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?
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.
We cut now to the world headquarters of The Newport Group, where Julie holds the phone looking all impotent and powerless, which is clearly not the way any of us like to see her. She hears a porn-like rustling coming from near the door to her office, and she looks up to see her arch nemesis (yet once very intimate friend) Lance staring back at her. She notes, "Okay, like you're not creepy enough, you're just appearing in doorways now?" He smiles a big, porny smile. He's wearing a brown leather jacket and a belt with a huge buckle, almost an exact replication of a Halloween a few years back when I went as "That Guy." He asks her, "Trouble at home?" and she spits back, "Like I'd open up to you." Well, wouldn't be the first time. Oooh, rimshot! Ooooh, the word "rimshot" is also a rimshot! Ew. Kids, ask your parents. Julie asks Lance what he wants, and he gives it to her point-blank: "I want my money." He gestures toward a huge mock-up of the cover of Newport Living and tells her that this might not be the most optimum time to have her perfect reputation (it...is?) besmirched. He tells her she has three days to get him the money, "or everyone in Newport is gonna see a lot more than [her] face." Lance breezes out, and Kirsten clomps right past him on her way in, apologizing that "traffic was terrible" and asking the receptionist if Carter is in yet. Whatever her name is, she informs Kirsten that "Mr. Buckley left a voicemail at around 3:30 AM that said don't expect him today...he was slurring." Kirsten is horrified but reacts professionally, noting, "I guess Julie and I will proceed without him." But just then Julie -- wearing all white with a purple ribbon tied around her neck and looking like an old-fashion stewardess on Reformed Whore Airlines -- strides out and tells Julie she can't make the meeting due to a personal emergency. Kirsten notes that she guesses that means the meeting is cancelled. Yeah, this magazine is gonna be huge.
Forty-seven tracking shots across blue-skied outdoor b-roll later, we land on Summer and Marissa eating lunch by the ocean. Is this lunch? Are they on break again? Has the school year gotten shorter since I was in high school? Summer asks after Marissa and Alex, and Marissa responds through a mouthful of so-called "food" that things are going "really great." While they're totally not on the topic, Marissa takes this opportunity to ask Summer to tell Seth never to call her "Coop" again, seeing as it "kind of ruined the nickname." Summer makes an ouch-I'm-eating-my-own-lips face of concern and asks when this bogarting of the nickname went down, and Marissa tells her it happened "earlier." Just then, Ryan walks up and Marissa gets right to business: "I need someone to build the bonfire for us, and I figured who else has worked in construction, likes architecture..." Ryan finishes it off for her, "...has burned down a house." Man, they could not have contrived a reason any less organic to get these two back in a room together. I love that someone needs to complete this utterly random task that just happens to match all of the pluses in Ryan's skill set. It is as believable a reason for them to be working together as Marissa arbitrarily crying out, "Well, we can't have the bonfire because there's no one around to Chino-tize it for us." It literally makes not one holy god lick of sense. Besides, Marissa says, "I thought it would be fun. Working together." He agrees to do it, which Marissa cries is "great!" Just then, Seth stage-directs himself over and asks what's great, and we learn one more time that Ryan is going to build them a bonfire, whatever that means. Seth agrees too that it is a "great idea." Summer sarcastically notes that the idea is "inspired," just as Seth begs off to study for a big test "in the library." Summer is all smiles as she runs after him, leaving Ryan and Marissa to hammer out plans for the afternoon. Marissa suggests that they meet at her place, leaving Ryan to ask in terror, "Your place with Alex?" But it's dirty with lesbian over there!
"All I want to do is check my email!" Sandy whines into a phone while holding some printed instructions in his hand as a shiny new computer mocks him from the desk. I love that he got Caleb off and prepped Rebecca's case entirely without the help of a computer. And if you've written Sandy and you haven't heard back, you might need to resend to sandy-cohen@theoc.com, since clearly his messages haven't been getting through. Look forward to more on this topic in the upcoming "The Emailpisode," coming up in a few weeks.
But I digress.
