See? I knew I could count on you. In the seven days since posting my various pleas for assistance in last week's recap, I've received (among others) the following e-mails:
1. Detailed instructions on a number of nifty little TiVo tricks, one of which will display the seconds for counting StC.
2. 4,376 French translations of the word "week." It's semaine. I. Get. It. Thanks, though.
3. Lots of other fun foreign words: Die Einbalsamierung! Das Sargzimmer!
4. One marriage proposal.
5. Six death threats.
6. Yet another "I can't believe I found you through MBTV!" e-mail from someone I haven't seen since high school.
So I guess this means the recent media frenzy over our forums is justified: We really do have the most intelligent, literate, and well-rounded readers on the Internet. Aww. I love you guys, and all the more so for the surprisingly large contingent of you who apparently knew me when I had hair. At this rate, you should expect my high-school yearbook to be showing up on eBay at any minute. And not just because Kurt Angle is in there with me.
Now that I've kissed your asses a bit, here's the bad news: I actually liked this week's episode. Yeah, I know. It went a little over the top in places, but after barely registering a pulse in the first four shows, a little flamboyance was a welcome addition. Anyway, this week opens with a nearly naked and newly mellifluously monikered La Femme Morte de la Semaine (tm sorkinhead, maryng, and the entire population of France and certain Canadian provinces), taking a bath and chatting with an off-screen companion. As she talks (and waves her breasts in the mirror), the camera lingers on a number of naked photos of her that are displayed around the room. La Femme Morte prattles on, referring to herself as a "fucking hot-shit bitch," before mentioning that she's looking forward to an evening with her new boyfriend, because he's "got a big fat dick, and he fucks like a jackhammer." Knowing Alan Ball's work history as I do, and noting the obvious resemblance to the actress he's chosen here, I can only assume this is Al's fever dream version of bath-time at Cybill Shepherd's house. Incidentally, I debated whether or not it was strictly necessary to include those two quotes in the recap, but I've come to the conclusion that if Alan Ball gets to be a potty-mouth, so do I. And while our profanity policy here is kind of scary, it's not naked-Cybill-Shepherd scary, so it's okay. Anyway, the off-screen companion not surprisingly turns out to be a cat, and the little furball jumps up on the counter while Cybill continues to ramble. After two weeks on the bench, The Ironic Musical Detachment Fairy finally gets back in the game, warbling, "Don't let me down. Your momma's gonna help you move uptown," as the cat knocks the electric curlers right into the tub. After a shot of some twitching toes and some sizzling on the soundtrack, The Ironically White Title Card of Death informs us of the passing of "Jean Louise 'Viveca St. John' McArthur." Sometimes I think they spend more time writing these names than they do on the rest of the script.
I, on the other hand, spend no time at all on the names. Fade up on Mommie Drearest (tm Sher), sitting in church with David beside her. As the choir sings, I lament the fact that Christians always seem to have better choirs than Jews, while David takes the time to ogle one of the sopranos singing in the front row. Not one of the actual Sopranos, mind you, but what with all the AOL Time Warner cross-promotion going on in this week's episode, I don't blame you for being confused. Incidentally, despite the debate in the forum, I'd say the soprano definitely ogles him right back. Cut to later, as David and Ruth greet one of the priests outside. He welcomes David "back to the fold," which causes David to confess that he's simply been attending a different church. Upon hearing that it was "St. Stephen's" in West Hollywood, Father Jack forms a knowing smile, and imparts that he hopes David "always feels as welcome here as [he] does there." Then he suggests that David succeed his father as a deacon of the church, because the congregation would benefit from listening to "a younger voice." David is delighted by the idea, and Ruth gushes as well. With that conversation out of the way, Dave strolls off to be accosted by The Annoying Funeral Stalker Girl. She launches straight into a hyper-speed rant about how she just joined the church and likes the "whole ritual part of it," before concluding with, "Ooh, you smell nice. What is that?" David: "Uh, who are you?" She introduces herself as "Tracy Montrose-Blair," and reminds David that her uncle was buried at his funeral home. It’s not until she mentions that he had a tattoo of a roulette wheel on his back, however, that David remembers who he was. Tracy also admits to having a tattoo of her own, and at this point, who wants to give me odds that Alan Ball has a huge "Oscar 2000!" tattoo on his own backside? David gently tries to put her off, saying that he's got a girlfriend, and they're engaged. Tracy responds with a well-delivered, if predictable, "Good for you. Most men your age are so commitment-phobic it's pathetic...or they're gay. I'm certainly glad to find out you're not gay." David: "Yes, men are pigs." Again, it's all in the delivery, but heh. I so want these two to get married all Object Of My Affection-style and adopt Lauren Ambrose. Now that would be a cool show. Instead, David walks back over to Mom, who says, "She looks nice." David: "She looks nuts." As alliteration is an object of my affection, I can admit this was a pretty funny scene, even for this show.
The Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us straight from, "She looks nuts," to a shot of Brenda in the pool at her parents' palatial hillside home. Nate wanders out onto the patio, admiring the house and wondering how often her parents go away. She invites him to join her in the pool, but he's afraid it might be too cold. "Mommy and Daddy keep it hot all the time," she deadpans. "They're very wasteful." Never one to pass up the opportunity for public fornication, Nate quickly disrobes and dives in with her. There's a few minutes of psychobabble, punctuated by the director's oh-so-obtrusive handheld cinema verité shot selection, and then Foreshadowing dons a wetsuit and swims out to hand Brenda some new script pages. "I'm an open book," she tells Nate, thus setting up her eventual big revelation and scoring points for the Sopranos-style title vocalization while doing it. Eventually they're interrupted by the arrival of Brenda's parents, and really, who didn't see that one coming? Yeah, that's what I thought. The parents have names, of course, but their respective resemblances to Bo Derek and Harvey Fierstein leave me no choice but to call them, well, Bo and Harvey. I'm just not as good with the nicknames as you people. Brenda does a poor job of pretending like she didn't know they would be coming home, and then introduces Nate as "the man [she's] having sex with." Harvey and Bo remain indulgently unappalled, and she goes on to mention that Nate is studying for his funeral director's license. Bo invites him to stay for lunch, causing Brenda to sulk out of the pool in disgust, but Nate remains submerged and demurs, claiming that he has to study. Bo and Harvey both sport semi-evil grins as they realize he's naked, and they calmly sit down to watch him emerge from the pool.
Claire's school. She and Mommie Drearest are sitting in the school shrink's office. He explains that because Claire is the youngest child, she feels that she missed out on a time when the family was happier. Claire delivers some adolescent whining about growing up in a house full of strangers who cry all the time, and Ruth responds with a hearty, "Oh, boo-hoo." Heh. "I grew up in a two-room apartment over a barbershop," she continues, "and I spent my teenage years taking care of my grandmother after one and then both of her legs were amputated. Life is hard." Heh, again. If the writers ever actually gave her something interesting to do (and Ed Begley Jr. is about as far from interesting as you can get), Frances Conroy might actually be pretty good. They bicker back and forth, with Ruth reminding her daughter that it's not like she had to "go begging for food in the streets of Calcutta," before the shrink and his practically pubescent cracking voice can interrupt. He suggests that they try to schedule more time for their relationship, and then declares it "an excellent session" before bolting for the door. "That's it?" wonders Ruth. He answers, "Well, that's really up to you, isn't it?" Since at this point it's actually up to me, I'll just move on to the paragraph.
Das Sargzimmer im Fisherhaus. That's "The Coffin Room in The Fisher Home" for those of you who speak less German than sorkinhead. David is putting a sales pitch on a tearful friend of La Femme Morte. The friend explains that Cybill has to look her best for the funeral because she was a big star. David agrees, and even blithely admits to being a big fan of her work. Cut down to Rico's Body Shop, and now, thanks to Hermetic, I can once again give you an StC that's accurate to the eighth decimal point. It's an entirely respectable 641, so I feel quite good about giving this episode an A-. Cybill is lying topless on the table, and Nate comes in to find Federico ruminating over her breasts. "Feel these," he says. "They're rock hard." Nate declines, and Rico goes on to explain that they want her buried in some flimsy low-cut gown, and her breasts are stuck pointed in completely different directions. Nate asks where he can stow the big box of Living Splendor embalming fluid (as advertised on TV!), while Rico theorizes about the possibility of somehow taping the breasts together. At this point, David enters and mentions that this will be their most profitable funeral yet. When Nate can't get over how familiar La Femme Morte looks, David reveals that she was an actress named "Viveca St. John." Recognition washes over both Nate and Rico's faces, and Nate blurts out that she was a porn star. He's appalled to discover that David had no idea, especially since Viveca was apparently "huge in the mid-to-late eighties." I'm somewhat troubled by the specificity of his pornographic knowledge. It's not just "mid," but "mid-to-late." Hmm. Anyway, Federico and Nate proceed to get a little overzealous about sharing their remembrances of her greatest porno hits, and I think we all know that never works out well for anybody. Finally, David interrupts and drags Nate out into the hall for a stern talking to. "The woman on that table is just as deserving of dignity as anyone else we prepare," he says, without adding, "Which is to say, not at all." Instead, he continues, "I want you to remember that what we do here is serious. Because it really sucks for me, always having to be the spoilsport." You know, I feel almost exactly the same way about my role as this show's recapper. David then heads up the stairs just as Nate's phone starts ringing. It's Harvey and Bo, calling to invite him to dinner. Refusing to take no for an answer, they settle on the night and promptly hang up, leaving a nonplussed Nate gaping at his cell phone.
