Seven Twenty Three

Seven Twenty Three, to me, was misread by a significant portion of the audience by virtue of its placement after “Guy Walks into…” Much of the analysis/comments I have read focuses on Don’s getting smacked by a teenage Draft evader in a seeming search for a follow up to the mangling of Guy’s foot. In this episode, I don’t think what happens is so important as why and when it happens. Another example of this is Peggy and Duck, the worst pairing since B.Aff and J.Lo. Everyone was up in arms about Peggy! sleeping! with Duck!, but I’m more interested in Peggy sleeping with someone older, not necessarily the context of her job offer or the fact that it’s a mallard. Peggy, on the cusp of another defining moment for her and womankind, turns to sex to validate this new version of herself. She is testing the waters to see not only if the world can perceive her in this new role but also if she can handle it: after Don has berated her and reminded her that she is a dispensable former secretary, she needs some proof of her worth and her maturity and finds it in her orgasm and the ability to make a man orgasm (the latter is much easier, but hey God is a man what can you expect).

All of these OMFG moments have a very short shelf life on the show, or so we presume: the hippies are never going to come up again (and they certainly lack the depth of the Californians from “The Jet Set” last season); I’m predicting, or maybe just hoping, that Peggy and Duck will never be mentioned again; and, from “Souvenir,” many are predicting that Henry Francis is done for, as his interaction with Betty was the other new development “Seven Twenty Three.” The opening montage of Betty, Don, and Peggy lying supine, prone, and on the side respectively suggests that each has been knocked out or swept off her feet by these departures from the norm. Perhaps Weiner is intending to use these plot points to highlight the shift from last season. Change has always been a theme of the show, but, where last season treated it from a historical perspective, this season looks ahead and brings the impending social changes closer to reality with situations such as these. I trust that Weiner does have a reason behind his “one use only” storylines, but it feels a little repetitive. While these moments generate interest for the next episode, inevitably the next episode fails to address what happened the week before: after Joan’s husband doesn’t get his promotion and Joan leaves Sterling Coop, Joan gets a week off; after Peggy sleeps with Duck, she gets a week off. As the show alternates between ensemble episodes and character studies, this model seems to make sense, but I prefer the interaction of the entire cast to cerebral examinations of the individual characters (one of my problems with this week’s “Souvenir”).

Despite these greater shortcomings, I thought the eclipse metaphor of this episode was not sufficiently appreciated in the face of these plot elements. Its relevance to the episode was twofold: first, we saw one agenda obscure another for each of the characters, not unlike the moon eclipsing the light of the sun; second, each character’s delusion about his personal strength and needs. For Don, his desire to remain untethered is surpassed by his commitment to his family (see his flashback to his own inept father, his relationship with Connie, the teacher’s rebuff of his advances,  his strong reaction to Roger’s invasion of his home life). Simultaneously, his perception of his own mystery and freedom is broken by the teacher’s rejecting his come on and the hippies’ taking advantage of him. Also, Ms. Farrell is so that girl from the Twix commercial about blogging and needing a moment. Mad Men is taking over your TV…

For Betty, her desire/need to make a home out of Ossining (redecorating the living room, joining the Junior League) is overtaken by her desire to be desired and to adventure beyond the constraints of her family with Henry Francis. We see even more of this in “Souvenir” with the trip to Rome. Betty can’t decide whether she wants to be powerful or to be rescued, ultimately succumbing to the latter and buying the garish fainting couch in my favorite gesture of the episode. That couch itself is like the eclipse, interrupting the beauty of the living room and the soul of her home.

For Peggy, her desire to angle herself pragmatically in the workplace is eclipsed by her need to feel wanted by the Manhattan world she’s breaking into. On the one end is Don, who says no to her, and on the other end Duck, who says yes; in between the two is Pete, who is the most important of the three but is not acknowledged as such. I don’t think Peggy has the same delusions about herself as Betty or Don do, but that may remain to be seen this coming week. Her tryst with Duck went off almost like her first one night stand with the college boy, to suggest that Peggy knows what she’s doing.

The eclipse metaphor served as a strong enigmatic force in the episode, one that seemed to be forgotten between the artifice of the fragmented timeline and the drama of acid and sex and water reservoirs. I treat this episode in particular more as a piece of art than as a traditional Mad Men narrative, a choice that is simultaneously fitting and not for this season that has lacked a good through line so far.

Souvenir

Everyone was excited about how pretty Betty looked when she went to Rome, but I thought she looked more like she belonged with the drag queens on a particularly progressive episode of Law and Order: SVU. This episode was all about Betty’s fantasy, and that kind of stylized luxury matches her fantasies of opulence and spontaneity (that fainting couch is straight out of a period piece). What’s interesting is that Don is normally not attractive to women of excess like Betty: Ms Farrell and that rando from season 1 bear no resemblance to this Roman Betty, and neither does Bobbie on a deeper level. The Roman Holiday is implicitly from Betty’s perspective, as she is the fluent Italian speaker (you make it look so easy, Betty!) and the woman escaping from both her infidelity and the doldrums of suburbia. Betty’s effortless beauty and felicity in Rome reverts to a dream deferred back home, as she sports the Italian modernist dress with a frown on her face.

Sourpuss

For Pete, his vacation experience is the opposite: we see the concerted effort of his seduction of the German au pair while his wife is away, and she puts all the pieces back together with her return. While Betty’s fantasy relationship comes easily in Rome and falls apart within the four walls of her very 50s home, Pete’s fantasy relationship doesn’t come easily in either sense of the verb because it’s…rape. His first exchange with Gertrude at the incinerator is excruciatingly awkward and characteristically Pete, as she is bewildered because of her bad English and his immature logic. Pete seeks to fashion himself as the hero by fixing her dress, but his attempt at chivalry only materializes because of Joan’s new job at Bonwit Teller. Although it becomes clear to us that his prince charming act is one-sided, as Gertrude alludes to her German boyfriend, Pete thinks he is entitled to his happy ending and forces himself on the unsuspecting (or maybe suspecting) foreigner. Just as Betty tells Don of her unhappiness and he responds with a promise of more vacation, Trudie tries to forget Pete’s indiscretion and he responds with a command that she take no more vacations. Trudie is more than willing to take care of Pete like the child they can’t have or adopt, but Don can’t meet Betty’s desires in the same way. Weiner seems to be highlighting the gender divide with these two. At the same time, however, we can also see that satisfaction is anything but guaranteed and romance anything but simple and pure.

Take, for example, Sally’s first kiss in this episode. Her chicken-like peck leads to a moment of repulsive violence against Bobby, as Sally looks huge and menacing while pinning her little brother. Betty and Don are rough in bed too, and it goes without saying that Pete likes to pin people down in the same way Sally does. Sally uses violence to defend her love and protect its innocence against Bobby, who mocks institutions of love and marriage with his “K-I-S-S-I-N-G” song. The adults, alternatively, are masochists. Pete and Betty childishly perceive withholding and force as sexual, desperate for a challenge in their love lives as it is lacking in their daily lives. When Betty tells Sally that a first kiss “is where you go from being a stranger to knowing someone,” the forcefulness of her sexual relationship with Don, and Pete’s with anyone, represents an attempt to know him more, to replicate that first moment of unmatched closeness. For Betty, the first kiss also refers to Henry Francis, whom she kisses early on in the episode. The interaction with Henry has all the tenderness and romance we have been taught to desire and expect in love, making it all the more unnatural for Betty. It reminds her of how dissatisfying and contrived her life as a housewife has become but also of the inviability of an affair. Betty and Pete are bound to their spouses, who know them without even having to kiss them, but continue to test the reach of the leash.

