The Wife:

I have to commend the folks at Reaper for giving us a series finale with some of the most solid plotting the show’s ever produced. The A-plot about Sam’s contest with The Devil deserved and received the most attention, and the C-plot about Sock’s toad-induced drug-trip provided a well-played resolution to the B-plot about Nina’s exorcism. (To sum that up: Ben’s grandma pretends like she wants to make amends, but really she wants to exorcise Nina, which, after Ben walks out on his family, she agrees to, even though it might actually send her back to Hell – a fact Sock discovers in a note she left for Ben to find in case the exorcism worked.) Sure, the intervention of those two plots was perhaps a little too convenient and not unexpected in any way, but it made sense. And Tyler Labine’s comic timing as he yammered on with a swollen tongue was pretty excellent. I’ll be watching Sons of Tucson just for him.

Right now, in college towns across America, people are betting their souls on games of quarters.

Right now, in college towns across America, people are betting their souls on games of quarters.

As for the A-plot, Sam gets Angel Steve to help him translate the demon text, but and Steve tells him that he needs to reflect The Devil, and so buys him a replica of The Devil’s suit to wear during the challenge. And as for that challenge, Sam decides on quarters, pretty much the only thing he’s really good at, which is why he’s always the designated driver when he and the boys go out drinking. But when Sam summons The Devil, it turns out that he’s just as good at quarters as Sam is and the contest ends in a draw. No harm, no foul and, most importantly, no rematch, unless Sam can find something to sweeten the deal. Andi seeks out Gladys, whom I’ve missed dearly, and asks her to give Sam some advice on beating The Devil. She points out that Steve mistranslated the passage. Rather than reflecting The Devil’s image, Sam should have brought a mirror with him, as The Devil’s vanity is his biggest weakness. Even with this knowledge, though, Sam has nothing to put up against The Devil for a rematch . . . until Andi offers to give up her soul so that Sam can have a second chance at getting out of his contract.

At their second contest, Sam unveils a mirrored table, and The Devil is so distracted by his pretty face that he is only able to sink one shot. Showing shots of The Devil’s reflection in the mirrored table were probably the most artistic Reaper‘s gotten in its two-year run. They were very Twin Peaks-y. In anger, The Devil breaks the shotglass, so Sam heads in to obtain another one from the housewares section of The Work Bench. Once there, though, Steve greets him and breaks his right hand, acting on orders from up above. Sam tries to shoot left-handed, but is unable to sink a single shot, and Andi loses her soul.

Strangely, though, Andi is happy about being damned. When Steve tries to explain to them that he broke Sam’s hand on orders from God, he justifies the fact that this was meant to happen because Sam and Andi are now happy together that they’re both damned. And that’s where the show totally stopped making sense to me. Look, I don’t care that the show ended ambiguously, with Sam and Andi standing in the parking lot as Steve ascends and lights up the sky with angelic goodness, but I do care that, suddenly, for no reason, the show’s entire quest has been negated by Sam and Andi’s happiness in their eternal damnation. The whole “divine plan” aspect of it is so deus ex machina, a too-convenient way to pretend that everything is going to be okay. I wish the show had been okay with ending itself in the bleakness of damnation, just as Angel ended with the idea that the battle against evil rages on, our heroes brandishing their swords to fight in the streets of Los Angeles, but Reaper decided to turn back to the idea that God has a plan, which, really, is just kind of bad writing.

Too bad, Reaper. You deserved a better ending than you got.

Good things:

  • The whole Mary Pat character was so weird that she ended up being rather delightful, until her abrupt departure from the storyline when Steve, her “fairies,” entered.
  • Steve. I’ll take more Michael Ian Black anytime.
  • “Sam, I need my Jimbo fix. I want you to dance like a monkey.” – The Devil
  • “Aw, man. Don’t be like that. Do you know how much of a downer Hell is? I’ve got to be wrecked to face that again.” – Frog-licking soul
  • Frog-licking soul’s frog tongue was pretty neat.
  • I’m glad King Charlie made some froggie friends.
  • I’m glad Sam is the kind of guy who won’t have sex with a drunk girl even if she says she wants to. He’s a good dude.
  • “Still doesn’t explain the suit. You look like Justin Timberlake took a dump.” – Gladys
  • Sock’s frog-induced drug trip where he mowed down visions of Lupe Ontiveros was very Lost Highway, making this Reaper‘s most David Lynch-y episode yet.
  • “I tasted music, and it tasted like garbage.” – Sock, perhaps why Mitch Hedberg suggests that hearing really is the only way to take it in.

The Husband:

I usually try to be pragmatic and treat series finales as if they were actual series finales, no matter what the fan uprising against its cancellation thinks. It just seems like the feasible thing to do, so as not to get anybody’s hopes up, which in turns renders people incapable of enjoying and discussing a series finale as is.

But with Reaper, I really don’t know how to proceed. The news looks better day-by-day that it could find some home in syndication, and since the budget is already so goddamned low, it’d be foolish for it not to be picked up.

