By Demian
So, yeah. Tonight's installment of your favorite musically inclined social satire and mine came complete with a theme, and let me tell you this right now: I hate themes.
"Confidence," or (far more often, as it turns out) the staggering lack thereof, runs through each of the disparate storylines this evening, primarily with Will, who experiences a personal crisis of faith in himself when Quinn and Things One and Two quite rightly point out that, as a choreographer, he pretty much sucks. Striving to feel better about himself, he enlists football coach Ken, Sheets And Things drudge Howard, the uniquely attired Sandy Ryerson, and McKinley High's thumbless shop teacher to form Acafellas, and the quintet of middle-aged boy band wannabes quickly finds unlikely success playing to the inebriated in Lima's local watering holes. Needless to say, Will immediately begins neglecting his Glee Club duties as a result, and Operation Just Cause veteran Sue Sylvester comes perilously close to realizing her goal of destroying the club once and for all. Fortunately, Will realizes the error of his ways after a contrived epiphany or two, and returns to McKinley's music room with a reinvigorated zeal and fresh sense of purpose. Or some such bullshit.
Meanwhile, in Will's absence, the glee team hires Dakota Stanley -- erstwhile understudy to the candle in Beauty And The Beast on Broadway and current overpriced show choir choreographer extraordinaire -- to whip them into shape, but after the wee little runt of a Sparky Polastri insults their overall appearance and axes Artie from the lineup for -- get this -- not trying hard enough to walk, Rachel and the others reach an epiphany of their own, and boot the Napoleonic terror in favor of welcoming Mr. Schue back with open arms.
In other news, Mercedes has been whacked upside the head with a potentially fatal case of fruit blindness (potentially fatal for Kurt, that is), my husband Mr. Puckerton gives me at least eight new reasons to love him, Emma wears a number of delightful outfits, and Debra Monk makes it through the entire hour without having to show any of us her bosoms.
Previously on Glee: SQUEEEEEEE!!!
The camera fades up on the sickly looking noodle-and-meat dish currently taking up valuable space on the dinner table Chez Schue, and lingers on the unappetizing mess for one very long moment before panning up to take in renowned Tony-award-winning actress Debra Monk, here playing Will's darling mama, as she slugs back a mouthful of what I'm sure is some desperately needed palate-cleansing cabernet while politely inquiring, "When'd you start cooking, Terri?" "It's just hamburger casserole!" Terri perkily pshaws, before adding, "Look out for bones." And what the hell kind of Sweeney Todd nightmare is in that serving bowl, anyway? Ew! Hee! Ew! Hee! Will's Mother looks as ill as all of you feel right now while her son, typically oblivious, gazes adoringly at his wife before impulsively rising to his feet to announce, "Mom? Dad? Terri's pregnant! It's a boy!" Terri immediately drops her fork in a mad panic while Will's Mother shrieks with joy and Will's Father -- Tony award nominee Victor Garber, don't you know -- squeals something very close to "Yope!" Ma and Pa Schuester are of course overjoyed at the news and rise to hug their son and daughter-in-law, respectively, while Terri's eyes pretty much bug out of her head in horror as she hisses, "Sweetheart! I thought we weren't gonna tell anybody yet!" Will's Father assures her their secret's safe with him, as he spent six months in the Hanoi Hilton and never said a word, and you can insert a tasteless John McCain joke here by yourselves, because I've got to follow along as Terri whisks Will's Mother out of the room to examine the renovations they've completed thus far on the nonexistent impending stranger's new nursery, thereby leaving Will alone with his dad for what I'm sure will be a touching man-to-man heart-to-heart regarding the joys of paternal responsibility, especially after Will's confession last week that his father once burned the family home down after a drunken fight with his mother. Sure enough, Will's Father apologizes for his failings as a parent, but it's just an excuse to give Will his cue to unleash tonight's Secret Word upon the unsuspecting audience's collective behind. "You're not instilling me with a great deal of confidence, here, Dad," Will half-jokes, before admitting to the sleepless nights he's already enduring over the nonexistent impending stranger's non-imminent arrival, and don't feel left out if you missed the screaming this time around, because nearly every single character on this show repeatedly busts out that word or one of its variants during tonight's presentation, so not only will you get many, many more opportunities to participate in the fun, you're also sure to be hoarse by the first goddamned commercial break.