Sandy yells "do not transfer me!" all angrily and slams the phone down, just as Julie Cooper enters his beachfront office and notes, "You must have been talking to Marissa." It doesn't make that much sense, but the sentiment is totally there. Everyone gets three points. She tells that it's "always a pleasure, Sanford," and Sandy responds, hilariously, "Only Caleb gets to call me 'Sanford,' because he won't not." And thus, the exact argument I will be using for the rest of my life to explain why thee are two people in the world who are allowed to call me "Danny." Because they won't not. Awesome. Julie makes her way in and tells him that she's there on "official business," and "as a new client I'm not impressed." He tells her that he can't be of help if this is a marital issue, and she throws The Porn Identity onto Sandy's desk and explains that she and Caleb are fine and that she's trying to keep it that way. It takes him a second, but Sandy gives a perfect double-take that, had he been drinking something at the time, would have made for the perfect you-owe-me-a-new-keyboard spit take. Endless awkward silence ensues as Sandy searches for the words. He comes up with "This is the first time in my life I'm actually speechless," leaving Julie to try to explain: "It was the '80s. I was young. I had no money. And it was the '80s." It's true. It was tough times. Phil Collins made a video about a sweaty Ronald Reagan puppet. Everyone on a sitcom was totally an alien. David Leisure. The '80s were a bad decade for artistic integrity. Sandy notes, "Well, that explains everything." Uh, Sandy? See above. Julie says that she's not going to give him her whole "sob story" (because backstory can be so inconvenient!), but that she, y'know, needs some help. Sandy asks where it came from, and Julie sits down and starts in that "the auteur behind this masterpiece -- his name is Lance Baldwin." You know what else damn near destroyed the state of artistic integrity in the '80s? The Baldwins.
"So," Sandy continues, "You started with a porn producer and you ended up with Caleb. See, I'd consider that a lateral move." And while this seems like a particularly rough time to be going after someone so vulnerable, it's not the worst point. Julie recaps (which, leave it to the professionals) that Lance wants a half a million or "he goes public on the eve of Newport Living's launch." Sandy proclaims himself "so not the guy for his," and, I have to say, I'm not totally clear on what it is that Julie wants Sandy to do. Nevertheless, she begs him for help, crying, "If Marissa found out about this..." Then she might accidentally develop a lot more respect for you than she has just at the moment.
Seth sits in the library, hiding unsuccessfully behind a copy of The Turn of the Screw. Summer approaches and flips it out of his hands all aggressively, and he's all, "Whaaaaaa?" She shouts quite loudly, "What is your problem, Cohen?" and is greeted by a chorus of dorky sssssssssshs from people who dare to attend school every day. LOSERS. Summer grabs Seth's arm and yanks him over between two shelves, which are apparently soundproof, where she tells him, "Now, no one can hear you scream." But if you wanted to be able to talk in a full voice and not disturb people in the library, why not just go to...not the library? He wants to know what her problem is, and she reminds him that she already warned him about meddling in Ryan and Marissa's affairs. Seth argues that they belong together, and Summer argues that they most certainly do not, winning the argument in a single word. See if you can guess which one: "Listen, asshat." Heh. "Ryan and Marissa separate? Both great people." Well... "Together, disaster. So stay away from them, all right, or else more than the bonfire is going up in flames." Metaphor fires! Very difficult to put out.
Marissa's phone rings with wanton abandon, as we discover her outside the school. She picks up said phone to find Alex asking her what she's doing after school today and fretting that they haven't had a lot of time lately to "hang." Marissa lets fly that she has a project to work on after school with Ryan, which sends up an obvious flag with Alex. It's a bonfire/pep rally. No one can just call it a bonfire? Alex is all, "You never mentioned a pep rally," and I half expect Marissa to shoot back, "That's because it's a bonfire/pep rally," but instead she says, "Yeah, well, I kind of have a handle on your sense of school spirit." And just then, Marissa spies Ryan walking by, and she waves to him just as Alex suggests that they just see each other at home. Because she proves incapable of waving and talking at the same time, Alex has to bark a "hello?" into the phone so that Marissa can quickly tell her that she'll see her later and hang up. Meanwhile, inside the Haaaaaaate Shop, Alex looks nervous that her one-way ticket to Skin Reunion Special-ville has been stamped and readied for travel.
