kurt among the mean, nasty people who should have dropped dead long before her oh-so-sweet sister did, but other than that, I got nothing.
"We need to help her," Finn declares once we've zipped back over to the music room, and while Santana Lopez, for one, would like nothing better than to "put the 'fun' back in 'funeral,'" neither she nor any of the other children see any need to offer Sue assistance in her hour of need. Kurt patiently explains that they'll be doing it for Jean, not for Sue, and there's a brief, blurry reaction shot wherein Single-T Tina's all, "Who the fuck is Jean?" with the shrugging and the appropriate hand gestures and such, but it really does fly by too fast to make much of an impression. Except for, you know, on me. "Jean is just like us," Finn blurts by way of arguing his point, and no, idiot, she's not, and she never was, because you're all cheerleaders and jocks -- self-important, overindulged, petulant, whiny, mopey-ass cheerleaders and jocks, I should say -- and Jean was...you know what? Fuck it. I'm letting it go.
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By Demian
"Can I say something?" Jesse St. James interrupts at precisely the right moment to preserve what little is left of my tattered sanity. "When someone dies, yes, it's a tragedy," he notes, "but it's also part of life, and you can't let death put your life on hold." Another point to Mr. St. James. "Now I don't mean to be blunt," he continues, of course intending to be as blunt as possible, "but I don't think you should be planning a funeral the same week you should be focusing on a set list for Nationals." Yet another point to Mr. St. James. Kurt and Finn, however, disagree with me, and gift Jesse with a matching set of stink-eyes. "You're serious?" I'm pretty sure Finn howls. "Actually," Jesse calmly replies, "yes, I am." And then he lets them have it: "Do you know what Vocal Adrenaline is doing right now? They're in their third week of twenty-four-hour-a-day rehearsals -- they're on an I.V. drip, that's how hard they're working. Do you know what happens when someone in Vocal Adrenaline dies during a number? They use him as a prop. Like Weekend At Bernie's." And I'll be ignoring the tonal whiplash that little speech represents as far as this evening's presentation is concerned to snicker and wish once again that they hire Jonathan Groff on to this show permanently. Unfortunately, Finn and his boring ass take this as their cue to reassert their dominance in the general Glee Club hierarchy, and they vow on behalf of the other children present to go through with Jean Sylvester's funeral, no matter what. Jesse St. James sighs. I'm right there with you, my friend. Commercial.
Hall. Will chases down Sue, who most reluctantly turns to face him, because Will is a gigantically over-earnest touchy-feely hippie-weirdo pill. He states how honored the Glee Club is to be handling Jean's arrangements. Sue ripostes that she only agreed on the condition that Frankenteen and "Lady Trousers" clean out Jean's room at The Home. "I like the idea of using your Glee Club as unpaid labor," Sue notes. There's more sop from Will that Sue just barely tolerates before she dons her sunglasses and spins off down the hall.
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By Demian
Auditorium, where Will and Jesse St. James have set themselves up at a table midway up the first tier of seats for the impending auditions. Will admits he's not entirely convinced that forcing various of the children to audition for the Nationals lead is the best idea, because he doesn't want any of the children "to feel like they're losers." "But that's a crucial part of the process," Jesse St. James counters. "You see," he eagerly explains, all bright eyes and enviable posture and such, "I took a class at UCLA in Judging For Reality TV Shows, so I'm totally ready to give feedback that's both blistering and unhelpful!" "It was a really good class," he cheerily adds. "I learned a lot!" With that, he calls for the first "contestant," and it's Santana Lopez, there to perform Amy Winehouse's "Back To Black," with Tinkles, the ever-mute McKinley Jazz Ensemble, and a couple of strings backing her up. Jesse immediately starts scribbling on his legal pad while Santana takes control of the stage, and while her vocal quality isn't as -- how shall I put this? -- sulfurous as Miss Winehouse's, that's likely because Santana hasn't spent the last five years of her life with a crack pipe stuck to her lips. You know, for example. Still, Santana's version is smoking hot, so my deep and abiding crush for her emerges from this experience not only intact, but perhaps enhanced.