By Demian
In fact, you get to join in right now! Will's Father admits, "That's my fault, the confidence thing." AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH. "Boys learn that from their fathers." And as I'm certain Ryan Murphy intended that line as a sly little slam on outdated heterocentric ideas regarding the proper care and rearing of America's male children (no, don't tell me otherwise), I'll be skimming over that particular erroneous sentiment to note that Will's Father proceeds to provide us with a brief autobiography that makes it clear he chose to lead a life of quiet desperation for his family's benefit rather than pursue his dream of attending law school, which he's long since convinced himself was the proper thing to do in the first place, as he never had the "balls" to be a lawyer. You can go ahead and scream at that one if you like, but I'll be saving my voice for overt mentions of The C Word. Anyway, when Will assures his dad that the latter's the smartest guy Will knows, Will's Father replies, "It's not about brains, son. Being a good father -- hell, being a man is all about one thing: Guts, and you've got about six months to figure out if you have any." Are you all done? No, go ahead and let it out. I can wait.
Ready now? Good, because we've cut over to the McKinley High rehearsal room while you were all howling your fool heads off, and Will's in the middle of running the freshly expanded Glee Club through some rather uninspired choreography of his own invention. Rachel, clearly perturbed, soon enough stops even pretending to follow along and, perhaps because she doesn't want to hurt Mr. Schue's feelings yet has no idea how to put anything tactfully, hesitantly calls the proceedings to a halt. "You don't have to ask my permission every time you want to go to the bathroom," Will tells her, barely turning around. "You can just go." "It's not my bladder," Rachel replies, deadly serious. "It's the choreography." "Ooo-kay, what's wrong with the choreography?" Will asks, wrinkling his nose a little bit.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
"It sucks!" Quinn replies after a quick wipe that drags us all into the hallway immediately prior to the Glee Club rehearsal we'd been watching. "It's completely unoriginal!" Quinion Number One agrees. (And many thanks to D for providing me with that nickname for Quinn's minions, though apparently Quinion Number One is actually named "Santana Lopez," and Quinion Number Two is, of course, "Britney.") Both Quinn and The Quinion are speaking directly into the camera, for they've cornered Rachel outside of the rehearsal room and are in fact hurling their unsolicited professional opinions directly into Rachel's face. "Aren't you guys gonna get shunned for talking to me?" Rachel asks, hiding just a tiny bit behind her books. "Sweetie," Quinn croons, a dazzling conspiratorial smile suddenly stretching from ear to ear, "we're a team now!" Rachel, for whatever reason, looks like she's buying that crap, and oh, Rachel, but we haven't time to weep over her gullibility right now, because that quick wipe...
...drags us back into present-time rehearsal, where Rachel -- obviously having been fed this solid argument by The Cheerios -- correctly points out, "We can't compete with Vocal Adrenaline with these steps. You're a great vocal coach, but you're not a trained choreographer, and that's what we need to be the best." "We need Dakota Stanley," Rachel smiles, and that quick wipe...
...smears us back into the immediate past again, where Quinn and Santana exposit that Dakota Stanley -- who "was the understudy to the candelabra in Beauty And The Beast on Broadway" -- is not only the best show choir choreographer in the Midwest, but also the legend behind Vocal Adrenaline's repeated success at Regionals, and with another frigging smear it's...
...back to the present, where Will pissily snipes that just because the guy was an understudy doesn't mean he actually understands performance, which gives crafty Quinn the opening she needs to cut him to the quick: "Did you ever perform, Mr. Schuester?" "After high school," she specifies. "Did you even try?"
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
"I wanted to," Will protests, and we've just leapt ahead in time to later that afternoon in the guidance office, where Emma wears a delightful outfit accessorized with a cunning pair of latex gloves as she scrubs down a potted orchid -- the orchid, naturally, not the pot. Will continues, "I just never had..." "...the guts?" Emma pointedly finishes for him, and knock yourselves out while Emma opines, "They say it takes more certainty than talent to be a star." "I mean," she shrugs, "look at John Stamos." HA! Will babbles about his non-impending non-fatherhood for a bit before apologizing for unloading on her, given their relationship's awkwardness as of late. Emma studiously avoids his eyes while babbling herself about said awkwardness until her mouth finally just stops moving. Will, eager to change the subject, asks how the whole Coach Ken situation is working out. "He's flawed," Emma admits needlessly because duh, we've all seen him, before starting in again with the babbling: "But he knows who he is and that's great and there really is nothing sexier in a man than confidence, you know?" AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH.