Sometimes I wonder what the value and point of connecting two characters like Betty and Pete is. Their universes are so different that to expose us to their similar psyches invites inappropriate comparisons. These comparative character studies are so frequent, too, that it seems like all the characters are somehow the same. I’m probably sounding like that really dumb kid in your sophomore English class right now, but I’m really just missing the genuine contrast that only Mad Men banter can offer. Or maybe all this talk of one’s first kiss is making me cringe.

People like Community (I’ll write about it soon! I swear! I just have to read Pride and Prejudice for the fifth time!). NBC should be proud of Community. NBC should not be proud of any other new show they’ve put out. These are truths universally acknowledged (see, at least I started!) in the TV world. My one major objection to Community is that elementary school paper star thing that opens the show. It’s ugly and anachronistic and inappropriate.

Top Chef Cares about Cancer

Last week’s episode of Top Chef was weird for reasons having nothing to do with the food itself. Mattin, who got his French arse kicked out of the Old West when he tried to make ceviche in a dish that would surely hurt John Wayne’s feelings, apparently left his red scarves behind at the house? Do the chefs not get to bring their clothes home with them? And then Robin tried to jump on the bandwagon, much to the chagrin of her fellow contestants. She then pulled the cancer card, as Eli reminded us, in the Quickfire and won. It’s okay though, because I was surprised Bravo hadn’t exploited this already and because the Quickfire was abstract and meta as all get out. It challenged the cast to make a dish representing the angels and devils of Las Vegas or something.

I hated magic in Top Chef Masters when they had to do a challenge at a creepy house in LA for Neil Patrick Harris (you’re so much cooler than that! Don’t be a Gob!), so I was skeptical of has beens like Penn and Teller. But it worked out okay and the Jamaican Elian Gonzalez went home.

Project Runway still makes me Run Away

After PR stole my Halloween costume from last year two weeks ago, I was ready for something refreshing and original as the challenge this week. Instead I got Hollywood film genres and accompanying costumes, the obvious LA choice that begs for a lack of creativity. The judges were thinking similarly when they rewarded Nicolas for a creepy white queen from Chronicles of Narnia thing (I thought the makeup was awful, by the way) and not Cristopher and his creepy model. Ra’mon also should not have gone home for having the gumption to interpret SciFi as it is meant to be. Louise Black and her horrid Film Noir (all the film noirs were awful, actually) should have gone back to her obscure corner of old Hollywood glamour that no one actually wears.

Also, where is Michael Kors? And Nina Garcia? Michael’s been gone for I think three weeks, and Nina two. Her replacement is too enthusiastic and not smart enough to do the job. Last week’s panel was a bunch of unknowns, hardly the recipe for a seamless transition to Lifetime. I guess fashion designers don’t want to work for the network watched most by the wearers of size 14 Mom Jeans.

When the kids sang last week, they nailed it. Lea Michele’s “Taking Chances” put Celine and her freakish horse face to shame, and I can’t wait for more covers from Cabaret in the future (assuming the plot line is sustained, which I assume it will be?) I also loved the pairing of Sue and Sandy, defying gender stereotypes or just gender in general. And Sue’s TV segments? Priceless. Homeless people and tsunami victims never felt so loved.

A Guide to Homeless Relations

I’m a huge sucker (that’s what she said?) for anything West Side Story, so Tina C redeeming the non power belt of “Tonight” after TSwift Hiroshima-d it in the VMA ads was particularly touching. Still not sure what’s going on with that stutter, but girl’s got pipes and dance moves. Asians were never so proud.

I've got a crush on a lesbian goth chick

The Rachel Berry Ensemble vs Diva plot can last a few episodes and gives Lea Michele a chance to do some acting that’s not pining after Finn or rocking out to some lame Glee choreography (that’s one thing that concerns me, how will they compete against Vocal Adrenaline with diagonal lines? Or rather, how will they sustain my interest as someone who likes to think she can dance? How great would that TV show be…) The brief appearance of the Principal was better than anything I could have imagined. I have been looking to shake up my American Airlines routine…

Planes, India, and Pulmonary Embolism

One of my friends (I see you friend!) texted me that this week lacked the sarcastic one liners of the previous few episodes, an observation I certainly agree with. I will, however, defend the writers for shying away from using Jane Lynch as Tiny Tim crutch. In containing her to the Sue segment, they put pressures on themselves and the other characters to step it up. She’s excellent interacting with other characters, and the duo of her and Sandy is promising, but I do enjoy her stream of consciousness on local TV. It allows the writers to play with style of humor and genre of the show without losing the comedic punch, something that steers it away from Arrested Development schtick territory. Glee has to prove that it is more than song and dance, as it did last week.

The most exciting development of last week’s episode was Quinn Febreeze’s pregnancy. It’s unfair how hot that baby will be.

STOP BEING SO PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

Glee has been adding complexity and vulnerability to the majority of its characters since the season picked up this fall, and I certainly appreciate it. This pregnancy (Puck is the baby daddy, not skinny Finn-y) affects the entirety of the show, rather than being a minor character plot vignette. We had one of those last week with Kurt’s joining the football team and poignantly coming out, and the week before with Merecedes’ lonely vagina (I hear you, girl). Much as I hate Karen, Will’s wife, I’m excited to see how her relationship with Quinn and the baby in question develops. I do, however, hate her sister and her creepy accent.

Sassy Face

Basically, Quinn got pregnant by Puck but told Finn it’s his from that time they made out in a hot tub and she wore a bathing suit with a charm attached. Finn tells Will who tells his wife who breaks into Quinn’s car, the implication being that she wants to take the baby as her own. Genius, I know.

They can name the baby Jacuzzi

In other news, I was so over “Single Ladies” by the third time it played and the football team won the game. I hope the football field does not become a place for dance numbers a la “Now or Never” in HSM3. I’m okay with “Get’cha Head in the Game,” though. I’m glad Kurt is officially gay, and I’m rooting for him to get a love interest.

Oh, and in 29 minutes on the East Cost, Kristin Chenoweth will star in the latest episode. And this time, the guest star who can actually sing and act stolen from ABC programming (Victor Garber from Alias, Debra Monk from Grey’s, now Kristin from Pushing Daisies) will sing! At least three songs, according to iTunes. If Hump Day can’t actually be hump day, it might as well be a day of Glee.

In the Hamptons, I was bored of Nate’s “I need attention from the viewers if not my parents” act of hooking up with a married woman and hated the forbidden love of Serena and Dan, but I was moved by Blair and Chuck’s courtship and her white tiered dress at the party. I spent the majority of that plot line waiting to return to NYC, as I think most viewers were. The creators of the series seem to believe that our obsession with Gossip Girl lies in the opulence of the upper class and that therefore we need to know about their unattainable lives of summer decadence and luxury. False. We turn in for Nelly Yuki and Dorota (not because we all want maids). The closest we get to being shallow voyeurs of wealth is the costumes, like Serena’s orange dress, the only redeemable part of the season three premiere.