And when it's over, Mr. Schue immediately gives her a round of applause while assuring her it was all "fantastic." Jesse, meanwhile, leans in to his microphone and intones, "Thanks so much for coming in," before settling back in his seat with a definite sense of finality. "That's all you have to say?" Santana splutters, incredulous. "You spent the entire performance scribbling notes!" Mr. Schue glances down at Jesse's legal pad, upon which Jesse has drawn a rather large kitty with kicky little bangs and a lustrous set of eyelashes. "If you simply must know," Jesse allows, "I was writing down that I don't think that your performance went very deep into the emotional truth of the song." Hee. Santana threatens to go "all Lima Heights" on Jesse St. James's ass, but she ends up stomping off into the wings in a fury while Eddie Munster wafts in from the other side of the stage. A few of the backing musicians switch around as Kurt hits his mark to announce he'll be singing "Some People" from Gypsy, and if he's not going to belt it the way it's meant to be belted, I don't want to hear it, so:
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By Demian
Wow, his pants are ugly. They've got, like, this bizarre mix of bleached-out human skulls and sunflowers on a grey background, and the seat's so ill-fitting, it looks like he's wearing a diaper. And that vest? Don't get me started. What's the point of the cut-out back? How do you get all those strappy ties fixed just the right way without your own personal dresser fussing around back there? And are we really doing that High-Top Doc Martens In Fun Party Colors thing again? Really? I suppose the shirt's nice, what little I can see of it, but where the hell does he find this crap in Lima, Ohio? And how is Burt's auto repair shop still in business when Kurt's blowing all of the receipts on his fugly-ass clothes? By the way, word on the street is that Chris Colfer came up with his own choreography for this number, and if it was meant to look both hopelessly amateurish and completely inappropriate, then he succeeded, especially with that drag-queen death-drop at the end, there.
And when it's over, Mr. Schue offers him an enthusiastic round of applause while Jesse St. James leans in carefully towards his microphone and delicately inquires, "You know that song was meant to be sung by a woman, right?" Kurt is aware of that fact, thank you very much, and he points out that New Directions dealt with the whole "boys singing girls' songs" issue last season. "Then you must know," Jesse deliciously condescends, "that that song was done to great fanfare by such Broadway legends as Merman, LuPone, Bernadette?" "Those are some awfully big heels to fill," he correctly notes, settling back into his chair, "and I'm just not quite sure that you nailed it." He didn't, Jesse. He didn't nail it at all, because wee wispy Kurt Hummel is ever going to nail a song like "Some People," ever. Kurt Hummel attempting songs like "Some People" on this show has begun to remind me of Fritzi Wagner doing "The Ladies Who Lunch" in Camp, only I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be laughing at Kurt. Well, not anymore, at any rate.
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By Demian
Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes: Kurt, a bit shell-shocked at Jesse's brutal honesty, staggers off stage as Jesse leans in to Will's ear to whisper, "Usually at this point, the reality show would go to commercial, and we would take a five-minute break to regroup and get touch-ups done on our makeup, so I'm gonna hit the little boys' room!" "You're doing a great job, though," Jesse grins, barely able to contain his obvious merriment. "I really think you should comment more!" he adds, offering Will an encouraging pat on the back. "Don't be shy!" With that, Jesse darts off screen, and we head into the commercial break, because he apparently wasn't kidding about touching up his makeup.
Music Room. Kurt enters, immediately post-audition, to vent his rage, and there's a lot of hurl-inducing spinny camera work between him, Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana as the four bicker about Jesse St. James's bona fides for a bit until Mercedes rises from her chair to head out to the auditorium and "wrap this thing up like a Christmas present." Sassy!
And with little introduction but a tremendous amount of fanfare, the ever-mute Jazz Ensemble's horn section starts in with the opening notes of Otis Redding's version of "Try A Little Tenderness," and what's the term I'm searching for, here? "Vocal fry"? If "vocal fry" sounds like what I think it sounds like, then we're getting a lot of it from Mercedes on this one. I do hope she's not performing it like this at this summer's live shows, because she's going to blow out her pipes before they're halfway through the tour, and everyone knows that a laryngitic Mercedes is a very sad Mercedes indeed.