After the silent and brief black-and-white title card, we join Will in the teachers' lounge, where he's surprised to find his Glee Club predecessor, Sandy Ryerson, sitting at one of the tables, casually filing his nails. "I thought you weren't allowed on campus," Will opens, taking a seat beside him. "No, William," Sandy corrects, "I'm not allowed within fifty feet of children!" Heh. Sandy, incidentally, has on one of those four-colored pastel Oxford atrocities that just flew off American Eagles Outfitters' shelves at some point during the Clinton administration, along with pants and a casually knotted sweater in coordinating pink. I want to hurl. In the best way. Especially because his nail file's pink, too. Anyway, he explains his presence by noting, "Henri and I go way back -- I got him a job before we even had a shop class. In fact, I told Figgins, 'You are going to have a school full of nancies unless you get some hot wood in those teenagers' hands.'" HA! Will barely has time to let that sink in when Henri -- played by the near-unrecognizable Tony-award-winning star of Jersey Boys John Lloyd Young -- arrives. "I'm back," Henri groggily announces, holding up both of his heavily bandaged hands, and I start in with the inappropriate giggling even before we're slung into a flashback that opens on a trashcan filled with empty cough syrup bottles as Will VOs, "Henri had a little problem with over-the-counter cough medicine." The camera pans up past a whirring table saw to Henri's even groggier flashback face as the zonked-out shop teacher mellowly runs a sheet of plywood across towards the spinning blades and...SPLAT! Good thing my houseguest has no interest in this show, or I'd be deaf from the shrieking. Back in the present, unfortunate and thumbless Henri barely manages to get a mug of coffee up to his lips using both of his hands before sighing, "I'll never hitchhike across Europe. That was a dream, man." Hee. Just then, Sheets 'N Things drudge Howard arrives with the "Welcome Back" cake Will's wife was supposed to deliver herself. "Where's Terri?" Will asks. "Doing the inventory," Howard glumly replies, explaining, "I can't count higher than thirty." And the cake Terri picked out? Features an entirely inappropriate pair of digitally complete hands in the expected position with a jaunty "TWO THUMBS UP" scrawled in red icing beneath. God, I love this show.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Moments later, Henri tries and fails to manipulate a fork so he might dig in to the cake hand now sitting on his plate so, as the others watch with varying amounts of hilariously horrified unease, Henri scoops the plate up to his mouth and basically inhales the cake thumb. Hee! Will, for whatever reason, decides this is the perfect time to lean back and announce what a swell time he's having, what with the guys just kicking back with each other and talking about their feelings. This sets off an around-the-table mopefest of bitchy one-upmanship wherein Coach Ken whines about living at the YMCA with only one pair of long pants to his name, Sandy Ryerson sobs about having no creative outlets aside from writing his Desperate Housewives fan fiction, Howard admits he's afraid of his vacuum, Will moans about his supposed lack of dance skills, and Henri, of course, dejectedly trumps them all with, "I don't have any thumbs!" In an attempt to cheer the now-weeping shop teacher up, Sandy starts singing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," and soon enough, Ken, Howard, and Will have joined him in stunningly perfect four-part harmony. It dawns on Will how awesome they sound together right before he faces the camera and sings, "This is how we do it!"
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Smash cut to Will's living room, where Will's putting three of the other four gentlemen from the teachers' lounge through their paces, as set to Montell Jordan's timeless classic. Will's voice over admits, "Two weeks ago, I would have agreed that four grown men rehearsing a cappella hip-hop in my living room was embarrassing, but bustin' out some white-hot New Jack Swing? I'll tell ya, I never felt so confident." AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH. As the song continues beneath, we hear the guys' various suggestions for the new middle-aged boy band's name: Henri suggests "Crescendudes" and Ken quite expectedly opts for "Testostertones," but it's Howard's apparently divinely inspired "Acafellas" that ends up both the winner and the episode's title. Just then, Sandy Ryerson arrives at Will's front door, having first had to skitter back home to change into his frilly '70s tuxedoed best for the evening's festivities. Will: "Sandy? We voted. When you're in the group, it's creepy." And with yet another of Sandy Ryerson's dreams so brutally crushed, Will slams the door in Sandy's face to hurl himself back into the number, and the montage of mad crazy middle aged dance moves indicates all is going well until Terri screams out of their bedroom with, "WILL?! If I don't get some sleep, I could miscarry!" Hee hee hee! Jessalyn Gilsig can do no wrong.
And after Will's dutifully pushed his fellow boy banders out into the building's hallway, we find him shirtless, tossing Terri up against the bedroom door to snack on her neck as his voice over notes, "Being in a boy band did wonders for our love life." Flashes of the Schuesters rolling around in bed interlace with scenes of Terri frustratedly eyeing negative pregnancy test pee stick after negative pregnancy test pee stick as Will continues, "It was amazing! I mean, we started doin' it once a week. It was like she was trying to make a twin!"
