Imagine, if you will, what the world might have been like had the following convorsation taken place in Gerald Levin's office a few years back…
Alan Ball: I'm sorry, but you want me to cast who?
John Hughes: Here's the list.
Alan Ball: All right. Let's see here…Emilio Estevez as Nate, Anthony Michael Hall as David, Molly Ringwald as Claire, yeah, I can see that. Hmmm. Ally Sheedy as Ruth?
Judd Nelson: That'll make more sense later in the recap.
Alan Ball: Uh, okay. Now, Mare Winningham as the wife of the DGDJ, sure. Same with Andrew McCarthy as the Little White Sex Dork and Demi Moore as Brenda, but what about Keith?
John Hughes: Um, have you ever seen my movies?
Alan Ball: Yeah. Why?
Molly Ringwald: Dude, if they were any whiter, they'd be Birth of a Nation.
Alan Ball: Good point.
John Hughes: I was thinking maybe Judd here for Keith. He does angry pretty well. Or maybe even Mary Stuart Masterson.
Alan Ball: Yeah. I don't know about this.
So would you still be watching? Would HBO have even given it the green light in the first place? Would I still be awake at this ungodly early hour on a Sunday morning writing a recap? All these questions and more may or may not get answered today, but before we go any further, here's another one of those opening-credit dance sensations that's been sweeping of late the entire TWoP nation. Incidentally, this one goes out as a long-distance dedication to Ellen in Boston, as she's yet another of my old high school relations.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boop. Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boop. Ding! Boop Bop Boop Bop. Bop Bop Boop Boop Boop Bop Bop! Boobeedoobee bop. Boobeedoobee. Boobeedoobee boo. Boobeedoobee boo. Boobeedeeboo. Boobeedeeboo. Boobeedeeboobeedoobeedoobee dop. Chingy ching ching ching chingy ching. Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boop. Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boop. Bwop Bwop Bwop Bwop Bwop TWoP. BWONG!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! Boobeedoobee bop. Boobeedoobee. Boobeedoobee boo. Boobeedoobee boo. Boobeedoobee. Boobeedoobee. Boobeedeeboobeedoobeedoobee dop. Chingy ching ching ching chingy ching. Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boop. Ding! Boop boop boop boop boop boooooooooop. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Fade up on a yacht, cruising through the polluted waters of L.A. harbor. There's some blah blah babblecakes from a pair of extras standing on the upper deck of the S.S. Andrea Boria, and then some random drunken guy appears. He bitches about corporate downsizing for way longer than I care to listen, and then falls over the railing to his death. Since this scene featured no gags, no gimmicks, and bore (get it?) a disturbing resemblance to a death scene fromDawson's Creek, I think the less said about it, the better. Farewell, Matthew Heath Collins. time, try beating the writers.
It's morning in Brenda's Fiancé-Fucking Family Room, and Nate enters wearing the delirious smile of a man who's been ridden hard and put away wet. Hell, even his body hair looks happy. "I gotta say, it was worth the wait," he reports, before asking if this means that the "ebb" is over. Hmm. Who would have ever thought that Brenda would be the one who wanted to wait until they were engaged to have sex? Anyway, while she gets up to fetch some coffee, Nate takes the opportunity to check out the novel she's been writing on her perfectly product-placed laptop. "Wow, this is kinda racy," he exclaims, before she grabs it out of his hands and slams the lid shut. She tells him he can read it when it's ready, or more accurately, "if it's ever ready." Now you know how I feel about the recaps. He also asks if the main character Christina is her "fictional alter-ego, [her] Holden Caulfield." Brenda replies that she's more like her Humbert Humbert or her Constance Chatterley. So Brenda is a pedophile who likes to fuck the farmhands? Now that doesn't surprise me. Nate, by the way, has no idea who these people are, which prompts him to inquire if Brenda would prefer "an overly educated gas-bag like Trevor, or a semi-literate fuck machine like [Nate].""That's a no-brainer," replies Brenda. "No pun intended." Oh, okay. Heh. On the other hand, I am interested to know why a person can't be both. I mean, who wouldn't want a lover who could simultaneously fart, present a grammatically incorrect dissertation on cold fusion or the Grand Unified Field Theorem, and act out the pictures on pages seventeen through twenty-three of the Kama Sutra. That's like my dream date, or something. Putting these questions aside for the moment, Nate pulls a small diamond ring out of his pocket and slips it onto Brenda's finger. "Brenda Chenowith, will you marry me?" he asks. "Didn't we already do this?" she answers, before planting a big kiss on his lips. But then Nate says, "I love you," and all Brenda can manage in response is "Good." Oh, please. Come on, Nate. You may be semi-literate, but you're not stupid. Well, okay, you are stupid, but even you should be able read the giant red STOP sign printed on Brenda's forehead at this point (though I'm sure she likes to think it says "Yield"). She's bad news, my friend, and I just can't bear it anymore. Also, remember this later on in the episode when David and his Little White Sex Dork break up for almost exactly the same reason. Nate now suggests that they tell his family the good news over dinner that night. Brenda isn't too happy about that idea, and is even less enthusiastic when he asks about telling her parents and brother. Brenda claims that she hasn't been talking to Billy much lately, but a quick perusal of TV Guide's guest star lists for a few of the upcoming episodes makes me question the level of truth in that particular statement. Finally, there's some innuendo-laden banter about pancakes, and the scene ends with one of Nate's sideburns shoving its tongue down Brenda's throat.