And when it's over, Mr. Schue takes Jesse St. James's pre-commercials advice to heart, gushing at length regarding Mercedes's growth as a performer over the last couple of years. "You're not a star," Jesse interrupts abruptly, "you're just a girl who can really sing." "Excuse me?" Mercedes howls into the microphone. Jesse, undeterred, continues, "I don't think you want this badly enough, Mercedes -- how many times did you practice that song?" Mercedes claims she's all about being "in the moment" with her music, and then she gets all, "Practice? I don't need no stinking practice!" "Actually, you do," Jesse once again correctly points out. "And how long did you work on that choreography?" he sarcastically adds before mock-realizing, "Oh, wait -- there was none!" "You're lazy," he concludes. "Whoever gets this solo is gonna have to work on it day and night -- do you think you're ready for that?" "I do!" Mr. Schue chimes in. "I don't," Jesse just as quickly replies and, after a glowering beat, Mercedes retreats, dragging the mike stand into the wings with her.
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By Demian
Which leaves us with Rachel, who steps out onto the stage and announces she'll be performing "the most difficult song [she's] ever sung," which is Barbra Streisand's version of Fanny Brice's version of this song by way of Rachel's favorite movie, Funny Girl. "In your head," Jesse wonders, "are you singing to anyone in particular?" "Not really," Rachel claims, which is the exact wrong thing to say in this situation, so it's really quite a relief when we find out she's slapped a great, big, gawky close-up of Frankenteen's gormless, grinning mug against her mind's eye for the song that follows. Except, you know, for the part where that great, big, gawky close-up of Frankenteen's gormless, grinning mug makes me burst into gales of inappropriate laughter while clawing desperately at my face over the sheer horror of it all, so you'll forgive me, I'm sure, if I avert my gaze for the first several seconds of Rachel's rendition. And when the Frankenteen has passed and it's safe for us all to look again, we notice that Kurt, Mercedes, and Santana have sneaked into the back of the auditorium to witness the surprisingly fantastic performance that follows. I mean, she's no Barbra-in-the-movie, of course, but I nevertheless got chills racing up and down my back at all the right moments, which I'm pretty sure is more than what happened the last time Lea Michele threw out a none-too-subtle audition for that much-rumored Funny Girl revival on this show. Of course, the full orchestra backing her up helps. Seriously, where the hell did all of those people come from? Oh, whatever -- I'm starting to ramble. Though before I move on, I should probably note I'm convinced they deliberately set the first three kids up to fail against this song, so all those bits where Santana lacked a certain small amount of oomph and va-va-voom and Kurt was far too fey and wispy and Mercedes fried the goddamned living hell out of her vocal cords? Intentional on the producers' part, to make this song even better by comparison. Not that Lea Michele needed much help, but still: Brava.
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By Demian
And when it's over, a teary-eyed Kurt murmurs, "She may be difficult, but boy, can she sing!" and with that, he leaps to his feet to offer Rachel a standing ovation before Santana peevishly yanks him back down into his seat. Meanwhile, over at The Table Of Judgment, Jesse St. James smiles, "I have to be honest: That was brilliant." "I have nothing but the tip of my hat," he adds, inciting Santana to cry out, "Garbage! This whole thing is rigged!" Mr. Schue loudly reminds everyone that the final call is still his to make, and he then proceeds to jerk them all around by kicking said final call to an as-yet-unspecified later date, likely to avoid the snarling, screamy, hair-pulling slapfight that would immediately erupt in the auditorium were he to give them his decision now. Jesse tosses Rachel a secret, saucy wink, and that's it for the fun part of tonight's episode, kids!
You think I was kidding with that? I wasn't: We cut immediately to Jean's former room at The Home, where Sue deals with paperwork while Kurt and Finn natter on endlessly about how they've divided Jean's possessions up in a manner paralleling Emma's earlier treatment of Will's vast vest collection earlier in the hour, and long story short, Sue tells them to trash everything except for a worn-out copy of Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory, which was Jean's favorite movie and which Finn and Kurt are free to keep for themselves, and one stuffed animal Jean had had since she was six, which Sue intends to take with her. Kurt rudely attempts to interpolate himself into Sue's grief, and she rather magnificently shoots him down before instructing them thusly: "Take all this stuff to the Dumpster on your way to the rehearsal for whatever treacly ballad you're planning on using to ruin my sister's funeral." "If you hate us so much, then why are you letting the Glee Club plan the service?" Kurt shrieks, having had enough of Sue's guff, or something, and she shuts him right up when she admits, "I was afraid no one would come." Which means, of course, that in A True TV Funeral Miracle, the wake will be bursting with Jean's many hundreds of friends and acquaintances, but I'm getting way too far ahead of this thing, here, so let's just cut to the commercial break, shall we?