Sometime later, Rachel arrives in the quiet rehearsal room to announce, "He's not coming." "What happened?" Finn asks, and for the answer we're wiped into another mere-seconds-ago flashback, this to Will's Spanish classroom, where Rachel attempts to give Mr. Schue a plate of her famous sugar cookies by way of apologizing for her earlier derogatory commentary regarding his dancing abilities. You can tell she's apologizing because the star-shaped cookies each contain a letter (plus appropriate punctuation) that together spell out "I'M SORRY." Will's pleasantly dismissive, for as he notes to Rachel, without her criticisms, he'd "never have had the guts to start Acafellas," and now that he has, he just doesn't have the time to deal with the Glee Club's every last need anymore. One quick wipe back into the present, and Finn's yelling, "Of course he doesn't want anything to do with us after you kicked him in the nads!" Santana Lopez cuts through the noise to remind everyone that the goal is to win, and now that Mr. Schuester's given them permission, they can go ahead and steal Dakota Stanley away from Vocal Adrenaline. "But he doesn't want us to!" Finn protests. "He just doesn't have the confidence to coach us anymore!" AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH. He goes on to blame Rachel for destroying Mr. Schue before Quinn rises from her pretty perch and calls for a vote on The Best Show Choir Choreographer In The Midwest. All raise their hands -- even meek Artie -- with the obvious exception of Finn, and a rather martial-sounding drum corps beat marches us out into...
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Losing your voice yet? Try some nice, soothing lemon tea. I understand that helps.
Back from the break, the fabulous Sue Sylvester -- sporting her royal blue Adidas track suit, just in case the colors of those things ever end up meaning anything -- is quite pleased to learn her star Cheerios have been so successful "sowing the seeds of destruction" amongst the basement-dwelling vermin in the Glee Club. However -- in Sue's infallible opinion -- despite Mr. Schuester's recent abandonment of the scum, Quinn and The Quinions haven't gone anywhere near far enough. You see, back when Sue was serving in the Special Forces during Operation Just Cause when they extracted Noriega, she learned that even though you've taken out the shepherd, you still have to go after the sheep as well. In other words, Quinn and The Quinions "need to go after these Glee Clubbers one by one." Sue closes the meeting by reminding Quinn and Santana Lopez of their mission's ultimate objective: "I want my full budget restored. I need a fog machine."
Hee.
Out in the hallway, Mercedes wistfully watches several popular couples canoodling amongst the lockers for a bit before asking the just-arrived Kurt -- quite the daring little thang in his pirate-inspired chocolate-colored gold-buttoned jacket with matching scarf -- if he's ever kissed someone. Kurt, spritzing his coif: "Yes, if by 'someone,' you mean 'the tender crook of my elbow.'" Mercedes doesn't react, so Kurt drops the joking and admits he hasn't, even though he'd like to, someday. Following Mercedes's gaze (she's currently spying on my husband Mr. Puckerton, don't you know, which would seem to indicate Mercedes has excellent taste) Kurt realizes exactly what's going on in that sassy head of hers and sets to shutting that crap down posthaste, reminding her that Glee Clubbers are little more than basement-dwelling vermin as far as the rest of the school is concerned, and that "Special Ed kids will get more play" than they ever will. Still, putting a happy face on it all, he assures her they're superior to all of their peers, no matter what those peers might think themselves at the moment, and he links her arm in his to float down the hallway, successfully managing to change the topic by wondering what Mercedes intends to wear on their "Operation Dakota Stanley field trip." Mercedes wasn't aware there was a dress code, so Kurt assures her they'll hit the mall after class for something appropriate, as "every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion." Kurt flitters off just as Quinn and Santana Lopez arrive to smile, "You should totally scoop that!" "I don't think I'm his type," Mercedes demurs. "Oh, I think you are," Quinn falsely assures her as Santana Lopez nods along. "Just follow our lead," Quinn adds, all helpful and evil and such. "We've got your back!" And thus begins the stalking of the sheep, though I'm going to channel my inner Sue Sylvester and say this: If Mercedes doesn't realize Kurt is gay, then she deserves what she's about to get.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Cut to "Benchwarmer's Sports Bar," where The Acafellas launch into their version of "Poison" by Bell Biv DeVoe, and as I somehow quite fortunately managed to escape the entire New Jack Swing movement in the early '90s, I have nothing to say about this except that Matthew Morrison looks unreasonably hot in a felt trilby, and that they've taped Henri's microphone to his hand. HA! By the end of the performance, it's clear Emma -- wearing yet another delightful outfit -- has fallen in love with Will all over again, but before we can deal with that, we have to head with Will over to the back corner of the bar, where Will's mom and dad have just sold the last of the seventeen Acafellas CDs the group saw fit to burn before this evening's performance. "And I didn't have to show any of them my bosoms!" Will's Chablis-swilling mom proudly announces, prompting his father to send her on her tottering way in search of some Sanka. Once she's wobbled off, Will's Father (and Will's parents never get proper names this evening, by the way, so apologies) admits he saved one of the seventeen CDs for his nonexistent grandson "so he can hear for himself how good his old man was," and before we can deal with that, Principal Figgins suddenly pops into the frame to congratulate Will on the "amazing performance." It was so amazing, in fact, that Figgins wants Acafellas to be the main event at Thursday's PTA meeting. "I need those parents happy!" Figgins explains. "They found out we've been serving their children prison food!" Figgins vanishes as quickly as he'd appeared, and the thing we know, we're back in...