It's morning in David's Lawyer-Loving Loft, and the Little White Sex Dork emerges from the shower wearing the delirious smile of a man who's been ridden hard and put away wet. Hell, even his body hair looks happy, albeit significantly less impressive than Nate's. David is already dressed at this point, and looking somewhat impatient, but the LWSD just keeps babbling about the quality of David's shower. "Mine just has this weird bolt sticking out of the wall that sends out mist," he explains. "It takes like five minutes just to get wet." Oh, so many disgusting Brenda jokes, so little time. The LWSD now wants to know why David never sleeps over at his place, and then launches into a long, grammatically incorrect dissertation on the quality of his molding. No word on whether he farts or not. The sound effect guys must be on vacation this week. "I would be happy to stay at your place," interrupts David, flashing a smile guaranteed to win the hearts of men and women alike. The Little White Sex Dork moves in to straighten David's tie, and explains that he wasn't expecting to hear from David after their second date, because he "never thinks the good guys are going to call back." "Who says I'm a good guy?" wonders David. "Well, it's been three weeks, that's usually a good sign," says the LWSD. "Check with me in three months and I'll tell you how you're doing." Um, you might want to amend that to about three paragraphs there, buddy. They kiss, and we're out.
It's morning in Ruth's Cossack-Cuddling Kitchen, and Lauren Ambrose enters wearing the delirious smile of a girl I'd like to…you know what, never mind. Besides, Nikolai's robe is (thankfully) covering up his body hair, so I can't tell how happy it might be. "Good morning, dear," says Ruth. "Apparently," replies Claire. Heh. She takes a seat at the table, and is quickly joined by David, who does quite the double-take when he spots Nikolai. "I see its Good Neighbor Day at the Fisher house," he announces, as Claire shares a meaningful look with her brother. Ruth, meanwhile, is upset that David didn't invite the Little White Sex Dork to join them. Heck, even Nikolai wanted to meet the guy. Ah, Nikolai. He's cute, cuddly, and not the least bit homophobic! What's not to love? Mommie Drearest announces that Nate is running late, but he'd like them all to be at dinner that night so he can make a big announcement. Claire shares another meaningful look with her brother, this time incorrectly assuming that the announcement has to do with Nate's anvilitis. Nikolai loves the idea, however, and grabs a great big handful of bacon to celebrate. Mmm. Bacon.
Emilio Estevez: Hey, Recap Boy! What the hell do you think you're doing?
Aaron: What do you mean?
Emilio Estevez: No Breakfast Club jokes? No cracks about Nikolai pushing maximum density? You're losing your touch.
Aaron: Don't mess with the bull, young man. You'll get the horns.
Emilio Estevez: Yeah, whatever. Does Barry Manilow know you've been raiding his wardrobe?
Aaron: Hey, you're the one wearing tights.
Emilio Estevez: I don't wear tights. I wear the required uniform. Besides, this was the only way I could get work now that Daddy's giving all the good jobs to Charlie and Renee.
Kelly LeBrock: Okay, settle down, you two. And somebody go tell Lauren that if she ever gets the chance, she should shower with Aaron. It's a mind-scrambler.
Now the Ironic Segue Fairy cuts us to Das Sargzimmer, where the first words out of the Widow Du Jour's mouth are "Everyone had gotten off." Get it? "Gotten off"? Alan, Alan, Alan. What am I going to do with you? Turns out what she's talking about is people getting off the Andrea Boria, and how she discovered that her husband was dead. The Widow DJ is played this week by Harriet Sansom Harris, who's best known as either Frasier's agent or the Eves' mother, and she does a kick-ass job. In fact, don't let Mare hear me say this, but she's my favorite so far this season. She delivers a long monologue about how she met the DGDJ, which somehow manages to include the phrase "the sun was coming up, and I just sat there staring at this stupid pig carcass." Aww. How romantic. Then she pulls out a cigarette and lights up. Flick. Ahhh. David and Nate both go ballistic, citing California's draconian anti-smoking regulations, and pointing out that they could be fined if she doesn't put it out right away. And yet, they still have an ashtray right there on the table. That seems weird. David tries to get down some details for the funeral (which will be closed casket, due to the fact that the DGDJ was "dredged up from Long Beach Harbor with a propeller slice halfway down his body"), but Harriet only cares about the price. David quotes her a sum of $7,000, saying that it's average or slightly lower, and Nate uses his "gift" to promise that they'll take care of everything. When Harriet leaves without signing a contract, David complains quite bitterly that she's wasting their time by comparison-shopping for the best deal.
