But the wacky escapades of the scene were bound to give way to the strenuous endeavors of Roswell's loudest lip mics eventually. Seriously. That sound is so not necessary. Ever. Breathing like they'd been dwelling in an underwater city for years before discovering that they did not possess gills, and smackier than a Long Island receptionist with a fresh pack of cherry Hubba-Bubba, Liz and Max spoil another brilliantly lit (read: pitch black) night scene simply by committing the crime of appearing somewhere within it. Gettin' busy in the Alienmobile, the pillow talk ("headrest cushion on the driver's side talk"?) concerns Liz's mumbling something about "the movie," to which Max responds that he hears that "it got bad reviews." Yikes. How inadvertently self-referential. Having lost at least two viewers to sexy fun times just because of poor press, one can only hope that the few lone and misguided fans of said bad film deluge the movie theater owner's house with little bottles of Tabasco sauce. Sound crazy? Well, I hear it's worked before. But at least this lascivious sequence is disrupted by an event of possible plot development, as a flashlight shines through the Alienmobile window to reveal the triumphant return of one Renee Zellweger (no, really, I know it's not her. You already told me that, but I've known all along. Stop composing that e-mail. Don't press that send button. 'Cause I already know. So don't you go and -- aw, crap, see what you've gone and done?) to the small screen. She bangs on the window looking ten kinds of crazy, yelling something about being followed, that they should act like normal kids. She even tosses in that old standby for thin science fiction plots out of the Ten Lazy Ways to Instigate Universal Paranoia handbook: "Don't. Trust. Anyone." She runs off with a promise to find them again, but nevertheless vows to solve the biggest unsolved mystery this show, and the world, has ever experienced: How the hell did she wrap up that role in Bridget Jones? Was it her brilliant comedic turn as the memorable "Gina" in Empire Records, or maybe the dramatic prowess displayed in A Price Above Rubies? It's like the people who cast her in that film never even read the damn book, y'know? Yeah, well, neither did I.
Opening credits: Hey! A new shot at the end of the end of the credits! All six black-clad teens stand, alt-rock style, on a rocky embankment overlooking water. I take this to symbolize the increasing push to make this a truly ensemble show, one that stands up and proudly admits, "When we're canceled, we are all very much canceled. No spin-offs, no hair dye commercials, no Teen Steam-esque self-help exercise videos for fat girls who need television stars to help them motivate. Just canceled. Together." Good for them.