Hi, y'all, I'm Chuck, and I'm the latest foster parent to get saddled with poor, abandoned Roswell. Since Pamie tried the "I've never watched this show and know nothing about it" experiment last week, I figured that, since I've never watched the show either, I'd avoid redundancy by doing a bit of pre-viewing research. Then I realized that it really doesn't matter, as crap is pretty much crap, regardless of how much you know. But I did at least get character names. So, now I'm a marginally informed foster parent, and look forward to abusing my new charge.
Previously: People wandering on a lit dock. Liz tells Max that they came here (wherever that might be) for a reason, because Max's son is in trouble. On another planet. She tells him he needs to go back and "duwatyacamfer." How about a little diction, missy? Cut to partial shot of a spaceship, with voice-over (Max?) explaining that the ship is "there" and has been reassembled. "Our spaceship?" asks an incredulous female voice. No, you ninny, your other ship. An old guy with a gun delivers a message to Max, apparently via some long hair poking into the screen, to stop looking. A brief introduction to shape-shifting, which allows some guy to change appearances but not "what's inside," demonstrated by a bland-looking man morphing into another bland-looking man. Max, in different lighting, whines about his son.
We're in Los Angeles. The caption informs me that Los Angeles is in California, which is good because I wasn't sure. On the hill above a stadium, an old man sitting in a car (previously guy with the gun?) is getting all mushy about the lights of the city -- oh, no wonder he's mushy; he's just gotten blown by some trashy chick, whose head pops up into the shot as she sticks a piece of gum in her mouth. Yuck. This is so not a promising beginning. He gets pissed as she goes to light a cigarette, says how he quit, reminds her that she's forbidden to smoke in the car, tells her to smoke outside. Considering how attractive he is, which is not at all, and considering what she's just done, which is just this side of unbelievable, I'd say she has every right to enjoy a smoke. Hope it helps get rid of the taste, honey.
She protests, shrilly, complains that it's cold (um, then perhaps she should rethink that little non-dress she's wearing); he yammers on about her impending smoking-related demise, and she barks that he'll kill her before cigarettes do. Hmmm. Talk of dying on UPN; the Grim Reaper can't be far behind. She finally relents, stomping off to enjoy her tiny taste of death in peace. Of course, he gets whacked two seconds later: Dame Hoover gets blinded by a flash of light and then sees a glowing member of the trenchcoat Mafia walking away from the car. Pan to her, all freaked out, walking toward the car, bleating, "Joey?" And then we see what she sees, which is Joey, all burnt up and toasty-like, his skull smoking. Hee hee. Smoking.
It's daylight, and things go all "Jamie's Got a Gun" meets CSI with a close-up of police tape unspooling, then more close-ups of a coroner's van and the tire of a squad car. Shaky-cam action, blah blah blah, lots of people milling about looking official; two guys in suits wander in from opposite sides of the screen, apparently continuing an already-in-progress conversation. "So, how's a guy burn to death in his car without leaving behind so much as a scorch mark?" asks Suit One. I know the answer! Get some head from a skanky ho and then piss her off by making her smoke outside! Suit Two says that the "female witness says she saw an otherworldly figure." They start shuffling through the glove compartment and identify the dead guy as Joseph Ferrini, Jr., and then they find a scrap of paper with a New Mexico license plate on it.
And then there's the license plate itself, in all its Southwestern glory. Attached to a car. Amazing. An arm with a law enforcement patch knocks on a door. Max opens it; Michael sits at a counter behind him. The fuzz identifies himself as Deputy Brown from the Roswell Sheriff's department -- I really love it when they name black characters "Brown." I get so confused. Brown wants to ask Max some questions about a homicide (which he says like "Homo Side," just for the record, so perhaps he's looking for the new gay bar in town). Max looks down, all serious and demure, and the screen fades to the credits. Dido? No, thank you. So, I'm sure many have made note of this before, but Jason BEHR and Brendan FEHR?? Now that's otherworldly. Or just plain stupid.
Back to Max and lusty Officer Brown; Brown shows Max a picture of Joey (yep, he's the guy with the gun) and asks if Max recognizes him. Max says no; Brown says, "You sure?" Because so often someone will be like, "Oh, yes, you know what, I totally do recognize him, Mr. Crafty Officer. You got me." Max asks Brown who the guy in the photo is, and Brown gives him the rundown, in this out-of-place tone reminiscent of bad porn acting, while moving his eyes up and down really obviously, like he's checking Max out. But Mr. Policeman, I didn't order any pizza! Because they found Max's license plate number in Joey's car, Brown wants to know what's going on. Max says he has no idea, that he's only had the car for a couple of months. A close-up of Michael chewing, and then a close-up of the photo, and then a close-up of Michael chewing really slowly, tells me that Michael knows who this guy is, even if Max doesn't, and that Michael's hair was most likely the addressee in last week's shakedown scene.
