Previously on The O.C.: Julie Cooper-Nichol-Hilton-Jameson-Durst appeared in naughty porn, the clock ticked down on a character whose job was a show about porn, and not since Kinsey has passive entertainment gone out of its way to make sex quite this dull.
School! These kids go to school! I know. I KNOW! The most ambiguous vacation season ever seems to have come to an end, and we're back in the bastion of learning known as Harbor School: a school so good you can learn all of AP Physics in one day. Pretty, white extras walk confidently, their trust funds jangling in their pockets, the sun shining on them by governmental dictum because their parents pay a lot in property taxes for a reason. Eventually, the camera finds its way to Ryan and Seth, Ryan wearing his finest ChinoWear (an unbuttoned buttondown), and Seth wearing a too-tight plaid sleeveless sweater and looking an awful lot like an unopened box of Scottish shortbread. "I can't believe it, but spring is here," Seth says of a climate that defines "spring" as "the day the temperature ticks up from a frigid seventy-four degrees to a warm and livable seventy-five degrees." Ryan agrees that the year is "just flying by," which it would have for any of us too in high school if we spent it never actually having to go to high school. And then, this, from Orange County's apologist metacritic, Seth Cohen: "I gotta say: this year? Not as good as last." Please don't let this be going where I think this might be going. "I mean, look. We all tried some new things, and that was fun. Yard guys, illegitimate daughters, less fighting, more live music." Oh, ha. In fact: HA HA HA HA HA. It's a list of everything this season that crashed and burned creatively. Seems like the classy thing to do would have been not to call attention to it. Or, conversely, to mention it again. And again and again. And again and again and again: "Maybe you remember last year as better because it was all new," Ryan retorts. Or maybe because there were fewer yard guys, illegitimate daughters, more fighting, and less live music. But Seth, regardless of whether he's sentimentalizing the past, celebrates the fact that things seem to be returning to where they were at this point last year. To wit: "I'm back together with Summer. You're single again." Ryan frets, "I think I know where this is going," and Seth points to a mysteriously-appearing banner that's dropped down from seeming nowhere and reads, "It's going to the Harbor School pep rally/bonfire." I think Ryan registers a look of skepticism, but it's hard to know for sure, seeing as the camera is actually pointed square at his back, and Seth begs, "C'mon, you could rally a little pep, couldn't you?" But I don't think Ryan can, because the actor who portrays him graduated from high school in 1987 and is maybe too preoccupied checking the balance on his 401k. Sorry, Ben. But you look like my dad today. Nevertheless, Seth plugs away relentlessly, suggesting that Ryan not only come to the pep rally, but as always "invite along..." But Ryan cuts Seth off before he can continue, arguing that there's nothing going on between him and Marissa. Seth celebrates the fact that it would be "so last year," but Ryan gestures to a car pulling into the parking lot containing Alex and Marissa and notes, "She's clearly already taken." That is, until she meets a real man. Oh, lesbianism...is there anything it can do?
“ Seth itsy- bitsy- spiders his fingers together in a very Mr. Burns-ish way, and Summer walks away, noting, 'You're kind of creeping me out.' He doesn't deserve her. No man does. ”
Marissa approaches the boys, wearing a cute skirt that actually really suits her, and a shirt so aggressively green that I expect her to slap Seth and Ryan over the head with a giant foam shamrock, yell, "If it's not Scottish, it's crap!," and walk away. Kids, ask your parents. ["But Ireland and Scotland aren't the same-- nah, forget it." -- Wing Chun] Instead, Marissa mutters a "hey" I don't actually believe, and Seth asks her a question about the bonfire that I can't hear because he mumbles, and she's all, "Don't talk to me about it. It's been so stressful." It has? Maybe because she hasn't been to school in six months and yet she still gets to be the chair of the Spirit Committee anyway, even though she's sometimes the drunk, dark outsider who holes up with her lesbian girlfriend and is wildly inconsistent. Why didn't Seth make any excuses for that in his opening spiel? Marissa takes a quick drive out to Exposition Point in continuing on, "I can't even find someone to design the bonfire." Design the bonfire? Sticks, matches, beach, stir, serve. But she asks if Seth and Ryan are coming, and Seth RSVPs yes for them both. Marissa begs off that she is going to be late (for her last six months of classes), and Seth notes that Ryan was heading in that direction as well and should walk with Marissa. Ryan walks off, warning Seth like a Chinese curse, "Live in the now, Seth." Seth responds, "I'm sorry. I can't do that" and bids them farewell. Right behind him appears Summer, who immediately leaps down Seth's throat, complaining that they've lived through enough Ryan and Marissa drama and that she doesn't want Seth meddling in their affairs. She warns that they're "combustible," and he reminds her that there's no better place for combustion than a bonfire/pep rally. There's no more elegant way to refer to this? I really need to use the slash every time? Anyway, Seth itsy-bitsy-spiders his fingers together in a very Mr. Burns-ish way, and Summer walks away, noting, "You're kind of creeping me out." He doesn't deserve her. No man does.