Cut to Ruth, watering her plants and meta-wondering when they got so dried out. Through the window, we can spy a mass of red hair coming up the driveway, and see Ruth's shocked reaction. Then we're in the kitchen, being introduced to Ruth's long-lost sister Sarah, played by Patricia Clarkson, of drug-addicted German lesbian fame. Oh, and she was also on Wonderland. All two episodes of it. Anyway, we know Sarah is a bad girl because she sits with her legs spread and plays with her crotch every now and then. Ah, so many disgusting Sars jokes, so little time. And so many chances to get fired. ["If I lose my temper, you're totaled, man." -- Sars] Ruth launches into a surprisingly constructobabble-free monologue about how she forgives Sarah and doesn't want to be estranged from the only sister she has. When Sarah discovers that Ruth did The Plan, she's ecstatic. In fact, Sarah herself did The Plan, "back in the seventies, when it was still called Transitional Focus. Before Ernst Volhoeffer was busted for tax evasion and sold it to the Canadians." Oddly enough, that's exactly the same story behind our own name change to TWoP. I just thought you should know. Further ladling on the bad-girl image, Sarah continues with, "I met Volhoeffer at a party once, and he came onto me. But I had just dropped acid for the first time, and I thought he was some Mayan death priest who wanted to cut out my heart and throw it into a pit. So I blew him off." Ruth looks shocked and dismayed by this, but Sarah just giggles and wanders away.
Alan Ball: That's why you wanted Ally Sheedy? Ew. That's disgusting.
Judd Nelson: Hey, High Art was a pretty good flick. Lesbians are hot. And so is Radha Mitchell. Of course, it hasn't really helped her career any, but still.
Alan Ball: Oh, like you're one to talk about careers, Mr. Suddenly Susan.
Judd Nelson: Two seasons! I did two fucking seasons! And you'll note that when I left, people starting killing themselves.
Alan Ball: Ooh. That's harsh.
Judd Nelson: Yeah, well Brooke can have that affect on people. You think Agassi is sleeping with Streisand and Steffi Graf because they're hot? I don't think so.
In another room, David is furious because the Widow DJ blew them off for a Kroehner funeral home. As the brothers Fisher wander downstairs to the Body Shop, David exposits that this is the third funeral Kroehner has stolen from them since the arrival of Alan Ball's old pal from Grace Under Fire. Uh, I mean Mitzi Dalton-Huntley. They’re still arguing about whether or not it was a good idea for Nate to tell Mitzi to shove the coffin wall up her ass when Rico interjects that he warned them about Kroehner, but no one listened to him. This time, David says it for me: "Not now, Federico." Yeah, I know. It's no "Shut up, Rico," but it'll have to do. David is especially concerned about how they're going to pay an $1,800 fine they received for putting up a billboard without their license number across the street from a retirement home. Oh, that's classy. Nate insists that David was supposed to review the ad before it went to the printer, but David doesn't care, insisting that this makes them look like amateurs. Because all the times they've lost feet, crafted fake cat-food breasts, and suffered from skin slippage make them look so gosh-darned professional. Rico does some more whining about how he has to leave work early (again!), and that he's "not comfortable" styling some dead woman's hair without a picture to work from. "[The picture] came in this morning," shouts David, "and I put it in her file, which you would know if you bothered to look!" He storms out, threatening to low-ball Kroehner to keep the DGDJ's funeral, and Nate shrugs apologetically at Rico, as if to explain his brother's tight-ass behavior. Shut up, Nate. David is totally right to be pissed at Rico, and I would have so fired his ass by now, "restorative artist" or not.
Upstairs in The Sun Room Of Dramatic Life Revelations, Sarah is perusing a Fisher family photo album when Claire walks in. Aunt Sarah immediately jumps up, introduces herself, and announces that "the Goddess is clearly manifesting through you. It's very obvious." I'll say. "Thanks," replies Claire. "I thought you were dead." Heh. Sarah shrugs that one off, and continues with the compliments. "Oh, this skin," she sighs. "Like milk. Treasure it while it lasts." Oh, I do. Believe me, I do. Ruth enters now, and Sarah playfully asks why she told her only daughter that her only aunt was dead. Claire clarifies that the dead thing was merely an assumption based on the way Mommie Drearest used to talk about her sister, and Sarah gleefully remarks that she's made a miraculous recovery. Then she starts touching Claire's face again. I'm not sure whether to be jealous or creeped out at this point, but Claire has clearly opted to go with creeped out. Incidentally, and I know I'm going to take a lot of flak for pointing this out, but Lauren Ambrose's breasts seem unusually large in this scene for some reason. No, really. They do. Check your VCR. And, no, I wasn't staring. Really. I swear.
Stop looking at me like that.
Legless Grandmother: Oh Claire, let me take a look at you. Hey, she's gotten her boobies!
Unnamed Grandfather: I better get my magnifying glass! Ha ha ha.
Legless Grandmother: Oh, and they are so PERKY!
Aaron: Yeah. Forgive me, Lauren.