I want a Creamsicle now

“Reversals of Fortune” also cast Serena as a coked out, Sienna Miller version of Cinderella (let me explain). In the season finale, the big cliffhanger was the Carter had located Serena’s dad. The estranged parent-child reunion is as good a narrative trope as any, but you know that the CW is going to abuse it horribly. Serena spent the premiere fame-whoring and wearing long flowy dresses to hide her beer gut from bar-hopping in Europe all summer, all in the hopes of catching the attention of her father through the trashy tabloids. Serena is supposed to be the logic to Blair’s crazy, but that kind of backwards reasoning is certainly worthy of a blazed Brown University student. The plot line isolated Serena from the rest of the group, who fared poorly without her and looked sanctimonious when trying to save her. I will, however, defend Carter as the first male able to keep up with Serena sexually and emotionally. If they fix those permanent Neanderthal bags under his eyes, he has major hottie potential.

In the second episode, “The Freshmen,” Serena morphs from attention ho to lost soul effectively and immediately. I preferred this episode’s New York focus and ability to use the narrative to illuminate the abstract and the emotional: everyone is off to NYU and Chuck Bass is comparing himself to Al Capone after the Market Crash of ’29, but Serena is an apathetic nomad. With minimal references to her father and the absence of the paparazzi, her party girl veneer loses its luster. I’d love to see an actual Serena downward spiral a la Marissa from The O.C. or Mischa from Real Life. She’s on her way to Penn Station and to train wreck status.

The Nate complex I referred to earlier continues this season, as he romances a girl from the other side of the Archibald compound fence and from a rival family. It seems that Nate can do no right with women except for Blair (faaate), as Vanessa was too other side of the tracks and the new girl, Bree Buckley, is too other side of the Congressional aisle. His Romeo/Juliet romance has no sexual spark, despite his propensity to swallow his lines before going in for a kiss. Nate’s family drama was too prominent in the season premiere, perhaps the CW’s apology to the actress Joanna Garcia of Reba fame for the cancellation of “Privileged,” and in “The Freshmen” they have three scenes. Nate’s irrelevancy is growing rapidly, as other male characters fill his niche. In the books, Nate was the lost pretty boy, Chuck the gay guy, and Dan the rando horndog in the background. The blurring of these lines for TV purposes has benefitted the women, with Blair’s personality competing with Serena’s beauty, and hurt the men.

The most egregious error of the season premiere was the outlandishly twisted turn in Chuck and Blair’s relationship, in which he Pretty Womans himself out to models (aka no kissing) and Blair barges in as the scorned woman breaking up the coital embrace. It’s the kind of thing you read in the pulpy romance novels at the grocery store, not what you witness in the Nobu bathroom on a Friday night. Why do these shows find it so difficult to believe that neurotic girls like Blair and me are capable of functional, even sweet relationships? I mean, I’m not exactly a ProActiv testimonial for that, but someone out there is.

Fortunately, my cries for romantic justice were answered last night with an adorable Blair/Chuck cuddle sesh as a part of the final couples montage (another great montage: moving into your dorm).

This actually melts my heart

The brunt of this episode dealt with the much anticipated transition to NYU for Blair, Dan, Vanessa, Georgina, and that rando Scott. I also realized that this new setting means Nelly Yuki and the ebony and ivory pair are gone forever! So sad. Everything, from the WTF advertisements to the adornment of Blair’s first headband, has been setting Blair up for failure in college. Far fetched as this plot point is (I’d take authentic sushi and a mango saketini over pizza and the freshman fifteen anyway, but maybe that’s the West Coast…), we all knew this moment would come, though certainly not at the hands of Georgina. I’m really sick of her, by the way. Isn’t Michelle Trachtenberg making enough money off of Harriet the Spy syndication? “Here you’re just a loser who will never fit in,” Georgina tells her as Georgina’s cheap New Hampshire firework rises and Blair’s classy white Christmas light falls. Implausible as all of this is for Blair, her inability to feign interest in or obsequiousness towards her peers reflects her deeper feelings of entitlement and even deeper feelings of insecurity. Blair doesn’t try with them because she doesn’t want to have to try (I mean, that Katie girl who worships Dan is hardly a worthy groupie for anyone). While Georgina is bribing people to her party with lines like “you’re really pretty” (yes, she says that), Blair is struggling to “reinvent herself” into an NYU hipster. I think the idea of reinvention in college is simultaneously overrated and misunderstood: everyone does change himself, whether becoming more crass or working harder, but there’s certainly no way to escape your past at college. I can’t tell if the Georgina/Blair battle will ultimately come out on my side, in which past does matter and Georgina gets replaced by HilDuff, or the idealist’s, in which Blair trades in her gorgeous pink heels at the Met for Birks. Basically, extreme reinvention of the self is an impossible myth, but it makes for great television. Vanessa complains about the assumption that “She’s Georgina, I’m Vanessa, and you’re Dan,” but the show functions on that very premise. The Humphrey men make waffles, and Chuck is planning to exploit the economic crisis to open a club. Variations on a theme in the mind of Josh Schwartz.

It is the universal reconciliation of this episode that turned me off. Dan apologizes insincerely to Vanessa, and suddenly they’re bonding over women’s lit in front of a SparkNotes display.

SparkNotes: All the Cool Kids are Doing It!

The similar calm before and after the storm came with Blair and Serena’s reunion on the steps of the Met, with neither revealing too much despite the intimation that they’re being honest. All of this, of course, sets up a ticking time bomb like Serena or Scott, the least necessary character in TV history. Scott, the son of Lily and Rufus that got away, serves to revive a flailing adult plot line. As a disciple of the original books (I could read two a day in my commute alone), I have always been opposed to the inclusion of adult drama on the show. With The OC, the issues of gender and wealth and boredom and social mobility were presented evenly. With Gossip Girl, we watch a bunch of rich old people gripe about not marrying the gold diggers soon enough. Lily’s been absent these first two episodes, so maybe she’ll be killed off? I mean, look at Mischa.

Also, best part of the episode was “Good Girls Go Bad” playing at the party while Blair was in attendance. Irony accomplished.

That was my reaction too!

In “Out of Town,” Sal quotes Balzac, “Our greatest fears lie in anticipation,” to the grumpy London Fog-ers. In “The Fog,” Don plagiarizes from Balzac in his words of wisdom to Dennis the prison warden. In “Guy Walks into an Advertising Agency,” this Balzac quotation is the theme of the episode.

The anticipation of the adults is often unconscious, and the majority of their fears muted. Sally Draper, a true child of the new generation, embodies their fears and warped expectations for the future. Their expectations are what drive this episode, as they spend more time reeling from their failure to be met than embracing the future to come. Take, for example, the fleeting reference to Vietnam at an office party: the future is only marginally in the thoughts of the untouchables at Sterling Cooper, who, as Smitty articulates, are unconcerned with the prospect of a draft. Guy is a lesson to everyone about the future and its inability of imagination to capture it.

The opening of the episode seemingly picks up from the closing of “The Fog,” in which we watched Betty walk down the hallway towards her crying son. Tonight, Don is roaming the halls, and he, like Betty, faces his future but not as hopefully as she does with baby Eugene. When Sally expresses her fear of the dark, Don diagnoses and creates her clinically: “I know you’re not Thomas Edison,” she says. “We’ll get you a nightlight,” Don responds. Sally needs a gesture of hope or a miracle, as symbolized by Edison the mythical inventor and American hero, but Don can’t even offer her a caring father substitute, just a nightlight. Sally is afraid of what happens “when you turn off the light,” the environment in which Don is most comfortable. We see this again later when Don is shown staring up and his unlit ceiling lamp before the screen cuts to Sally sleeping next to her nightlight. Don’s desire for freedom and possibility conflicts with Sally’s need for certainty, as seen in her desire to understand how her baby brother relates to her deceased Grandpa Gene, but as a result both lie in anticipation for two different reasons.