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
...the teachers' lounge, where Will's regaling the other Acafellas with the positive review they received in the Style section of The Lima News. The reviewer favorably compares Will to Michael Bublé, thinks Ken's possessed of a "smoky baritone," and notes that Henri "proves you don't need all ten fingers to pluck a lady's heartstrings like a well tuned, sexy harpsichord." Alas, she was not so kind to Howard, whose face falls when Will lies that Howard was somehow omitted from the article. For whatever reason, Sandy Ryerson invites himself into the lounge again -- this time, he's wearing watermelon-colored corduroys festooned with tiny embroidered kelly green alligators -- and before anyone has a chance to greet him, he announces, "I have two words for you: Josh. Groban. He's coming to the PTA event!" Howard, timidly: "Who is Josh Groban?" Sandy, howling with unadulterated incredulity: "'Who is Josh Groban?' KILL YOURSELF." HA! Sandy quickly regains his composure and sits to school Howard thusly: "He is an angel sent from Heaven to deliver platinum records unto us, and if he were here right now, I'd club you to death with his Critics' Choice Award." Josh Groban's also been Sandy's Internet pen pal ever since he accidentally friended the disgraced choir director on -- News Corporation Product Placement Alert! -- MySpace, and agreed to see The Acafellas perform if and only if Sandy were admitted back into the group. The Acafellas: "No!" Sandy flounces. Well, Sandy flounces everywhere, but in this case, he flounces angrily out the door.
Carmel High. The camera pans up over a tricked-out Lincoln Navigator -- complete with spinning rims -- that parks just outside the school's auditorium. Kurt, whose ride the Navigator is, emerges from the depths of the massive SUV with Rachel, Tina, Quinn, Santana Lopez, Britney, and Mercedes, the last of whom marvels, "Damn, Kurt, this car is fly." "My dad got it for my sweet sixteen," Kurt preens, "after I swore to stop wearing form-fitting sweaters that stop at the knee." I should note Kurt is currently wearing a form-fitting sweater that stops at the knee. In Nancy Reagan red. Kurt: "What he doesn't know doesn't hurt him." Hee. As he links arms with Mercedes to saunter off down the sidewalk, Rachel and Tina shoot each other worried looks while Quinn and The Quinions wickedly pass Mercedes a round of encouraging smiles. Before any of this goes too far, though, Rachel spots an Adrenaline barfing into a garbage can further down the walk and excitedly identifies her as the "Andrea Cohen" who "won Outstanding Soloist last year at Absolutely Tampastic." "You can't leave rehearsals for any reason!" the fellow Adrenaline who's holding back Andrea's hair whispers with a look of sheer terror on her face. "That includes heat exhaustion and Crohn's disease!" Andrea's fellow Adrenaline, by the way, is wearing a neck brace. Hee. Overexcited Rachel of course ignores all of this to power over and blurt, "We'd like to talk to Dakota Stanley about choreographing for our Glee Club!" Andrea Cohen, still doubled over the garbage can with barf bits trickling down the sides of her mouth, weeps, "Don't! He's a monster!"
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Cut to the stage within, where Vocal Adrenaline leaps into a very entertaining version of Duffy's "Mercy." It's not as deliriously inspired as the pilot's "Rehab," but it's just as enthusiastically performed, and good goddamn, but some of those dancing boys are hot. Expect it to have entered heavy rotation in gay video bars across the nation by the time this recap's been posted. The Adrenalines end this routine as they did their last, by dropping their heads with their hands clasped at their waists, so I guess that's some sort of show choir cliché, or something. In any event, once they're done, the camera cuts to a troll-like gentleman in the wings who bellows, "GET OFF MY STAGE." This would be the eminent Dakota Stanley and, to paraphrase the lovely and talented Wolf, who first noted the following on the forum boards: He looks like, well...you know when you're out in the woods, and you wander into the darkest, nastiest, wettest area possible, and you turn over a big rock? Dakota Stanley's the guy who pops out from behind a tree and flashes you. This does not, of course, deter Rachel, who stalks him from the rehearsal to his Stingray T-top (that apparently came complete with a pneumatically enhanced bleached blonde in the passenger seat when he picked it up from the lot) to beg for his services, which are quite expensive: Eight thousand dollars a number plus a $10,000 bonus if they reach the top three at Regionals. How will the Glee Club ever raise that much cash? Quinn apparently already has a cunning plan, but we'll have to wait until after the commercial break to learn the brilliant details.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
McKinley High Music Room. Will's running Ken through some white-hot New Jack Swing dance moves when Howard calls from Sheets 'N Things with some unfortunate news: "I don't think I can be in the band anymore." He offers his difficult inventory duties as the reason, but I'm thinking the negative review in The Lima News just crushed his poor little heart. Will's frustrated, and quickly becomes moreso when Emma -- wearing yet another delightful outfit -- arrives with even more unfortunate news: Henri's just downed six bottles of cough syrup, "which is a lot, even for him," and Figgins is insisting he go to rehab or lose his job. Ken, stressed, bails to "down some power bars and knock off a few reps" in order to "come up with a few solutions, here," for Acafellas' entirely unpredictable predicament, leaving Will once more alone with Emma and her rilly cute shoes. "I don't think you should give up so easily," Emma counsels. "You know, they say Van Halen was dead after David Lee Roth quit, but my worn-out single of 'Right Now' says that they were wrong." She leaves, and the thing we know, Will's hopped onto the Internet, where he's posting an ad entitled "LOVE TO SING AND DANCE?" just as Finn arrives for yet another heart-to-heart, and thank God Will quickly convinces Finn to join The Acafellas, because I shudder to think of the sorts of responses Will would have received from the degenerate freaks on the Lima/Findlay Craigslist board.