Cut to Claire's room, where Aunt Sarah is reviewing a bunch of paintings that I don't think we've ever really seen before. One of them is a pretty decent self-portrait of a flaming redhead amongst a sea of black and gray handprints, and Sarah describes it as showing "anger and yearning. Passion, resentment of the status quo, and some jealousy of it as well. Not the most original perspective, but it's authentic." Thanks, Aunt Meta. Then she notices a white plastic heart decorated with dead roses, and she really likes that one. She deconstructs it at length, only to be told by Claire that she found it in the garbage after a funeral and kept it because she thought it looked cool. "You're an artist, Claire," announces Sarah, primarily to inform us about Claire's new character quirk, since the only evidence we've seen of it so far was an off-hand comment about comic strips back in Season One. She hippie-babbles some more about Claire's great artistic potential and how she "sees through the veil," and then flops down on the bed and suggests that Claire put something red and "bordello-y" in her "relationship corner." Apparently, Claire has been "resisting the carnal" because Ruth has been rubbing off on her. You know, if she's interested, I'd be more than happy to help out in that department. I'm just saying. Sarah also wants her to put a plant in her "knowledge corner," and at this point I'm frankly surprised that she hasn't suggested Claire add some happy little trees and a few fluffy clouds to her paintings. Claire laughs off all the feng shui stuff (and I'm just ignoring it, because that's really more Gustave's department than mine), but Sarah isn't having it. "You can drop the generic apathy crap. That's just laziness. You're more than that, and you know it." Claire seems shaken by this brilliant insight into her soul, but I can't really focus on it because Patricia Clarkson is playing with her crotch again.
Hey, speaking of crotches, we're now at Rico's house. A housing inspector announces that their walls are full of mold, and that repairs will run somewhere between three and seven thousand dollars. Vanessa whines. Rico yells. I snooze. Whatever.
Across town, Mitzi has just gotten pulled over for running a red light. She screeches into her hands-free cell phone that "we're living in a motherfucking police state," but she quickly forgets all about it (as does the director) when informed that the Fishers have stolen back the DGDJ's funeral by undercutting them by a thousand dollars. "I love this," she shouts. "They're cute, but they are such bad businessmen." She inquires about her schedule for the day, and then cancels all her appointments so she can spend some quality time with the "fabulous Fisher boys." Then she drives off, apparently forgetting the unseen cop who's presumably writing her a ticket even as we speak. I guess this must be the same intersection where Gabe shot that guy, because the police don't seem to be too on the ball around here.
Formaldehyde Fortress. It's redhead central in the kitchen, as Ruth, Sarah, and Claire are preparing for Nate's very special dinner. Sarah wants to add some tarragon to the mix, despite the fact that Ruth repeatedly insists that there's no tarragon in Chicken Kiev. Hmm. Wouldn't Chicken Kiev be more appropriate for one of Nikolai's very special dinners? Although with all that red hair in the room, I guess they can probably toss in a few strands to make it right for Nate as well. Anyway, Sarah discovers that Ruth has no tarragon, so she immediately goes to her purse and pulls out a handful of spices in little plastic baggies. Knowing Alan Ball as we do, he's probably the only producer in the world that would use actual marijuana as a prop for oregano, instead of the other way around. Sarah flaunts her wild ways by suggesting that "cooking is alchemy, not a science," and offers a few tarragon leaves for Claire to smell. This prompts Claire to offer to help, and the look on Ruth's face is more than enough to let us know that she's certainly never offered before.
Later, Nikolai is pouring vodka in the kitchen. He announces that it's from Poland, and I have a hard time believing that any self-respecting Russian would drink Polish vodka. I've been to Poland, and let me just say that every joke you've ever heard is completely true. He's joined at the table by The Ultimate Anti-Ruth Cliché (better known around these parts as "Aunt Sarah"), who immediately launches into an old Russian drinking song. "Vare you learnink to speak da Russian?" inquires Nikolai, and Sarah simply replies that there was a man involved. Then she tells Claire (who's mixing something over at one of the counters) to form the butter into eight separate logs. "Ew," says Claire. "No, not at all," replies Sarah. "It's deliciously sensual." "Ew," says Aaron. "Wash your hands first," adds Ruth. Heh. Now Sarah walks over to her sister, presses herself against Ruth's back, and whispers, "Ruth, you wild woman. Nikolai is adorable, and hot. The sex must be spectacular. Good for you." Now, I like Nikolai just as much as the guy who realizes that he's not Ed Begley Jr., but that was way too much information. Now David appears, and Sarah rushes up to hug him. "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "You're all grown up, but your face is still twelve years old." Hee! "David, you remember your Aunt Sarah?" asks Ruth. "I'm sure you couldn't forget her if you tried."
And now Nate and Brenda finally arrive, entering through the front door and bickering about how much Ruth hates Brenda. Then they head up the stairs to go to the kitchen, and suddenly I'm totally lost. Memo to whoever does The Wake over at HBO.com (which is excellent, by the way): Please put up blueprints of the Fisher house. I have no idea how that place is laid out. Incidentally, the high-angle camera placement here isn't doing Rachel Griffiths's cleavage any favors. "Look, just relax and enjoy yourself," says Nate. "You look gorgeous, everybody loves you, and all you have to do is sit back and be the center of attention." Ahh! At last we find something that Brenda is good at.
