Fade in on just another day at West Roswell High, where Liz "Winnie Cooper from Hell" Parker and Maria "Farrah Fawcett from New Mexico" DeLuca stroll casually down the always-mysteriously-shadowed hallway. Liz gives new meaning to the compound verb infinitive "to blather on criminally" while grabbing Marias arm in the dawning realization that if she let go, Maria would become as conspicuously absent as the sense of style in this sequence. I mean, really people, listen to this unfashion show: Marias raw-umber-themed deep focus regatta-backdrop long-sleeved tee with the light blue sleeves has its design origins with the "All You Need Is Two Stoned Designers And A Flashback" label. And what the hell kind of shirt has a backdrop, anyway? Lizs more understated atrocity leaves normal with unmatching bright red shoulder patches that look like stitched-together alms befitting an eighteenth-century Oliver-esque urchin with a cockney accent saying young-British-urchin things like, "Thankee, govnah, for these right decrous togs ya saw fit to bqueath."
Anyway, Liz indicates to an already disinterested audience of me that precious little has transpired in her life this past week, as her topic for discussion is her latest kiss with Max Evans. Yeah, yeah, it was amazing, it was earth-shattering, it was inexplicable. I guess Lizs brain has conveniently omitted the part where the aftermath of said kiss led to the other kisser fleeing from the scene as if he had just power-smooched a big box filled with broken glass. So as they reach Marias locker and her frustration with Lizs insipid "well, he was, it was, duh" rhetoric reaches an unusually obvious fever-pitch, Maria chooses to hide behind her herbal remedies and tries to calm Liz down with a few eye droppers-ful with something called "grief relief. I got it from my mothers shop. Its this herbal remedy that shocks the body back into reality when the minds gone into overload." Oh please God, just let it be arsenic and we can be done with this whole thing right now. She offers the elixir to Liz and suggests that it may be necessary for use at some future time. Maria then indicates the impending arrival of Max "Insert Ostensibly Pass Ear Humor Here" Evans, walking toward them. Marias off, and Max and Liz are alone. Max stares ambiguously down at Liz and inquires, "Whats that?" Thinking he means her Victorian-Era Vagrant shirt, I begin loudly ad-libbing, "Well, Maxwell, these togs is..." But apparently he simply meant the crack vial Maria has handed off, and Liz quashes the topic altogether by assuring Max that its "nothink." Due to the obvious time constraints of this already eternal opening sequence, Liz forgoes the necessary segue and skips right to "Yknow, Max, the other night when we kissed . . ." But before Liz has a chance to launch into a big prepared speech brought to you by the letter "I" and the number "1," because of how much it looks like "I," Isabel interrupts and tells Max that Michael has been acting weird. Max, ahem, jokes, "Weirder than usual?" and I even pass my hands over my eyes for a moment, like when people watch horror movies, suddenly gripped with panic that Maxs quip is about to yield another one of those macabre grins we were subjected to last week. But Max is back to his old, just-plain-uninteresting self, and I for one could not be more relieved for this compulsory return to form. Isabel remains really cagey about whatever it is thats bothering Michael, and it seems like her entire motive is in getting Max to follow Michael into the bathroom to "see whats going on." Its such a staged, inauthentic moment that if someone approached me and gave me said speech, I would never hesitate in my instantly formed belief that, "Oh, cool. Surprise party for me in the bathroom." Thats just how narcissistic I am.
So Max leaves Liz with barely a word, and into the boys room we go. Michael is slumped over the sink, washing his face madly. Upon Maxs approach, Michael recoils and demands privacy. He then recreates an event in which I partook exactly zero times in the entire course of my high school career and walks into a stall. Max walks to said stall, and Michael again demands that Max leave him alone. Max finally fake obliges, leaving me wondering if anyone thought he wasnt going to open the door, pretend to leave, and remain in the bathroom. Pretty much the only person who misses out on this brilliant scheme is Michael himself, who waits the requisite no seconds before exiting. Much to the surprise of the people who watch this show but have somehow not seen any of the six thousand promos leading up to it, Michael has a black eye. And really weird teeth. One of these things is new, and one has been there all along, but right now Im just too giddy at the prospect of this show trying to take on a Big Issue with the vaguest modicum of subtlety or tact to remember which one is which.
Discredits.
In the most clichd use of locomotive imagery as harbinger of evil since damsels in distress were tied to train tracks in turn-of-the-century silent movies, Max and Michael stand morosely watching a freight train separate the right and wrong sides of town. You know youve got a screwed up socioeconomic environment in a place where tacky neon diners and tourists in trailers connotes "right." Max inquires as to Michaels unfortunate run-in with his unconvincing purple stage make-up, and Michael replies that "he was drunk." Apparently, Michaels foster father (a.k.a. "Tony Clifton") has laid a hand on him before, just never this badly. Max worries that people are going to ask questions, and Michael asks Max to fix it. I think he mumbles something about trying to heal it himself, but Im sure all he was able to do on contact was "make it really itchy," as the extent of Michaels powers has repeatedly indicated. Foregoing the "maybe we should just wait and see if that doesnt heal itself" non-bravura performance, Max heals the eye and tells Michael -- and not for the final time, Im sure -- that "you dont have to protect him. Hes not even your real father." Wow, isnt this a frighteningly sanitized perspective on the part of the WB that domestic abuse only happens in lower-class environments to adopted children? The impoverished really are savages, arent they? Oh, Christ, look at what this show has done to me -- Im actually grounding my evolving world view in the sociological teachings of Michigan J. Frog. So Max waves a hand or whatever he does and manipulates molecular structure once more. You know whats quaint and a little sad? That the writers genuinely believe that every time an alien works his or her mad voodoo shit, the moment can be imbued with drama enough to make us all "oooooooh." Like weve never, ever seen anything like it since, say, the last episode. Michael makes Max swear that the entire situation is between "you and me," and one can practically see the skid marks left by the Alienmobile as Max steams toward town to start breaking his promise as soon as non-humanly possible.