At this point, Officer Brown becomes a plot catch-up device, reminding Max that he was arrested for armed robbery in Utah a few weeks ago (and imagining Max all imprisoned and stuff, I'm sure), in case he managed to block that hour out. Max says, "Those charges were dropped," and Officer Brown gets all huffy about what powerful lawyer daddies can do. As he leaves, Brown tells Max, "I'll be watching you." I bet he will. Brown puts on his cowboy hat, nods, and wanders off from whence he came, the flirtation over. "Great. This is all I need," says Max, at which point Michael and his hair flash back to Joey delivering his message and shooting out the back window of a pick-up truck. Michael tells Max he knows the dead guy.
Now Max is outside, wearing a different t-shirt, leaning against a tree, hair playfully mussed. He's talking to Liz. They're recapping recent events, helping out us newbies, with talk of shape-shifters, mysterious deaths that look like freak lightning strikes, Max's son (enough already!), and some other stuff that I can't really understand because they both sound like their mouths are stuffed with cotton, and I've misplaced my alien decoder ring. Of Joey, Liz says, "So he's the same guy. That wanted us to stop looking for your ship." Period. No question mark. Like she's the one who's been explaining everything to Max. It's funny; three days ago, I'd never heard of Shiri Appleby, except in passing barbs, and then, suddenly, in just one line, I understand everything. In addition to dreadful delivery, she looks disarmingly like Rachel from Real World San Francisco, without the disturbing super-buggy eyes. I think I hate her.
Max thinks a shape-shifter alien killed Joey -- apparently, there were two of them, but one died. So there's one left. Finally, something that makes sense. Two minus one equals one. I follow. Liz says, "How do you know. That he's not gonna try and kill you too." And then she looks like she made a no-no in her pants. Max knows it's risky, but he feels like he needs to contact his son. Whoops, lost again. Liz, quick on the uptake, says, "You have to contact your son. And the shape-shifter is the only one who might know how," summing things up poorly, and clarifying nothing. She finds her mark, steps forward, and drones, "Where do we start." Los Angeles. Duh.
She mopes over to the car and gets in, as though they're going to leave for Los Angeles this very second, without packing, even though they've been moving pretty slowly up to this point, and Max had time to change before meeting her. They argue about whether she'll go along, because she has a thing with her father (excuse me?) and because danger lurks. Liz says, "At least I've been to LA," to which Max replies, "I don't think Disneyland counts as LA." I can't even dredge up the energy to give that exchange the treatment it deserves, and I'm only ten minutes in. It's emotive music time, as Max says that he'll go alone, and Liz whines about staying behind, wondering what she should do, "Just go to class and pretend that everything's fine?" I swell with pride that she's actually managed to inflect a question, as Max assures her that she'll be along for every step of the way.
And go to class Liz does, apparently right away, where she gets a text message from Max ("MISS YOU ALREADY") on her Nokia cell phone while she's sitting in front of a giant Apple computer. The teacher interrupts Liz's reverie to inform her that she's been put on a team with Mr. Valenti and ask her what she thinks of them apples; Liz registers confusion, which I imagine is one of her few authentic emotions. The large-headed, helmet-coiffed gentleman to her stage-whispers, "Say yes," so Liz says, "Yes." Good Liz. I'm guessing Helmethead is Kyle Valenti. The teacher explains that "the job of the investigative journalist is to tell the truth no matter how uncomfortable or unpleasant that may be," and writes "the truth" on the blackboard for the deaf children in the room. She wants the class to take some big-ass cameras (what, they couldn't get some company to whore themselves and donate digital ones?) and go out and find some truth. I can't. I won't. I will: The truth is out there. Over on a better network.
A man suddenly shows up at the classroom door and begins communicating in the ancient dialect of "gesture and facial expression" to Kyle, who appears to understand since he rises and starts to walk out of the room. Kyle then speaks a bit of "point and look serious" to the teacher, who nods. Kyle and the man then begin discussing whatever serious issue brought him to the school. WHILE THEY ARE STANDING IN THE DOORWAY. RIGHT WHERE EVERYONE CAN HEAR THEM. Maybe it's just me, but if you need to talk to somebody about something that merits ambiguous sign language, then you're probably looking for a bit of privacy. Guess there wasn't enough in the budget for "Hallway."