But, more than anything, it would justify the choppy and abrupt ending, which I was fine with last night, but after having slept on it and thought about it, like less and less. The twist is fine. In fact, it’s more than fine. But there’s a scene missing, one where the characters wrap up the season in some fashion, more than that simply okay one preceding Steve’s final appearance where all the character’s discussed their weeks. The showrunners and writers always knew that this was the final episode of their second season, so why not work a little harder to make it feel like a better ending? Last season’s finale did a better job, what with an explosive finale, Steve’s revelation as an angel and Mr. Oliver’s death-and-rebirth. I’ve complained before about the problem with ending on-the-bubble shows with cliffhangers (i.e. DON’T DO IT!), and while this does have an ending, they could have worked it out much better.

As for this season, very little of it lives up to s1 post-strike, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t going to miss it. s2 worked just fine, don’t get me wrong, but it lacked a great deal of forward momentum, and if Jenny Wade hadn’t shown up, it might have all-but-completely lost its big beating heart.

So yes, pray to whatever god or deity or television producer that you worship and get this picked up in some form or another next season. Because they can do better than that. And yes, Bret Harrison needs a damn star vehicle.

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The Wife:

The final four episodes of this season of House almost made up for Kutner’s random-ass suicide in their inventiveness. Almost. I thoroughly enjoyed the return of Amber as House’s ghostly hallucination and his three-episode quest to discern exactly what’s wrong with him, either way knowing that if he’s crazy, he can’t practice medicine, and if he’s experiencing side effects from his Vicodin addiction, he can’t practice medicine because once he’s clean he’ll be in too much pain. Anne Dudek was delightful has his subconscious manifestation throughout this arc, especially the moment in which she reappears after House thinks he has staved her off by OD’ing on insulin, singing old jazz standards over the microphone at his bar, echoing her first appearance beside his piano. But nothing, really, was more chilling than the final episode, when House realizes he’d hallucinated the entire night he spend kicking Vicodin with Cuddy, ending in the two of them sleeping together. Reliving all of the moments we saw of him flipping coins or examining a tube of lipstick are replayed with Vicodin bottles replacing those objects, suggesting a very powerful drug addiction that has completely taken over House’s life, was pretty brilliant. Frankly, I’d prefer more arcs like this, rather than so many one-off episodes. But what else are you going to do with a 24-episode season? So while everyone else attends Cameron and Chase’s wedding (they spent these past few episodes almost not getting married because a. Cameron kind of got cold feet b. House nearly killed Chase with a stripper covered in strawberry body butter . . . that apparently was made with actual strawberry extract and c. Chase was being a dick to Cameron about keeping her dead husband’s sperm on ice because he took it to mean that she thought they weren’t going to work out, rather than, you know, being the last thing she has to hold on to of her fucking husband), House checks himself in to a mental institution . . . which he will inevitably check himself out of at the beginning of next season because you can do that kind of thing with you are voluntarily committed.

I should have known this was too good to be true . . .

I should have known this was too good to be true . . .

As far as the patients were concerned, I’m often irritated by how precious the conceits are in which every patient is a metaphor for someone on the team, etc. So I totally get why the guy with split brain whose hand was not his hand was necessary for the metaphor of the finale, it was also perhaps added just a tad too much levity, despite how much Thirteen et all tried to tell me it was creepy. The only patient that really got to me out of this bunch was the ballerina who lost her skin. A lot of my research deals with holes in the surface of the body, mitigations of that surface or the abjecta beneath the surface, but I found her skinlessness to actually be quite frightening. Perhaps its because I’ve had skin cancer that I find the idea of losing that much skin so terrifying (which, for the record, makes no sense, because the removal of skin cancers just leaves some awesome scars), but its more likely the fact that, without the mitigation of the surface, the inside is all that much more frightening. We forget that our skin is the largest organ on our bodies, and so it is vital that we take care of it. Losing a little bit when you scrape your elbow or knee is fine, and hardly horrifying, but losing so much that we are exposed so wholly to the world is truly unsettling. And deadly. I shuddered for that poor girl. She’s just damn lucky that Princeton-Plainsboro has so many fresh cadavers from which to harvest grafts. I know the episode wanted us to sympathize more with the possibility that she, a dancer, would have to have her gangrenous hands and feet removed in order to live (Taub managed to revive the tissue, somehow), but the loss of her flesh was something I couldn’t get out of my head. And I doubt I will.

So, damn you, House, you actually got me. Good for you.

Considering how poorly I did at keeping up with House this year, I don’t think I’ll write about it next year. I’ll still be watching, though, storing up dozens of episodes on my DVR to marathon whenever I get a break from my book learnin’.

The Husband:

And so the month of season finales involving hallucinations continue, and between this, Bones, and Grey’s Anatomy, I wonder what else have I not come across? I know how the US version of Life on Mars ends (but since neither my wife nor I have finished watching the second half of the season, I’ll refrain from saying what it is), but what about the shows I’m behind on?

Smallville, of course, always has at least a couple hallucination episodes a season – and more now that they’ve been struggling to find stories in Metropolis, a task that doesn’t actually sound very hard – but will Prison Break get all wonky during its final five-episode run that’s sitting on my DVR? (Michael does have major brain shenanigans last time I checked, so this has potential.)