Kirsten walks with determination into a condo complex, listening to what I'm told is the Pixies emanating from everywhere. She walks through an open door to find a somewhat incapacitated Carter sitting on a chaise; he informs her, "Sorry. Private party." She screams over the music that they had a meeting, and he turns around in the chair to reveal ripped jeans, an empty highball glass in his hand, and a Husker Du t-shirt (you're cool and we get it, old man). She asks him why he missed the meeting, and he shouts back that it was his "wedding anniversary." She reminds him that he's divorced, allowing for the rejoinder, "No wonder this party sucks." He thanks her for stopping by and spins back around in the chair, but she advances into the room, turns off the music (on vinyl, no less! Kids, ask your parents), and tells him that she's sorry she stormed in, but that she kind of wants an apology from him for blowing off the meeting. He stands up from his chair and pours himself another glass of Rocket Fuel, ceding nothing: "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the future meetings I'm gonna miss. Y'see? Now you don't have to feel bad about firing me." She tells him that maybe he's not in the frame of mind to be having this discussion, but he promises her that he'll be no less self-loathing when he's sober. And we, no less loathing of you, sir. He bemoans the fates that led him to working for "a rag about Julie Cooper...Nichol," but Kirsten tries to argue that Newport Living will also be about "culture" and "art." But he feels otherwise: "C'mon, Kirsten. This magazine is just a photo opportunity for fifty-five-year-old women with twenty-five-year-old breasts." Nothing about that sentence made sense. Kirsten volleys that this is chance for him to be "subversive" and "irreverent," but he takes a long gulp of Rocket Fuel (it's crizappy!) and tells her, "I'd rather be drunk." Good one. If this editor gig doesn't work out, he can always make his living writing bumper stickers for pick-up trucks. I'm no expert, but let me start you off with another one: "If you don't like my driving..."
What a strangely Captain-Oats-heavy episode this is about to become. Seth sits on a couch in the Cohen manse, the horse on the arm to him, Seth explaining, "See, Oats. It's even the same for The Valley. Last year was just better." Again: HA HA HA HA HA. He's making fun of US! It chastises me into thinking I never should have made fun of this show at all. You know another thing that would have kept me from casting such a jaundiced eye on this vastly inferior second season? If they'd made a better show. Ryan enters, refocusing the plot: "This bonfire thing is a disaster." He shakes a few piece of paper in Seth's direction. He says he's done a bunch of designs but that they all suck (one word about how last season's designs were better and none of us gets out of here alive), and Seth faux pas-es, "I'm sure whatever you come up with, Marissa will love you...it." This is where Ryan would protest too much, but instead they are interrupted by Sandy, who comes in just then and lets the boys know they will be on their own for dinner that night. Seth -- in a sudden and lurching attempt on everyone's part to try to engender sympathy for this wildly self-absorbed character -- remembers that there's another person on the planet known as "someone who isn't him," and he asks his father if everything is okay between him and Mom. Sandy's all breezy in noting that everything's fine but busy, but Seth notes that it seems there's been "some tension recently." Sandy leaves and Ryan is soon to follow, but he asks Seth if he can borrow Captain Oats. Seth notes that he's "a poor substitute for a broken heart," but gives him up anyway, with an accompanying time-sucking speech about what to do if Ryan touches Captain Oats "anywhere weird." Ryan punches Seth on the arm. JUST LIKE LAST YEAR!
Ding-dong! Also, the doorbell rings. I can't believe Alex remembered to pay the doorbell bill. That thing should have been shut off months ago. Anyway, Marissa opens the door to Alex's apartment and finds Julie on the other side. Julie smiles and says, "It's nice to see you too, sweetie," but as she tries to enter the apartment, Marissa unconvincingly holds up a hand and tells her mother that she "hasn't been vaccinated." That line would have worked wonders coming out of the mouth of someone else. So Julie stands in the doorway and expresses her desire to talk, asking if she can come in. Marissa says no, so Julie just goes for it: "Don't you think you're taking this a little too far? You enjoy living in squalor." Marissa vamps that it can't be that disgusting with Julie and Caleb not living there. Ooooh, good one. Julie promises that she can make Marissa come home by taking away her credit cards (she can also try not paying the cell-phone bill), but Marissa says that she would get a job, "or maybe I'll just steal. You know, I'm really good at that." A sappy music cue tells Julie it's time to buckle, so she whines, "Marissa, come home, please. Don't throw away your future just because you hate me...the door is always open." But Marissa responds, "Not this one," and slams it shut.