Odds are that the unidentified man is Kyle's father, since he tells Kyle about receiving news of an incident at the nursing home involving his (Kyle's) grandfather, and since I'm thinking that Roswell isn't the kind of show where neighbors drop by with that sort of intelligence. Pops tells Kyle to go to the nursing home and deal with things; Kyle looks bummed, and Dad bolts. The bell rings. Liz jumps up, grabs her "new to you" circa-1972 video camera, and goes over to ask Kyle what's up as though she didn't hear everything. They stand in the doorway to talk, blocking everyone's way as they try to leave the room. What's with these people and doorways? Modes of egress are never suitable locations for conversations. Just move on through, folks, and don't loiter.
Four hands, two watches, and a ring in a box. Jesse's giving Isabel an engagement ring, and also placing words into her mouth. She's too breathy to finish sentences, so he's saying what he wants to hear. Isabel: "I'm, I'm…" Jesse: "Speechless." Isabel: "It's just, just…" Jesse: "Beautiful." She says that it's gorgeous, but that she can't…Jesse: "Believe it?" No. Down, boy. Isabel can't wear the ring, because, although the ring is perfect, Jesse is perfect, and everything is perfect (if that is indeed the case, she's one lucky alien), the ring announces to the world that they are engaged. Jesse reminds Isabel they are, in fact, engaged, and then he realizes Isabel hasn't told her parents. They're holding hands and drinking out of humungaloid glasses with Crazee Straws, which are by far the most interesting things in the scene. Isabel mentions that her parents don't even know she's dating Jesse, but promises to tell them that night. Then she goes all girly over the ring again.
Kyle and Liz, walking up the staircase at the nursing home. Kyle explains that Grampy spills a lot of stuff (like those old folks do, ya know), like soup, or other spilly stuff, and that as soon as they, like, clean it up and stuff, they can go home. Um, don't nursing homes usually employ soup-swabbers? Just a thought, but if Kyle has to hotfoot it over there every time someone spills a little soup, then he's got to be seriously lacking in the life department. They're still walking up stairs, so this place must have several floors, which seems odd in a nursing home, since, if old people spill, they probably also fall. Liz, who follows too many men and asks too many questions, wonders why Kyle's father won't clean up the soup, and Kyle tells her that his dad hasn't visited in over a year, likely because Grampy lost his job searching for aliens and ruined Kyle's father's life. Liz stops and gets all educational, reminding Kyle that there are aliens, that his Grampy was right, and that Kyle's dad knows this. Kyle warns Liz not to start pointing out the ironies in his family life, as they never cease. He walks off, leaving Liz perplexed by the word "irony."
The nursing home, bedecked for Halloween, is all robes, slippers, shuffling seniors, and samba-on-Valium background music. Liz lifts the mainframe camera to her shoulder and begins filming, and things go all digital (insert catty comment about technological disparity here), as she wonders about "locked up" stories that might be good for class. "True stories of love and loss and pain," she adds, thrusting the camera into the faces of annoyed elders. Suddenly, she spies Grampy, who has indeed made quite a mess; he's sitting on a bed, catatonic, with a week's worth of plates scattered around him and something that looks like meringue dolloped on his shirt and pants. Liz starts cleaning up while Kyle, now saddled with the camera, suddenly decides that they've got the perfect story for class, about the horrible conditions that elderly are forced to endure. Yeah, because that's news. Overcome with pity, Liz wonders if Grampy is usually like this, which Kyle says he is as he zooms in on a wall calendar with September 24, 2000, circled heavily in red. Liz gets all up in Grampy's face and starts chattering at him; she spies a massive tome about UFOs on the floor and asks if Grampy would like to be read to, since that's what her grandfather liked. She starts reading about spaceships streaking across the Texas sky when Grampy suddenly grabs her arm, jolting out of his catatonia, and drones, like what he's saying is all ominous and spooky, "They are among us. They are among us." No -- really? Where has he been?