Does Lie to Me, which we’ve DVRed but haven’t touched yet, turn everything on its head by revealing that Tim Roth is just a figment of our imagination? (Considering he’s been both a futuristic ape and Abomination in The Incredible Hulk, this could be a possibility.)

Is Reaper going to turn out to be an extremely vivid dream concocted by Sock during a very long nap at the Work Bench? Will that explain Andi losing her personality this season?

Is that missing episode of Sit Down, Shut Up an apology to the idiots who didn’t find it funny and complained about the intentionally awkward animation-on-top-of-real-backgrounds?

Motherfucker! Ugly Betty ended in a hallucination, too! What happened here? Is this a veiled backlash against Obama? Did all the showrunners stop taking their medication?

The only time I can remember even the slightest bit of consistency across certain shows during season finales was May, 1996 (I had to check Wikipedia for the year, but remember everything else about the following without any aid.) For some reason, three major shows in my life decided to kind of lose their minds and go way too dark for my young teenage brain. With Seinfeld, it was Susan, George’s fiancée, dying as a result of toxic envelope glue, and when the main cast stopped by the hospital, they pretty much felt nothing and went to go get some coffee. On Roseanne, Dan breaks his diet and he and Roseanne get into one of the foulest shouting matches I’ve ever seen on a family sitcom, devolving into back-and-forth screams of “Fatty! Fatty! Fatty!” (Let’s not even mention the final season, which was all a dream.) And, finally, Mad About You challenged Paul and Jamie’s marriage when she kissed the man she was campaigning for and Paul lusted after another woman but didn’t do anything, leading to a quiet, disturbing fight.

It just seemed like, for no discernable reason, sitcoms ended that year wanting us to feel like absolute shit. So I ask, does anybody have an explanation for this madness in dear old 2009?

Don’t get me wrong, I thought everything with Dudek was some of the most compelling minutes House has ever had, and even without her, the final mindfuck, while hard to avoid in the press after the fact, was still eerily effective, thanks in no small part to Hugh Laurie’s continued brilliance on this show. Does he still not have an Emmy? (Now that Boston Legal is gone, Spader’s absence in the category will help considerably. That is, if Jon Hamm’s John Ham doesn’t take it, which would not be a bad thing per se.)

On another note, do any of you out there seriously care about Chase and Cameron? At all? Boooooooring. How about hiring another intern. I’m fine with that. Anything to get away from the dour blondes.

The Wife:

We’re only one episode away from the season finale of Reaper (and the series finale, most likely), so I was happy to see an episode that focused so heavily on steering the masterplot, with very little distraction from a meaningless subplot. In fact, let’s just talk about that subplot now to get it out of the way. Nina sets Sock up with one of her demon friends, but Sock doesn’t like Maggie because she’s not as hot as Nina. (Although, let’s face it, she is a very pretty girl who just prefers to be a tomboy.) So Maggie tells Sock she can look like anything he wants, and he agrees to go out with her again if she’ll change into his dream girl. Thus, he spends time making a Frankensteiny collage of lady parts he likes and hands it to Maggie, who agrees to show up for their next date looking like his dream girl. Only when she shows up, she’s just herself, all to teach Sock a lesson that he doesn’t really learn and won’t grow from at all. It was lame, yes, but I liked the actress who played Maggie, Catherine Reitman (daughter of Ivan), who also had a bright cameo on the abysmal Kath & Kim as the high school friend Kim kinda goes gay for. (According to IMDB, she’s also a bridesmaid in I Love You, Man, but I was probably too distracted by those adorable yellow J. Crew dresses to notice who was wearing them.)

Taking a dig at the soullessness of corporate America, The Devil sets Sam up with a job at one of his companies. But, you see, the company doesn’t actually make or do anything – it’s just a shell corporation from which The Devil harvests souls by encouraging them to do evil things. Sam fits right in when he accidentally shoves a rival out the window after this architect’s design tanks because of Sam’s suggestion at a pitch meeting. (That suggestion, by the way, was to do nothing.) Meanwhile, The Devil shows Sam around the company, taking him all the way up to the 75th floor, from which demons in The Devil’s employ have a sort of soul stock market, tracking the evil things down by the employees on lower floors and delighting when one does something, like, say, throwing another out a window, the Hellish equivalent of a big Wall Street sale.

Welcome to the 75th floor, buying and trading sin 24/7.

Welcome to the 75th floor, buying and trading sin 24/7.


The Devil also points out a portal to Hell on the 75th floor, which is only accessible by keycard. Immediately, Sam thinks this would be a great way to get to his dad, who sent him a text earlier stating that he got what he needed to get Sam out of his contract, but was stuck in the 3rd circle. Humans can’t go through Hell portals, but Demons can, so Sam asks Tony to go, only now that he has Lil’ Stevi, he can’t leave her with a babysitter for that long. After receiving a promotion from his boss for offing a coworker and getting access to the 75th floor, Sam gets Nina to go to Hell for him and retrieve the info from Mr. Oliver. She’s hesitant to go, fearing that a trip to Hell will bring back all those nasty habits she’s been trying to quit, but she agrees to go as long as she doesn’t have to stay more than 24 hours. Sam et al go on a recon mission to get Nina into that Hell portal, and all goes well . . . until Sam’s boss realizes that Sam didn’t push Phil out the window at all, that it was merely an accident Sam took credit for. This is enough to get Sam fired, meaning he loses his key card to get to the 75th floor, leaving Nina trapped in Hell.