Now that shirt I absolutely have. Seth does general non-tasks around his bedroom waiting for the entrance, and soon Alex is there to interrupt his mimed chores, knocking on his door and entering. She asks him if he's trying on clothes (and she would never ask anyone that, but otherwise how could Seth find a reason for what comes ?), and he predictably responds, "I'm trying on clothes from last year." She's already sitting on the bed by the time he tells her to come in, and she tells him that she's come for his advice. His advice about Marissa. Seth tries to deflect attention to, like, pointing out the window and being all, "Look, a last year!" before flying around the world really fast and into the past, but Alex holds on, telling Seth, "I have a sense about these things." She's silent for a second, and then she tells him that she's really fallen hard for Marissa and doesn't know if she's fighting for a lost cause or not. Seth asks if this is about the mall, and when Alex says she already knows all about the mall, Seth tells her, "So, big deal. They slept in a tent together." Which, apparently, Alex did not so much know about. She thanks him for being so helpful and storms out because she's jealous that no one in her relationship is able to prove her love by pitching a tent and yes I just made an erection joke and GET USED TO IT.
On the other side of the time-space continuum, Ryan finally gets around to arriving at Alex's. The soundtrack's new favorite radio station, Intuitive FM, explains the action, Greek Chorus-style: "C'mon in. I hear your voice." Inside, Marissa throws some clothes under a couch cushion and opens the door. Ryan enters and asks where Alex is, and Marissa explains that she's working. They sit on what must be an exceedingly lumpy couch, and Ryan extracts Captain Oats from a bag he was carrying. He explains that the horse was Ryan's "inspiration" for the real thing. Marissa just assumes, "Oh, a Trojan Horse." She doesn’t know what that is. She thinks it's condoms.
Now that's what I call music! The sounds of the Scorpions' 1984 classic, "Rock You Like A Hurricane" rings from inside of an apartment that I totally thought was Carter's until we discover that it is Lance's. I really think they're the same person. Sandy knocks on the door to seedy #12, and a wifebeater-clad Lance opens the door and asks, "You got a warrant?" Sandy volleys, "Oh, you're not suspicious, are you?" Sandy introduces himself as "Julie Cooper's attorney. And I'm a huge fan of your work." Sandy says he's there to negotiate and comes on in, and Lance pays his hooker to take brief leave of the room, leaving the two men alone to talk of manly things. Here I am! Rock you like a...sorry. And once again, Lance repeats his claim that "Five hundred grand makes this thing go away." Sandy calls that extortion, adding, "She's willing to pay you fifty thousand dollars, which could finance a handful of your masterpieces." Oooh, Sandy. Bad time for the word "handful." Because we are morons, Lance once again repeats his terms: "You need to add another zero to that offer." Or? "Otherwise this thing is streaming live on the internet in another seventy-two hours." Streaming LIVE? Was it shot in a time machine? I don't understand this "live." ["In this context, 'live' is sort of the same as 'published.' Don't worry: it's still a dumb show." -- Wing Chun]
Trojan Horse arbitrarily arrived at and vaguely designed, Marissa accompanies Ryan down the front steps of Alex's pad, even through I feel like this is the first time I've ever actually seen steps anywhere near Alex's pad. Ryan tells Marissa that he's glad she's happy with his work, and she responds that she's glad Seth recommended him for the job. Ryan is curious: "Seth suggested me?" Marissa wants to know why that's a big deal, and Ryan explains that Seth's "stuck in the past," adding, "He thinks that now that he's back with Summer...y'know." They agree that his scheme is "crazy" in a totally we-cannot-deny- our-hot-monkey-love- for-each-other kind of way. Marissa nearly pokes her own eyes out with the bones in her neck when she shrugs at the cruel, fateful injustice of it all. They hug chastely and Ryan takes his leave, but as soon as Marissa retires inside, Alex puts down a can of liquid (oh, no! She's a hellion when she's all liquided up!) she'd been sipping while sitting behind the wheel of her car and opens the car door. She gets out of the car, and a moment later, Ryan is ducking as the empty liquid can goes whizzing by his head. He's trying to be nice, telling her, "Hey, you almost hit me!" and an unamused Alex snarks, "I'll try again." She slams her car door shut and advances on him, shoving him in the chest and screaming, "Stay away from her!" Ryan laughs and says there's nothing going on, but she keeps coming at him, wailing, "Don't go near my girlfriend again." She shoves him again, and he stands stock-still and whispers, "Walk away." She storms toward the house. That scene radiated with such raw energy it's almost like it was streaming live. But it couldn't have been. Because it happened on tape.