Dinner. Aunt Sarah kicks things off by asking "Linda" what she does for a living. She also explains that she got Brenda's name wrong because Nikolai has been plying her with vodka since the moment she arrived. Incidentally, for the remainder of this scene you can just assume that we cut to Ruth looking uncomfortable after every single sentence, unless I specify otherwise. Nate announces that Brenda is "an amazing massage therapist, and she's writing a novel." This interests Claire, who reveals Brenda's connection to Charlotte: Light and Dark, which both David and Sarah have read. Ruth, however, has never even heard of the book, so Claire explains the plot (and her feelings about me) by saying, "It's this book about this girl who's being analyzed, and she's like way smarter than the people who are analyzing her, and so she's constantly fucking with them, and it's hilarious." Aunt Sarah approves. "Well, well, Nate," she drawls. "You continue to be drawn to strong, complex women. Bravo." Now David compliments Ruth on the food, which Mom thinks is a little sour, and Nikolai asks if anyone wants "more wodkuh." Sarah mentions that a lover once told her that "vodka is to Russians what therapy is to Americans," and Brenda finally finds something she feels confident talking about. "Yeah," she interjects. "Something habit-forming and expensive that totally destroys your ability to lead an authentic life." Awkward silence. "Sorry," finishes Brenda. "Both my parents were shrinks." "Ahh," replies Sarah. "And that was very painful for you." Heh. Patricia Clarkson's a pretty good actress when she lays off the heroin. Actually, she was pretty good on the heroin, too, so I guess as long as she stays away from Peter Berg, she'll be fine. Now Sarah changes the subject to Claire, and announces that everyone in the family should take note of the budding artist in their midst. "She needs feedback, even if it's just to learn to ignore it." Shout-out? Sarah also offers to let Claire come stay with her in Topanga Canyon (which, along with the presence of the Little White Sex Dork, makes two separate shout-outs to Boy Meets World in this episode. What's up with that?). Suddenly, there's awkward silence again, complete with Ruth dropping her fork and looking sick. Claire has no idea what's going on, so Nate jumps up to break the tension and make his big announcement. There's much rejoicing when everyone learns about the wedding plans, but Sarah has to spoil it by getting all meta again about my relationship with Lauren. "Here's to romantic love," she toasts, "both the inspiration and the utter folly of it." Ruth looks even more sick than she did before, and Brenda stares at her, believing once again that it's all about herself. Sarah mentions that she never would have pegged "Linda" as the marrying type, and the entire audience nods quickly in agreement. Nate shows off the rings, but Ruth just gets up and walks away, saying she's going to put on some coffee. The third and final round of awkward silence is finally broken when David wistfully asks if there's any more wodkuh.
Andrew McCarthy: Please. There's no way those two are getting married.
Judd Nelson: Why not?
Andrew McCarthy: Marriage is a concept invented by people who were lucky to make it to twenty without being eaten by dinosaurs. Marriage is extinct.
Judd Nelson: Dinosaurs are extinct. Marriage is still around.
Andrew McCarthy: Yeah, but I bet no one ever saw a brontosaurus giving out hand-jobs to random velociraptors.
Judd Nelson: Clearly you've never seen Jurassic Pork. Or Robert Downey Jr. in Less Than Zero, for that matter.
Nikolai heads back into the kitchen to comfort Ruth, and he doesn't understand why she's not happier about Nate's engagement. She cries a bit, and he gives her a big bear hug and offers to help her clean up. You go, Nikolai! Back at the table, Sarah is babbling about all the emotion in the house, and offering Vicodin to anyone who wants it. Sign me up, baby. Claire asks what the deal with Topanga Canyon is, and Sarah is surprised that no one ever told her. Nate steps up with an explanation: "David and I went to stay with Aunt Sarah one weekend, and I kind of lost my virginity." That's wasn't the problem, however. The problem was that Nate was fifteen and the girl was thirty-two. "Oh my God, that's totally fucked up!" laughs Claire, although I don't think it's anywhere near as fucked up as losing your virginity to someone named Bobo. "Your mother has never forgiven me," chimes in Aunt Sarah, "and she never will, no matter what she says. Granted, there was an awful moment when David was lost, but he was found completely unharmed in the canyon the morning." For some reason, David smiles giddily at this recollection, and now I really want to know what he was up to that night. "Damn," sighs Claire, "I miss out on all the best stuff in this family." I don’t know if I'd complain too much about that, Claire. I mean, you've still got both your legs.
Afterwards, Nate walks Brenda out and listens while she whines about how much Ruth hates her. "Oh well," sighs Brenda as she heads out the door. "We've got a whole lifetime of tense and uncomfortable family gatherings to look forward to." And my parents wonder why I'm not married.
Up in the Lawyer-Loving Loft, David returns to his room to find the phone ringing. It's the Little White Sex Dork, and he immediately asks David if he's drunk. "YES!" replies David. "My mother's boyfriend kept pouring wodkuh, and I'm going have such a fucking headache tomorrow." LWSD is somewhat hurt that Mom's boyfriend got invited and he didn't, so David is forced to tell a little white sex lie, saying, "Uh, I knew it would be excruciating and I wanted to spare you." Nice save, David. Not. LWSD invites David over to his place, to which David replies, "I'm too drunk. I shouldn't drive." Then The Dork invites himself over to David's house, to which David replies, "I'm too drunk. I shouldn't drive." I can't decide whether that merits a "heh" or an "ew," so I'll compromise and give it a "hew." There's some cutesy conversation, and they finally hang up. For the record, David has the exact same phone I do.