Upstairs, Lauren Ambrose is in her bedroom, and if I didn't love her before, the sight of her playing Quake III (and quite well, considering she's not even using the mouse) would have sealed the deal. In fact, I'm officially declaring this to be The Summer Of Lauren, and I plan to conduct a ceaseless campaign to get her to grant me an interview. Since I think it's a pretty safe bet that at least one person associated with the show reads these recaps (and yeah, Rick Cleveland, I'm looking at you), I'll just ask them to pass along my request nicely. After all, an MBTV interview is precisely what she needs to put the finishing touches on her big celebrity breakthrough. We can make her a household name with every last one of our billions of readers scattered across the globe. Oh, okay. I'll be honest. It's really only millions of readers, and except for that one wacky guy in Indonesia, they're mostly in North America. But still, look how much press Sorkin got just for posting in the forums. A full-length interview would probably land her on the cover of EW. I'm just saying. Anyway, Ruth "The Cold" Fisher (tm maryng) barges in, just as Claire orders Orbb to "suck on that, you ugly fuck." This time Ruth decides not to gripe about the language. Instead, she just clears her throat, prompting Claire to ask if she's ever heard of knocking, which is "like protected in the First Amendment." Sure it is. It's right there to your right to post whatever you want in our forums. Mom shrugs it off, and shows Claire two videos that she rented for them to watch. She wants to relive the Monday Night Movies they shared in Claire's childhood, so she got Runaway Bride and The Nutty Professor. Judging by the look of disgust on Claire's face, I assumed she'd gotten the Jerry Lewis version, but I was later proved wrong.
Em City. Keller sneers in his pod, defiantly telling Beecher, "Oz didn't make you a bitch. You were born one." Then a bunch of half-naked guys start stabbing each other, and someone gets both eyes poked out. Fortunately, the camera pulls back and reveals that we're still safely Six Feet Under. David and Keith are relaxing at David's apartment, eating Chinese food and laughing at the ludicrous portrayal of gay lifestyles on pay cable television. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think? David is explaining that being named deacon is a big honor, and that it would be good for business if the church referred people to the funeral home. Keith asks if they know he's gay. "I think Father Jack has a pretty good idea," says David, prompting Keith to wonder if Father Jack might not have an ulterior motive. Even though it means that David won't be able to go to church with him anymore, Keith thinks the deacon thing is great, and tells him that "one of the reasons I love you is that your religion means so much to you." While most Jewish men have already learned just how effective that particular pick-up line can be, David is finding out for the first time. "Besides, I think it would be kind of hot," continues Keith, "dating a man of the cloth." They kiss, and Keith tells David that there is one thing he has to do: be Keith's date to a Gay Police & Firemen party that weekend. "Your date?" asks David. "Do I get a corsage?" Keith is serious, though, and he's also delighted when David agrees to join him. "Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin," he moans, pulling David onto the bed. Fade to black.
Fade back up on what the closed captioning describes as "flatulating [sic] on TV." Claire and Mom are watching The Nutty Professor, and it's obviously the Eddie Murphy version, as the man has made an entire career out of "flatulating" at this point. "This is an entire movie about people expelling gas!" exclaims Ruth, before getting up to stop the movie. "I know you probably think I'm old and stupid," she tells her daughter, "but I love you just as much as I ever did, and I'm worried about you." Claire insists that she doesn't need everyone's help all the time, and that she's not in the "trenchcoat Mafia" or anything. Mom reminds her that she stole a foot, and Claire finally breaks down and confesses the whole sordid toe-sucking tale. She finishes by assuring her mother, "It wasn't premeditated. I'm not Jeffrey Dahmer. I don't get off on hacked-up body parts." You know, I've had that same conversation with my mom more times than I can count. Ruth's only response to all this is, "You're having sex?" Claire's stress level finally explodes, and she jumps to her feet, screaming, "I'm sorry, I can't have this conversation with you...I don’t think we're ever going to have one of those touchy-feely mother-daughter relationships like you see on TV and in the movies, because you know what? They don't exist." Then she stalks out of the room, passing the newly arrived Foreshadowing, who's just showed up with a few Viveca St. John videos for them to watch.
