We join the action in progress this week, with Isabel "Bust a Move" Evans breasting (now available in verb form for the first time ever, in order to keep up with the undeniably chesty nature of this sequence) into an old haunt known as Ambiguous Scary Locale. She kicks a door open and shines a flashlight around a warehousey-looking space, and I feel a brief and dispiriting pang that I used a "headlights illuminating the way" joke in last week's recap that probably would have been far more appropriate here. But any feelings of sadness I had been experiencing today are quickly wiped away by the grand prize in Isabel's Scavenger Hunt Through Hell, for her flashlight comes to rest on a still pool of peroxide and inexplicably applied Mac Makeup products, which...oh, wait, it's Tess. And she's bloody and hurt! Oh, the hilarity. Er, I mean "humanity." Isabel runs to her damaged friend and leans down over her, doing her best to do justice to the stage direction "makes entirety of twelve-year-old male viewing audience titter with not-fully-comprehended delight," considering the extremely low-cut nature of her red strapless prom dress. Heh. "Titter."
Tess looks up at Isabel, her face bruised and her mouth a bloody mess. She too-dramatically intones, "Isabel?" as if she's just finished watching every war movie, Meryl-Streep-dying-of-a-terminal-illness flick, and pathos-ridden Broadway musical to be released in the last fifty years. You can practically hear a Dido version of "A Little Fall of Rain" swelling on the product-placed soundtrack now. Isabel puts the flashlight on the ground to inspect her, then picks Tess up and essentially drags her from the room with one hand, holding the flashlight in the other. Through empty rooms, down hallways and steps, Isabel lives up to the role of Queen Bitch Goddess we've all known for a year she was born to play. Running, running, running. Finally, the two enter a room they perceive, I imagine, to be some kind of destination, though in reality it looks identical to every room they passed through to arrive at this one. Tess falls to the ground and Isabel locks a door. Isabel returns to her side and holds Tess's face, demanding, "Stay with me, dammit. Don't die on me now" in a very inspirational Rocky VIII: Revenge of the Skins kind of way. Which, all things considered, in the current career non-trajectory of one Sylvester Stallone, I'm sure he'd be willing to agree to make without much of a negotiation. Get Carter? More like Get Temp Job. 'Cause you're gonna need it, Sly. Anyway, a light appears underneath the door, and Isabel stands up to watch as the bolts slide themselves aside and the door glides open. Cue promo: "It's you." Coooooool. And nearly dialogue-free, too! The way crappy dialogue is best delivered. Is not at all.
Opening credits: The cover of the Roswell Daily Record reports sightings of a "flying saucer" in the Roswell region. How "Carvel Ice Cream, 1985" of them. Were they ever really called that? And if so, did it put extra pressure on the Corporate Branding Department to give more exposure to their other cakes and ice creamy confections? Because you don't want to piss off Fudgy the Whale, ever. This I know for a fact. Fudgy the Whale can be a cruel mistress, indeed. Do not taunt Fudgy the Whale.
Isabel walks toward a darkened room and opens a door as the words "two hours earlier" appear on the screen in the font MT Tarantino Bold. Oh, the fractured narrative of it all. How very Pulp Fiction of them. Inside said darkened room, hushed whispers abound, and when Isabel is firmly in said room, the lights turn on and an assemblage of about fifteen people inside the Crashdown yells, "Surprise!" It's a surprise party, see. All of the usual suspects are there, including a scattered (and frequently changing) number of extras meant to represent the many friends Isabel used to have when we were led briefly to believe that she was a popular girl. Also present is the gone-and-also-forgotten adoptive matriarch of the Evans family who, despite the changes in hair to almost every other member of the cast, must have sat in the stylist's chair and repeatedly requested, "Do you have anything in an...oh, I don't know...identical?" Hello, Bangs. Your adherence to MBTV Nickname Consistency is most welcome here. She hugs her daughter and tells her that Max planned the entire event. Isabel turns to spot Max "Tyrannosaurus Pecs" Evans standing behind her, and offers with gratitude, "I can't believe you did this with everything that's happening." They walk and talk across the dining room, Isabel insisting, "I don't know what to say." Maria stands to Michael (both of whose hair and clothes look disturbingly within the realm of normal) and offers, "Say that you're surprised, because he was totally, totally stressing that you'd figure it out." Isabel again insists that she had no idea, and Michael garbles the line, "Alex told you to come by so he could give you back a book. I mean, what a lame excuse. How could you not figure that out?" in the identical way that he garbles, "We have to do something, Max, and we have to do it now" or "Well, I don't trust that guidance counselor/teacher/new girl/homeless guy/dry cleaner/toll collector/stray cat" or "Just insert every line I ever say here" or even "We have to do something, Max, and we have to do it now." Anyway. Where is Alex, Isabel would like to know. "He's, uh, well, he's still getting dressed," Maria retorts with the exact opposite of the expert lying acumen apparent in someone who spent twenty-two consecutive weeks last year running from the FBI.