Opening credits: "You'd have to buy some vowels to spell it/ And flip the letters like White comma Vanna/ There's no speed limit there and almost no people/ These are some of the rumors I've head re: Montana." Time for some other states to start getting their due, y'all.
Having inadequately resolved the one law case his new solo firm has worked on this calendar year, Sandy takes Kirsten golfing in the middle of the day. Over at Nature For White People Country Club, Sandy barks out coaching tips and instructions to his wife as she raises the club back over her shoulder, and finally fixes him with a stricken look of "shuuuuuut uuuuuuup!" which chastises him back into a corner where he promises to stand "quietly but supportively." She hits the ball badly, I think, but he tells her that she did just fine and that she should "try again." Kirsten -- from under the protection of a white visor that somehow she manages to rock even though I've previously only seen the white visor on the heads of the very, very aged or the very,very slow -- tells Sandy, "No more tries. I hate golf." Word. "I suck at golf. I no longer want to play golf." Because he almost cheated on her with a monster, Sandy has to continue to be misguidedly encouraging about everything, yelling, "You can only get better!" Kirsten starts to walk away, but he calls after her, "We can play together! And you look so cute in that visor." She does. "I do?" You do! My friends think she's too skinny. I do not agree. My friends think I'm what's wrong with this country. With that, I agree.
“ I mean, I love liberals just as much as the guy, but Berkeley already has a ruling publication for its left wing, and it's called 'the coupon circular at Trader Joe's.' ”
Kirsten suddenly tells Sandy that she has to go: "We're putting together our first issue of Newport Living and we're trying to figure out what photo of Julie to use on the cover." Sandy sympathizes: "Talk about Sophie's choice!" Say, what's that blaring siren sound? It must be the Misguided Holocaust Reference Alarm going off again. Rather than suggest that Kirsten should make a Schindler's list of all of Julie's photos and just choose a favorite, he asks instead, "Who did you get to edit the Medusa Monthly?" What's Medusa? Was that a concentration camp? Kirsten drops the character name of the newest glorified extra to muck up Season 2 (why didn't Seth make any excuses for HIM?), responding, "Carter Buckley." Sandy's all, "You mean The Carter Buckley?," quickly putting together that this Buckley fellow used to be the editor of a magazine called Revolution. So Sandy is all, "You mean The Revolution?" What he actually says is, "That was the magazine of Berkeley's left wing." Oooooh, no. A magazine just for the rich central California liberal elite? His sales pitch might as well have been, "That was the magazine that is 100% guaranteed to give cancer to all of your pets." I mean, I love liberals just as much as the guy, but Berkeley already has a ruling publication for its left wing, and it's called "the coupon circular at Trader Joe's." Kirsten agrees, calling the enterprise "an entire magazine about losers." Because he's playing golf in a polo shirt during the daytime in Southern California rather than demonstrating on the steps of Congress about unfair labor practices in Foreignia, Sandy has to remind her that he read the magazine religiously back in the day. He adds on that he would love to meet the mind behind Revolution, and Kirsten reluctantly promises to "set something up." As she tries for a quick escape, Sandy notices his wife's glistening hand and notes, "You found your wedding ring!" She lies that it was "behind some cushions," thanks him for the lesson, kisses him with the warmth and romance of two politicians greeting each other before the convening of Russian parliament, and leaves.
School. Seth walks down a hallway to regard Marissa fighting with her locker because it's been nine years since she's tried to access anything inside. He comically fakes walking away nine times and then decides to dive in. He ambles over to her and tells her that she seems stressed and distracted, and she returns to the A-story, reminding him, "It's this bonfire. It would be really great if we had, y'know, a bonfire." On that line delivery, I actually really liked the way she...nah, I'm just fuckin' with you. Seth gets an idea into his pretty little head, promising, "Coop, I think I got what ails ya." They banter about how only Summer calls her "Coop," and Seth quickly explains that he can call her that too since he's back with Summer, seeing that "if A equals C and B equals C then A equals C." Wow. Logic's famed law of syllogism. Someone's gone back to school for a day! Marissa asks him if he has any brilliant ideas for who can help out at the bonfire, and he coyly suggests Ryan. Before she has a chance to shoot it down, he reminds her, "He toiled in an actual construction job all summer. He enjoys architecture and burning stuff down." He's also...our returning champion! Marissa agrees that Ryan's the perfect man for...whatever...this...job...actually is, but she wonders if he would say yes. Seth promises that he will, and she thanks him for the suggestion. He tells her, "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. Especially to Summer." He fixes her with a crazy look and walks away. As soon as Marissa is on her own again, her cell phone rings and she picks it up to find her mother on the other end. She pauses and responds to nothing, "Look, I'm not coming home, okay? Bye." On the other end now, we cut to Julie begging Marissa not to hang up on her, but it's too late because if Julie insists on continuing to pay the cell-phone bill, she...ah, nobody listens.