In the house, Nate enters the dining room to help Ruth remove the inserts from the table, a chore I've performed with my own mother many a time. Without so much as a thank you, Ruth begins berating him for not using his grandmother's ring to propose with. Hmm. I guess we know it wasn't a toe-ring. "God knows your brother isn't going to use it," she says, "and who knows if Claire is ever going to settle down…You are the first-born, and probably the only opportunity for grandchildren that I will ever live to see." Nate makes the very reasonable point that Mom never even told him about the ring, and then adds that the real source of her discontent is that Ruth doesn't like Brenda. "Is she pregnant?" wonders Ruth, and the psychobabbling of Mare the Psychic a few weeks back aside, Nate insists that she's not. "But she is the woman I love, Mom, and you may not think that she's the best person for me, but I do, and I need you to accept that." And with that, Nate stalks off, leaving Ruth both actually and metaphorically alone as we fade to white.
Fade up on the Fortress the day, as the Widow DJ has returned to Fisher & Sons. She's still whining about finding the best price, and also asking if she can see her husband's body. David explains that it's beyond restoration, but she doesn't care. She's also taking the opportunity to psychobabble a bit herself. "You think it's a day like any other. You don't realize that anything can happen. And then it does. It happens. [Shot of Nate's anvil-infested brain.] And so much is left unsaid. And it was all just wasted time." That's a pretty apt description of this subplot, by the way. Nate busts out his "gift" once again, this time by quoting C.S. Lewis: "'No one ever told me grief felt so like fear.' Also, would you like your husband to be buried through the looking glass, or in the wardrobe with the lion and the witch?" Just kidding. But really -- C.S. Lewis? Whatever happened to "semi-literate"? Nate also insists that everything is going to be all right. "No it's not," says the Widow DJ, over yet another shot of Nate's brain. Ugh.
Now we get a jump cut to the boys alone in the sitting room, discussing the fact that dealing with the bereaved never seems to get any easier. They're interrupted, however, by the arrival of Mitzi Dalton-Huntley, who wants to know why they've never thanked her for buying them the casket wall. Nate is not impressed, however, and quickly asks, "What the fuck do you want?" And thank God, because I think that's only the second or third time he's said "fuck" this week, and I was beginning to worry that we wouldn't make our quota. "What the fuck do I want?" asks Mitzi. "I want you boys to come the fuck with me on a little fucking trip. What do you fucking say, huh?" Fuck. So much for not making the quota. Alan Ball should be very fucking proud of himself. The boys don't seem too interested in joining Mitzi on her little fucking field trip, until she points out that they've run yet another unlicensed ad in the paper for the last three weeks. That changes their mind pretty fucking quick.
Cut to a Gulfstream, already in flight. Heh. David is on board, drinking a margarita and calling Rico to let him know that he and Nate are "tied up" for the rest of the day, and Rico will have to go pick up a body for them. In the shock of all shocks, Rico whines about it. On the other hand, David does hang up on him, so at least we're making progress. Mitzi teases them a bit about stealing this week's funeral from Kroehner, and further points out to Nate that "this whole self-righteous, chip-on-the-shoulder thing, it kind of worked for Russell Crowe in Gladiator, but honey, you don't have the special effects to back it up." Or the silky-smooth waxed chest, for that matter. They're joined by Bobo at this point (but not my Bobo), and he congratulates them on their decision to sell out. "We're never selling to Kroehner," insists Nate. "Oh," replies Bobo. "Well then, you're idiots. No offense." I certainly can't argue with that.
Meanwhile, back at the Fortress, Claire spies on her aunt. Sarah does tai chi, so you just know that she's all mystical and wise and shit. You know, in case all those other hints they've dropped so far didn't make that clear. Claire heads into the kitchen, where she finds Ruth folding clothes. "It must have been fun having a sister growing up," she says, but Ruth disagrees, claiming that "fun isn't the word [she] would use." Then she snarks on her sister some more, saying that Sarah has "no boundaries" and would have only disappointed Claire. Based on the previews for week, I'm sure we'll be finding out just how true that is. Of course, based on the speed with which I write recaps, you've probably already seen that episode, so it's sort of a moot point. Claire isn't interested in having cold water splashed all over her hero-worship, so she gets up to leave. As she goes, Ruth tries to tell her that she can do anything she puts her mind to, but Claire couldn't care less anymore what Mom might have to say.
Oy. Another Rico/Vanessa scene. Cousin What'sHisName is working on the moldy walls, and Rico and Vanessa are fighting. Again. The cousin takes Vanessa's side, and sets up what appears to be an even more boring and pointless extension of this subplot when he flirts with her a bit. Is there some kind of HBO requirement that all married women on this network have to sleep with the guys who renovate their houses? I mean, Carrie did it, Carmela almost did it, and now we've got Vanessa. Hell, I'm surprised (and thankful) that Rebadow didn't sleep with Busmalis after he dug that tunnel in their cell.
Down in Palm Springs, Mitzi is leading the brothers through Kroehner's guest house, which was once owned by Frank Sinatra. She also introduces them to "Pepper," a hottie cabana-boy who used to be captain of the USC swim team. Nate can't believe they're wasting time like this. David can't tear his eyes away from Pepper's abs. Heh. Mitzi keeps on babbling, the upshot of which is that they should just forget about the trials and tribulations of running a small business, and have fun for the rest of the day. Perhaps imagining himself toweling off a wet and frisky Pepper, David says they should give it a shot.