Locker Room. My gloriously sweaty husband, Puck, enters from points unknown and greets Coach Ken with, "I hear there's a vacancy in your a cappella group. I wanna offer my services." If the services you're offering now bear any resemblance to the services you provide in the impending flashback, husband of mine, I don't think Coach Ken's interested. No, I'm not talking about the bit where you test the jacuzzi's pH. "I play guitar," Puck continues, ignoring me, "and actually, I'm a really good singer." By now, Puck's placed a sassy little hand on his hip, and he's clearly wearing far too much mascara at the moment, but we'll gloss over those telling details for the moment in favor of listening as he begins his voice over. "Here's the thing you should know about me: I'm not like everybody else in this crappy cow town -- I've got star potential, and more specifically, I'm tired of wasting my time with high school girls." Cut to a Quinion breaking up with him in the hallway between classes, and why would this foolish lass dissolve her association with one so glorious as my husband? "Your credit score is terrible. What I need as a woman is financial security." "See?" Puck's voice over continues. "Young girls will shoot you down and make you feel terrible about yourself, but a cougar? Never disappoints." Cut to an actual Jennifer Lopez lookalike carrying a carefully prepared tray of lemonade across her patio to a shirtless Puck, here playing the role of pool boy as "La Camisa Negra" strums along in the background. "Is that a nipple ring?" the Lopezalike asks, staring at his left pec. "Yeah," Puck nods, all bad boy and such. "I'm kinda rock 'n' roll." The Lopezalike takes that in, then says, "I need your help unclogging my bathtub drain." HA! "The proof was in the sexual pudding," Puck notes via VO. "My aboveground pool cleaning business went through the roof once I embraced my gift for music and gave these fine ladies the romance they were missing." The scene's cut to yet another Mrs. Robinson oiling her thigh while my still-shirtless husband lasciviously conducts the aforementioned pH test. "I also stopped beatin' people up so much!" Back in the present, Puck wonders when they start rehearsals, eliciting this amusing tirade from Coach Ken: "Now you listen to me, you little psychopath! My love life is hanging by a thread, and that thread is Acafellas -- it drives my girlfriend nuts in the pants! So if you screw this up for me, I swear to you I will stick my fist so far down your throat you will taste my armpit hairs! Do I make myself clear?!" Puck nods. "Good. We rehearse Tuesdays and Thursdays at eight. Don't be late!" My glorious husband follows Coach Ken with his eyes as Ken waddles off into the commercial break.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
McKinley Music Room. Will tries and fails to run Finn and Puck through some white-hot New Jack Swing dance moves, as Finn can't dance for shit, quite frankly. Will, however, begs to differ with me, noting that both have the steps down, but both need to relax. "You guys play baseball, right?" Will asks. "What does your coach tell you about hitting?" Puck, not hesitating: "You charge the pitcher, you bring the bat." Sage advice, but that's not what Will was going for. No, hitting's all about swinging from your hips, so he has the two jocks make like they're at batting practice for a bit until they've sufficiently loosened up, and when they pick up the routine from the top, both are much improved, though Finn really still can't dance for shit, and my glorious husband has got it going on. High fives all around, anyway.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Out in the hall, Mercedes shoves some books into her locker as Rachel and Tina hustle up with stern determination in their eyes. "We need to have a gayvention," Rachel announces without prelude before over-explaining for the dimwits in the audience, "That's a gay intervention!" "It's K-k-k-kurt!" Tina elaborates. "He's ladyfabulous." Mercedes blows them and their best intentions off, because Mercedes is an idiot. Or desperate. Or both. Definitely both.