Neon Pink Wallpaper Isn't Bright Enough?

For Don, the promise of a dual position in London and New York, as predicted by Cooper, piques his interest, while the rest of the office anticipates the British invasion (not the Beatles or the red coats, mind you) on the second of July. The entire episode is spent looking forward, except for the beautiful scene between Joan and Don in the waiting room looking back on what might have been. Prophetically, Cooper calls his secretary and in the corner of the shot is his samurai army suit, ready for battle against the increasing encroachment of the London office. Equally portentous and foreboding is the humming of Cosgrove’s new John Deere, which rides into the Sterling Cooper office like an unintended Trojan horse. Everything about the episode forebodes doom, perhaps given the wry calmness of the British workers and the irony of a meeting so close to July 4th. Where Don is so willing to dismiss Sally initially at home, at work he gets caught up in the promise and portent of tomorrow.

Mini Me!

The London office is eagerly waiting as well, not because of their curiosity about Sterling Cooper but because of their own plans to further restructure the company. Guy’s demise, however, suggests that you can’t be sure of a sure thing and that to control the future and play God is to play with a lawnmower driven by a fat lady. St. John remarks of Oliver! “a tragedy with a happy ending, my favorite kind,” which is certainly one way to interpret this episode. To St. John, the tragedy is the demise of Sterling Cooper and the happy ending his success; to the audience, the tragedy is the emotional baggage along the way and the happy ending the fact that we all survive it. That’s the thing about expectations: once they’ve flown past us, there’s nothing left to do but mope or move on. The British have criticized Americans before for showing too many emotions, and it’s clear with their reactions to their respective setbacks that liberal emotions are not always so bad. Pryce’s silence when he receives the stuffed snake and accepts his assignment to India is deafening. The description of Guy, “inestimable charm,” Cambridge and London School of Economics, three years at McCann and Mercedes Benz, is just a resume, as he turns out to be expendable with the loss of his foot (“He was a great account man, a prodigy…now that’s all over.”) The British are proud but not compassionate, placing expectations before people in all things business. Joan is the one to leap to the rescue, and she’s on her way out (but more on her later).

At home, Betty is similarly invested in what the future holds, as embodied by her baby son. After shooing away her children from her bedside (Bobby asks ot pet him, ha), Betty contentedly watches Eugene sleep: “you sleep all you want, little pig in a blanket.” Reducing him to subhuman status, Betty labels her child as incapable of the evil or filth or mischief of her other children. A child that is so hopeful for Betty is a reminder of the dreadful past for Sally; Betty exists independent of history and deludes herself about the future, while Sally has been taught by Grandpa Gene to learn from history and prepare for the future.

Just as Betty forgets where she really comes from and Don is haunted by it, Joan’s surprise goodbye reminds us that the figures and statuesque titans of Sterling Cooper are connected to the humanity of the place. The Britains eventually dispense of Guy, but Joan can’t help but break down on her final day. Admittedly, she’s facing issues at home with Greg, but she and Peggy are aware of their past together and note how what started as hollow expectations in season one have filled out to so much more. “I should like to recognize [Sterling Cooper's] past,” Guy toasts, though he fails to recognize that its past is embodied by the leaders he booted off the psuedo podium. “I wish you caviar and children and all that is good in your new life,” he croons to Joan over her Bon Voyage cake, reminding her of the contradictory expectations of a home life and a great adventure. As we know, however, Joan is entitled to neither.

The scene in which Greg tells Joan he lost out on the residency is one of the most profoundly moving in Mad Men history. The sun has set on Joan’s celebratory dinner and Greg’s dream of becoming a surgeon, all of which forces Joan to adjust to failed expectations and a new void in her life without them. “I married you for your heart not your hands,” Joan reassures him in a comment that’s not all that reassuring. Greg has no status for Joan now, as he is just a dead weight and has lost his leverage over her that enabled him to make her play the accordion a few weeks ago. Greg has progressed to full on child, a degradation we learn with Joan’s squeaky high voice when she agrees to undress him. No longer tied down to him, Joan and Don are finally free to have an honest exchange about her performance and their co-workers. If Don is the mentor Peggy likes (sometimes) and Joan the mentor she begrudgingly accepts, their chemistry should be and is perfect.

Compare the dirty relaxation of the hospital to Betty and Don at dinner earlier in the episode. The scene between Betty and Don shows a more mature, functional family, where Betty is willing to wait on Don and Don is willing to include Betty in his world. For Betty, the cause is Gene, “he was perfect today;” for Don, it is the thought of London. I think he likes to entice Betty with the idea (look at her on, “what do you know) and to sell her on the pitch of the new life he is so desperate for. It’s a sweet and pensive and very adult moment for two mostly isolated people.

Roger’s father, we learn in the barber shop, thought little of the future until the day he died, an insight that is clearly the root of Roger’s self-indulgence. “[My father] had his fourth coronary behind the wheel. Hit a tree. The windshield severed his arm,” muses Roger. “It’s my company why should I be nervous?” Roger inherited his father’s devil may care policy, see throwing up oysters and gin in season one and marrying Jane in season two, except that Roger’s own car crash comes in this episode when he is left out of the axis of power by the Brits. What was permissible twenty years before nows carries with it the weight of knowledge and anticipation: Roger knew the health risks more thoroughly than his father, and he knew the repercussions of divorce, but he did it anyway. “I don’t like to be judged” is code for “I don’t like consequences.”

Babysitter Bert

In the aftermath, Roger turns to Cooper to understand the conflict of his realistic and unrealistic expectations. “I like to think I’m rich, they can’t reach hurt me. I’m being punished for making my job look easy,” Roger reasons. Roger reverts to the logic that got him in so much trouble with Don in “My Old Kentucky Home” and traces back to his mother of the previous generation, refusing to learn from this near disaster and living moment to moment. Cooper’s response, “It’s about letting things go so you can get what you want,” again exhibits two sides of the same coin: just as Don and Sally feel differently about the job, Sterling and Cooper are different in what they want. This is also reflected in their subtly distinct dessert preferences, as Roger ate a sundae last week and last night Cooper had pudding. Roger is saved by FootGate, and his reaction, “somewhere in this business, this has happened before,” both defends his self-absorption and allows him to mask his relief. It remains to be seen whether Roger will view this as a wake-up call or continue with high expectations for his future.

And then there’s this Conrad Hilton business. He offers Don a real opportunity to defy his expectations, saying, “The next time someone like me asks someone like you a question like that you need to think bigger.” The expectation of Conrad Hilton is shattered by the narrative format itself, in which his identity is a guessing game and in which his TIME magazine cover is juxtaposed against a cartoon mouse. Don can imagine the grandeur of Conrad Hilton and his luxurious hotels, but by the end of the episode he is most happy for is own son.

He, Sally, and Gene rock themselves to sleep on the promise of a new day and with the portents of Barbie and baby cries and dogs behind them. As Don put it, “We don’t know who he is yet or who he’s going to be, and that is a wonderful thing.”

The biggest objection I have to the finale is its thematic explicitness. In the opening, you see that Tanya’s house is infested with flies. “Okay,” I think. “Flies symbolize decay and death and oh! look at how their limbs are rubbing. It’s like they’re wringing their hands to plot her demise. Wow Liz, you sure are perceptive.” Then, Tanya swoops in in the next scene to explain all of this and her feeling that she’s dead meat, stick a fork in me I’m done if Ray leaves her for another pimp. While the reaction is fitting for Tanya’s character, particularly because she jumps into bed with Ray like a child crawling into its parents’ bed, I didn’t see the point of explaining the visual nuance and creativity. Or really it was neither of those things, but why be so explicit about it?