Over in the Crashdown kitchen, Courtney regards a tray of glasses filled with ice, and she runs a hand over them and voila! Soda! It's like living in the special effects future. And we already know she's an alien. Thanks, though. Courtney exits the kitchen and hands a glass of I Can't Believe It's Not Obvious-brand cola to an unsuspecting Isabel, who is in the process of listening to her mother go on, "Your dad is beside himself that he's still stuck in Minneapolis." Wow. You can practically hear the "failed contract negotiation" door hitting Mr. Evans's ass on the way out of the WB's corporate offices. He's gone, like most of the rest of the parents, so why bother bringing him up and making sure we know that Bit Part Guy is in "Minneapolis"? If by "Minneapolis," you mean "on an adjoining lot filming a 'notable guest appearance' as a baby-killer on SVU before having his parking validated and his ticket out of Hollywood permanently stamped." Not that I'm picky. Or tangential. But the subject is quickly changed, as Bangs asks Isabel, "By the way, honey, why are you wearing that dress?" Because she must have thought this was the pilot episode of the Isabel-oriented spin-off I Strip For Ratings, but I digress. Michael leaps in and backs Bangs up: "Yeah, if you really didn't know about the party, how'd you know to dress up?" Isabel does so much hemming that she nearly creates a dress that actually covers the upper third of her body, telling the two that she had "other plans."
At which point, other plans come oozing through the Crashdown's front door in the form of Mel Glibson, surprisingly not wearing the ill-fitting rented tux and Carrie Bradshaw-sized corsage necessary to match the prom-night-in-Roswell fashion ante Isabel has laid down. He apologizes for being late and hands her a bouquet of purple flowers, saying, "I didn't know there would be a party." She apologizes too, saying she didn't know either, and thanks him for the flowers. Michael, so adept at pointless accusations that he clearly spent his summer vacation recording the audio-book version of The Big Book Of Exceedingly Generic Paranoia (not like I've seen him in anything else, after all), threatens Mel, "Wait, who's ever heard of purple roses? What'd you, like, dye them or something?" Isabel tells him that they are "Sterling Roses," which are very rare and expensive and blah blah blah more-alien-culture-and-less-horticulture-please-cakes. Mel offers, "I'm impressed. No one's ever given me a surprise party." Bangs asks when Mel's birthday is, and after being supplied with the date, lobs, "And what year might that be?" Um, by the way, Mrs. Evans? Word. Awkward pause. Isabel breaks the silence by turning the conversation to the far more socially acceptable bloody gash she's just spotted on Mel's neck, which I'm kind of surprised she can even see through the one layer of George-Michael-in-the-Faith-video facial hair which I just have to go ahead and imagine covers his entire body. Because I'm just that offended by his creepy, creepy ways. He acts the big lumberjack dude: "Must have happened when I slipped down the ravine on the dig today." Actually, I guess I'm sort of willing to believe him. Seeing as there's no way this accident could have occurred while, say, shaving. Isabel dabs the blood away with a napkin and receives a blurry flash of blurry redness. She flinches. He intuits that "this obviously isn't a good time for a date." Which is just a darn shame, seeing as Glibson went ahead and blew his whole Social Security check buying those Rick Springfield tickets for their evening out before going back to his place a for fun-filled night of Atari games and Betamax rentals. Because he's OLD, people. She tells him to stay and party with the kids, but after Michael snarks that he should "go," Glibson remembers some work he can find to do and takes his leave in short order. The suspicious crowd disperses, and Bangs whispers in Isabel's ear, "You know, honey. Not now, not tonight, but pretty soon you and I are gonna have to have a little talk." Max slides up on Isabel's other side and offers, "Ditto," which I only thought was "Get out" the first six or seven thousand times I rewound the moment in horror. Isabel experiences another flash of redly redness and drops her glass of I Can't Believe It's Not Obvious. Courtney rushes over to spread the generic fear. "I'll get that," she snips. "This is your night." Steely gaze. Self-righteous walk. Looks like someone's trying to get in her last licks of "ACTING!" before boarding the "Whatever Happened To" Express and purchasing a one-way ticket for a little metaphorical town I know of called "Minneapolis." If you know what I mean. And I think you do. I mean, Courtney: Go. Away.