And finally, we learn the brilliant details of Quinn's cunning plan to make the eight grand they need to hire Sparky Polastri. Um. I mean, "Dakota Stanley." You'll forgive me for mixing up the gentlemen's names, as Quinn's cunning plan involves scantily clad cheerleaders running a charity car wash, just like in that movie. Various Quinions in bikini bras, spanky pants, cheerleader skirts, high-heeled high-tops, and absolutely nothing else get all soapy and such alongside the Glee Club kids, all of whom are far more conservatively attired, none more so than Kurt, who appears to be wearing a bespoke trenchcoat so his ladyfabulous form-fitting sweater that stops at the knee doesn't get wet. Off to the side, Emma -- wearing yet another delightful outfit -- congratulates Sue Sylvester for the latter's apparent change of heart regarding the basement-dwelling vermin in the Glee Club. For those of you playing along at home, Sue's wearing her pink Adidas track suit for this scene. "Well, Erma," Sue lies, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this Glee Club successful." Emma, ignoring the "Erma" slam, takes this opportunity to reminisce about her carefree youth, back when her father would let her wash his car, so she'd get her little toothbrush out, and she'd clean it all weekend long, and.... "The way you use your mental illness to help these kids is really inspiring," Sue deadpans. "And I'm shocked you're not married!" Hee.
Over at Kurt's Navigator, Mercedes rises from below to growl, "Your rims are clean!" That's what Finn said.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Ooops! Spoiler! Okay, not really, at all, but that line sounded dirty. Kurt, ignoring her tone, asks, "Did you bring a change of clothes? Because we're going straight to the Sing-A-Long Sound Of Music," and okay, one: "Straight" is the absolute last way they're going to the Sing-A-Long Sound Of Music and two: I hope he's not making her go as Schnitzel With Noodles. Poor Mercedes. Poor, dumb, desperate Mercedes, who now asks Kurt that, since tonight will be their third time going out together, shouldn't they make their status as a couple official? Kurt gags. "I thought I made it clear I'm...in love with someone else," he chides, and for a second, it seems like he made that excuse up on the spot, but then the camera reverses, and we can see he's staring at Finn. D'OH! By the time Mercedes has turned to follow Kurt's gaze, though, Rachel's popped up into the frame, so poor, dumb, desperate Mercedes jumps to conclusions, and when Kurt lies that he's been pining for Rachel for several years now, the psychotic strings that open Jazmine Sullivan's "Bust Your Windows" hit the soundtrack, and Mercedes picks up a handy chunk of concrete which she then hurls through Kurt's windshield. While Kurt freezes in an attitude of elaborately outraged dismay, Mercedes and The Quinions jiggle their way into an elaborate fantasy musical sequence set to the abovementioned song that, quite frankly, gets better every time I see it. Then again, I've always been a fan of the ridiculous original, so that might be coloring my perception of what's going on here. In any event, Amber Riley sings the hell out of it, as we've known ever since they released this clip online as a teaser for the season proper back in July, and the exaggerated gyrations of the Quinions along with the Navigator's ludicrous spinning rims once the fantasy moves indoors to the stage make me giggle, and it's all too much goddamned fun, and then it's over, kicking us back outside where Mercedes snaps out of it to find Kurt shrilling, "You busted my window!" Mercedes takes that in, then flips on her defensive Capital-A Attitude to throw it right back at him: "Well you busted my heart! Hmph!" I love the "Hmph!" Mercedes flounces, leaving Kurt to flail around all by his lonesome until he flails himself directly into the commercial break.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
McKinley Music Room, and oh, Jesus. Let's wrap this Sparky Polastri subplot up quickly, now shall we? Long story short, Dakota Stanley arrives for the first rehearsal and proceeds to insult every single one of the main characters -- in the most amusing manner, I should probably note, where Finn is concerned, calling him "Frankenteen" and bashing him for being so "freakishly tall" -- so Rachel finally retrieves her spine from Quinn and fires him on behalf of all her fellow Glee Clubbers. Also: "Confidence." AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH. Are we done here? Good.
PTA Meeting. Backstage, Finn's distressed to learn he's expected to wear mascara, especially because -- as he mentioned during that earlier scene with Will -- the football team's already taken to calling him "Deep Throat" during huddles. In other news, my gloriously horny husband's most stoked indeed at the prospect of all the MILFs in attendance. Will arrives for a last-minute pep talk, but he's instantly upstaged by Sandy Ryerson, who bursts into the dressing room to announce breathlessly, "He's here! He's here! Josh Groban is here, front row, big brown eyes, cute as a buttermilk biscuit, I barfed!" Hee! Sandy, in his overexcited state, usurps Will's authority by calling for places himself, and we're off to...