Sandy was in the shower, but now he isn't anymore. He strides through the bedroom in his bathrobe, coming to rest at Kirsten reading the paper in their little bedroom nook. He tells her he missed her last night and blames "the all-consuming magazine," and then shares that he was "also at work. On a new case." He suggests that they steal "a little quality time" today, but the specter of more golf sends Kirsten screaming for the office. Sandy asks after his man-crush Carter Buckley, so Kirsten breaks it to Sandy that it looks like Newport Living wasn't for him and he won't be on the project after all. She recaps her visit to his apartment that found him "drowning in self-pity and tequila," and Sandy reminds us that he was a big, big revolutionary and viva la fishcakes! and all that. Kirsten asks about Revolution, inquiring as to whether Sandy still has any old copies lying around. He says he probably does, in the office or in the garage. All of the greatest scenes in the history of Aristotelian dramatic structure tend to end with the sentiment, "maybe in the garage."
Ryan enters the kitchen and finds Seth in the process of preparing food no doubt fit for an eventual shmearing of some kind. Seth jovially asks how it went with Marissa, and Ryan responds that it went great: "Things with Alex, not so much." Seth tries to be nonchalant, asking, "Alex was there?" Ryan explains that she was, she threw a beer can at his head, AND she shoved him "a couple of times." Seth begs us to love him like LAST YEAR, but undoes it with comments like, "That is one angry lesbian!" Seth cops to having let something slip regarding tents and people sleeping in it, but wonders, "Like there's something dirty about camping." Not unless you go with your priest. Ryan, because it's LAST YEAR, can feel free to let his vaguely disconcerted flag fly, barking at Seth, "Stay out of it! Just because you're back with Summer doesn't mean me and Marissa." Seth, chastened, whispers a sad, "I know." Awww. Poor l'il guy. Oh, look! A last-year response to Seth! The repeated thematic bludgeoning! It's working!
A shot of Captain Oats cuts to a scale-model replica of a Trojan Horse made of popsicle sticks sitting on a desk near where Marissa's cell phone rings. Yes. A wooden horse is this episode's B-story, but it's not that odd, considering that a wooden actress who merely resembles one is its A-story. Aaaanyway, Marissa picks up the phone and is all, "Hulluh?" Because seriously, sister, you need to start enunciating. She picks up the phone to discover she has a new voicemail, and she check it to discover Ryan has called and told her she won't be able to make it tonight. What's tonight? Is it the bonfire/pep rally? Things -- like, "what is happening" -- remain unclear. Alex stands watching Marissa on the phone, asking, "Who was that?" Marissa lies that it was her mother again, calling with "more empty threats." Alex changes the subject, telling Marissa she was asleep when Alex got home. Nine seconds after Ryan left? Not like she would have been happy to see Alex, all combative and lesbian and drunk on liquid. Marissa says that she was tired, which leads Alex to the non-segue of suggesting, "You should try sleeping in a tent. With Ryan. Oh, but you already did that." Man. She's so declawed they've even taken the purple out of her hair. Marissa apologizes and says she didn't want to make it a big deal, but Alex tells her she lied and storms out. Watch out on those steps! Sometimes they appear and sometimes they do not.