Establishing shots of Max in LA, driving a pretty dandy 1970s Chevy convertible. His cell rings; it's Liz. Max talks, drives, looks at his map, doing none of them well; drivers begin to yell, and he tells Liz that LA is "friendly." As friendly as any place is when you're driving like an idiot, pretty boy. Turns out Liz has a "theory" about how to track down the shape-shifter, which I guess she developed while lurking around the nursing home and getting old news from Grampy. She thinks that, because the dead shape-shifter always went back to the same form (a dumpy bald man), maybe shape-shifters can only change temporarily -- that they always have to go back to the same form. Good work, Nancy Drew. Max is impressed and asks Liz if she can direct him to the Hollywood Cemetery, since she's been to LA and all, but she obviously wasn't paying attention during her visit.
Evidently, Max finds the place, because in the scene he's walking toward a funeral, the front row of which seems populated entirely by drag queens -- and the floozy from Joey's hot rod. Guess it's Joey's funeral. Max looks very Jump Street in his black motorcycle jacket. A dumpy bald guy (!!!) claps Max on the shoulder and asks who he is -- could this be the other shape-shifter, a powerful alien race doomed to look like puddingy middle-aged men when they walk on Planet Earth? "Friend or family?" asks the guy. "Cousin," says Max. Baldy tells Max, who looks around at the Mafioso types mourning Joey's passing, that Joey never mentioned a cousin, and that he and Joey were very close. No secrets. And now this new family? Bada bing. Max claims distant cousinry, and then the bald guy moves in for the kill, asking, "Do you have representation?" Oh. Wow. This guy is an agent. Joey was a client. Oh, this is funny. It's HOLLYWOOD. Julius Walters, talent agent (and character actor from about 5,000 other things that I can't currently recall), hands Max a card and kindly points out the phone number, just in case Max mistakenly tried him at the fax number, which is the only other information on the card. What, no email? JayDub is one Classy Guy.
Back in Roswell, Liz and Kyle are hard at work on their shocking expose of nursing home atrocities. Liz, using the refrigerator-camera, films Kyle expressing outrage at the exorbitant cost of Grampy's care at the Sunrise Retirement Facility -- $1,200 a month for room, board, and medical attention. Guess things are cheaper in Roswell, as $1,200 don't go too far in my neck of the woods. In walks Daddy Valenti, guitar case in hand. Kyle gets all pissy because he walked right into the shot, and now they'll have to reshoot the whole four seconds, DAMMIT. Mr. Valenti goes to the fridge for a beer as Kyle asks how his gig went. His dad enthuses that "the Kitshickers are really coming together." Okay, first of all, it's the middle of the afternoon. Exactly what sort of gig was this? And secondly, I'm really upset, because Kyle's dad stole the name of my band. I worked really hard to come up with something that witty, and I don't appreciate having the rug ripped out from underneath me. Jerk.
Mr. V leans in and asks Kyle if he took care of "that little thing we talked about." IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CLASSROOM. Everyone knows what "that little thing" is, Mr. Secrets. Kyle looks at his dad like a freak as he walks off, which he is, and Liz, still filming, gets all indignant that Kyle didn't say more about Grampy to his father. She's just the kind of girl you want hanging out with your family, and further proves this by marching over, camera in hand, and talking to Mr. V about her search for the truth. He suggests she come down and film the band because "we're musicians, and musicians are always searching for the truth," at which point I wet myself and get even angrier with Mr. V. Nope, no music; Liz wants to talk about Grampy and why Mr. V hasn't been to visit in over a year, since…September 24, 2000. Mr. V gets all freaked out, tells Liz to quit filming, and demands that Kyle tell him who marked that date on Grampy's calendar, because Grampy sure as hell didn't do it himself. Kyle did it, because it makes Grampy happy, which I would wager is pretty tough to discern since Grampy's full range of activity seems to be either vegetable or behind-the-times gossip. Liz tells Mr. V about Grampy's outburst, saying, "First he grabbed me and then he said somethink." She just said "somethink." No one registers this neologism, instead asking her just what that somethink was. "They are amongus," says La Liz, emphasizing the "G" heavily and fleeing even further from the English language.
Mr. V reveals that They Are Among Us is a B-movie that was filmed in Roswell in the 1950s (after pronouncing it correctly). Apparently, the leading lady was killed during shooting, and Grampy was the sheriff at the time; he led the investigation and became convinced that an alien killed the actress. Mr. V says she was actually killed by a freak lightning strike, and Shiri Appleby works overtime -- but fails -- to convey the dawning of an epiphany.