Over at Whittaker's office, the Lizbot's dance chip continues to malfunction to within an inch of totaling itself completely. She's vamping around the place by herself in a teal tank top, dumping an empty file in an otherwise empty drawer which collectively constitute the entirety of the Congressgal's files. The Congressgal interrupts Liz mid-shimmy and asks accusingly where she got the CD. Liz sheepishly apologizes and tells her that the CDs were on Whittaker's desk, but as the Congressgal leans down and locks a file cabinet with the stage direction "I. AM. LOCKING. THE. FILE. CABINET," Whittaker tells her not to worry and changes the subject: "Run Lola Run. Great soundtrack. I loved this movie." And it is. And I did, too. But I've said it before, and here it is again: excessive pop-culture cross-referencing with no contextualized need for it does not automatically ensure for crackling dialogue. And Run Lola Run? I mean, great movie, but how embarrassingly 1998 of them. Whittaker proclaims the movie "the story of [her] life," because she's so clearly a redheaded German firebrand with multiple lives. I guess that that telling moment in her backstory hasn't been revealed to the viewing audience just yet. Whittaker sends Liz home, and Liz makes quickly for the door because "I'm on way to meet my friends to see The Waterboy before getting home to catch the tail end of President Clinton's impeachment hearings." Okay, she doesn't really say that. But she totally could have. Because it's 1998. Where she's really going is to a party at the Crashdown, and she reveals that information to Whittaker, who plays The Loser Elder in responding that she'd like to come along, like she's the mom at the fifth-grade slumber party who comes downstairs to hang out with the girls and then just won't go away. You know that one. Whittaker retires to the restroom for a moment, and Liz goes all MacGyver on our asses when she effortlessly jimmies open the locked file cabinet drawer with a letter opener and rifles through a collection of CDs until she comes across one conveniently marked, "Liz Parker, Date: Sep 6-19." Nice secret filing system, super sleuth. And even smarter is Liz's move, which is NOT putting the CD she takes out of the case into the Run Lola Run case and listening to the damn thing at home, but rather putting it into the CD player on Whittaker's desk and plugging in a pair of headphones. Play. It's a conversation between Liz and Maria about Liz not wanting to run into Max at the movies. Whittaker reenters the room and Liz takes off the headphones. Everyone flips her hair. Liz looks down, relieved at least that the plastic iMac she's been saddled with lacks any and all electrical components and will therefore be immune from this pesky Y2K thing everyone's been talking so much about. Here in 1998.
Back at the Crashdown, Isabel opens a door in a back room somewhere to discover Max eavesdropping on a cell phone call she has just ended. She tells him that she was calling Mel Glibson to thank him for the flowers, and chides Max for making him feel "really welcome." Max argues that Mel wasn't invited. Isabel says that she invited him, and Max demands, "Don't do it again." Isabel admirably captures the essence of something close to "incredulous" in asking, "Are you forbidding me?" He tells her that it's "too dangerous" to let anyone new in, and she calls him out: "Like it was too dangerous to let Liz Parker in?" Dude, exactly. He proclaims that that situation was "different," and she agrees, "I can date someone and keep my mouth shut at the same time. You couldn't." Ha! Take that, King Ineffective of the sovereign planet of Lame Duck. She tells him that he'll never be her king, "not in this lifetime," before being suddenly struck by another flash of reddish redness, this time the vision clearing up just slightly to reveal a red neon sign reading "Red's."