Formaldehyde Fortress. Ruth enters Claire's empty bedroom to drop off some laundry, and finds herself examining the paintings on the wall. Apparently she's never seen them before either. Claire appears in the doorway, and Ruth quickly hustles out of there without saying a word.
Now David and Nate are sitting side-by-side in a hot tub, both with towels draped over their eyes. If you look closely, you can actually see Peter Krause's chest hair floating amongst the bubbles. Mitzi appears behind them in a bright red fifties-style bathing suit, and joins them in the water. "I want you to know, Matt Gilardi never got to come here," she says, presumably because the sun would have melted his excessively pale skin. Then she calls Pepper over, and he passes an envelope to Nate. The brothers look inside, and find a check with a value that no amount of manipulation of my TiVo's pause button will reveal. Sorry. "That's considerably more money than we've ever offered you," says Mitzi. Incidentally, the boys are sitting real close, with David's arm draped around Nate's shoulders, and they're just so cute that I want to wrap them up and take them home and cuddle with them all night long. Whoa. Sorry. Got a little out of control there. Nate is still being a party-pooper, however, and he tears up the check and dunks it in the water as he explains that they "like [their] lives just the way they are." Mitzi is furious, and she jumps right out of the tub, barking, "Honey, it may be tomorrow, or it may be ten years from now, but y'all are going under. It is just evolution. Kroehner's got the size, the resources, the market share, the lobbyists in Washington, and what've y'all got? Your pride? Well, woo hoo." Then she tells them the car for the airport is leaving in five minutes.
Forsaking those five minutes, we now cut directly to the plane, where Nate and David appear to be alone. David is worried that maybe they should have taken the offer, but Nate insists that they can never give up, and never surrender. Also, he occasionally likes to wear sunglasses at night. Then he grabs his forehead, and David inquires if his medication is bothering him. He also wants to know if Nate has told Brenda about the anvilitis yet, and Nate lies through his presumably hairy teeth and says yes. "How'd she take it?" asks David. "Well, you know Brenda," answers Nate. "She pretends to be stronger than all of us." Fade to white.
Back at Brenda's Brotherfucking Boudoir, Nate climbs into bed with his betrothed. They kiss and cuddle, and suddenly the doorbell rings. Brenda says it's a client, and tries to get up to answer it, but Nate won't let her. He tickles her a bit, and then sits up to straddle her chest, saying, "God, I love you so much." Then he grabs a pillow and starts smothering her. Yeah! Go Nate! It's your birthday! Oh, wait. Damn. Dream sequence. Oh, well. Brenda wakes up alone and out of breath, and runs to go answer the doorbell, which really was ringing.
St. Stephens. David and the Little White Sex Dork (who I always assumed was Jewish for some reason) emerge from services, and make plans for the afternoon. Suddenly Taylor runs over, and we get a shot of Keith and Eddie standing on the other side of the patio. David gets a big hug from Taylor, and the LWSD gets a dirty look. Heh. "I didn't know you were here," says David. "That's a big-ass lie," replies Taylor. "I saw you staring in church." Heh again. Keith lies to Eddie (sort of), and says that he and David had an argument, and then he calls Taylor back over to join them. "Who's she?" wonders the LWSD. "Oh, her uncle is an old friend of mine," explains David.
Brenda's Bordello of Boredom. She's got a bald and geeky-looking client on a massage table in her living room, and it's worth noting that the only reason she's using a table for this client when she never has before is that the camera angles required for this scene won't work if the guy's on the floor. I just thought you should know that. She has him roll over onto his back, and he apologizes for the erection she's so conveniently blocking by saying that it happens to him all the time. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," she says, re-covering him with the towel. And then suddenly, and for no good reason at all, she reaches under the towel and starts giving him a bit of the jerkie-jerkie. Yeah! Go client! It's your birthday! Oh, wait. It's NOT a dream sequence. Damn. Oh, well. The only reason I can think of that she might have decided to do something like this (besides the obvious psychobabble reasons we're meant to infer) is that the client does have a really hairy chest. So maybe she just got confused and thought he was Nate. Either way, the guy only lasts about ten seconds (for which the audience will be eternally grateful), and then we cut to a shot of Brenda washing her hands and looking disgusted with herself. The now-dressed client asks for another appointment, and when she turns him down, he just leaves some money on the counter and walks out.
Meanwhile, at the Fortress, Nate is setting up for the DGDJ's funeral. The Widow DJ enters and asks for permission to see her husband's body, even though David already turned her down. Since Nate is fresh out of relevant C.S. Lewis quotes, he reluctantly agrees. He opens the casket, and the Widow DJ stares in silence for a moment before breaking into a mixture of laughter and tears and screaming that she's "fucking glad" that he's dead. Great acting from Harriet Sansom Harris here, by the way. "I hope it hurt like hell!" she shrieks, before regaining control and solemnly whispering, "He can't hit me anymore, can he?" Ladies and gentlemen, Alan Ball, Master of The One-Line Reversal. Understanding slowly dawns on Nate's face, and the Widow strides away, never to be seen again.