Isabel is in her kitchen, promising Jesse over the phone that she'll tell her mother right away, just as her mother walks in the door, looking like she just got back from the drag queen funeral in LA. How convenient. Isabel hangs up the phone, and her mom immediately begins flipping out because she thinks Isabel was talking to Max. Isabel slips the wedding ring off her finger and into her pocket, and stammers, "I need to talk to you." But she can't get a word in edgewise, since her mother is relentlessly hammering away at her "my son has been gone for three weeks and I'm losing it rapidly" moment in the limelight. She asks if Max needs money, and then presses a wad of bills into Isabel's hands. Get this woman a drink. Isabel gives up.
Max returns to his car, coffee in hand, ski mask on head, to find a parking ticket on the windshield. But wait, that's no ticket -- it's a note that says "GO HOME MAX." As soon as Max reads it, it disintegrates, like sands in the hourglass. Completely unnecessary special effect. Isabel calls to scold Max about being away from home and turning his mother into a complete basket case. She wants to know when he's coming home. He has no idea. She and Michael disapprove of Max "wandering around LA and looking for shape-shifters." Sounds like Max has two mommies. Isabel worries about exposure, death, but as soon as Max mentions his son, she gets all sad and sympathetic. Stop it with the son. No more. I really hope he's dead, or at least an intolerable drip. When Isabel asks Max if he has a plan, he says, "Sort of. I'm getting an agent."
JayDub. Max. Lunch. Discussion of Joey Ferrini's acting career as a hit-man, mobster type. Lunch arrives, and JayDub, all sunglasses, black, and gleaming pate, pauses to assess the waiter's marketability, confirming for us all that he is, in fact, a bottom feeder. Max's hair looks particularly highlighty in the sun -- I see him in Feria. According to JayDub, Joey was "big on assault. He loved assaulting people, which is why he was so convincing on screen." Max starts fishing for details about Utah, but JayDub says he "didn't book that job." Art imitating life, or life imitating art. Or whatever. Contradicting himself, JayDub confides that Joey was a sucky actor, but thinks Max has potential. Like Tom Cruise. Like Keanu Reeves. Oh. Potential as another sucky actor. "I'm not an actor," protests Max. "Like Keanu Reeves is?" retorts JayDub, almost beating me to the punch. Okay, that's it, no more dialogue. It's too painful. Suddenly, JayDub has a conniption, because Joe Pantoliano, this week's extra-super-special guest star (evidently slumming), has just walked in with two cell phones and an entourage (I start humming Beck). He's Cal Langley, the biggest and most powerful mega-producer in all of Los Angeles. As JayDub skitters off to network, Max pilfers Joey Ferrini's address from his Palm Pilot.
And we're there, at 1651 Whatever Street. Max makes his hand all red and unlocks the door. As soon as he enters, his cell rings. It's Liz, she of impeccable timing, all giddy in her blue waitress outfit with the alien face (I guess she has a job, in addition to her positions as master sleuth and family wrecker), with another clue. She tells Max all about the film and the suspicious death, calls the shape-shifter a serial killer, blah blah blah. Max wonders if this might be a coincidence, but Liz reminds him that there are no coincidences in Roswell. She trots off to see if there were any suspects in the case of the movie murder; when Max thanks her, she says that the sooner Max finds what he's looking for, the sooner he'll be back. Max then finds a videotape labeled "Utah Shoot." It's footage of Joey running lines -- badly -- for his confrontation with Michael in Utah. Max realizes that Joey's message delivery was all an act, when a computerized voice blurts out, "You've got mail." Then it says, "You've got mail, Max." Creepy. The screen reads, "I warned you Max. Stay away." Max backs away and turns around to find himself staring at the barrel of a gun, held by none other than the blowjob queen from tonight's first scene, who wonders what Max is doing there. The ringing cell phone, conversation, video, and computerized voice must have finally roused her from her vapid, wall-staring stupor in the other room.
Max tries to calm the floozy down by telling her that he's trying to figure out who killed Joey; she brings out the lightning diagnosis of the cops, but Max can see he's got her. She keeps waving the gun around and says she tried telling the cops that Joey was murdered, but that they think she's crazy. Max tells her she's quite sane; she tells him that she saw someone, and he asks her to show him, as he reaches out and pushes her hand down, aiming the gun at his crotch.
