Thank the antichrist, we're nearing the end of these summer episodes. I'm over it: over the gruesome twosome of Dylan and Kelly, sOuLmAtEs ~forever and always~; over papier-mâché Paris; over wooden puppet-come-to-real-life-boy-but-actually-still-fully-timber Rick; over Brooke's barely-concealed-by-bizarre-child-actor-vigor bigotry; over Steve. Just...Steve. And I know he's not going anywhere and will continue to haunt the deepest and darkest recesses of my mind long after I'm done recapping these things, but I've resolved myself to that life, and so should you.
Blah blah, check out Part 1; Part 2; and Part 3 to be all caught up on the non-festivities.
Things don't start off well for my psyche as we pan across the BHBC...
...and wind up at David sitting on a lounge chair, headphones on, but still menacing passers-by with his recitation of some Original Silver "Rap" Bars. Somewhere in Michigan, Marshall Bruce Mathers III quaked in his boots following this episode. Behold, the Lyrical Genius that is David, Son of Mel:
...
...
...
...
As much as everything is a goddamn waking nightmare under the Trump Regime, I can say without hesitation that this is worse. (No, I don't actually believe that; however, this is swooping in at a close second.) And here's Steve and his daytime horror of another indecent-exposure-waiting-to-happen outfit, come to join this hellscape already in progress.
He sits down on the next chair over and mercifully unplugs David's headphones. Bless this man and the be-mulleted bouffant he road in on.
I failed to mention above that I am also over this whole Steve Becomes David's Music Manager Because That's How High Schoolers Behave triple-z-plot to which we're being subjected, so let's breeeeeze through this anti-climatic scene and then book our hour-long cochlear massages that we're absolutely entitled to after being exposed to what is clearly psychological and auditive abuses. So Steve tells David that he listened to the demo, then says the thing he says to his reflection every time his hairstylist turns the salon chair around: "Mmm, it's not great." He then informs David, "I'm your new manager."
David: "But I don't want a manager." Perhaps you want a voice coach, then? Or maybe a wake up call from someone to tell you YOU'RE NOT TALENTED. PLEASE STOP. And then a slap to the face.
Whatever, David just wanted Steve's "contacts" - I'll pause here so that all of you can wipe up the beverage you just shot out of your mouth and nose after reading that and bursting into guttural laughter - but Steve says, "My contacts cost, David." I'm going to hurl.
Steve says that he'll take 50% and David asks, "Isn't there some kind of law or something that protects talent like me from slime like you?" and I'd like to be the first to tell him, 1) no, unfortunately; and it disgustingly won't change over the course of the next thirty-ish years; and 2) which is really more of a question: the word "talent" is really doing the heaviest of lifting in that sentence there, no?
In the end, David tentatively agrees to be taken advantage of by the walking slide-whistle that is Steve, but only if he can get David a gig within two weeks. Steve insists that's impossible, mostly because David sucks and who would want him?, and then kooky music plays as David wishes him, "Good luck," and Steve furrows his brow into the middle distance.
Here. Brandon struts out onto Henry's deck and fills in the audience: "Canner didn't show up, did he?"
They both wind up at the railing, looking wistfully out to sea. Henry doesn't want to tell Brandon "I told you so," but he basically does anyway, adding, "When you're as far gone as livin' on the street, it takes an awful lot to come back. Maybe he just wasn't ready."
Brandon, not done with making this unhoused man's plight All About Brandon, first says, "I put myself out for that guy," then tells Henry, "I should go find him."
Brandon: "Is that an order?"
Henry OF COURSE: "No." Goddamn it, Henry.
Some tense, Doogie Howser, M.D. theme-esque music plays us over to Brandon racing his bike down the boardwalk alongside the beach and hopping off after he spots the back of...
...this man, who is CLEARLY not Canner, but okay.
He calls out, "Canner! How come you didn't show up this mornin'?"
Not Canner turns around and looks confused.
They go back and forth a few times with Brandon describing Canner to Not Canner and asking if he knows him.
In the end he doesn't...
...and Brandon turns his bike around with a "sorry" all Sad Sackin' Sally as Sad Sack Synth plays us out of the scene.
Here. Kelly reads Architecture Digest on a lounge, because architecture was apparently All the Rage with The Youths of the early-'90s.
Oh gee look who shows up.
He tells her he's on his way to Paradise Cove and wanted to ask one more time if she'd like to join him.
Kelly, having grown a conscience in the last seven minutes, declines once more: "I don't think so." Don't worry: said conscience will be cut down to a nubbin in about another seven minutes' time.
After dejectedly - heave - bidding her a, "See ya round, I guess?" he's on his way as she stares forlornly after his retreating figure. It's a real Romeo and Juliet sitch up in this joint, or not at all.
Over at the Snack Shack, Brooke and her hair that somehow keeps getting worse approach Brandon, who's, you guessed it! doing the Sad Sad Shuffle while drinking his sorrows away with a mug of lemonade. You will note that he's still not working.