The gang stages a plan to steal a keycard from Sam’s boss by breaking into his gym locker while Sock distracts him in the sauna, a plan which goes a little more smoothly than expected when they’re able to convince a janitor to pop open the lock with a skeleton key, rather than wait out Ben’s time-tested “trying every combination of numbers starting with 000” method. As the gang heads up to the 75th floor, they’re only a few minutes ahead of Sam’s boss, who realizes when he gets in the next elevator up that he doesn’t have his keycard. Instead of merely standing around, he turns into his demon self and tears through the top of the elevator carrel before shimmying his way up the shaft via the cables. Nina emerges from the Hell portal just in time, with bossman clawing his way through the steel doors of the elevator shaft on the 75th floor, and Sam begs her to fly him and Ben out of there . . . only to find out when they arrive home safely that the paper Nina imported from Hell is blank. After some thought, Nina realizes the paper needs to be consumed in flames to be read, so she tosses it on the outdoor grill where it reveals an ancient demon text, one the gang will have to translate in order to find out what kind of contest Sam will challenge The Devil to in the season finale.

Contests I think Sam could win:

  • a drinking contest (maybe; I bet The Devil can hold his liquor pretty well)
  • a laziness contest (although, sloth is a sin, so maybe The Devil would win that anyway, even if Sam won outright)
  • a skateboarding contest
  • a Hybrid car race
  • a paintball tournament
  • a Super Smash Brothers tournament
  • a soul-catching contest, which would be pretty neat, actually, if Sam could beat The Devil at the job he reluctantly does and hates doing


Speaking of which, I did not miss the soul-catching element of the show at all this week as the stuff with the masterplot was rather satisfying – way more well-done than in “No Reaper Left Behind.”

Other amusing things:

  • Nina and Ben’s lengthy discussion of how Ben will pamper Nina when she returns from Hell, which quickly turns into a list of Ben’s various cleanliness hangups. “Okay, baby. We can squat in the shower together.”
  • “I change three times a day, kiddo. This is my afternoon suit.” – The Devil
  • And suddenly, I want to see a fierce-off suit fashion show between The Devil and Barney Stinson, mashed up to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band. This must already exist on the internet, no? If it doesn’t, someone needs to make it.
  • Know who else looks good in a suit? Bret Harrison. Turtlenecks are really wrong on him, but he is deliciously cute in a suit and tie.
  • “I’ve done a lot of personal development and detoxing to stop craving the sounds of people in agony.” – Nina
  • The extent to which Ben dabbles in architecture: underwater hotels for 360-degree ocean views.

The Wife:

Now that Andi’s been demoted, she’s happy to help Sam and the boys fight evil . . . just not date evil. And their assignment this week involved capturing their high school biology teacher, Mr. Sprong (Mad TV‘s Michael McDonald), who was a giant soul-crushing douchebag to every single one of his students. Or so they think, until they hit Sprong with the vessel (a mallet) and realize that he’s human and bleeding and unconscious. The team has no choice but to tie up Sprong so that he doesn’t call the authorities, at which point they realize that Sprong wasn’t the soul, but his target. The soul is actually Jordy Boone, a former student of Sprong’s taking revenge on those who made his life hell. Jordy always thought he was invisible, and now he can be, able to disappear and reappear anytime and place he chooses. To best protect Sprong from Jordy and themselves from getting in trouble, they decide to kidnap Sprong and keep him under house arrest. Because of Jordy’s ability to disappear, they have a lot of trouble locating him, but The Devil doesn’t care because he’s already so impressed with the Sprong situation:


“I’m a very proud papa bear. Kidnapping? Assault? You’re way more twisted than I could have hoped!”

Im real proud of you, Sammy!

I'm real proud of you, Sammy!

Meanwhile, Nina is in demon heat, so skeevy demons keep hitting on her and attacking the house. This upsets Ben, and he wants to fight for Nina’s honor, but she tells him that insane, because he’s breakable and she doesn’t want him to die. (Has Ben already forgotten that Nina already lost one human lover?) She tries to protect Ben by offering to wait out her week-long heat in a secure, unknown location, but Ben can’t bear the thought of being without her, so she promises she’ll stay as long as Ben doesn’t do anything stupid . . . like . . . say . . . make a robot suit to protect him when he decides to fight of Nina’s chief demon suit, Xavier. The robot suit was actually really funny, and a classic Sock idea. I have made robot suits like that for a stage production I did in college of Hamlet on the Moon (it makes more sense than you think it does), so that was extra funny to me. And so Ben charged off like a roboknight in high-gloss armor to fight Xavier, only to be humped by him because he’s inadvertently been covered in Nina’s scent. Demon violation? Funny.