Cut to the two of them on the hill where Joey was killed; as she recounts the events, there's a quick flash back to the blinding light, and she says, "And then Joey was dead." Damn. I just broke my own rule. Sometimes nothing works like dialogue. Floozy talks about the man she saw, saying there was something weird about him, like he was glowing. And then he just disappeared. Max brings up the video he saw of Joey rehearsing for Utah, and asks who cast him. She has no idea; Joey wasn't telling, but when he got back, he was acting strange, talking about aliens and spaceships. Floozy told him he was losing it, so he clammed up. She says, "He just said he got the goods on someone, someone big, and that it would make him a rich man." Max looks all knowing, and she wonders if that's what killed him, and begs Max to tell her about Utah, and what's going on, and if she's in danger. All Max will say is that they should leave.
Kyle and Liz, holding the box for They Are Among Us, mock the film as the door to the restaurant where she works opens and a grandmotherly woman, all gray hair and pearls, enters and says, "Are you Liz?" It sounds like she's called Miss Cobeydale; she knew Grampy, and wonders how they found her. On the Internet, of course; Miss C did hair and makeup for They Are Among Us. They sit down in a booth, and start chatting about the film. Miss C says it was an exciting time, when "Roswell went totally Hollywood." Not caring at all, Liz barrels ahead and asks about the actress that got killed. Tragic, says Miss C. Struck by lightning on a clear day. Says she was a "hottie," and then makes sure that "that's what you call them now, isn't it." Yes, all the time. Miss C then drops the bomb that the actress was caught in a love triangle with the lead actor and the clapperloader. Neither Liz nor Kyle stops to ask what the hell a clapperloader is, but I'm awfully curious. The guy that loads the Clapper? So you can turn off all the lights with one magical clap of the hands? Kyle mentions Grampy's alien theory, and Miss C looks disapproving, remembering the stir his wild notions caused. Liz asks if Grampy had any suspects, and Miss C fingers the clapperloader.
"What's a clapperloader?" asks Max, via cell. "He's the guy that bangs the thing and goes 'Take one, take two,'" says Floozy, still in the car. At least she's cleared that up. Liz wants to know who's with Max. He tells her it's a friend and that he's taking her back to her place. This does not sit well with Liz; Max says that he's only dropping her off, that she's helping him, and that it's time to discuss another subject. Smooth, dude. It's theory time with Liz: if the clapperloader is a shape-shifter, then maybe that's his base form, the body to which he always returns. Clapperloader. Shape-shifter. I hate typing this shit. So they have to find out what the clapperloader looked like in 1959, because maybe that's what he looks like today. And how do they do this? By looking at the dailies from the film, since he'll be at the beginning of each take. Floozy kindly explains dailies, to Liz's delight. Seems Liz has done some research, and discovered that the rights to They Are Among Us were sold, of course, to Paramount, so all Max has to do is finagle his way on to the Paramount lot, break into the vaults, find the dailies, and watch them. No problemo. Question: does owning the rights to a film mean that a studio still has all the dailies, forty-two years later? Just asking. Max tells Liz he loves her, Liz wants to know if Floozy heard him say it, Max assures her she did, and everyone's happy. Liz tells Max to call her when he finds a way onto the Paramount lot, alone. You go, girl.
Max drops Floozy at her place; she asks if he wants to "come up." For some "you know." Heh heh. She said "come," Beavis. C'mon, Max, you could be seconds away from the hummer of your life, buddy. Go up! Go up! But Max declines, and Floozy says, "Well, it was worth a shot." Max declines, and tells her to forget about everything, about Utah, about Joey…and especially about him. She smacks her omnipresent chewing gum for a second, and then assents, giving Max a kiss, telling him she hopes the girl on the phone knows how lucky she is, and sending him racing away from 1651 Double-Entendre Lane.
At the same restaurant where Max had lunch with JayDub (as evidenced by the waiters in pink shirts), Max announces that he wants to be an actor. JayDub looks up from his Apple laptop and gets all excited, telling Max he needs headshots. No. Max needs an audition today, so JayDub whips out his cell phone and pretends to converse with Stephen, Martin, and Francis about a new boy with ambition and moxie. Moxie. Both JayDub and I are amazed by his use of the word "moxie," though JayDub jokes that he's uttered a new catchphrase, while I marvel at the barrel-scraping desperation of Roswell's writers. Max wants a specific audition, at Paramount. JayDub balks, flabbergasted; a guest spot on Enterprise? It is, explains JayDub, a major network show, a franchise, "top of the food chain, kid." Major network? Top of food chain? Excuse me? Let's just back slowly away from the self-congratulatory hyperbole, folks. Jonathan Frakes, franchise veteran and director and executive producer of this episode, clearly forgot to take his meds, and is subjecting me to delusions of grandeur. Make it stop, mommy, make it stop. Then I remember that JayDub exists to inject irony and yuks, but since his efforts fall so resoundingly flat, this realization doesn't really help at all. Damn once-pleasing self-referential humor for falling into the hands of the inept. It's just a one-day role, Max points out, which shouldn't be a problem, because Max surely has a SAG card, even if he has no headshots. JayDub promises to work his connections, which pleases Max because he wants on the Paramount lot today. JayDub's eyes flash huge dollar signs and smoke shoots out of his ears as he assures Max that he's gonna make him a Big Star. Well, not really, but it wouldn't be surprising, considering the level we're on.