Then we cut to Lenore, whose vagina we bore witness to in the previous episode. She is planning a detailed and thorough marketing strategy for Ray, replacing happiness with capitalism (how timely!). Under this model, the women Ray will service are more like Lenore–wealthy, self-assured, expectant–and less like Tanya and the clients she sets up–insecure, needy, awkward. To switch to the former is to create a completely new show, of course, but to dabble with them is create some conflict for Ray. Maybe the show is on the right track with this tension, though we know nothing will happen this episode because we’re not introduced to any particular woman. Except for Ray’s ex-wife, Jessica. Lenore sells the idea of a sexpert to Jessica over massages that are basically sex, saying “You are a smart, healthy, beautiful woman. Don’t you have the right to be desirable?” Ultimately, Lenore is offering the same thing as Tanya but with better, less decayed packaging. That unfortunately, goes unaddressed.

Lenore also compares Tanya’s being cut out of the business with her giving up Miss Michigan, in a wholly heartless and superficial gesture. It all makes sense, but Ray’s resistance and her show of resolve are predictable. I did enjoy it when she crushed the pretty yellow rose.

The symbolism continues when Ray finds honeycombs in the walls of his house. While Tanya finds flies trying to get into the decaying meat inside her walls, Ray finds milk and honey in his. What is holding his home together are not the concrete wires but the promise of milk and honey on the other side. Buttt then he gets laid off. Shed a tear for hard times and bad economy jokes!

Ray goes to a horror movie with the kids on their respective and respectfully ugly dates to escape. Damon gets into a fight with his boyfriend, and Ray resolves to make it work with both Lenore and Tanya. Yawn. Interestingly, though, Ray finds escape not in a romantic comedy or sexy time movie but in a horror film of evisceration.

In the meeting between Lenore and Tanya, more symbolism pops up as Lenore’s yappy dog poos in a kid’s park, and both women are too lazy to pick it up though Tanya is willing to complain first. In that moment, I find Tanya such a fake. If the whole point of the show is for her to be an almost poet, an almost vegetarian, an almost hippy, then she’s more tragic than hopeful and that’s a terrible message for a show that I thought was supposed to empower women. Tanya’s character has been drooping ever since she met her boyfriend three episodes ago, and in this sparse episode there’s no hope that she’ll redeem herself.

By the way, Mrs. Koontz is back. And sex with honey is really hot. When Mrs. Koontz says, “Sometimes in life is best to just forget the big problems and f*** for a little while,” we are reminded that Ray is his own happiness consultant too. Tanya is drawn to this moment of Ray’s self-indulgence like a bear cub to the honey, and she can’t help but scream, “You don’t even know what it means to be a friend” Tanya’s histrionic act has been sufficiently shrill for me, but the writers like to be ambiguous about whether Tanya has a crush on Ray or not. I’d have to assume yes, although that’s the last we see of her all episode. “We’re unbreakable. Come on, Ray, we could rule the world,” she coos. I’m really not even sure what that’s supposed to mean because it’s so outlandishly inaccurate. Tanya has gone from sympathetic to pathetic, a transformation that is unfortunate because she and the actress who plays her are the best parts of the show.

In the most foreseeable “twist” since Luke chose Tali and Dexter got married, Ray is paired to sleep with Jessica. He realizes it’s her, calls her on the phone, and breathes awkwardly into it as they both reminisce in silence about the American Dream of a family and a house. I’m sure the writers gave the show such a clear ending because they have no idea what to do with next season, which I probably won’t be watching (not true but I needed a dramatic statement).

The episode was incredibly dull! No great dialogue, no interesting settings, no new conflict, just the same old male vs. female dynamic with some misunderstood capitalism thrown in. Marx would be proud. Is this show too lethargic for viewers, especially on Sunday nights after football and True Blood? The fragmented narrative of the season also contributed to an unimportant finale. Ultimately, the episode was restricted by the characters in play and the lack of resolve from the last episode but unrestricted because there are no pressing stakes, no possible busts, no uncertain orgasms. Just a lot of HBO get the sex you paid for and some decent acting along the way.

I’m glad to have Sunday nights back and am hoping that “Bored to Death” is not aimless as “Hung.” Whoever said not all who wander are lost never watched TV and never realized he’d be the most quoted person in high school Yearbooks.

So…Glee was pretty unfortunate this week. We saw the unveiling of “Bust Your Windows” and Mercedes’ misguided gay love, predictable as ever. More disturbingly, however, the cruel choreographer and Acafellas plot lines were no substitute for some good old-fashioned, ironic Glee club rehearsal. Is Matthew Morrison unsatisfied that he’s not getting as much star time as Lea Michele? Because if so, tell him it’s because his head looks like a penis. Next week looks to get back on track with auditions for the musical and some Celine Dion, but Glee needs to quit playin’ games with my heart or at least do a version of that song.

Glee Playlist:

1. “Poison:” Old music I am completely unaware of. Matthew, take off your silly hat.

2. “Mercy:” Also two syllables in one word but with Vocal Adrenaline choral singing that will make all high school choir directors overambitious.

3. “Bust Your Windows:” Mercedes can dance! But it can’t decide whether it’s a music video or a performance and our favorite man slut dancer is back. Also, do people prefer group numbers or solos on Glee? I’m all about blending in with the more talented kids myself…

4. “I Wanna Sex You Up:” Matthew Morrison, you’re just not as cute as the footballers. Sorry.

Glee-ism of the Week:

“Who’s Josh Groban?”

“Who’s Josh Groban?! Kill yourself!”

Speaking of, Josh Groban, Victor G, and Debra Monk were all untapped resources this week, much to my surprise. Josh Groban didn’t manage to be funny, so couldn’t you have snuck in a few bars of “Raise Me Up” to satisfy the Fox Christian audience waiting for Glenn Beck to come on? All three actors have significant musical backgrounds that went unused because of Acafellas. A CAPPELLA SUCKS.

Reality Check

Previously on Top Chef, Mattin couldn’t hack it in the Old West after barely scraping by in the French cooking challenge and making ceviche for some cowfolk. He certainly besmirched the record of foreign chefs set by Fabio and Stefan last season. The Brothers Hottie continue to dominate, and that’s fine by me. I’m really, really enjoying this season of Top Chef, in part because the Las Vegas setting is attracting better judges and challenges than ever before. I hope we don’t have anymore snap eliminations or prolonged quickfires a la two weeks ago, but I presume that was just a vehicle to ditch Jesse. She was like a nicer Lisa from two seasons ago, so she just wasn’t redeemable because no one wants some tattoo juice to rub off in his food.

In other good news, Lifetime booted Johnny in one of the least exciting creative challenges to date: make a dress out of newspaper! show that print news is wasteful by making it into ugly clothes! copy Liz’s Halloween costume from 08! I wanted to take a Bic lighter to all of the designs they were so dull. Also, where did all the judges go?? Michael Kors has been MIA three weeks in a row and Nina Garcia was out this week…Lifetime what have you done! You basically assured The Amazing Race Emmy monopoly.