...the stage, where The Acafellas dive into their version of Color Me Badd's "I Wanna Sex You Up," and while it's better than the original, that's not much of a compliment considering how utterly craptastic the original is to begin with. I must admit, though, that Will, Finn, and my glorious husband Puck are looking mighty sharp in their black tie, and my favorite moment of course arrives when Puck falls back to the floor to hump up at the air while pointing Sexy Fingers in Sue Sylvester's direction, partly because, well, duh, but mainly because Sue Sylvester -- clad in her most formal black Adidas track suit for the festivities -- reacts with such a tantalizing and hysterical mix of shock, disgust, mortification, and abject arousal. Hee! Oh, also: Emma's wearing yet another delightful outfit. Oh, also also: Henri's in the audience with a hook where his right hand should be. HA!
And then it's over. Backstage, Sandy bloviates to a supremely uninterested Principal Figgins whilst clutching a congratulatory opening night bouquet of pink roses and baby's breath to his chest, but he quickly goes all atwitter when Josh Groban arrives in the dressing area with his bodyguard, Flex. Josh Groban, who'd been in town to induct Run-D.M.C. into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame, thought he'd drop by to...serve Sandy a restraining order. D'OH! "Stop e-mailing me!" Josh Groban cries. "Stop sending me nude photos! Stop calling me -- I don't know how you got my number, I don't know how you got my number again after I changed it, but I don't want any more of your edible gift baskets or locks of your hair, and I don't want to read any more of those sonnets you wrote for me!" "That stuff got crazy, dude!" Flex Dot-Coms by way of agreement. Sandy, naturally, is crushed, but Josh Groban does take a moment to lighten the mood of the remaining Acafellas by giving them two thumbs up while assuring them their show was "explosive." And with that, Josh Groban exits into the final commercial break.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
Out in the parking lot, Terri rather sweetly (and, I should probably add, sincerely) apologizes for not being as supportive of Will as she could have been, and the two share A Moment until Will's Father interrupts, looking for his own wife, who happens to be...
...backstage, swaying boozily between two director's chairs while Josh Groban smooves, "You might be thinking, why would a pop star like me come over here and talk to you? Well, let me tell you something: Throngs of screaming teenagers don't do it for Josh Groban. No, Josh Groban loves a blowzy alcoholic." HA! Will's Mother belches most fetchingly indeed before excusing herself with, "You'll have to forgive me -- I'm a little bit drunk, and I'm afraid I'm not making good choices right now." And that was one of the funniest little scenes on the show thus far.
Back outside, Terri also excuses herself, leaving Will and his father alone for yet another goddamned man-to-man heart-to-heart, and the long and the short of it is this: Will's somehow inspired his father to return to law school. Yeah, I don't get it either. I also don't get why I should care. !
The following day (I'm guessing), Mercedes approaches Kurt in the otherwise deserted hallway and apologizes for busting that window out his car. Kurt tries to be all sniffy about it, but he eventually admits his father took Kurt's baby away after he found the tiara collection in Kurt's hope chest. What follows is what I've been told is a Very Touching Scene in which Kurt comes out of his glass closet to Mercedes, but to be brutally honest with you, I've reached the point where listening to other people's coming out stories is as boring as listening to their dreams (the sleeping kind, obviously, not the for life kind), so I ended up spending this scene desperately trying not to stare at the zits around Chris Colfer's mouth and failing. Also: "Confident." AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
By Demian
"Let me get this straight," Sue Sylvester seethes, the collar of her teal Adidas track suit almost as rigid with anger as she, "the Glee Club got rid of Dakota Stanley, Mr. Schuester's back, and they're busy at work on a new number, more confident than ever?" AAAAAUAUAUAUUUUUAUUUGH. "This is what we call a total disaster, ladies,"she frowns, leading Quinn and Santana Lopez to shrink even further back in their chairs. "I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits." Quinn and Santana Lopez hesitantly comply. "That's the smell of failure, and it's stinking up my office." Best line of the episode. Sue sharply dons her reading glasses and starts scribbling as she tells them, "I'm revoking your tanning privileges for the rest of the semester." This is too much for Santana Lopez to bear, and she bursts into tears at the news before fleeing the room. Quinn, frowning a bit herself, rises to follow, but stops at Sue's door. "Miss Sylvester, I want to thank you." Miss Sylvester would like to know what for. "For teaching me a valuable life lesson," Quinn smiles, nodding her head as she speaks. "When you really believe in yourself, you don't have to bring other people down." Interesting. Quinn flounces, her perky ponytail bouncing behind her, while Miss Sylvester's left struck momentarily dumb by her apparent right hand's apparent act of treason. Or something like that.
McKinley Music Room, and the episode ends with the primary characters back in their collective happy place again, merrily step-ball-changing behind Mr. Schuester as the screen snaps to black.
week: "Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be auditioning for the role of kicker." I'm starting to think LTG's getting the better episodes.
Demian has the confidence to admit he hates theme episodes. You may reach him at demian_twop@yahoo.com.
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18