TV Report Card: Smash 1x13 - "Tech"

I'm not sure when exactly the change happened, but I've reached a point where I genuinely enjoy watching episodes of Smash.  Sure, it's not the way I thought I was going to enjoy watching - turns out this show is sudsy and not to be taken too seriously - but if you let go of what Smash could be under different intention, it's an entertaining hour of television.  The characters are finally engaging with one another, and even though it's in places contrived or melodramatic, they are also finally taking action and behaving like real humans.  I've been wishing since Day 1 that Smash would ratchet up their dramatics, and finally, we're seeing that happen.  It makes the show so much more enjoyable to watch, even if I'm just rolling my eyes at Julia's day-late-and-dollar-short insistence on turning away Michael Swift, or wondering what the hell Derek is doing flirting with another incarnation of Marilyn, or snidely asking Dev if he wants an effing trophy for not sleeping with someone who's not his girlfriend.

Yes, "Tech" was drama-filled, and therefore certainly not uninteresting.  With previews for Bombshell rapidly approaching, tensions are high, disasters are striking, and relationships are tested.  The first big obstacle came in the form of some random named Ted getting a TV pilot.  Big deal.  Who's Ted?  Oh, he's the guy they got to play DiMaggio after Michael Swift left the show.  Got it!  So, this actually is a big deal, apparently, for not only the show, but also Julia.  The core conflict came from Eileen and Derek wanting to summon Michael Swift to resume the role, while Julia would have rather set herself on fire and plunged off a tall building into a shark tank.  

Okay, okay.  I'm exaggerating.  But frankly, not by much.  Julia spent the entire episode with her heels dug in, and threatened to quit Bombshell altogether if Swift got the role of DiMaggio.  This of course put Eileen in a sticky situation, as well as Tom, who agreed with Eileen professionally, but felt obligated to agree with Julia personally.  Honestly, it seemed like everyone was making a mountain out of a molehill.  Really, Julia just can't stay on as playwright and refuse any contact with Michael Swift?  Really, if Julia walks, the whole production goes under and Eileen is a complete failure?  Although, at least with the "if Julia walks" scenario, we got to understand what exactly the consequences were, even if they seemed exaggerated.  With "if Julia stays," it was left unexplained, and by the way the show treated the storyline, I was beginning to think that an actual meteor might hit Boston if Julia and Michael both worked on the show.  I mean, I understand Julia's emotions and the fragility of her personal life since Frank's return home, but I wish she had outright explained how exactly Michael Swift returning to Bombshell would affect her.  Would she be tempted to go back to him?  Would it dredge up bad memories?  Would she worry he might pressure her into cheating again like he did last time?  Would she worry about what Frank and Leo might think of her?  It could be any of these, as long as the stakes were outlined.

This would also be good to know considering the outcome of the storyline.  Frank and Leo told Julia they wouldn't let her quit, even though she always has trouble separating work from family, and wanted her to go to Boston.  She relented, on the condition that they go with her.  Woo, one big happy Houston family!  But now that Michael Swift is going to return to Julia's orbit, I wish even more that the show had taken the time to outline her fears of the scenario - if only for us to empathize with Julia when she's inevitably put in the situation.  Furthermore, it would help us root for her in the predicament, and cheer for her when she (hopefully) emerges from it with family life and marriage vows intact.  Fingers crossed that this is the actual intended result of Michael's return - an obstacle for Julia and her family to overcome - and the Houstons will emerge stronger than ever!  Because I don't think I can take any more family drama with them. Let's stick to happy pancake-making, please.

The DiMaggio switch had more consequences than threatening Julia's stabilizing family life; it also had the unexpected effect of bringing Derek and Rebecca Duvall closer together.  Let it be known, "Tech" was the first episode that treated Rebecca Duvall like a three-dimensional character!  From the minute she confessed to Karen that performance-related fear never goes away, I knew we were finally being shown a Rebecca who is a Real Human Character with Feelings.  And I loved it!  Yes, her actions were a bit exaggerated, but at least now I understand her.  She finally protested Derek's lack of consideration and perhaps even respect for her, and weirdly, he responded by using her own psychology to guide her interpretation of Marilyn.  At first I just thought he was being a good director by manipulating a performance out of Rebecca, but then they started making out and now I'm just assuming that Derek has a Marilyn fetish.  It's a strange and transfixing dynamic between Rebecca and Derek, and, not unlike a trainwreck, I can't seem to look away. 