Other than inventing robot suits, Sock is in Ted’s good graces for sticking by the new Interim Store Manager in his time of need, so, to show his gratitude, Ted asks Sock to be the posterboy for the Work Bench. Though Sock assumes he’ll be donning the Bench’s apron and grinning in his ads, he’s actually asked to wear a wrench costume and become the store’s mascot, Wrenchy Bench. Sock zooms to unexpected popularity as Wrenchy, becoming the beloved celebrity of any kids dragged into the Bench by their parents. That is, until he’s slapped with a cease and desist order from a competing store, which claims Wrenchy infringes on their own mascot, Brandon the Hammer. Sock refuses to stop being Wrenchy and eventually gets into a tool fight with Brandon the Hammer, who turns out to be an old lady. There really is nothing better than watching people in mascot costumes fight.

Eventually, Sam and the gang figure that they have to let Sprong go to lure Jordy, but they return home to find that Nina left to go eat a moose and Sprong has attempted to escape, which lures Jordy right to them. They try to vessel him, but to no avail. He even takes Andi and threatens to kill her if they don’t let him kill Sprong, at which point Sprong agrees to let Jordy kill him, all the while holding the vessel behind his back, waiting to strike. Free of the soul, Sprong runs away and the gang faces the reality of their actions: they might all soon be doing some serious jail time for kidnapping and felony assault. But just when it seems as though the cops are there to arrest them, the officers reveal that they’re investigating a complaint from Sprong, whom they fear has suffered a mental breakdown talking about invisible people and magic mallets, checking to see if the persons mentioned in his complaint are okay. So Sam and the gang live to reap souls another day, and celebrate their non-losery accomplishments that night with some drinks at the bar.

For being a soul-of-the-week episode without any contribution to the mytharc, this was a good, solid episode. It’s exactly what I needed to watch while I was feverish and wrapped in blankets on my floor.

The Husband:

I just want to make my feverish wife aware that she said “Sprong” seven times in the first paragraph, and that makes me giggle.

The Wife:

On Monday’s Gossip Girl, Chuck Bass made a comment about how he knew Gabriel (Armie Hammer) was up to no good because “his suits never did fit right.” Clearly, Chuck somehow has access to the Reaperverse, because Gossip Girl is the show where Mr. Hammer’s clothes actually do fit him correctly. Reaper took care of that problem for me this week by a.) keeping Mr. Hammer out of said clothes all together and b.) finally, gloriously, unexpectedly killing him. Dude, I can’t wait till his arc of GG is done so I am rid of the man and his mouth full of gleaming white teeth.

And how did Morgan, Son of Satan meet his end? At the fangs and claws of Nina and her “prayer group” of Steventologists, demons formerly of the Rebellion who gather together at Tony’s house to worship the way his dead lover Steve lived his life. After all, Steven was a demon who ascended into heaven (and it’s better than Cancun), so if they live their lives doing good deeds like he did, perhaps they, too, can achieve that paradise. But before Morgan meets his end there, Nina moves in to the house with Sam et al (yay!), and so does Morgan, when he attacks his half-brother for taking his “birthright,” who then turns the other cheek and invites Morgan to live with them until he gets back on his feet. Making no secret of her still-there attraction to bad boys, Nina flirts with Morgan, which worries Ben significantly.

Sessy.

Sessy.

Rather than giving Sam a soul to catch this week, The Devil gives him a soul to take. Sam gets to deliver the greedy soul a sports car and have him sign for it, which will actually be the act that signs his soul over to Satan. But the soul is wise to The Devil’s games and won’t sign. Even when Sam sends Ben and Sock to get him to sign, he signs with a fake name, thus negating the act. Sam warns him that living in greedy excess will get him sent to Hell anyway, even if he doesn’t directly sign his soul over to The Devil, but Gary the DoucheSoul informs the boys that he plans to repent in the 11th hour and get a one-way ticket to Cancun Paradise Heavenville. Because Gary is such a douche, Sam wants to take his soul and damn him to hell, but Tony warns against it, fearing that if Sam takes Gary’s soul, he’ll become truly evil. So Tony invites Sam to his Steventologists meeting, which he eventually takes Gary the DoucheSoul to after The Devil informs Sam that repenting in the 11th hour can’t work for Gary if The Devil decides to kill him while he’s still in his heyday of sinning.

At the Steventologists meeting, Steve speaks to Gary the DoucheSoul through a karaoke DVD to get Sam to watch his back, which is timely because Nina has succeeded in her plan to nearly seduce Morgan and then drag him to a prayer meeting where he would prove he’s not a bad boy. Only, he is, and he uses his brief time there to pull a gun on Sam, revealing his plan to get back on his father’s good side by offing Sam. This does not go over well with the demon crowd and suddenly Nina and her friends shed their human forms and eviscerate Morgan. Hooray! Now he’s almost entirely out of my life!

Back at home, Ben is waiting for Nina’s return, suspicious that she may have cheated on him with Morgan (especially since she hid the fact that she was a Steventologist from him for so long), but she confesses that she was simply doing her duty to lure Morgan to his death as part of the rebellion, sworn to kill the spawns of Satan. The Devil is not happy that Sam lost the soul, but he is pleased as punch that Sam got his brother killed, which The Devil takes as a sign that Sam is headed down the right, evil path, even though he insists he didn’t do it.