Close-up of flowers. Isabel walking with Jesse, hemming and hawing about telling her parents about the engagement. Jesse, managing to ignore all of the clues that Isabel has bludgeoned him with, encourages her to spill the beans, telling her that everything will be fine. Perfect, even. He reminds her that their impending nuptials constitute good news. I think Jesse might be a little retarded. Right, affirms Isabel, good news. Good news. Toothy smile, quick smooch, and off she goes to excite her parents with the revelation that she's engaged to a man they don't even know she's dating. Too bad Liz isn't here to blurt it out for her.
Isabel is suddenly sitting in a restaurant with her parents, a fourth chair at the table to remind us of Max's absence from the family circle. The show makes another cursory nod to Halloween, with kids running around in costumes as Isabel's parents reminisce about Halloweens of yore. Like the one when Isabel dressed up as Madonna (how original!) and Max dressed up as Adam Ant, after dragging his mother all over town looking for the perfect shirt. Fag. Max, Max, Max. ["And excuse me, but isn't Max supposed to be, like, eighteen? Which would make him born in 1983? Which would mean that he dressed up as Adam Ant when he was -- what, a year old? I don't think so." -- Sars] Isabel, starting to feel like Jan Brady, approaches fed up and levels with them. She's got news. "About Max?" asks her father. No, buttwipe, about your daughter. Who's at the table. With you. Not in LA, getting blowjob offers from gum-smacking harlots. Isabel starts in with the "good news" crap again, going on and on, trying to convince herself that the news is good, that it's good news, that there's news that is good, and I discover an intense desire to smash her face into the tantalizingly prickly-looking cactus that's sitting in the center of the table. Her perceptive mother gets to the point that keeps eluding Isabel by suggesting that the news doesn't sound too good, but Isabel disagrees, and finally blurts out, "I'm getting married. To Jesse, from your office." From whose office? ["Her father's office." -- Sars] She's relieved, and her parents look utterly confused. Like me. I think we'd all agree at this point that their daughter is certifiable. Can't make a parent too happy when the daughter goes mental and the son is off gallivanting with sluts in the cesspool that is LA.
Liz and Kyle rifle through slides, as Liz tells Kyle that Grampy was right; an alien snuffed the hottie. Did the slides confirm this? Where did they come from? Do they have anything to do with the plot? Mr. V walks in, gets all wiggy when he notices a case of medals (presumably Grampy's), and stomps into the room. Liz plays family therapist and prods Kyle to tell his father what they've discovered; he really doesn't want to, but Liz says that his family is a nightmare and that someone needs to break the "cycle of silence." Her dime-store psychobabble makes me all quivery. Kyle agrees, but doesn't volunteer. Bicker, bicker, and then Liz dredges up her uncanny knack for unwanted confrontation and yells for Mr. V to get in there, which, of course, he does. Liz tells Mr. V that Kyle has something he wants to discuss, and then makes a hasty exit. After trying to make like it's nothing, Kyle says, "I'd really hate for what's going on between you and Grandpa to happen to us." Because they have such an open, caring relationship and all. They look all serious and lovey and contrite, and Mr. V picks up an old photograph of Grampy in military duds, but thankfully, we're spared the details of their gabfest, as the camera zooms in on the photo and then zooms out to reveal Mr. V holding it in Grampy's Sunrise suite, right in front of Grampy, in full veggie splendor.