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By Demian
Funeral. Sue sits outside the venue in her SUV for a moment, gazing at a photograph of Jean in happier times, and hey! That's not a 1979 Le Car! What the hell, Glee? thing I know, you'll be telling us she's not actually 29 years old. In any event, Sue eventually enters the funeral home, where she's greeted by Will, and wouldn't you know it? It's A True TV Funeral Miracle! Yep, the chapel's filled to bursting with Jean's many hundreds of friends and acquaintances. I can't deal with this bullshit at all, and the children have set up miniature reproductions of the candied mushrooms from Wonka's Chocolate Room beneath Jean's casket, and someone thought it would be a brilliant idea to place an actual chocolate fountain right to the coffin, like, what? Are the guests supposed to spear little bits of Jean on fondue forks helpfully provided by Brit-Brit and dip them into that crap? Why? Are they trying to save on actual burial costs? What the hell is going on here?
GOD. ANY-way, a priest-like gentleman eventually makes his way to the front of the room to address Jean's many hundreds of friends and acquaintances, and he then invites Sue up to offer everyone a few words. Sue almost immediately loses her composure -- and again: The problems I have with this episode are most definitely not with Jane Lynch, who is wonderful -- so Will takes it upon himself to read Sue's eulogy for her, and that's not obnoxious and inappropriate at all, and then the children all stand to arrange themselves around that asinine chocolate fountain and sing "Pure Imagination" from Jean's favorite movie. That whirring noise you hear is poor Jean Sylvester spinning around in the grave she's not even in yet.
And when it's all over, Quinn and Finn meet up in the front seat of his pickup truck out in the parking lot, where he proceeds to break up with her. AGAIN. Do I need to specify why he's breaking up with her this time around? Didn't think so. Also: Commercials.
We return to a shaky, hand-held, extreme close-up of Jesse St. James's face, and as Brit-Brit's off-screen voice calls out, "Action!" Jesse launches himself into the following: "Well, it was a tough competition, but here's the dope: Santana? Too mean. Kurt? Too controversial. Mercedes? I said it twice, and I'll say it again -- lazy B-O-N-E-S! Rachel is the clear winner!" Mr. Schue interrupts all the fun to opine that their audition-related conversations probably shouldn't be taped, and after he forces Brittany to shut off her camera, she invites Jesse over to her place for a special edition of Fondue For Two in which Jesse judges Her Pussy. "Rock and roll!" Jesse replies. Dirty! Dreary Mr. Schue once again interrupts all the fun to express his discomfort with the entire process, glooming, "It feels like I'm telling one of my children they're my favorite." "That's what my parents told me," Jesse shrugs, adding, "in front of my siblings!" "Sure," he graciously allows, "some might say it led to my brother's whippits addiction and my sister's bulimia, but my parents owed them the truth." And we have another point for Mr. St. James. Maybe two. Mr. Schue takes a beat, then moves in close to Jesse to ask, "You really think picking Rachel means we beat Vocal Adrenaline?" "It's in the bag," Jesse promises, with a dangerous twinkle in his eye.
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By Demian
Lair Of The Sue. Becky enters to surrender her pom-poms as previously ordered, but Sue's had a change of heart thanks to the treacly ballad the children busted out to ruin her sister's funeral, and not only does Sue immediately reinstate Becky to The Cheerios, she promises Becky the position of captain on year's squad. They hug, and it's meant to be deeply moving, but all I can think is, "No, Sue! NO! Don't touch the children!" And then I remember I'm yelling at a character who's long gotten away with slamming children into lockers when she's not pelting their hair with sticks, and so I shut up, because Sue Sylvester can do whatever the hell Sue Sylvester wants to do.