So what do you think? Bo Derek's Domicile, or Harvey's Rabbit Hole? Yeah, I know. They both suck. But either way, Nate has arrived for dinner at Brenda's parent's place, and he's brought the bottle of 1997 Louis Jadot Pinot Noir Brenda brought as a gift last week. After complimenting him on his taste in wine, they invite him into the kitchen for a drink. Bo is impressed to learn that Nate worked in a co-op, as she knows that Brenda likes to believe that she's "wildly counter-cultural. I think she's just jealous of the fact that [Harvey] and I actually were hippies. Briefly, of course." When he discovers that they have no beer, Nate asks for bourbon instead, and Bo gushes even more. "Manly, but not elitist. Just her type." Harvey, by the way, has the whole "I hate that you're touching my daughter" stare down pat. The big shock comes when Nate discovers that Brenda won't be joining them. Bo explains, "Well, she felt, and I really have to agree with her, that we'd have a much better chance of getting to know each other if she weren't here. She does tend to take center stage." Boy, does she ever. Nate just sits there, realizing the trap he's walked into, and Bo makes a point of topping off his glass of bourbon.
I guess this week's director must be fresh out of film school, because while he hasn't quite picked up the subtleties of this show's locked-focus fetish yet, he does insist on all sorts of goofy angles and close-ups where they're not really warranted. This scene begins with an overhead shot of a priest's chest, crucifix dangling against a red silk-shirt. Eventually, it resolves itself into a meeting between David, Father Jack, and the head priest at the church. Father Jack explains that David grew up in the church, having been baptized and confirmed there, as well as president of the Youth Ministry. The head priest quizzes David on his motives, saying, "Being a deacon is more than just having access to the church mailing list and passing out your business cards after mass." David responds with all the right answers, claiming, "I won't deny that I run a business providing a service to people in times of need, but I would never exploit my relationship with the church for marketing purposes. Frankly I would consider that to be a very grave sin." This time, Father Jack says it for me: "No pun intended." There are some more questions, the subtext of which is clearly whether or not David is gay. After asking about his marital status, the head priest solemnly inquires, "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about yourself before I consider this?" David plays the "don't ask/don't tell" card by answering the priest's question with one of his own: "Is there anything specific you'd like to ask me?" The priest shakes his head at this and gets up to leave, saying he'll have a decision in a few days. Once he's gone, Father Jack eagerly informs David that he's already referred a parishioner to Fisher & Sons.
Formaldehyde Fortress. Ruth bursts into Claire's room, prompting yet another snotty comment about knocking from her daughter. "Pack some things," Mom orders. "We're spending the night with your cousin in San Bernadino." Claire is confused, as she has homework to finish, but Ruth is adamant, shouting that she'll write a note to get her out of school.
Back at the Parents' Place, Nate, Harvey, and Bo are seated on a raised patio beside the pool that totally wasn't there the last time we were here. Unless we're supposed to believe that this house has two or more swimming pools, I think it's safe to say that the director let himself get carried away by a cool location for this scene, and neglected to worry about pesky little details like continuity and common sense. It does make for a pretty cool shot, though. Anyway, Bo talks about how happy she is that Brenda has finally brought a man home for them to meet, but Nate still doesn't get it. "Well, to be perfectly honest," he blathers, "I'm not sure Brenda really meant for us to meet. I don't think she knew you were coming home that night." Oh, come on. No one is that stupid. And if they were, would someone like Brenda really be interested in them? Bo is forced to explain Brenda's manipulative nature, only she has to do it using small words and a pie chart. Finally, Nate seems to get that there's more going on here than he originally assumed, and he wonders if he can ask them a question. Harvey finally gets a line: "As long as it doesn't involve asking us for money." Nate inquires as to whether or not the name "Nathaniel" means anything to them, and Harvey and Bo share a little look before responding, "Of course." They lead him inside, and show him a series of children's books called Nathaniel and Isabel. Apparently, they were Brenda's favorite books as a kid. Bo breathlessly explains that the books are about "two orphans who have adventures. They ran away from an orphanage, there was a malevolent nurse who was always hunting them down, but they always managed to escape her. Typical infantile wish-fulfillment stuff." Wow, that could almost be my autobiography. Or hagiography, for the few Sopranos fans left watching at this point. She goes on to explain that Brenda used to sit beside her brother's crib and read him these stories for hours on end. "It's all in the book," she says, but Nate's blank look and "This book?" reply tell her that he has no idea what she's talking about. Incidentally, the closed-captioning has been alternating between calling Brenda's father "Vern" and "Bernie" for this whole scene, so I'm glad I went with Harvey. No matter what his name is, he's shocked that Brenda didn't tell Nate about her book. Considering that it took three weeks to get an explanation on the tattoo, I'm not really surprised when they don't tell us about the book now either.