All of this plotting was good, exciting and forward-moving. Plus, anything involving a prophetic karaoke DVD of Michael Ian Black is cool with me. Not as good? The totally contrived plot where Ted gets engaged (but not really) and Sock and Ben decide to throw him a bachelor party with terrifying stripper clowns (“the Reese’s Cup of party entertainment”) at the Work Bench, which ends up being a ploy Ted uses to get Andi demoted when he calls the home office to drop by the party and bust the manager who violated store policy by throwing it. Thus, Andi becomes just another Work Bench low-life, and Ted regains his authority. First of all, stripper clowns are the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen and I never want to see them again but can’t get the image of their horrible painted visages out of my head. Secondly, even when Ted was the manager, there was never really a threat that the guys would get caught shirking their work responsibilities. Chuck has always been better at reminding us the cost of leading a double life than this show has, mostly because the Work Bench seems to be so horribly mismanaged that there’s actually no cost to leading a double life at all. But I like Ted. So perhaps it’s better to have him back in the manager’s apron just because he’s funny, rather than Andi, who will maybe get to be a character again. Just seemed like a pretty contrived way to achieve that goal.

Other things:

  • Yes, it is supergay to bang a clone of yourself. And super narcissistic.
  • Jenny Wade looked so fucking skinny in that black crepe turtleneck tunic, and I can only applaud her for that. Bitch looked fierce.
  • Nina really hates wearing synthetic fabrics.
  • And apparently, Armie Hammer hates wearing clothes. Is he a Ken doll? Why hasn’t the CW shown me nearly-nude Armie Hammer before? I might have appreciated him more this way.
  • Lil Stevi’s pink beret? So fetch.
  • Barry Manilow is a polar bear.
  • “Morgan, you do not touch another man’s DVR. You might as well hump my grandma.” – Sock
  • “Look how happy I make them, injecting them with botulism!” – The Devil
  • “You know, I’ve got a guy who’d literally kill for Madonna tickets.” – The Devil

The Wife:

Last week was The Amazing Model Race, but this week had the go-see challenge. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to have that perfunctory TAR-ish challenge at this stage of the competition? As the models were, in fact, racing to get places and complete tasks, lest they cruelly be escorted toward a helicopter and then told they couldn’t fly in it? Either way, there was no Phil Koeghan. And that sucks.

This photo, however, doesnt suck. What the hell is Fo doing?

This photo, however, doesn't suck. What the hell is Fo doing?

Instead, thanks to the Correlo de Tyra (“Get ready to hit the ground running if you want to fly.”) the girls were herded into the headquarters for Brazilian Fashion Week where some dude named Paolo’s English-speaking assistant told the girls that in Brazil, modeling agencies look first for the style, then the personality and then the model’s soul. I expected perhaps a Reaper crossover, but since the CW doesn’t give a damn about that show, none of the boys from Reaper would have even been allowed to show up with a vessel to capture whatever passes for soul in the ruthless fashion industry which, Tyra would later remind the girls, totally hates difference.

The girls were sent out with maps and cabbies to visit 5 designers, whose names I attempted to write down, but didn’t entirely succeed at doing because their names were almost never on the screen long enough to catch both the name of the designer and the brand. Celia, perhaps because she is the oldest (and near model death at 25) and therefore wisest, was the only girl to develop an actual strategy, starting at the go-see that was furthest away from their end destination and working towards it. Teyona, on the other hand, had the complete opposite of strategy in that she didn’t wait for nobody, so if she got to a go-see at the same time as another girl, she turned tail and went to another location, making her entire experience a chorus of “Dangit! How she get here before me!” exclamations. And, somehow, by the gods of Brazilian traffic, Teyona made it back on time, while Celia was 1 minute late to the holding room, so Teyona, she of the wind tunnel face and queen of the illogical race of spazoids (enemy to Spock) won the challenge. For the record, I’m totally with Celia on the fact that she was at the location on time, even early, but that she cannot be held accountable for the slowness of an elevator. She should kick that elevator in the face.

As for the go-sees themselves, the models visited Adriana DeSomethingorother who designs for heaven knows what, Oskar Metsavant from Osklen, Cris Barros, Clo Orozco of Huis Closs and Adriana Bozon of Ellus Unlimited. Most of the designers agreed that they wouldn’t book Lemur Allison for a show because her walk is bad, or Fo for anything because she’s too short and, some said, too commercial. Many thought Celia looked too old, but Cris Barros, a former model herself, recognized Celia’s fabulousness and saw a kindred spirit in her, which made me instantly like Cris Barros. (Well, it helped that she was the only designer who looked like she actually wore her won cute-ass clothes.) Clo Orozco had this to say about Teyona: “My first impression of Teyona is the best.” And all of the other designers seemed to agree, which is clearly why she won. They all seemed to like Aminat, too, because she has a great runway walk and a great swimsuit body.