But before The Battle Of The Buff Upper Bods comes to blows, Maria interrupts the conversation and warns Isabel, "I think you'd better come out here. There's a policeman to see you." Dour badness reigns as a worried Isabel steps back into the dining room and the assembled crowd parts to reveal -- oh, God -- it's Alex "Skeletal Remains Of The Day" Whitman, bedecked in a policeman's outfit more legitimate than any of the law-enforcing garb we seen on the show so far, and dark sunglasses so reminiscent of Porno's first series appearance that I'm surprised the pounding dance music Alex turns on isn't instantly drowned out by a shout from across town of "Where the hell are my...ow, my eyes!" Realizing that the fireman, cowboy, and Indian (and the remainder of the "et al" characters I should know by now, seeing as I'm smack in the middle of my two millionth Village People joke in my Roswell recapping history) won't be joining him today, Alex removes said sunglasses and begins a "sexy" dance to "Come On Ride The Train." The hat comes off. So does the tie. Meanwhile, somewhere on the set of Castaway, a senior member of the Hanks family shakes violently in horror before being soothed by a viewing of his do-goody PSA begging Americans for a World War II memorial, followed by a stern reminder that he too prostituted himself in schlock before ascending to the Hollywood throne of "Earthbound manifestation of Jesus" several years later. Take that, Joe. And the volcano your self-righteous ass exploded from.
Alex dances. Nipple city. Bangs gets prudish. Moving on.
Back in the kitchen that Michael used to work in when he was the Crashdown's head chef for a few mysterious weeks last spring, he looks dourly over a collapsed birthday cake when Courtney comes in to pester and annoy further. She wonders what it takes to get a cake out of a guy like him (Um, ew? You could take a whole cake right out of a guy like him. And then some), and she takes a bite, noting, "It tastes like Tabasco. Did you use Tabasco in a cake? I like that." Yes, we know. Because YOU ARE AN ALIEN. Remember when we got it before? Yeah, well, we still get it. The Oxford English Dictionary was just forced to change the word "foreshadow" to "fiveshadow," so much more blatant are the winking nods to Courtney's eventual coming-out alien ball. All of which is to say: we get it. Yeesh. Further banter ensues. Maria enters at a particularly sexy-looking moment between Courtney and Michael, and The Cat I Don't Have leaps up on my lap to watch members of his own kind engage in a battle of his own kind. Catfight, you know. Maria tells Courtney that Michael is "taken," as Courtney asks, "Did you sew your name into his jeans" and Maria nicely volleys, "You'll never find out." Meanwhile, Officer Lank of Precinct One Pound enters mid-rant about his failed strip-tease in front of Isabel's mother, a rant which ends, "I spent a hundred and fifty dollars to rent this costume, and do you have any idea how it feels to walk around all day with a thong up your ass?" Both respond, without bothering to look away from each other: "Yes." Heh.
Dining room. Kyle is in the middle of telling a random assemblage of teenage men about Tess and how she's completely moved in on his life. Isabel interrupts to ask just where Tess is, and Bangs interrupts a moment later to interrupt during an embarrassing moment in the story. More properly contextualized hijinks. What show is this? But the status quo is soon to return to form, as Max tells Michael he needs to talk to him, and we cut from that to Michael telling Isabel that Max passed down an order that she stay away from Mel Glibson. She stands up in anger and experiences another flash. And then it all goes super creepy, as the crowd begins a rousing chorus of happy birthday, during which Isabel has a prolonged vision of a bloodied Tess running in the front door of the Crashdown and screaming for Isabel to help her. The song ends. The crowd claps. Ha ha, bloody Tess. And not in the British way.
More whining in the back room. Isabel tells Max and Michael about her vision, and Michael assumes, "It's gotta be Nasedo's killer, he's after Tess." But, for a change, Courtney ambles in at the same time as always of 8 PM CST (that's Contrived Standard Time) just at the appropriate moment to quip, "Trust me, nobody's after Tess. All that blonde hair and eyeshadow. She's like Dolly Parton without the jugs." First of all, word. You know of what your speak, wise Courtney-san. You should register in the forums, even though we're all better than you are. up, if I were a glorified extra poised on the brink of character elimination who was nothing more than a grainy black-and-white (and oh yeah, blond) photocopy of every other blonde on the show and the planet, I'd be a little more careful in reserving judgment until I knew my place in the cast was secure. She's the expendable generic girl in the first half-hour of a horror movie. The Ghostbuster who is only added in the sequel. She's like the fourth Michael Keaton in Multiplicity. Shut. Up. Courtney. I'm just sayin'.