She tells him to get over Canner, that "he's not wastin' his time thinkin' about you, probably because he's wading through a kiddie-pool-sized vat of jug-wine," and she didn't say that last part, but she was absolutely thinking it.
Then to cheer him up, she kisses him and their lips moistly smack and smooch together and he tells her he feels better, but, "I think we might have to go up to my parents' cabana later to make sure I'm completely recovered." Sure! Because they absolutely will not care! They're probably there and will supply the condoms and lube and then busy themselves reading on the patio until their son reaches climax!
We blast into some Urgent Synth and this one scurries up, lying, "I'm sorry to break this up," and declaring, "I can't find Cameron."
If you thought this scene was going to amount to anything - maybe even like, Canner finds the kid and then he and Brandon talk and have some kind of resolution? - you're incorrect: within fifteen seconds, Cameron strolls up from behind Andrea with an ice cream cone; it turns out he had merely visited the restroom.
He tells her to "mellow out" and then Brandon has to mansplain to her, "Why don't you give the kid a break? He's deaf, not incompetent," and then she, a woman, totally gets it! and they all chuckle and I pop my fifth Trazadone of the last half-hour.
Here.
Inside the girls' room, the camera pans across their luggage and passports and various traveling accoutrements...
...then over to Brenda, lying wide awake in bed, thinking of the corrugated fiberboard for whom she's fallen a whopping 48 hours after meeting.
Cut to a bustling hotel lobby where everyone is preparing to depart. Lynette is accosting some poor, mute soul with, "Got your address in there?" then runs away with a, "I'm gonna write 'choo!" Thanks for playing, Lynette.
Over here, Donna and Brenda hug Madame D, who proclaims that they're her favorite.
Maggie then hurries over to grab her luggage, announcing to the room, "The bus is here, all aboard!" then to Brenda, "I gotta hand it to you, Bren, that guy was a real find. If he asked me to go backpacking on the Riviera, you'd be seeing my tracks right now," and then she's off. Au revoir, Maggie. I really liked this character's vibe and I wish the show had come up with some cockamamie reason that she had to move from New York to Beverly Hills, winding up at West Bev in the fall. Stranger things and story lines have happened, after all.
Brenda looks flustered at Maggie's read of the situation...
...and Donna in turn looks concerned for her friend and asks, "You okay?"
But she's not: she can't bear the thought of Rick, mannequin-like, standing on the street alone, awaiting her arrival (so...she agreed to go with him the night before? Okay). She could've just stopped at, "can't bear the thought of Rick," but whatever.
Donna however, god love her, spits some FACTS: "Oh, Bren, he'll find some other nice girl real soon that'll teach him French." EXACTLY.
But Brenda insists, "I have to say goodbye!"
Donna, disbelieving, kind of steps in her way: "The bus is leaving in 20 minutes! And you said if you ever saw him again that you'd never wanna leave him! What if he talks you into going with him?"
But off she goes!
Another perfect Donna-reaction shot.
So then we get this shot of Rick - wooden, natch - on the street with his absurdly studio-apartment-sized backpack hanging from his shoulder, checking his watch.
Brenda, running down the street, also on Watch Watch.
Rick, hailing a cab.
Brenda, more running, more Watch Watching.
Rick, opening the door to the cab and shoving his Barn Style Tuff Shed into the backseat.
Brenda, running and coming to a stop after spotting him: "RICK!!!"
Rick, entering the cab.
Brenda, crestfallen and gorgeous. Objectophilia is real, you guys.
Taxi, pulling away. Vile, non-copyrighted music begins playing here, but as us real ones (I'm so sorry) know, this is actually where Sophie B. Hawkins' forever iconic "Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover" played in the original airing. The song and these final scenes of this episode changed me on a molecular level, as I'm sure many a preteen-and-teen can attest to as well.
So we fade to this cheese-bag, lounging Cool Guy Stylez on the beach in front of a campfire, wearing his Baja jacket and drinking his thermos coffee while moodily gazing into the flames like a real Bad Boy Tool.
Suddenly, a pizza box enters the frame and we hear, "Who ordered the pizza?" Dylan smirks and says, "Hi."
He stands to greet her and she tells him, "Thought you might be hungry." One more tiiiiiiiiiiiiired, played-out, mind-numbingly stupid Casablanca platitude for the road? Why the hell not!: "Of all the beaches in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." No.
They sit; more of the same from her - "I don't even know what I'm doing here" - and him - "Because you know that this is probably the last chance that we'll ever have to be alone like this." Or you could have this all the time if you had an ounce of integrity and just broke up with your FUCKING girlfriend when she gets home instead of making your entire personality "scumbag" for the next six months or whatever.
Truly fucking WHATEVER, they watch some very fake stars fall from the sky.
Dylan Kerouacs, "Ya know what they say about shooting stars? You can't share 'em with a friend." Kelly, idiotically: "Well, I guess they weren't talking about us."
They smile at each other and it looks like they might kiss but Dylan just wraps his arms around her and pulls her in and they snuggle and he nuzzles her head with his chin and I decide that this right here will be my thirteenth reason. Onward and upward.
No comments:
Post a Comment