On ANTM, the Nnenna look alike (Bianca? I thought Nnenna had come back at first) got to stay because she went to Harvard and is spoiled by the Ivy League education Tyra never had. Courtney the cheerleader went home because her foot boot put her in a pouty mood. Too bad she looked hot while Bianca looked like an imitation Bratz Doll sold in Hong Kong. Gratuitous nudity in the presence of a midget horse jockey abounds in the photoshoot! Remember when everyone had to get naked in season one and it was a fascinatingly big deal? Oh Tyra, what have you done to nudity and the teen pregnancy that ensues. Now short girls across America will be having bestial sex with horses a la Tom Green and your show.

Here are some brief, out of context thoughts on the last two episodes of Mad Men before we discuss “Guy Walks into an Advertising Agency” tomorrow.

The Arrangements: The Olson Twins

No, they’re not actually twins, but how could I resist? In an episode overtly focusing on parenting, with a progression of Sally’s lack thereof, Jai Alai Jr and Jai Alai Sr (how did everyone on the internet know how to spell that but me?), Betty and Gene, and the orphan Don, I was most intrigued by Peggy’s relationship to her mother and sister.

Peggy’s very Catholic mother and resentful sister were driving forces in season 2, but at that point I resented their presence on the show as they took Peggy away from Sterling Cooper and into a home where she was anything but powerful and proactive. With their appearance in “The Arrangements,” however, that religious background serves as a prologue to Peggy’s enlightenment from this season. We have seen her have a one night stand with the college boy, whereas we did not see her sleep with Pete, because we and Peggy are prepared for that intense intimacy; we have seen her smoke pot because we and Peggy are ready for the 1960s to take off. The temporal setting of this season segues beautifully into a confrontation with Peggy’s mother’s traditional, narrow-minded mother.

Where last season Peggy’s sister was the destructive, jealous force on Peggy, as she told the priest about Peggy’s illegitimate child with Pete, in “The Arrangements” Peggy’s mother serves that role. Both mother and sister are given to jealousy, though now Peggy’s mother is jealous of her daughter not needing her anymore and robbing her of the life she expects. Her fixation on the death of the Pope, “fifty minutes of news and nothing about the Holy Father,” shows her tunnel vision of the world: the only news content that matters is that concerning the Pope, and she is aware of no other changes in the world except the end of what she knows. Her relationship to the television is a less formal version of her relationship with the sermons at church. When Peggy leaves in their final scene, the mother listens to a speech by President Kennedy, presumably taking away a very different message: to her, Kennedy is the Catholic president; to Peggy’s generation, Kennedy is the progressive president. Kennedy’s familiarity soothes the mother, and his promise for tomorrow soothes her daughters.

Peggy’s sister seems to have gained perspective since her mother moved in with her. She now seems in awe of Peggy’s freedom, not jealous of it: “You’re gonna be one of those girls?” she asks. “I am one of those girls,” Peggy informs her. Last season, Peggy spent time at her house doing penance for nearly becoming one of those girls; now, she embraces it.

The sister is also conditioned by a deteriorating mother. She attacks the TV when it fails to work, and the sister chastises her for disrespecting her property. Not only does the mother fail to embrace new technology, but she is destructive of and disrespectful towards her children. Peggy’s sister has become caretaker for her mother in the same way that Betty is burdened by Gene. For Peggy and her sister, however, their mother’s lack of faith in their competence is unfounded, unlike Gene. When Peggy buys her mother a new TV, her mother asks, “Was that all this noise? Why didn’t you get Jerry to help,” and Peggy’s sister must remind her, “Say thank you, Ma.” Though this could be construed as a portrayal of an ungrateful older generation, I think Weiner more so examines the generation’s inability to stop change and its reaction to that helplessness.

A Peggy Sandwich

For example, the mother reacts to Peggy’s description of her bad Brooklyn apartment with, “your father and I lived with Grandma and Grandpa for years.” She is relieved to hear that Peggy is, to at least some extent, following in her footsteps and staying close to the nest. Compare this to Gene, who laments that with Betty, “That’s my fault for shielding you from all the dangers out there.” Peggy’s mother seeks both to shield her daughter from the dangers she is aware of only obliquely and to insulate herself from any further sins or evils. “I guess I’m the kind of mother who’d rather have a new TV than a daughter,” she snaps. “You bought a new TV because you think I was born yesterday.” The TV is certainly a bribe, but the mother objects less to the bribe itself (she turns on the TV as Peggy walks away) than to the change the TV itself represents. The TV showcases Peggy’s independence, which is contrary to the mother’s definition of a daughter, and mature understanding of her mother’s needs. I love the line about being born yesterday for its double meaning: obviously, it’s a line that everyone’s mother has said; on a secondary level, it addresses the disdain Peggy’s mother has towards all things new. “You belong in the city” becomes her insult, representing a classic middle class perception of dirty urban life dating back to the 1900s. The jarring juxtaposition of her reference to “this broken heart I’m carrying” and her cruel insult, “you’ll get raped, you know that?” displays her emotional instability. I’m not sure if rape is supposed to refer to Pete and Peggy’s pregnancy or to encapsulate the previous generation’s attitudes towards sex, but regardless it offers an extreme in intergenerational relations. It will be interesting to see if Peggy comes back home after all this. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” reasons her sister. With that reaction and the death of Gene, it seems that the older generation has no power anymore.

While Hoho’s connection to his father is an extreme of wealth and delusion, the images of parents and daughters in particular was fascinating in “The Arrangements.” On the one hand, we have Pete and Hoho competing with their fathers’ expectations for how they confront the dangers of the world; on the other, we have Peggy and Betty and Sally being alternately nurtured by their parents or rejected with anger and frustration. The standard of masculinity remains the same, while the women face a new day and new opposition in their parents.

The Fog: “Everything, and So Much of It”

I don’t mean to rip off Alan Sepinwall any more than I have to, but his choice of quotation is perfect for capturing the episode. While the crux of the episode falls with the birth of Eugene Scott Draper and Betty’s hallucinations in childbirth, issues of “experience” continue to pop up: whether you’re new or old; whether you’re alone or not; these are subsets of the American Dream as referred to by Pete Campbell.

Don and Betty are veterans for the arrival of their third child, while the prison guard Dennis in the waiting room eagerly anticipates the birth of his first child. For the guard, the birth is a beginning: “this is a fresh start…I’m gonna be a better man.” His opportunity for positive reinvention, however, is for Don a commitment to the life he wants to abandon and has tried to forget all three seasons. Dennis looks forward to meeting his son, “you throw the ball around?” he asks Don, who replies, “not enough,” as Don thinks about all the obligatory parenting that lies ahead. Presumably Dennis is in the waiting room because his wife has a complication, but Don is waiting by choice. He avoids the physical and emotional proximity of childbirth, leaving the audience once again to know Betty in a way that he cannot.

Betty’s perception of their marriage is the opposite of Don’s in that she thinks they are too isolated from one another. She begs for Don as she lies alone in childbirth and lashes out against the nurse who tries to get close. Betty’s most comforting hallucination, that of her mother and father in her kitchen, takes her to a place where she is cared for and taken care of by other people. Further, Betty recreates that same physical beauty when she is holding her baby and looking down on her family, separated from them by a window that captures their image with the quality of a picture or video camera.

Happily Locked Away

When Don comes in after the birth to meet Betty and his son, Betty not only looks a hot mess but also calls her son a she. “You look awful,” Betty tells Don, only to add later “I need to put my face on.” “You look beautiful, Bets,” Don replies perfunctorily. When together, the two relate to one another only superficially, refusing to listen or see each other. Compare the scene between Betty and Don with his phone conversation with Sally’s teacher (phone conversations in which you see both people in separate shots came up several times in the episode), and one finds that the intimacy is stronger through ye olde telephone than face to face. This argues that the surface of “together” or “alone” is not as simple or happy as it seems. And that Don will get with Sally’s teacher. Moving away from the social themes, this episode gets back to Mad Men’s roots in the nature of humanity and happiness and desire.