So because Celia was a minute late and Fo was ridiculously late, they were kept out of the helicopter flight across Sao Paulo. I feel the need to point out that the highlight of the show at this point was watching waifish Celia be literally blown back by the gale force winds of the helicopter as it took off. She is like that tiny chihuahua who got picked up in a tornado and carried six miles away from its owners. Only she’s a human. And 25, which is dead in both dog and model years. Once all the girls were back at Brazilian Fashion Week HQ, Teyona was announced as the winner and was awarded one piece of clothing from each of the designers, which she immediately grew insanely protective of when she saw it at the house. Look, bitch, winning is nice and all, but be fucking gracious about it. Especially because now you have actual nice things to replace your suitcase full of Old Navy basics.

(Husband Note: I thought she was joking about being protective, but I’ve also been known to be quite a gullible human being.)

This photo is insane. In a good way.

This photo is insane. In a good way.

Teyona’s insanity was quelled by a second Correlo de Tyra which read, “Top Models get maximum exposure. Tomorrow, you’ll know what that means.” In case this episode wasn’t already filled with enough redundancy (Fo’s short! Celia’s ancient! Lemur is awkward! The other two are Black!), Tyra’s writers felt the need to drive the point home with that completely unnecessary second sentence because every time there’s a second Tyra mail, the girls won’t find out what it means until the next day. And indeed they did get maximum exposure the next day, shooting many frames of a swimsuit shot in teeny weeny Brazilian thongkinis in the blazing sun with Nigel Barker. The girls were challenged to stand out in a crowd scene populated by locals with non-beach bodies. In looking at this shoot, I struggled to find what was allegedly editorial about it, as all ANTM shoots are intended to be editorial unless they’re affiliated with CoverGirl or some other tie-in ad campaign. But this one . . . nothing about the composition said editorial, and yet Nigel was asking the girls to give editorial poses. So many of these shots reminded me of Sketchers ads, or OP ads or even, strangely, Steve Madden ads. It was pure commercial schlock, and completely ill-conceived, in my opinion. If they wanted an editorial swimsuit shot, they should look to any photos of Lucia Dvorska in Sports Illustrated (preferably the ones of her surrounded by sheep, because those are about standing out in a crowd . . . of livestock) to see how an editorial swimsuit shot is supposed to look. I defend Celia’s poor performance based on the fact that this shoot was not at all what she had been expecting, based on what they said it would be. However, I can’t defend her lack of adaptability. I just agree that the entire concept of the shoot was a failure of conceit.

Anyway, most of the girls managed to turn out decent shots, except psyched out Celia and short-ass Fo, whose work can best be summed up with this gem from Jay Manuel: “You’re giving me Gollum again.” Teyona and Lemur Allison rocked hardcore, although I was deeply, deeply concerned about Allison’s sun exposure. I hope she immediately went home and coated her pearlescent skin in aloe and that Sutan had prepared her for work in the sun by making her glisten with SPF 50 instead of baby oil. Tyra’s version of this shot in her ad for her imaginary Guide to Finding Your Inner Fierceness featured her being the worst mommy ever to a couple of stolen children, looking all aloof and distracted while one baby, wrapped in a white towel, completely stole the scene from her. I imagine that child was subsequently returned to the parents whence it was kidnapped, because nobody out-fierces Tyra. Nobody.

Teyona: She booked 3/3 go-sees and wore one of her spoils of war to panel, a silver silk duponi maxi dress from Osklen with red accents that, combined with her hair in a low, thick bun, made her look for the first time ever like a model. Nay, like a fucking African goddess. Like she was fucking Oya, Lady of the River. (Yes, that’s me rocking some esoteric knowledge about indigenous African mythologies. Like it.) I don’t have negative feelings toward Teyona like I do toward Aminat, so I’m only pleased to see her finally looking like the girl Tyra knew had potential. Her shot, by the way, was excellent. It looked like a really good swimwear ad.

Celia: She booked 3/4 go-sees, but her photo turned out terribly. It looked the most like an ad for Steve Madden shoes to me, but when she confesses that she psyched herself out before the shoot, Paulina shows her some sympathy, warning her to never practice too much before a shoot.

Aminat: She booked 2/3 go-sees and the judges like her photo, although they think she doesn’t know her angles and her face is never emotive enough. For the first time, though, I think her hair actually looks nice at panel. Brazil must have excellent flat irons. However great her hair may be, though, her angles just aren’t good enough in that picture to show off her rockin’ swimsuit body. Nigel called her a “waste of a body,” which I think is apt, because she’s really a waste of a person most of the time.

Fo: This is probably the worst photo I have ever seen on Top Model. Not only does Fo look like Gollum, she looks like she took a pose straight out of a roller derby competition and looks short and squat. Not surprisingly, she booked 0/5 jobs from her go-sees. Consider her death warrant signed.

What the fuck is Fo DOING?

What the fuck is Fo DOING?

Lemur: “There is, like, this sexual mermaid that washed up on the shores of Brazil,” said Tyra of her photo, which is great praise following Nigel’s assessment at the end of the shoot that her work this week was a pleasant surprise. Indeed, Lemur looked fibbity fab fab in this shot. She do gotta work on that runway walk, though, before I can start making Lemur FTW pennants to wave during the finale. Because of that walk, she booked 1/4 go-sees.