And so on. Max suggests that they start looking, and that they should further investigate Mel Glibson. Isabel insists that he has nothing to do with this all, but Max points to the fact that he was bleeding when he showed up at the Crashdown. Maria and Liz bust in, and after being apprised of Tess's current status ("Missink?" Liz muses worriedly), Liz adds Whittaker's tapped phones to the list of suspicious new signals. Oh, and she's outside, chilling at the party. By the way. Nice work, Liz. Michael proposes that Whittaker is wrapped up in the whole Tess thing, and Max tosses out the order that Michael should break into her office and root around for the information that Liz is in constant contact with, often alone, every day. Max is going to find Porno and stake out the ol' Glibson place down by the river. I think. He tells Isabel to stick around and act natural. Back in the dining room, Whittaker introduces herself to Isabel, and Bangs approaches and tells Whittaker that it's "an honor" to have her in their company. "Not at all," she responds, "saves me from an evening of Senate budget proposals and Jay Leno." Going to a teenager's birthday party? Somebody needs herself a new man or a better vibrator, or at the very, very least a better cable feed to The Lifetime Network, stat, because this total unwillingness to go home or socialize with peers is both creepy and sad. And for Chrissakes, watch Letterman or find a Friends rerun. What you are, sixty? Isabel shoots Liz the very same glance I shoot the Shiri cover of Teen affixed to my bulletin board with a bowie knife through the left eye and with the big black X through it every Tuesday morning before I start my recap. Oh, Katherine, how I feel your pain. Nice cover of Teen this month, by the way. I notice you were the only female cast member on it. Hmmmm.
Over at the pile of presents, Isabel picks one up at random and unwraps a box to uncover a small green plastic figurine of an alien. Whittaker looks on suspiciously because it's her civic duty to feel morally outraged by the proliferation of unrecyclable plastic in Kitschtown, USA. Or maybe it's for some other reason. Bangs asks, "Who's the comedian?" and I volley, "Not Jay Leno, that's for sure!" just loudly enough that The Cat I Don't Have jumps off my lap, nibbles a few bites of Mime Brand Imaginary Kibble, and bats at the not-scratching-post I don't have in my living room with his adorable little paws of indeterminate color. We're indignant about this show together. It's you and me against the world, Cat I Don't Have. Meow. Awwwww. ["Am I sensing a joke at the expense of a certain boss who happens to have two all-too-real cats, tales about whom she may or may not have tortured you with on a long car trip in the recent past? No? No, of course not." -- Sars]
Another vision. Isabel sees a car speeding toward the neon "Red's" sign, and excuses herself to the back, claiming a headache. Maria and Liz follow immediately after her in a none-too-subtle way that screams, "Headache? But we thought YOU WERE AN ALIEN!" Shhh. Isabel begs Maria for her keys, and tells the other two that they have to trust her, as much as they may not like Tess. Liz, ever the faithful non-girlfriend to Max, warns them that "Max said not to leave." Isabel responds that Max isn't here, and Maria and Isabel take off, telling Liz that she has to stay and "cover." Way to lose her, ladies. My hat is off to you. Meow. Awwww.