"Please tell me you have some good news," Julie begs as she slams unannounced into Sandy's office. Sandy responds that Lance "is as sleazy as he looks, but not as dumb." We learn that Lance owns the rights to the movie and that Julie was a consenting adult when it was shot. Damn right she was. I watched that video, and she was, like, in her forties. Sandy breaks the news: "If he wants to make money off it, it's his prerogative." He adds that they could charge him with extortion, but pretty much any legal action would involve the authorities. Julie moans, "Even if I pay him off, there's nothing to stop him from leaking it anyway." Heh. "Leak." Sandy tells Julie to worry about Marissa and he'll take care of everything else, and when she then starts fretting to Sandy about Marissa (sorry, Julie, but this does not fall under the wide umbrella of everything else), Sandy reminds her that after Seth's behavior last summer, he learned that "sometimes it's not the message. It's the messenger." Is that a cue for Tate Donovan to come back? Hasn't he landed his own C.S.I.-like series yet?
Broken Editor Condos (formerly "Angry Young Man Apartments"), where Kirsten again enters. She places a copy of Revolution in his mailbox and it is extremely meaningful.
Summer's bedroom. She sits on her bed, doing Marissa's hair (are you crazy, you fool? That's lesbian hair!) and suggesting that maybe Marissa should just move home. Marissa says that she cannot, and Summer asks, "Because you love Alex and wherever she is that's your home?" Or, as Marissa replies, "Because it would make my mom too happy." Ah, love. Summer says that if Marissa's not going to the bonfire with Ryan, she can just go home to Alex. After all, she suggests, "you can't ride two horses with one ass." Like the prophets said. Marissa says that Ryan isn't going to the bonfire (which, until this point in the scene, I actually kind of thought Summer knew) and that Alex is mad that someone who wasn't Marissa told her about the tent in the mall. Summer wonders, "If you didn't tell her, who did?" Uh-oh. It hits Summer all at once, and she leaps off Marissa's bed (lesbian bed!) and screams, "I am going to kick his ass back to last year!" He might like that. His last year's ass was a lot more in demand than his this year's ass.
Ryan lies on his bed, throwing a small ball up in the air. It's like a soccer ball, but wee. It looks like it would have a hell of a dodgeball sting to it, too. A knock on the door is soon to reveal Julie, who tells him she needs help with Marissa: "For whatever reason that I don't quite understand, she listens to you. She needs help." Ryan suggests that maybe she's happy where she is, but mom knows best: "She's in so far over her head with this relationship. She's skipping school." Until this week. "She's staying out all hours." Working on a popsicle Trojan Horse. Catch up, Mom. Julie says that Marissa won't do it if she thinks it will benefit Julie in anyway, but that if she hears from Ryan what a good idea it is...but no! For Ryan rocks his tiny ball and is all, "No, I'm not getting in the middle of Marissa's life. Not again. Especially her relationship with Alex." But Julie argues that this has nothing to do with Alex, but instead with a life she's quickly letting slip away from her. Julie begs, "Convince her to come home. You know that's what's for the best."
Wow. What a patsy. A simple cut later, Ryan shows up at Alex's front door. But she answers it, chugging a beer (this time we can see what liquid it is) and asking what the hell he's doing there. He storms past her as she screams, "This is you staying away?" He says that he's there for Marissa's mom, and Alex yells, "Are you and Julie Cooper a team now?" This episode is like a drama experiment where it's the same lines in every scene, but different people have to speak them each time with different inflections. do the one where you throw a ball of energy back and forth! Alex tells Ryan once again to stay away from her, and he finally gets around to asking the follow-up question, "Or what?" Without specifics, all she can tell him is that, if he goes down there, "it's on." He tells her, "This sort of thing used to be my specialty." You say "last year" one more time. I dare you. I triple-dog dare you, mothuhfuckuh.
Jesus. Finally. The banner has been moved down the beach introducing the beginning of the bonfire slash pep rally. Marissa moves through an ever-increasing throng of people, holding a clipboard and looking very official. People approach her with questions that she can't answer, so it's a damn good thing Ryan is right behind her at this moment to save her ass, but not in a fun, gay way. Marissa calls out to the crowd, "Hey, everybody, this is Ryan. He's going to answer any and all of your questions." He is immediately swarmed by a group of angry white teenagers (and one African-American girl who made us all scream, "What on earth is THAT?), and he climbs up on some ambiguous perch and starts shouting out instructions. Marissa looks on proudly, having done absolutely nothing.
