Episode Report Card Deborah: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Maybe He's Born With It...Maybe It's Maybelline
By Deborah | Season 1 | Episode 21 | Aired on 05.06.2004
Friedman, who's been watching from a distance, runs up to Luke: "Did you eject, dude?" Luke, without looking at his friend: "What?" Friedman: "The preemptive dump, protect your own skin because you knew it was only a matter of time…" Luke bursts out, "It was just too much coming at me, all the time." Friedman: "Don't worry. I'll give her the shoulder she needs." I'll bet. He runs down the hall after Glynis. What a pal.
Roy and Will are being interviewed (by a television reporter) at the police station about the bust of the underage prostitution ring. They're doing this interview in the usual blue-grey light that dominates the police scenes. Why they don't seem to have the kind of lights on them that would usually be necessary for a videotaped interview, I can't tell you. I think it would have made this look more realistic. Anyway. The girls were being brought from Eastern Europe and held captive for six months. Will comments that nobody wants to believe anything that ugly is going on in their backyard, so they just ignored the odd behaviour related to the house. The reporter praises Will for having recognized something was wrong; Will's all, aw, shucks, just doing my job. The reporter suddenly asks Will about the fact that he was on psych leave after the kidnapping. Will doesn't care to talk about that. The reporter: "I'm just saying, that must make this so much sweeter, that you've had such an impressive comeback." Roy intervenes: "Detective Girardi never left us. He was on a temporary reassignment. We were never without him." Will says that's correct: "It actually was just a bureaucratic thing. You know what the guys upstairs are like. Obviously I'm pretty capable of being a police officer." Roy gives Will a look. The reporter agrees with Will, saying they're probably kicking themselves for ever taking Will off the street. Will, smugly: "I hope so!" They conclude the interview, and as their mikes are removed, Will asks Roy, "So, is it true? Camera adds twenty pounds?" Roy: "Yeah. To your head." He walks out.
Will follows him, asking what that's supposed to mean. Roy: "You know, we go to the mat for you when you were in trouble, and you talk trash about us?" Will says that wasn't his intention. Roy: "If I hadn't been one of those bureaucratic fools, you wouldn't be standing here right now." Will apologizes: "I got a little lost in the lights. I'm sorry." Roy just goes into his office without a word.
Adam's on the roof reading the paper. Some people have pointed out that the skyline behind the roof is that of New York. I can't say for sure, but it sure does look like it. What's with that? Anyway, Joan comes up to the roof. Adam asks if she's ever seen Touch of Evil, which is playing at the Rialto tonight. Joan: "In black and white?" Adam, betraying perhaps the tiniest shred of vexation: "Yeah. It's, uh -- it's Orson Welles." Joan pouts, "I want colour." That's rich, coming from someone dressed like a chimney sweep. Adam: "But the way he shot -- I mean, black and white, you know, it gives the images this rich texture…" Joan: "Adam, it's [the] twenty-first century, okay? I want colour and THX and stadium seating and cup holders. The Rialto smells like a nursing home!" That's probably better than we can say for you right now, missy. Adam: "Yeah…but you have to learn the visual language of film if you wanna…" She ratchets up a notch: "How -- how can you be so observant when it comes to some movie made during the Civil War, but when it comes to me, I could grow a moustache and you wouldn't notice?" Adam drops the paper and stands up, asking, "Did I miss something?" Joan: "I've been wearing the same clothes for two days!" I bet there are a lot of people -- especially outside the laundry-obsessed West -- who wouldn't even understand what she's talking about. I mean, not taking a shower every single day and putting on perfectly clean clothes isn't exactly the last word in slovenliness. She continues, "I haven't washed my hair! My face is so…unadorned, I could be killed by the Aztecs!" Adam shrugs, mystified as always: "It's cool with me…um…" Joan, incredulous, demands, "So the rank, stinky, slob thing, that's a turn-on for you?" Adam: "If it's who you are." God, Joan, are you ever going to get this boy? Or will you drive him away and spend your life kicking yourself? Joan: "And how about before? In the last couple days, I've been wearing so much makeup and hairspray, I looked like a TV evangelist! Does that work for you, too?" He replies, "Appearances are superficial, Jane!" Joan searches his face, and finds no trace of guile there: "So it's about inner beauty -- that's what matters?" Adam agrees. Joan: "How about going to the mall?" Adam's puzzled again. She's hollering, "That matters to you! And that's all about appearances!" He says that's different. She practically shrieks: "No, it isn't! No! You are so vain!" Great. Now I've got Carly Simon stuck in my head. Now it's Adam's turn to be incredulous: "M -- right!" He gestures to his Armani hoodie and Tommy Hilfiger jeans: "Look at me!" Joan accuses him of trying so hard to look like he doesn't care. Joan, listen: he doesn't care. He doesn't have to work at it. She rants: "But you do! You do care! Oh, you -- you want to be that arty guy, who thinks he's so above the mall! Well, I like the mall, okay?" She's practically barking at this point.
Adam's finally starting to get a little worked up too: "Okay! You like the mall!" Joan rants on, about how she also likes watching Laverne & Shirley on TV Land. Adam: "Laverne & Shirley?" Joan, really wound up now: "Yeah! Lenny and Squiggy!" She sort of does a Squiggy voice -- or maybe it's Lenny: "'Hello?' I loved it, and I was afraid to tell you that because I thought you would think I was some bubblehead and you wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore! And you know what? Maybe you don't!" She's starting to cry now. She turns away for a moment while Adam stands there, probably wondering if he'll ever not be bewildered by her. I wouldn't bet the rent, friend. She turns back to him, sobbing, "I can't stand…us pretending like this." Adam doesn't know what to say, obviously; she continues, "Both of us trying to live up to some image of what we think we should be." Actually, I think you were alone on that front, Joan. She adds, "Well, if that's what we are…then I don't like us!" She dissolves into tears. I hate to say it, but I think I would hardly blame Adam if he were second-guessing the whole breaking-up-with-Iris thing right now. Joan leaves, crying. Adam stands there, wondering what it will take to fix this.