Is this Porno's house? It's so dark everywhere. I think it is, else why would they have so many of Tess's personal belongings at their disposal? In her address book, Porno finds only Max and Michael's personal info, commenting, "Not a wide circle of friends." In case you starving professional fan-fic auteurs are out there looking for that big break, let me give you a heads-up with some character specificity: Max and Isabel can be found living at 6025 Murray Avenue, in Roswell, New Mexico. If you need to speak with them more quickly than the paced nature of the USPS allows, they can be reached by phone at their shared line of 505/555-0183. Over at The House That Government Subsidy Built, Michael spends his non-earned rent money renting 502 Powell Avenue, and his direct dial is 505/555-0166. Porno notes again that these are the only two addresses in her schmancy planner. Well, Porno, just how in hell is she supposed to foster any legitimate social connections on this planet if people keep giving her those fake TV phone numbers? Answer me that. Anyway, Max tells Porno that Tess never had anyone but Nasedo, and that she was really only close with Isabel because it was "too complicated" for her to get close to him. Porno, all gettin' down with the kids (or so he wishes if you know what I mean, and I think you do): "She wanted to jump your bones?" Max kind of admits to that, asking, "Happened to you?" "Yeah," Porno says. "In my dreams." Ha ha...ew. Thanks for more Porno backstory than I ever could have required, thanks. Hey, look, Tess's cell phone! Conveniently, the caller ID tells them that the last call received was from a 555-0188 (damn it, these bastards just never let up on her!), which Max calls and pretends to be an employee of "the phone company" (oh, good one), telling the called, "We're checking the lines." A familiar voice tells him, "What lines? This is a cell phone." Max covers, "Er, I mean service." Max asks who he's called. And because I'm such a fan of handing out personal information to complete strangers with misinformation about my profile, I understand the called's motives when he readily volunteers his name: "Grant Sorenson." Well, now, who the holy living...oh, right. Mel. Well then, why on Earth didn't he just go ahead and say "Mel," one is forced to wonder.
Whittaker's office. Michael leafs through suddenly easy-to-access private information, because this is, like, the four hundredth episode in a row where he trespasses for plot developing information and actually finds it. Pictures of Courtney. He takes them and, as the door to the office opens, he slips out a mysteriously appearing back door. Why did Liz let Whittaker leave the party? Why did Whittaker go straight back to the office? Why why WHY? Oh, and why doesn't Mel's phone have a caller ID feature on it, too? Huh? It's a cell phone. Too bad the good folks at 555-LOGIC seem to have bailed town without a forwarding number, leaving me with no legitimate answers to any of it. Any of it at all. 'Cause I tell you, that number just doesn't work at all.
Isabel and Maria pull up in front of a neon sign advertising "Red's Diner." There's the sign from the vision. There's the wrecked car from the vision. But where's the Tess? Oh, damn, that's a dissolving glove, isn't it? Isabel spots tire tracks in the ground, and they drive away from the neon sign to follow them. Dissolve to an indeterminate amount of time later, during which the Jetta has been following a pavement. Man, some cleat-like tires that first mystery car must have had. Or just another continuity brick. They pull up to a metal gate with a sign reading, "Chavez County Electric Power Facility Plant #2." Isabel senses that Tess is inside, and she tells Maria to pick up Michael and Max and meet her back there with the car. Maria resists letting her go in alone, but then, y'know, lets her. Isabel's dress gets caught on an errant piece of metal and the bottom rips off. Oh, hello, gams. Welcome to the nudie show.
Porno likes hanging out with Max in dark, shadowy spaces when the danger is high, it seems. The Dragnet-esque duo are lately to be found skulking around Mel's pad, Porno cautiously eyeing Max from one corner of the room as if to say, "I wish this were one of the six million stories in the naked city. Well, the 'naked' part, anyway." Sorry, that was in poor taste, wasn't it? Let's try again, then, shall we? Porno just wants to get his man! Oops, did it again, didn't I? Porno just wants the guilty party brought to his knees! I, um, er. Porno just wants to draw his gun! Damn. Porno just wants to be orally gratified by an underage boy! Well, now, that one wasn't even close, was it? Either way, the door is soon to open in the hotel room and reveal Glibson to spoil all of Porno's fun ("When they say hourly rates, I expect the whole damn hour!"), and Porno is forced to draw his gun on an older man. Glibson wants to know what the hell the two are doing there pointing a gun at his head, and Glibson corroborates other stories in telling them that he called Tess's cell phone for advice on Isabel's birthday present. "I knew I'd be on the dig all day and was pressed for time when she suggested flowers. She said purple roses were Isabel's favorite." Porno apologizes and drops his gun, shamefaced. Glibson tells Porno "and Deputy Dog" to get out and stop harassing him. Oops. Close, Porno. But no, er, "cigar." D'oh! And for cheesy phallic references, you just can't get more 1998 than that.