Richard and Emily's house. Lorelai finds Rory in her old room. Rory apologizes for snapping at Emily. CuteDean, however, is nowhere to be found. Just to prove that I'm manly, but not elitist, I can admit to the world that I'm a big fan of the Gilmore Girls, and you can even click the link to be impressed by the depth of my knowledge. But while I do enjoy watching it, I don't possess the required estrogen levels necessary to recap it, so I'll just leave that to Pamie. I will, however, note that airs on the WB, which is of course HBO's sister network. Gerald Levin is nothing if not synergistic. We pull back to reveal Ruth and Claire, watching the show with the cousins from San Bernadino. The cousins are also a mother-daughter team, and they giggle, chow down on their KFC, and basically lob anvils at us until we get that they're just like Gilmore Girls while Ruth and Claire are just like The Addams Family. Yeah. We. Get. It. Anyway, for all the obvious reasons, I dub them Borelai and Snory. Snory suggests that they'll have to take extra "spinning" classes to work off the dinner, and even gets excited when Borelai mentions that "Derek" will be teaching tomorrow's class. "Mom and I have this huge crush on a spinning instructor at the Y," gushes Snory. "He is hot, hot, hot." Gee, thanks for that, Buster Poindexter. And just what the hell is spinning, anyway? I mean, do you really need a class to learn how to turn around? Or does everyone just get on a sit-and-spin and twirl until they puke? Because that probably would be an effective way to lose weight, you know. It's like bulimia, only with children's toys. ["It involves stationary bikes, I think." -- Sars] Snory asks Claire about college, and Claire reveals that she's considering NYU or Columbia. Columbia? Hmmm. I smell spin-off. The Claire & Meadow Show could be a Laverne & Shirley for the new millennium. I'm telling ya, Lauren, you gotta call me. I can make all this happen for you. Snory, on the other hand, likes going to college right in her hometown. She saves money by living at home, and besides, who wants to be "stuck in some crappy dorm where everyone is smoking pot and playing loud music all the time?" Ooh, I do! I do! And apparently, so does Robert Iler. Hmm. Do I sense another spin-off? The Aaron & AJ Show, perhaps? Watch as they get high, crack on TV shows, and beat up all the other child actors for their lunch money. You know, I should totally start my own network. You guys would watch, right? The scene ends with Snory declaring, "I love my mom, and I'm not ashamed to admit it." Aww. Visits to my mom usually inspire me to those sorts of defiant declarations as well, but mine tend to run along the lines of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore." Bonus points for anyone who gets the secret "starting my own Network" joke there.
Ugh. I've been dreading this scene. This is going to be like a twelve-page paragraph right here. Nate shows up at Brenda's house, looking pretty pissed after the evening he's just endured. "So how was it?" she asks. "Oh, it was quite informative," he replies. "I now know what Nathaniel means, I know you have an IQ of 185, and I know you had a book written about you." Brenda promptly hands him a copy of said book and says, "Here. I signed it for you." Before we go any further, let's just stop a second to ponder the idea of Brenda as über-genius. You know what, never mind. I'm giggling too hard to ponder right now. Nate wants to know why she didn't tell him all this herself, and goes on to say that he can handle the idea of her being a genius, but what he can't handle is the way she "keeps mind-fucking [him] for [her] own personal enjoyment." Hey, at least someone is enjoying it, right? Brenda snots that she's sorry she's "not some well-behaved little nothing who never challenges [him]," before adding, "If that's what you're looking for, you might as well just leave right now." Oh, come on, Brenda. If that was really what I was looking for, I'd be recapping Ed right now, don't you think? The director suddenly remembers that his actors have to move every few minutes or things start to look like a bad stage play, so he sends them over to the chairs in the middle of the room. Brenda explains that it was her mother's idea that she not be there for dinner, but Nate still wishes she'd warned him. Brenda answers that he wouldn't have gone, and then sighs mightily. "I just wanted to get it all out of the way. Them, the book, everything." She seems incredibly weary, and Rachel Griffiths does an excellent job of portraying a woman who's probably had this exact same conversation more than a few times before, without it ever working out. She rants about how her parents discovered that she was a genius when she "scored through the roof on some standardized, culturally-biased test" at the age of six. They handed her over to scientists and psychiatrists who analyzed her every move, thus creating the ironically overly self-aware monster we see today. Because she's Brenda, everything has to be wrapped up in a tidy little metaphysical bow: "It is a fucking law of physic
s that the act of observation changes that which is being observed." She's right, albeit annoyingly so, and now I'm regretting not having made a Schrodinger's cat joke back in the opening scene when I had the chance. Brenda's not through yet, though. She tells Nate, "And now you're going to read that book and think that you know me. But you know what? You don't." "You're right," he replies, "because you won't let me." Having both scored with their verbal barbs, the argument goes quiet for a moment as Brenda lights up a joint. "Okay, fine," she says. "What do you want to know?" Nate's first question is whether or not Brenda burned down that house, and she cracks up laughing when she hears it. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" he shouts. "You put my brother and me in the bus that killed our father, you get weird phone calls from screaming people that you won't explain, and now you want to make me feel stupid for being suspicious? Well, give me a fucking reason not to be!" Humbled, Brenda whispers, "I just want to know what this is for you." Nate sits back down and praises their obvious "intense sexual connection," before saying he'd like the relationship to continue. That can only happen if she trusts him, though, and at long last he says that she can. As they hold one another, we pan down to her book, which is entitled Charlotte: Light and Dark, and is not written by either of her parents.