Teachers' Lounge. Sue enters and takes a seat at Will's table to wish him good luck at Nationals. And she's actually sincere about it, because of that whole change-of-heart thing she's experienced thanks to the treacly ballad the children busted out to ruin her sister's funeral. There is one amusing bit wherein Sue admits, "I do this thing where I sort of alternate which one of those kids I hate the most -- right now, it's the dancing Asian." Unfortunately, aside from that, most of the rest of their time together is spent having Sue praise Will for his good heart, or something, and vow once again to leave the Glee Club alone. She does announce her plans to run for The United States House Of Representatives, though, so that's nice. She's infuriated with the out-of-control cost of health care in this country, you see, and she intends use her position as the first duly elected official from The Sue Sylvester American Liberty Party to rectify that situation. And so, all would be well were it not for one little snag that's still pending: That rerouted Nationals flight to Libya from the top of the hour. Fortunately, Crazy Terri appears at the Lounge door to handle that, so Sue leaves them to it, and we meander out into the...
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By Demian
...hallway with Terri and Will as she hands him a sheaf of first-class tickets to New York on -- wait for it -- AMERICAN AIRLINES! "First-class tickets on AMERICAN AIRLINES!" Will marvels. "How did you afford them?" "Well," Crazy Terri replies, "did you know that if you complain to the airline about contracting monkey pox in the bathroom on the plane, you can get the president of the airline on the phone within an hour?" "But you didn't," Will frowns. "Of course not!" Crazy Terri pshaws. "Have you been on their planes? They're immaculate." Of course they are. They're AMERICAN AIRLINES! planes, after all. Crazy Terri instead discovered that the president of AMERICAN AIRLINES! is, in fact, a terrific arts buff, so she rang him up and told him the sad, sad story of New Directions' unaccountably rerouted Nationals flight, and the president of AMERICAN AIRLINES! "gladly" came up with the first-class tickets Will's now holding in his hot little hands. "What's the catch?" Will wonders, finally suspicious. No catch, Crazy Terri assures him, just her desire to set things right between the two of them before she moves down to Miami to manage a new branch of Sheets 'N' Things. Wait. Crazy Terri's moving to Miami? That seems...dangerous, for some reason. Though I suppose if she steers clear of rooftops, she'll be fine. Come back soon, Crazy Terri! Maybe time, they'll figure out what to do with you!
And up? Emma, who emerges from one of the classrooms clad in the grey-patterned mediocrity Will was wearing the first time he met her. She ended up keeping it for herself, you see, because she's convinced he's not going to come back from New York. Not that she has a problem with that, mind you -- to the contrary, she's adamant he pursue his dreams -- but the prospect does make her a little sad. They offer each other their goodbyes, and Emma exits down the hallway, weeping softly to herself.
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By Demian
Auditorium. Jesse St. James arrives on the stage for a secret assignation with Rachel, who frets that he's come with bad news about the auditions. He assures her he hasn't, and in fact gives her the good news long before Mr. Schue posts the official results on the board: She's in. She squeals with excitement and leaps up into his arms for a hug just as Frankenteen lumbers in through one of the far doors, and Rachel and Jesse kiss while Finn and his lonely tulip stand there in the dark, all slackjawed and forlorn. Sucks to be you, jackass!
Rachel and Jesse arrive at the bulletin board to find Santana, Mercedes, and Kurt fuming in front of the notice Mr. Schue ended up posting, which reads "URGENT MEETING TODAY. CHOIR ROOM 3:30." Rachel gulps, and with that we skitter over to...
...the music room, where Mr. Schue arrives to inform the assembled children that he's changed his mind: For Nationals, they will be singing original songs performed by the entire group. "You're going to lose!" Jesse St. James darkly warns, but Mr. Schue doesn't care, because he's an idiot. And as most of the children descend from the cheap seats to retrieve the rhyming dictionaries they'll be using to compose, arrange, orchestrate, costume, choreograph, rehearse, and perfect those two new songs they're to write on their direct AMERICAN AIRLINES! flight from Allen County Regional Airport to JFK, Finn hangs back to offer Quinn a too-casual, "Hey!" He then goes on to thank her for not bailing from Glee Club, even though I wasn't aware she had any plans to do so. "If I quit Glee Club," Quinn smiles at him, "my big plans for New York would have been ruined." Finn, along with everyone in the audience who's still awake at this point: "What plans?" "You'll see," Quinn cryptically replies, and with that, she vanishes into this evening's final blackout.
Oh, my GOD, the last fifteen minutes of this episode took forever. Anyway, week: Season finale! Will they win? Can you even bring yourself to care at this point? Tune in Tuesday to find out!
Demian flies United. You may contact him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.
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