Crashdown back alley. Courtney is enjoying herself the pleasures of a smoke break, because she is a baaaaaaad girl. Michael approaches and rips the cigarette out of her mouth (dude, in my heavier smoking days, that was enough to get me to rip a strip off you. Butt out, Mr. Thetruth.com. No one cares what you think about my smoking. And yes, pun intended on "butt") and acts the tough guy: "Who are you? You know what I'm talking about." She asks if he's "high or something," which is actually kind of funny, and he threatens her with the charming beginnings of physical violence when he brandishes the pictures of her he stole from Whittaker's office and grabs her arm: "You're gonna tell me exactly what's going on." She doesn't have to tell him anything. But she tells him something when he demands to know why a Congresswoman is interested in a waitress, and she lies to him thusly: "Because I was sleeping with her stepson, is why. He screwed his life up with drugs and I screwed my life up with him." Nice! Now there's the Tuesday night Katherine Helmond/Tracey Gold vehicle of I Marijuana Love You, I Just Wish I Cannabis showing on Lifetime that would keep Whittaker off the streets and out of the Carvel ice-cream birthday cake that is so rightfully not hers. Jesus. More drama: "I promised that bitch that I would never see him again. So I guess that she's just making sure that I keep that promise." Pregnant pause. He thanks her sheepishly, and she slaps him and calls him a jerk. Which he is, you know. Maria pulls up in the Jetta to eye their meeting suspiciously before calling out that Isabel is an alien -- I mean "in trouble" -- and demanding Michael's presence in the car. And they're off.
Almost inside of the flashback sequence now (the episode catches up with itself. Ooh, meta-Roswell. This scene must be called "The Bonnie Situation," then), Isabel blazes a hole in a metal door to gain access to whatever it is she senses is beyond. Running, running, running. She kicks a door open and shines a flashlight around a warehousey-looking space, and I feel a brief and dispiriting pang that I used a "headlights illuminating the way" joke in last week's recap that probably would have been more appropriate here. But any feelings of sadness I had been experiencing today are quickly wiped away by the grand prize in Isabel's Scavenger Hunt Through Hell, for her flashlight comes to rest on a still pool of peroxide and inexplicably applied Mac Makeup products, which...oh, wait, it's Tess. And she's bloody and hurt! Oh, the hilarity. Er, I mean "humanity." Isabel runs to her damaged friend and leans down over her, doing her best to do justice to the stage direction "makes entirety of twelve-year-old male viewing audience titter with not-fully-comprehended delight," considering the extremely low-cut nature of her red, strapless prom dress. Heh. "Titter."
Tess looks up at Isabel, her face bruised and her mouth a bloody mess. She too-dramatically intones, "Isabel?" as if she's just finished watching every war movie, Meryl-Streep-dying-of-a-terminal-illness flick, and pathos-ridden Broadway musical to be released in the last fifty years. You can practically hear a Dido version of "A Little Fall Of Rain" swelling on the product-placed soundtrack now. Isabel puts the flashlight on the ground to inspect her, then picks Tess up and essentially drags her from the room with one hand, holding the flashlight in the other. Through empty rooms, down hallways and steps, Isabel lives up to the role of Queen Bitch Goddess we've all known for a year she was born to play. Running, running, running. Finally, the two enter a room they perceive, I imagine, to be some kind of destination, though in reality it looks identical to every room they passed through to get to this one. Tess falls to the ground and Isabel locks a door. Isabel returns to her side and holds Tess's face, demanding, "Stay with me, dammit. Don't die on me now" in a very inspirational Rocky VIII: Revenge of the Skins kind of way. Which, all things considered in the current career non-trajectory of one Sylvester Stallone, I'm sure he'd be willing to agree to make without much of a negotiation. Get Carter? More like Get Temp Job. 'Cause you're gonna need it, Sly. Anyway, a light appears underneath the door, and Isabel stands up to watch as the bolts slide themselves aside and the door glides open. Cue promo: "It's you." Coooooool. And nearly dialogue-free, too! The way crappy dialogue is best delivered. Is not at all. Sound familiar? Yeah, I thought so.
Liz stands in the back room of the Crashdown trying to contact someone on a cell phone, when Bangs happens in and asks after Isabel. Oh, she's real busy in the Flashback Sequence, but you can call her on her cell phone if it's an emergency. Got a pen? Okay, it's 555... The door opens. It's Congressgal Whittaker. Dun-DUN-duuuuun.