These ideas of connection and relationship also apply to Peggy and Pete, who are brought together in the episode by Duck’s job offer to switch to Grey. Duck asserts, “You two have a secret relationship,” referring not to their baby boy somewhere over the rainbow but their takedown of Freddy Rumsen. Though the moment is clearly intended to make the audience and the two Ps jump, it also serves to remind us of the connection between the two that has been dormant since the season two finale. Only in the season premiere did Pete refer briefly and disdainfully to Peggy’s role in all of his accounts; here he maintains that condescension, but we later learn it’s an act. Actors playing characters who act…how meta. As Pete later reminds Peggy, “your decisions affect me.”

Mmm whatcha say?

For Peggy, the interaction with Duck, acted as it may be on his part, represents a closeness and compassion that Don has yet to exhibit. “No mortgage, no family, you’re a free-wheeling career gal with great ideas,” Duck assures her. That’s career assurance to Peggy, but I think it reminds her even more of the fact that she’s alone in the business. With that in mind, she goes to Don for some kind of assurance that she matters to someone at Sterling Cooper, but she is knocking on the wrong door. In response to her deeply profound realization about him, “you have everything, and so much of it,” Don rejects her with, “what do you want me to say?” That, compared to Duck’s comments, turns Peggy’s “It’s not a good time for me, Don” into “what if this is my time?” The need not to be alone and the desire to be able to be alone are opposed here, with Don incapable of understanding the latter in Peggy. Don in the workplace reminds me of Dennis’ description of working in the prison: “You’re outnumbered, but you’ve got the power, kind of like being a king.”

While all of this is very new territory for Peggy and Pete, Don and Betty are constantly reminded of their own life cycle. The episode ends with Betty awoken by her crying son, only to realize that she has to go take care of him on her own and that nothing has changed. The moment is much more powerful with sound than screen capture, so just imagine what it’s like to hear a baby cry on an airplane and you’ll understand Betty’s pain.

“The Fog” tied the abstractions of the emotional fog to concrete lines and interactions, a combination that suggests to me the best is yet to come from this season. And I swear on January Jones’ bone structure I’ll write about the new episode tomorrow.

I see you humans exploiting fat people and I disapprove

This bovine friend introduces us to the finale of More to Love, in which Luke chose between the exotic, mail order bride appeal of Tali the Israeli and the trashy, one night stand appeal of Malissa the Hooters waitress (not confirmed, and unlikely given the discrimination against fat waitresses as explored so thoughtfully on Drop Dead Diva). Luke takes his sweet time to decide, drawing the finale out into a behemoth two-hour event. I guess it’s reasonable for me to commit two hours to the show that single-handedly made my summer and my blogging career.

Luke introduces to his simultaneously blue-collar and farm (see picture above) town of Santa Maria, California. “I’ve been to so many exotic places,” he muses as he expounds on the virtues of coming home. I’m not sure the Marriott Hawaii counts as exotic, no matter how many exotic dancers you import from Disneyworld’s Tiki Room.

Before taking the girls to meet his family, Luke reflects on his eight weeks on the More to Love compound with the girls. In a blurry edged retrospective, Luke recalls Malissa’s “smoking body” and his realization that she is a “very deep person.” Too bad she spends a good portion of the episode sucking up to his parents or applying make up.

We learn for the first time that Luke’s parents are divorced, a surprisingly telling revelation. I’m allowed to psychoanalyze him like this because I myself am a child of divorce, so here goes: Luke’s “beso” act back in the pilot episode comes from his need to feel desired and to feel like he is in control of his own fate. He probably rebelled against his parent’s divorce by hooking up with random biddies in high school in order to experience moments of strong sexual and therefore inherently emotional connection. In those moments, he is hopeful that he has met the one, that he will live happily ever with this broad even though he can’t see her face because he’s grinding up on her or because she refuses to kiss on the mouth like a good prostitute. The next morning, the illusion is gone, and Luke pretends to be okay with it but in all honesty he’ll dream about her all through college and refer to her as his girlfriend in conversations about past loves. He goes through the rest of his life lonely, holding onto a dream, until he sees an advertisement on divorcesupport.com seeking adult, overweight males for a Fox reality TV show. The rest, as they say, is history.

The first shot of Luke’s father and brothers shows primitive man congregating around the fire and some fresh meat.

Is it Kosher beef?

The implication of this image, that Luke’s family don’t give a rat tail about Tali’s culture’s dietary restrictions and that they intend to prod and slice her up with inexpensive steak knives, is an accurate summation of Tali’s interaction with the family. “I hope that they’ll be understanding of how I feel about Tali,” says Luke. I object to the use of “understanding” because its connotation is one of sympathy and pity, when in fact they should be supportive of his landing such a dime piece. After this episode, I’m going to lobby the FCC for a separation of TV and religion, because the discussions of Judaism and Christianity are horrifyingly uninformed. Luke’s grandmother takes Tali aside (gender stereotypes abound!) so the boys can drink mugs of beer, and, when Tali tells Grandma she’s a child of Zion, Grandma replies, “Oh. Okay.” G-ma, you lived through some part of World War II. Show a little respek. Luke’s dad also makes a point to tack, “in Jesus name, amen,” onto grace.

Also seen on America's Most Wanted

For Malissa’s preliminary date, aka Luke’s chance to get out all his sexual tension before going to his dad’s house, she whoops his pancake ass in pool. Malissa reiterates that she is competitive in all aspects of life, with a subtext that she is competitive about love and that Luke is merely a contest to be won. So sad.

Sexy eyes make it all better

They celebrate with two pizzas, and Fox celebrates the pizzas with two close ups:

Hungry?

Malissa becomes the darling of Luke’s father, a seeming voyeur to his son’s televised romantic life. “You’re head and shoulders above the rest,” Luke’s dad tells her in their first broadcasted conversation. Is it politically correct to refer to Tali as “the rest?” Is he referring to the nation of Israel collectively? “I absolutely love Malissa,” he goes on. “She’s just a piece of the puzzle that’s been missing.” While Tali brought a cake to the dinner, Malissa repudiates her fatty girl image and brings fresh flowers. “His family had such high regards for me,” Malissa says. I gave you no right to use my middle name in your sentence.

We then return to the More to Love, where Malissa stomps around with her Sweet’n'Low coffee (really? At least get Splenda) and acts like Tali is the hobo she took in. “I was not looking forward to sharing this room with you. Ugh, why I do I have to share?” Guess someone played too much princess/slaves with her sisters as a child. Fortunately, the tyranny of Malissa gives way to the sycophancy of Malissa when Luke’s mom shows up for a surprise visit (Luke’s mom is kind of hot for an old lady and rocks the Hillary pantsuit). I also like Luke’s mom because she asks the question that every viewer of More to Love ever has Googled: why did you decide to be on More to Love?

Tali’s answer should earn her an honorable mention for the Real Miss America: she’s committed to “showing people that love comes in all shapes and sizes” and to putting “that message out that there’s love for everybody.” Tali also talks about how she, as a model (Anna unfairly took the model niche. Tali’s beauty is underappreciated), wants to be a good model for teenagers. She’ll be the new Jewish Tyra. Malissa’s answer is, as you would expect, less profound: “For me, I did it on a whim. I got caught up in the excitement, and now I’m definitely one of the main characters (this is not a Tennessee Williams play, Malissa). I did it for the experience.”