Kirsten flips through some papers at the office, and is interrupted by the arrival of one Carter Buckley, who is holding a copy of his old magazine and telling her, "That was a dirty trick. Haunting me with my past." She tells him she was trying to inspire him, and he asks where she found it. She tells him that she got a copy from "a crusading idealist who remembers every word of that magazine like it was yesterday. My husband." Awwww. Way to drive the stake into the damaged man's heart, Kirsten. And you'd better hope his death was a painless mercy killing, or you are going to be reading a strongly-worded editorial in an upcoming issue of Revolution. She asks him if he's in on Newport Living. He responds, "You say 'subversive'..." And I say "subvarsive." Let's call the whole thing off! Kids? Ask your parents. Anyway, he's in. Pretend it makes a difference to you.
I think Seth is wearing the same sweatshirt he was wearing earlier (and not to mention LAST YEAR, I'm sure), but I didn't notice the collar was such a Roy G. Biv design. Fug. Summer puts him in some kind of painful wrestling position I'm sure is replete with the word "Nelson," and tells him that his attempts to make everyone happy have resulted in everyone's being miserable. She tells him he has to apologize to everyone, starting with Ryan. But a quick trip to the pool house reveals that there is no Ryan to be found, and they get thee to the bonfire with a quick joke about Seth's genitals, but we've already exceeded our USDA allowance of penis jokes this week with my "tent" reference from earlier, so...too bad you missed the episode, huh?
Back at 12, Sandy knocks on the door and Lance is soon to come and greet him. He asks where his money is, and Sandy hands him some papers, which Lance opens and reads, surmising, "You're starting your own film company?" Sandy says that he wants to buy "the master, the film, and the negatives," and that they'll meet his offer on those conditions. Nice idea in the clutch, Sandy! He needs two weeks to raise the money. But after that, if so much as one frame of the movie leaks (bit late for that, eh? Nudge nudge, say no more?), they can sue Lance for copyright infringement for a whole lot more than a half a million dollars. Clever, clever Sandy then calls Julie and tells her that though they have to pay, they definitely don't have to worry about the movie surfacing. But about the money, Sandy says that she's going to have to talk to Caleb, and hopefully he'll understand. "I am so screwed," she frets. I honestly don't know why he would care. The stakes in this whole thing are literally negative zero. But still: "leaks."
Naked bonfire slash pep rally bacchanal! Marissa comments that everything seems to be going great, but just at this moment, Alex shows up with two beefy friends who, according to Alex, have come "to see Ryan." A fight starts to break out, which causes the choreographed dance going on near the ocean (I'm totally not kidding...it's ridiculously From Justin to Kelly of all of them) to grind to a stop as everyone looks to see what the ruckus is. Marissa assures everyone that there is nothing to see, and everyone gets back to their business. Marissa turns back to Alex and angrily informs her, "This is between you and me." Well, then, I guess it really isn't that "on" after all. Marissa storms down an empty stretch of beach, insisting, "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Alex tells her that she just wants to talk, and they fight about how bonfires are all Marissa does lately (all right). Marissa didn't know that moving in with Alex meant giving up her life. Alex doesn't want Marissa to give it up; she just wants to be a part of it. So Marissa gestures toward the hideous display of mythology that stands behind her, screaming, "This is my life, okay? That's it. So what do you think?" And then it hits Alex: "I think this is your life and I don't fit in." Tears. Kiss this character goodbye, Marissa. But not literally. Because as soon as sweeps are over, girls only kiss boys.
This actually looks less high-school pep rally (slash bonfire) and more...I don't know...Club Dread? Probably because they're all twenty-seven. Alex comes back and apologizes to Ryan, telling him, "It wasn't about you." She takes her two goons and disappears forever, and Marissa and Ryan walk in the other direction in blissful silence. He asks if she's okay, and she tells him yes. All that's left is lighting the bonfire. Slash pep rally. Seth and Summer run up just then, and see that Ryan and Marissa are happily lesbian-free, holding the torch that sets fire to Ryan's architectural popsicle-sticked wonder. The crowd cheers excitedly as Ryan and Marissa make their way to Seth and Summer. Marissa thanks Seth "for making it all happen," and he takes the credit in as haughty a way as possible. Meanwhile, the fire burns higher than the flaming remnants of John Kerry's political career. Oh, what an awful, dated reference. Know why it doesn't work? SO last year.