Okay, raise your hand if you've actually played Scrabble at least once in the past ten years. Sars, you don't count. Anyone else? Didn't think so. So why is it that every show I recap has to feature stupid people playing Scrabble? On the other hand, this is excellent advance hype for The Claire & Meadow Show. Borelai spells out "rake," pulling down a triple-letter score on the "K." See? It's totally the best letter. Claire rolls her eyes and uses the "E" in rake to spell out "hell." There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone looks at Ruth like she's the worst mother in the world, but then Snory gets a big smile on her face and adds an "O" to Claire's creation, making "hello." Oh, all right. Ha! Maybe the writers aren't total poo asses after all. Ruth studies the board for a minute, and spells out "deft." "Deft? What's that?" asks Snory, and Borelai explains that it used to be a brand of laundry detergent. Ruth corrects her to say that it's actually a word. When asked to use it in a sentence, she comes up with: "He deftly juggled his responsibilities." Claire's contribution, however, was the real winner: "Deft, where ith thy thting?" Heh. I'm a sucker for Biblical wordplay.
And God said, "Let there be insipid dialogue." And so it was, as Borelai asks Ruth how she's holding up now that love's labors have been lost. Actually, she says "since Nathaniel's passing," but they basically mean the same thing. Ruth answers, "It gets better everyday," but Claire trumps her again with "shit happens." Snory equates the stress of losing a loved one with moving or getting fired, and having experienced all three of those things, I'd say she's more right than the show gives her credit for. Borelai expounds on that by talking about how hard it was when she got divorced, and Snory talks about how she just wouldn't let her mommy mope. "I dragged her ass, pardon my French, out of bed and took her to spinning class." I'm wishing Snory was this week's La Femme Morte at the moment, if you'll pardon my French. Ruth can't take the babbling anymore, especially not after Snory refers to endorphins as "nature's antidepressants." You know, I'm pretty sure beer is nature's antidepressant, but that's a different story. Anyway, Ruth snaps at them, "[Christopher] didn't die. He's still alive. You can still see him. When [Snory] gets married, he'll be there. When she has kids, they'll be able to know him." Borelai weakly says they're still similar in terms of the impact it had on their lives, but trails off into awkward silence. Snory jumps in with an idea: they'll all get up and go to spinning class together in the morning. Claire claims that she'd rather drive a rusty railroad spike through her forehead, which gets a laugh from Ruth, but Borelai is adamant about introducing them to Derek the hot, hot, hot spinning instructor.
David's Ye Olde Body Shoppe. Cybill is propped up on a counter, her oversized breasts thrust right in David's face. Well, one of them is. The other is pointed at the North Pole or something. She reminisces about how "real" men loved her tits, and then asks if David thinks God cares if he's gay. Sticking with the Socratic method of acting he seems to have developed this week, David replies, "Do you think God cares that you fucked thirty guys at once?" Cybill wonders if he equates being a "fag" with being a "whore," and then asks, "One's okay and the other isn't?" Of course, while she says this, she also gestures with her hands to make her point, and cleverly manages to indicate which breast is okay and which isn't. See? There are certain advantages to having an estrogen-deprived recapper. If I hadn't been staring at her tits, I never would have caught the hidden sight gag. They banter a bit more, and then David learns this week's Lesson From Beyond The Grave, which basically boils down to: Love the one you're with. Gee, thanks, Stephen. Fade to white.
Fade back up on Nate, dreaming about Brenda as a child. He wakes up to find her out of bed (yet again) and watching from the windowsill. Cut to Claire, also asleep until Ruth runs in and drags her out of bed. Claire doesn't want to get up at first, claiming that "[she's] starting to feel like Anne Frank." Ha! Ruth reminds her that if they don't escape soon, they'll have to go spinning. They sneak out of the house, and run giggling down the driveway to The Lean Green Corpse Machine. Then they drive over to Sally Struthers's house and have a little tea party with Sookie, Jackson, and Kirk the Townie.