Grampy is holding the medal case now -- or, rather, it's propped against his belly, and Mr. V is really nervous and awkward, babbling about nothing. Mr. V makes an excuse and then motors, promising to come back in a few days, but as he's walking away from Grampy's room, he has a change of heart and turns around. The camera assumes Mr. V's perspective, and when he walks back into the room, Grampy's chair is empty! O, miracle of miracles! The camera pans to the left, and I'm gifted with the singular (I hope) sight of Grampy, medal case in hand, lurching toward the wall calendar, arm outstretched, pointing toward the little square that demarcates October 31, 2001. Mr. V lugs Grampy back to his chair, pointing finger still in action, plops him down, and tells him that he'll get a pen and circle today's date, and tomorrow's date, when he comes back, as he grows increasingly flustered and pretends to cry, while Grampy looks off into space like he's mesmerized by a really kick-ass episode of Jerry Springer. Give this man an Emmy. Hell, give 'em both Emmys. If they ever fucking happen.
Back in LA, Max drives on to the Paramount lot, past a lobster and a nun walking together (it's disgusting, really, to see lobsters and nuns fraternizing -- but, then, that's California). The camera zooms in on a water tower bearing the Paramount logo. That's Paramount. Yes, Paramount. P-A-R-A-M-O-U-N-T. Paramount. Did you get that? I said "Paramount." Max walks into a room and introduces himself to…Jonathan Frakes! Yippee! Behind and in front of the camera. What a bonanza for me. Can't give up that limelight, can ya, Johnny? Max, or Jason Behr, is auditioning, on the show Roswell, for another UPN show, Enterprise, for the man who actually directed this show, Roswell. This. Is. So. Smart. And. Complicated. My head spins. There's also an androgynous, Pat-like humanoid in the room, who turns out to be John Billingsley, er, Dr. Phlox, from Enterprise. An even more androgynous figure materializes to operate the camera; Phlox and Max begin doing lines. Of dialogue. Phlox says something pompous-sounding about needing Ritalin, which is really amusing coming from a hermaphrodite in a polo shirt, and Max delivers his response like he's been studying Shiri Appleby's technique with a fine-tooth comb. Frakeseybaby jumps in with some method tips -- "This character, Korgon, is an alien, he's an alien from another planet [like Mexico?]. And right now, I'm not feeling really like you're an alien." More irony. I'm transfixed. Max goes again, as badly as before. He leaves, and they all laugh. I laugh too. Ha ha ha. Titter, titter, fart.
Out on the lot, JayDub is schmoozing the extras, handing out cards willy nilly. Max appears, and JayDub gets all chummy and excited, telling Max that he got it, he got it. Max seems confused, and asks, "Really?" JayDub says he's sure he did, but even if he didn't, "there's still Buffy." I dig my fingernails into my hand really hard. Max says he'd like to snoop, er, look around for a while, since he's never been on a movie lot before, and JayDub says that's cool, don't lose that charming innocence, and anyway he's got some people to see, and then delivers more wacky hijinks as he hitches a ride on the back of a passing golf cart. Max turns a corner to find himself standing in front of the Paramount vaults, all seven doors of them. He marches right up to Door One, turns his hand red again, and slips inside. He's suddenly on the phone again with Liz, who states the obvious, telling him that the shape-shifter wants him out of LA. Max says he's close, and starts exploring the stored reels. She's nervous, and he finds the They Are Among Us reels, conveniently located on an easily accessible shelf. In the first room he tried. Max pulls out a reel, slips it onto a handy projector, and turns his hand into a light bulb. Images of an alien, sporting a blue satin jumpsuit and a tuber-like head, and tackling a woman in swirling red satin, appear on the wall. Suddenly, the nefarious clapperloader jumps into the frame; it's Cal Langley, producer extraordinaire, flashing a manic grin. Max tells Liz he knows who the guy is; he's the major movie producer Max saw at the restaurant (and now I'm thinking that JayDub is somehow in on this game). The cell phone signal cracks and fades, and the image on the wall burns and melts, as a priceless film archive is destroyed forever. Oh, the horror. Valuable movie artifacts, gone, just like that. No respect for the past. And here, suddenly, is JoeCal PantolianoLangley, bald, pudgy, and bespectacled, the other shape-shifter, congratulating Max for finding him. Max asks why he killed Ferrini, and JoeCal says that Joey figured out what he was, which really wasn't a good thing, him being a nasty alien and all. JoeCal raises his arm, which sends Max shooting back into the wall, toppling priceless shelves of shitty movies. As Max tumbles to the ground, JoeCal says, "I told you to stop looking for me," and uses his hand to start a fire, a la Barrymore. As Max lies prone, lit alluringly by the spreading flames, the screen fades to black, as those three maddening words, "To Be Continued" appear.