Commercials: What the...who are these...what are these large men with black t-shirts and tight jeans doing IN MY HOUSE??? And why AM I NAKED? Gah! Oh, I guess I've got the urge. The urge to herbal. I didn't even know how badly until now. Yeah, this isn't that bad after all, is it? You gonna keep those shirts on, cowboys?
Watch Gilmore Girls. It's cute. But not too cute. Okay, then. Tape it, maybe? Once? Forget it. Sigh.
It's plot development backstory made easy as Whittaker cops to a very interesting mistake: "It wasn't her I was looking for." Eh? "I thought she was you. But neither of you looks like you did in the other life. I knew I needed one of the female hybrids. It was a fifty-fifty chance." Well, she killed the right one for my money. She just didn't kill her ENOUGH. Whittaker is looking for "the Granolith," which I'll arbitrarily capitalize. O...kay... She keeps rolling, I'll keep recapping: "Don't pretend you don't know, we've been looking for it. We can't exist here like you, not in our natural states. We don't have the DNA. All we have are these...skins. Our limit is fifty years. Our time is almost up. I'm going to find the Granolith if it's the last thing I do." She claims, in the most sinister of ways, that Isabel has helped them before, and will again. Whittaker killed Nasedo to save Isabel, seeing as "your kind doesn't rule anymore." Isabel has no idea what she's talking about. So Whittaker throws some more Intergalactic Fun Facts at an unsuspecting audience: "Let me give you a piece of history about your planet." Nice beautiful mount airy soundtrack, by the way. You sure you don't mean "planetarium"? "Your name was Melandra." Isn't that Maria's real name? "You were beautiful. Even more beautiful than you are now." Get the guys at Maxim on finding her alien counterpart for a shoot, would you? Anyway, "You had a great love. And for him, for us, you betrayed your brother. Your race. You sacrificed him. You sacrificed everyone. And history, my dear, always repeats itself." Isabel screams that Whittaker is a liar and grabs Tess to leave. Whittaker throws Tess to the ground with the wave of a hand and demands again for Isabel to tell her what she wants to know. And then Whittaker runs and runs and runs. Really awkwardly, too, in her sensible Payless pumps, which look like a pump and feel, I imagine, a great deal like a pump.
Showdown. Isabel and Tess are keeping low when Whittaker finds them in the middle of the floor in yet another abandoned room. She grabs some kind of ventilation tube and pulls it off the wall, advancing on Isabel and claiming -- and not for the first time, I might add -- that she's going to "destroy them all." Fake sparks fly as Whittaker brandishes the pump at Isabel, who stands up and pushes the sparks back with her bare hand. Whittaker explodes just as Max, Michael, Maria, and Liz run in, each with varying looks of "I can't believe they actually let her do something finally" as glued to their faces as it is to mine.
Porno carries out an unconscious Tess ("She IS young, but there's just something missing here," he thinks), and Max tells Isabel, "You're getting stronger" and "Nothing can come between us." Isabel can only choke out, "She said things...something about a Granolith." Michael offers to "talk," but she wants to be alone.
And, finally, over at Silly String Central, Isabel walks in alone and begins a little speech: "Happy Birthday, Isabel. I'm eighteen today, mother." Legal! Let the guilt-free lusting begin, knaves. She continues addressing her memories of her night on Krypton directly to her mother, wondering why she hasn't come back since that day of first-season finale-dom. "It isn't fair. I need you. I need you. Where are you? Oh, God, It's my birthday, we should be together. How could you leave us? How could you tell us this important information about destinies and saving the world and then just disappear?" The speech is cheesy and all, but Isabel kicks my ass all the way through it. "What was she talking about? She said I betrayed my family. Is it true? Am I a terrible person? Answer me. Answer me!" And while I thought and still think that the coolest possible end to this episode would have been if she'd finished her escalating Our Town speech and the closing frame had just come up with no contrived resolution, I have to consider the source and not be all that surprised when Isabel rears back and hurls a shoe at the pods, revealing a bright light beyond. She crawls to the pod and looks through. A sliding door opens, and she's in a glowing room featuring a glowing orb (natch) coming out of the ground, with a black upside-down cone facing down into it. She stares. "The Granolith." ["Cue the set designer, hoping aloud that nobody in the audience saw Contact." -- Sars] Credits. Meow. Awwwww.