Cut to Nate and Brenda in a restaurant. Nate: "Thanks for buying me breakfast." Brenda: "Thank you for finding my G-spot this morning." Aaron: "Ewwwww!" Brenda presents him with a key to her house, and Nate seems pretty happy about it. On the patio outside, however, David is dining with Keith. Uh, oh. I smell wacky shenanigans on the horizon. David is too nervous to eat, and plans on "just drinking coffee until [he starts] twitching and sweating." Keith, however, has done a one-eighty from the night before, and now seems pretty upset with the idea of David becoming a deacon. "We have our very own church in West Hollywood," he argues, "where the diocese and the other churches don't have to tolerate us. And frankly, I resent the notion that I need to be tolerated." Oh yeah, I can so picture Martin Luther King saying that one. I mean, why bother integrating the schools? You shouldn't have to be "tolerated." They bicker some more, until David finally asks, "Can't we just have breakfast without me feeling I'm George Will and you're Cokie Roberts with PMS?" Just as I start to claw that mental image out of my eyeballs, Nate and Brenda walk up, catching David completely by surprise. There are introductions all around, including a racquetball reference and Brenda describing herself to Keith as Nate's "fuck-puppet." Aaron, plus the entire population of France and certain Canadian provinces: "Ewwwww!" Nate asks if David and Keith work out together, and after a moment's thought, David reaches out to take Keith's hand and says, "Yes. Yes we do." Nate proves surprisingly quick on the uptake here, nodding incessantly and saying "that's great" a few times before dragging Brenda off. As they walk away, he tells her, "I think David is gay," and Brenda speaks for a significant portion of the audience when she replies, "I think David is lucky. Did you see that guy?
Back home at The Formaldehyde Fortress, Ruth confesses her affair to Claire. Which fortunately means that everyone on the show now knows about it, so hopefully we won't have to hear these confessions anymore. Oh wait, Rico. Damn. There's some tearful bonding, and it's sweet and all, but someone needs to tell the hair and make-up people that giving both actresses flat, stringy red hair is not the way to emphasize their family resemblance. It's more like they're emphasizing the family dandruff problem. Anyway, Ruth says she's confessed because she wants their relationship to be honest, even if Claire hates her. "I don't hate you," says Claire. "There's just things I have to figure out on my own, and that's normal. And I know stealing a foot is weird, but hello? Living in a house where a foot is available to be stolen is weird." She does have a good point there. The generations thusly bridged, the two women go their separate ways.
Across town, Keith and David are walking out to the restaurant parking lot. David is still feeling the rush of excitement at having come out to his brother, joking about "the way he was all, 'Great! Great! I'm hip, I'm cool.'" Keith reminds him about the Gay Police & Fireman's party, and in a shocking turn of events that everyone who has ever watched TV saw coming half an hour ago, David says he won't be able to attend because he can't miss church the morning. Keith suggests coming home early on Saturday night, which David agrees to, but when Keith wants to come to church with him the day, David says no again. David doesn't want to rock the boat at St. Bartholemew's, and he seems pretty honest and sincere in his intentions. Keith flies off the handle, however, accusing David of being ashamed of their relationship, despite having just come out to his brother. David compares his situation as a gay man in the church to Keith's as a black man on the LAPD, which prompts Keith to go totally ballistic. He shouts, "You fucking coward!" right into David's face, and then climbs in his car and drives away. David just looks sad. Aww, buck up, little camper. Given the continuity of your relationship on this show so far, the episode will probably open with you two giggling in bed.
Back at Brenda's, Nate uses his key to let them in. "So, you're not too freaked out?" she asks him. "A little, maybe," answers Nate. "It certainly makes David more interesting." Brenda, of course, was talking about giving him a key. Get it? Suddenly, Elton from Clueless appears at her bedroom door, looking significantly hairier and much more naked than the last time we saw him. He poses in the doorway, telling her that he had to use her shower because the water in his building was out. Well, that's good to know. And here I thought putting him in a towel might just have been a cheap excuse to let us see if he has a tattoo or not. Brenda leaves to "make a cup of tea," and as she passes him in the doorway, Elton asks for a cup too, and puts a finger on her breast while he says it. Once the boys are alone, Elton introduces himself as Billy, and asks how long Nate has known Brenda. Nate seems to be at a loss for words, so Billy asks his question for him: "Who am I, and why am I in your girlfriend's house practically naked?" He explains that Brenda is his sister, only he keeps smacking himself in the head and alternating between "sister" and "mother." They continue to mark their respective Brenda-turf for a few moments, and then Billy shuffles off to get dressed, putting his finger to Nate's chest as he goes. And hey, what do you know? Billy does have a tattoo, right where Brenda's is. Only his says "Isabel." I mean, who would have thunk it?