Both girls get final dates to plead their cases to Luke. The setting for Malissa’s date looks like someone killed Hello Kitty and exploded her clothes all over an outdoor restaurant. Malissa restrains herself and tells him, “You’re such an amazing man. I feel so privileged to know you.” On the other hand, Tali tells Luke that “This was all (breath) Worth (breath) It” and hints at her libido through a subtitle:

Saving herself for a goy

The episode drags like Provincetown after these dates, as we follow Luke’s day to the proposal. As he wakes up, the whiny song in the background, “I don’t want you to goooo,” was particularly excellent. The proposal is also delayed by Luke’s trip to the jeweler (SoCal product placement!) and his conversation with the host, Emme. Who is she, Andy Cohen from Bravo?? The thing I hate about the Bachelor format is there is not only the primary question of whom will he choose but also will she say yes. The chance of her saying no is just such a long shot that to introduce the possibility is excessively teasing.

Against all odds, Luke rejects Malissa. With all odds, it’s because his mama doesn’t like her. When he tells her “I have to let you go,” it sounds like he’s kicking an addiction, which he probably is since they’ve been making out since episode one and she wears a lot of lip gloss. Of Tali, Luke declares to us that “she and I could change the world together.” Luke acts like he is revolutionizing the social landscape by marrying someone outside of Christianity. Oh, Fox. This, however, is overshadowed by the insincerity of bringing up her weight in the final moments of the show. She just got proposed to by the love of her life, and all she can think about is how she used to get insulted by Israeli clubbers who spurned her because they couldn’t see how hot her face is. Must be an un-American thing. Despite these moments of moral ambiguity and social commentary, we witness a five minute polite kiss before sex kiss and two twirls. Fox probably plans to create a Luke-Tali spinoff, either Interreligious Marriage: It Could Happen to You! or Dancing Your Ass Off with a Married Couple. Regardless, I’ll keep you posted on whether the show gets renewed or picked up by Oxygen. Luke and Tali forevs!!1

Oh, More to Love. How I’ll miss you. I owe my fat people jokes and screen capture skills to you.

The opening of the episode surprised me, because Fox treated the change of scene to Hawaii casually and almost appropriately with a montage of Hawaii’s natural beauty. Perhaps I have become jaded about reality TV shows that travel abroad after years of watching Tyra tell the girls “WE’RE GOING TO HOLLAND” and animating their transatlantic flight and advertising of the local airport. Then we get this shot,

Surfer Bod...with a Paddle?

which is awkward because of its focus on the chiseled abs of  man riding a locomotive device that Luke would certainly sink. And then we cut to a shot of Luke’s inflated stomach.

Awkwardly, Luke has arrived separately and before all the girls (implication: he needs his own private jet to contain his 300-pound self?) We see him looking out at the symbolic endless possibilities of the ocean that Danielle cooed about oh so long ago just a day before her possibilities were, in fact, quite finite.

The final three, Malissa, Tali, and Mandy, pull up to the hotel, decked out in festive and mildly offensive island garb. The opening moments of the episode delve deep into Hawaii’s rich and ancient culture with a tribal ceremony and leis and pinacoladas.

How cultured.

Luke, unfortunately, does not seize on the entendre of “lei’d,” probably out of excitement for the buffet. To digest the group grinds it out to traditional Hawaiian music, with Luke bending over and seemingly expecting the girls to switch gender roles and molest his butt. Fortunately, not even Malissa obliges.

There are no group dates this episode, and Malissa goes first because he’s just that horny. Malissa tells us how sweet Luke is, how wonderfully he “looks at me, holds my hand, loves my curves,” “or at least he’s like that with me.” In the span of one episode she seems to have mastered the art of subtlety in her cruelty. This episode also afford her the unique opportunity not to hate on the other girls, because we never see them interacting in the hotel (being waterboarded by Fox staff? Being forced to play drinking games by Fox staff?)

Luke takes Malissa to a water park to play with dolphins. Two images pained me here: first, go see the Cove and you will never look at captive dolphins the same again; second, the image of the two on their date embodies American theme park:

Wait, Are We in Orlando Right Now?

After making some obligatory remarks about Malissa’s hot bod and her kind soul, “She loves animals. She loves doing adventure stuff,” he muses. He’s clearly trying to backtrack from last week when it was discovered that she hates her nephew. More importantly, Luke and Malissa exhibit their horniness when they’re turned on by some sea lions. The brunt of this episode, however, is about Luke and his big fat feelings.

He spends the majority of their date stressing about whether she likes him in a very Michael Cera vulnerable moment. “I need to know whether or now she’s in this for love or if she’s in it to win it.” Awkward, athlete movie phrase aside, is this a normal fear of Bachelor men? Or is he now realizing the girl is on your D the soonest is probably the least interested in love? “I’m the first 300 pound man you’ve been with,” he acknowledges over sushi (diet strategy?) Again, is he worried that his weight will mean he can’t be on top? “I feel like I could propose to you and I don’t want ot be hurt.” Luke is saving these monologues for Malissa and no one else. “I feel like maybe you have the most potential to break my heart.” See? Feelings! “At this point I think Malissa could be the one.”

Malissa actually comes off as sweet and soft in this episode, probably because she’s not talking except to say “we get lost in each other’s eyes” or “Luke is mine.” For the most part, however, the silence is like radon and not gold: creepy and uncomfortable. The absence of diegetic sound is clearly intended to make us privy to their make outs, but I don’t need that.

Now it’s Tali’s turn to put the Jew moves on. “All I needed to forget Malissa was to see Tali walking down the beach.” Can’t wait for husband and wife Luke and Malissa to watch this together! Tali is randomly and deathly afraid fo water? She is able to compose herself enough, despite her fear, to remind herself of the cardinal bathing suit rule: “suck it in” I’m skeptical that Tali was able to overcome a fear as all-encompassing as water.

Luke eats it up but is the xenophobic American with his skepticism about Tali’s Israeli parents and/or Judaism: “Tali is not the easy choice, but I have feelings for Tali that I’ve never had for any other woman.” He also used hand-holding as a seeming metaphor for sex, as implied by the many close ups on the intertwining of his hands with Tali’s and Malissa’s. They also share in a steamy hot tub session, with Luke sporting a foam yarmulke in a show of support for Tali:

Put on your yarmulke and celebrate Hanukkah

After the unconsummated sexual build ups with Malissa and Tali, Luke’s date with Mandy is quite the letdown. He claims he is “worried about Mandy cracking,” a charitable thought for the emotionally fraught fitness trainer. This, however, does not stop him from inviting her to have some rocky boat sex, “I think you wanna stay out here with me tonight, and enjoy the stars.” And, before ATV riding, Luke worried about exceeding the weight limit of the steps. Is there anything that CAN support this man?

Luke chooses Tali before Malissa in a surprise move, sending Mandy home at long last. Before he announces his decision, Luke makes the best weight comment of the whole season with, “I have to make a serious decision and it’s weighing so heavily on me.” You can’t script that brilliance.

As we see Mandy be taken away, it vaguely looks like the limo, alone on the beach highway, is going to drive her off the cliff, especially as she wails “I just feel lost. I feel really lost.” Why do I have all these suicidal thoughts??

Next weeks promises to be full of organza, grilling, and anti-semitism. A most unlikely of trios, befitting of the More to Love season finale for sure.