David's Lawyer-Loving Loft. He and the Sex Dork enter, and immediately collapse onto the sofa, kissing and making out. "I could really love you, David Fisher," says the LWSD, with a really odd line delivery. David just says nothing at all, and understanding slowly dawns on the Little White Sex Dork's face as well. "Not exactly the response I was looking for," he says, "although I can't say I'm entirely surprised." David apologizes repeatedly, and says he likes The Dork a lot, but it's just that he's in love with someone else. "I just thought it would be a good idea for me to get involved with someone else," explains David, but the LWSD doesn't care. He's gets all huffy and storms out of the loft, leaving David alone with his lust for Keith.
Alan Ball: What was that ruckus?
Anthony Michael Hall: Uh, what ruckus?
Alan Ball: I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus.
Anthony Michael Hall: Could you describe the ruckus, sir?
Alan Ball : It sounded suspiciously like a dork's heart breaking.
Anthony Michael Hall: Oh. That. Um, you can just ignore that.
Alan Ball: Uh, okay. Also, why are we wearing bras on our heads?
Anthony Michael Hall: It's purely ceremonial.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Ruth is mopping when Sarah arrives with some "organic spices" she bought as a gift. There's no word on whether or not they were grown by a man named Gunther who once slept with Stevie Nicks. She's also brought a happy little bonsai tree for Claire to put in her knowledge corner, one that was presumably purchased with Mr. Dollarbillyagi. Ruth remains cold and insensitive, as she's prone to do, and then suddenly blurts out her emotions, as she's also prone to do: "You waltz in here after twenty years, insulting my cooking, getting drunk with my boyfriend, filling my daughter's head with all kinds of ideas, and reminding my sons of traumatic events in their lives." Sarah tries to explain that Nate would have lost his virginity eventually anyway, and that "Fiona" was a "very compassionate" woman. "He was molested!" exclaims Ruth. "He was a horny fifteen-year-old who couldn't believe his luck!" answers Sarah, and I've got to go with the wacky aunt on this one. The sisters start shouting back and forth, reliving their old childhood disputes, most of which center around the fact that Ruth had to stay home and take care of the legless grandmother while Sarah went out into the world. Gee, does this remind anyone of David and Nate? Yeah. That's what I thought. Sarah finally consents to apologize for what Ruth perceives as her "selfishness," but it doesn't seem to make Ruth feel any better, because Sarah "had more fun" than she did. That one shuts them both up. "Fun?" Sarah finally asks. "The only man I ever loved died when I was twenty-one. The children I so desperately wanted were impossible because my ovaries are dry as stone. And I'm a terrible artist, but I surround myself with people who have talent that I will never realize. It's all hard, Ruth. We just made different choices." The sisters sit quietly, their fury expended, and Sarah mentions how sorry she was to hear about The Late Nate's death. Finally, she takes the mop from Ruth's hands and offers to finish the job herself, thus completing their symbolic reconciliation.
Cut to Brenda's Hand-Job Hacienda, where's she hard (get it?) at work on her novel. Nate enters and sits down beside her, complaining about how bad his day was. Brenda consoles him by running her hand up and down his arm a few times, and Nate fails to recoil in horror while wondering where those hands have been all day. He mentions the Widow DJ, and asks, "Can you imagine hating someone so much and staying with them for twenty years?" "What makes you think people stay together because it makes them happy?" wonders Brenda. Run, Nate, run! He makes Brenda promise that they'll deal with any of their problems before it gets that bad, but Brenda insists that she'll be long gone before he could ever hate her. They cuddle for a moment, and then Nate asks, "So what did you do today?" "Not much," answers Brenda. "Just a client." Alan, Alan, Alan. Again with double-entendres. Brenda reaches down and starts unbuckling Nate's jeans, only she describes it as "releasing [his] cock from the prison of [his] pants." Oy. That must be some Harlequin romance she's writing there. Of course, now I'm reminded of the hilarious Allison Janney scenes from Ten Things I Hate About You, so maybe that's not such a bad thing.
And finally, we cut back to the Formaldehyde Fortress, where Claire sits alone in her room, IM-ing me on the computer with her new bonsai tree in the foreground. Don't believe it was me she was talking to? Well, here's a transcript:
AwesomeAaron01: This information cannot leave this chat room, okay? It would devastate my reputation as a dude.
BigRed2273: No problem.
AwesomeAaron01: I've never bagged a babe. I'm not a stud.
BigRed2273: This doesn't surprise me.
AwesomeAaron01: Yeah, but you heard about that shower thing, right?
BigRed2273: Log off. Now.
Suddenly, Ruth enters, carrying a big cardboard box. It's full of old drawings and art projects that Claire has done over the years, including a picture of the Fortress that's missing both Nate (who had already left for Seattle), and The Late Nate (who was probably working down in the Body Shop). Hmm. Missing male influence issues, much? As they examine these precious artifacts, Ruth reaches out to tenderly stroke her daughter's hair, and we slowly fade to white.
The end. Oh, except for this:
Dear Mr. Ball: We accept the fact that we have to spend every Sunday night watching your show, but we think you're crazy for making us write an essay detailing every little thing that happens in each episode. You see your show as you want to see it, in the simplest terms, and almost always in locked focus. But what we found out is that each of us is an angry cop, and a grieving widow, and a clichéd sister, a gay undertaker, and a wannabe prostitute. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Sunday Brunch Club.