Callouts: Teyona, Lemur Allison and Aminat, leaving the two girls with the worst photos in the bottom two. Fo really fucked up this week, and she was sent home with specific instructions from Tyra never to grow her hair out. I’ll miss your pretty face, Fo. But I thank you for giving Celia another chance. Because she can learn to look younger if she gets a completely new face, but Fo can never be taller without leaving hideous scars on her legs that will make her just as marketable as Tahlia and her massive burns.

Some random thoughts:

  • I really need Aminat to explain to me why, according to her, Africans are always late. That comment makes no sense to me.
  • Also, to Tyra’s point about difference in the modeling industry, I see how being short and old are detrimental, but not how having a unique look or dark skin are detrimental. Aren’t we in an era where we have black supermodels? Where girls of many skin tones other than fake tan are regularly booked for jobs? Am I missing something about all the dark-skinned beauties I see walking the fashion week runways? Am I missing something about people like Eva Longoria Parker, Queen Latifah, Beyoncé Knowles and Halle Berry all being in regular, national beauty campaigns? Either Tyra was too busy stealing babies to notice these things, or I am missing something majah here.

The Wife:

I’m a little disappointed that Sammy’s retaliatory act against The Devil/plan to get Satan’s dirty little secrets. Nothing about his attempt to seduce his hot, dead-eyed tutor in all things evil worked for me. And I think Andi was right to point out at the beginning of this that there was no need for her to be jealous because Sam’s not a seducer. This, of course, is supposed to be the joke, that Sam’s not very suave with the ladies (remember how long it took him to ask out Andi when she actually had a personality and allure?), and that joke is somehow supposed to be made funnier by seeing Sam as a fish-out-of-water in slacks and a turtleneck, but it wasn’t funny. And it wasn’t dramatic, either. In fact, save for the final scene in which The Devil has sent Sam in with a gun/vessel to send Sally back to Hell there was nothing at stake here to make me interested in this plot.

I also found it extremely strange that The Devil decided to make Sam seduce Sally in his stead. I know that I can’t rely on a conventional mythology of The Devil to be my guide for someone else’s mythic universe, but he is the fucking Devil. He insists that, “I don’t chase tail. Tail chases me.” In which case, wouldn’t it simply be easier for him to work his Devil magic and seduce Sally, making her fall head over heels in love with him and, in fact, chase after him? Wouldn’t that be more his style? After all, it’s not like he actually cares about love, so if he wanted to sleep with someone, there was no need to establish the contrived pretense that she, a demon bitch with crazy demon bitch claws, needed to be “saved” from a reaper by The Devil. In the end, he got to sleep with Sally anyway just because he bought her a very thoughtful vegetable steamer . . . which he could have just given her in the first place!

No, really, Ill sleep with anyone who buys me a kitchen appliance. Thats how I came by this KitchenAid stand mixer.

No, really, I'll sleep with anyone who buys me a kitchen appliance. That's how I came by this KitchenAid stand mixer.

So all we learned here is that The Devil has secrets, and that Sally is not going to be the person to divulge those secrets to Sam. And he needs something more than a contest to beat The Devil now that Alan Townsend has been sent back to Hell for sinning so hard in Vegas that he was “back in Hell before Carrot Top hit the stage.” And what’s more, I endured 42 minutes of Sam in turtlenecks (which are oh-so-wrong on Bret Harrison, by the way) for one brief scene that’s actually moving the story forward, tacked on at the end when Sam finds an old vessel in the back of the Work Bench (or makes a new one? if so, how?) and sends his father back to Hell with Ted’s lost cell phone so that, rather than living in a freezer in Sock’s garage, Mr. Oliver can help his son get out of his contract from the “inside” by tracking down Alan Townsend. I wish more time had been spent on Sam’s relationship with his Zombie Dad rather than his inane pissing contest with The Devil because then I might have believed Sam’s habituation and tension at having to banish his undead father to Hell. With only a brief scene in which Sam’s dad sets up the Internet so he can try to have a somewhat normal life, and a subsequent scene in which he realized that was no life at all and he’d rather be in the Underworld helping his son, there was nothing to ground that final scene and contextualize Sam’s emotional state.

As for the B-story, Nina tortures and harasses Ben so Sock steps in to protect his friend from psycho demon ex-girlfriend, and Nina plays demon tricks with Sock’s dreams where she seduces him and rips out his heart. Sock becomes set on destroying Nina’s lair and driving her out of town so she can’t hurt him or Ben anymore, but she realizes she’s being a dick and tries to apologize. Even though Sock won’t let her speak to Ben, seeing her is enough for him and by the time they go to destroy Nina’s lair, Ben is ready to get back together with her and does . . . as Sock accidentally burns the place down. I enjoyed watching Nina torture Ben far more than anything that occurred in the A-story.

I appreciate the attempt to get away from the Soul of the Week format, but the seduction stories just didn’t make any sense to me. It did, however, provide one excellent line from The Devil that I’ll leave you with:

“I am the Dark Lord of asses!”