Cut to Cybill's funeral. We pan up past some flowers to a poster for one of her films, a motorcycle-themed romp entitled Easy Slider. In the back, Nate fulfills his contractual obligations for the week by asking Rico what devious trick he used this time to fix up the corpse. Rico fulfills his by making yet another KFC reference, and then admits to having used two cans of cat food to prop up her breasts. Yeah, I don't know how that works either. But then again, I'm not the MacGyver of die Einbalsamierung. Some guy named "Larry Wad" steps up to deliver a eulogy. We pan over the audience, and I notice that the casting director has done an excellent job of picking extras who look like they could be porn stars without being too obvious about it -- lots of women with short skirts, and that sort of thing. Larry reminisces about the first time he met Viveca, when she was the "fluffer on Dirty Larry III." "She was friendly. She was eager. I can honestly say I've never received a better blowjob in my life." At this point, Ruth wanders down the stairs and starts listening in on the ceremony. Back inside, Sandra Oh (on loan from Arli$$) is speaking. "I met Viveca on Deep Diving, and I had never gone down on a girl before, so naturally I was nervous. But Viveca was really warm, and relaxed about it, and she really put me at ease. Well, her and the two Xanax she gave me." I just want you people to know, I'm actually bleeding from all the jokes I've bit my tongue on in this paragraph. Ruth can't believe her ears, and she rushes off to find Nate, who is reading Brenda's book. "What the hell is going on in there?" she asks. Nate explains about the porn stars, and throws a bone to continuity by mentioning that the profit from the service will be enough to fix the air conditioner. Ruth calms herself a bit, adding, "I'm just glad your sister is in school."
And now we're there with her. Claire gives a long, tearful speech to the psychiatrist guy about Borelai and Snory and how creepy it is that they're both hot for the same guy. Finally, she concludes with a patented Storytelling 101 role-reversal, saying, "My mom is just so fucking sad. I wish I could help her."
Cut back to Das Sargzimmer im Fisherhaus, where David is meeting with the family that Father Jack referred to them. He tries to convince them to hold the funeral at The Formaldehyde Fortress rather than the church, so that they can better "customize" the service. Because they're obviously staunch Christians, and because Gerald Levin wants to be sure he gets the most bang for his stunt-casting buck, Sandra Oh pops in to tell David how great Viveca looks. "Her tits have never looked better," she sobs. "She was like a sister to me." David looks embarrassed and shuffles her out so that we can cut back to the Christians deciding to have the ceremony at the church after all. Meanwhile, Viveca's funeral continues, with the friend who's paying for everything getting his turn to speak. "I'm not a religious man," he says, "but I do believe in God, and if I were to make a list of all the things I thank God for, fucking Viv would be at the top of that list." Aww. I so want someone to say that about me at my funeral. David arrives just in time to hear the guy say that he knows that God loved Viveca just as much as he did. God loved her and her cock-eyed breasts, and now the swelling music and the gently floating camerawork kick in just to make sure we all understand that God even loves the gay people, too.
And with that, we cut back to the church where it all began, as David stands at the altar to be made deacon. The entire Fisher family, plus Brenda, watches from the front row, but David can't help visualizing the entire church filled with hot, non-dancing, gay boys. And there in the back is Viveca, dressed as Marilyn Monroe and mouthing along with Father Jack's prayer. I giggle like a little girl every time I see this scene. Anyway, we now cut outside for the weekly last-three-minutes wrap up. David accepts congratulations from Nate, but when he's asked about Keith, David calls him "just a friend," and stalks off. This leads us over to Claire, who suggests that she and Mom rent a movie together Monday night. Ruth is ecstatic, but Claire warns that if she starts crying, the whole deal is off. Finally, we see Nate and Brenda, and he thanks her for coming to church with him. And also for bringing all those anvils for him sit on. "I loved it," admits Brenda. "All that pageantry? It's so trippy. It's like a Fellini movie." Oh, yeah. This director is definitely just out of film school. When she discovers that Nate actually believes in God, however, Brenda quickly returns to her old self. "I think it's all just totally random…we live, we die. Ultimately, nothing means anything." "How can you live like that?" asks Nate. Brenda replies, "I don't know. Sometimes I wake up so fucking empty I wish I'd never been born. But what choice do I have?" And with that, she walks away, and we fade to white. Now, that was a weird ending.
Anyway, because I'm lazy, this week's Top Twelve is straight from the home office at the IMDB:
The Top Twelve Viveca St. John Films:12. AI: Artificial Insemination
11. The Funereal and The Lugubrious
10. Six Feet Plunder
9. The Sexth Sense
8. Star Whores: The Phantom Mistress
7. Cat on an Electrified Tin Roof
6. Crouching Corpse, Hidden Cat Food
5. Pootie Tang
4. Sword Fishing
3. Marry Me, Lauren
2. Death Becomes Her
1. Neck Hair. 'Nuf said.
Oh, and your assignments for week are nicknames for Billy and Ed Begley Jr. And there's extra credit for anyone who can get me Lauren Ambrose's phone number. ["Mighty Big TV is not liable for any stalking blah blah blah fishcakes." -- Sars]