Unfortunately, Ivy had her suspicions about Derek's infidelity (despite him having let slip that he loved her?) and her instincts led her to overhear Derek and Rebecca presumably having sex in Rebecca's dressing room.  Ouch.  First, she gets Marilyn yanked out from under her, then her boyfriend?  I'm sensing that Smash loves knocking Ivy off her horse, and as long as they allow her to get back up, I'm fine with the construct.  Ivy is a precious little downtrodden soul wrapped up in insecurities and sharp edges, and all I want to see is her being successful and having friends.  I'm less interested in seeing her sleep with Karen's boyfriend, though.

Here's what I don't get.  Why did Smash force this occurrence?  I don't understand.  I think they're going for the "jilted lovers" angle, but you know who's not a jilted lover?  Dev.  You know who is a jilted lover?  KAREN.  If you're reading this review, you probably watched the episode, and therefore don't need me to spell this out, but please humor me.  See, Dev wanted to visit Karen in Boston.  Karen said it's complicated and she wouldn't have a lot of time to spend with him.  So, Dev hangs out with RJ and a bottle of bourbon, and they share a pretty solid makeout.  Whoops!  Naturally, the correct course of action for this blunder is to travel to Boston to surprise your girlfriend with a marriage proposal.  And when she didn't say yes, he had the audacity to get mad at her!  I don't understand how the narrative could possibly want me to like Dev at the end of "Tech."  His and Karen's problems came roaring into the open, where he blamed her for his not taking a job in D.C. that she didn't even know about, and then somehow turned his transgression with RJ into the beautiful impetus for his undying love and marriage proposal to Karen.  Then, to cap it all off, he picked up a girl in a bar on the heels of the argument!  (Seriously, Karen, I hope you this dude.)

So no, I don't get any of this.  Do the writers want me to hate Dev?  Because I do, a little, now.  I get that his and Karen's relationship has problems that need(ed) to be worked out.  But he handled it terribly!  And I'm still frustrated by the fact that both Ivy and Karen got cheated on this episode, providing another great platform on which to relate to one another, and instead of commiseration we got Ivy sleeping with Karen's almost-fiancé, knowing full well his relationship with her.  Way to add more thorns and brambles into the Karen-Ivy dynamic, Smash writers.  They even busted out an impromptu "sing-off," wherein Ivy totally dragged down the party's buzz with a heartbreaking rendition of "I'm Going Down," but there was no actual competition.  Karen watched on, mesmerized at the performance.  So what is your game, writers?!  Literally every Karen-Ivy scene has potential for positive development, and instead, we get a Dev-Ivy hookup.  Belabored siiiiiiigh.  A very large "NO." is scrawled at the end of my notes, and I feel that summarizes my feelings nicely about this whole Dev business, and also what I think Karen should tell Dev when he inevitably comes crawling back to her.

(On the bright side, I am more sympathetic to Karen than ever before!  Eh, and of course I still like Ivy, even with that evil glint in her eye after learning exactly who just offered to buy her a drink.  Whatever.  I'm a sucker for a downtrodden soul wrapped up in insecurities and sharp edges, okay?  Semi-related: is this a bad time to wonder if the writers chose to drop Ivy's pill addiction?)

The final main storyline of the evening belonged to Sam, who brought Tom home to meet his parents in Boston.  (Or near Boston.  Whichever.)  It was nice to see a parental disapproval storyline that wasn't about Sam being gay, but rather his choice of profession.  Having a career in dance is difficult, full of risk for injury, low-paying, and ultimately temporary.  His parents are unconvinced that this is best for Sam, and Tom, in an effort to get in good with the family, voices similar heretofore-unmentioned concerns.  Naturally, (this time I use that word without a trace of sarcasm) Sam doesn't appreciate other people talking about his choices with such an air of conspiratorial disrespect, and calls them out on it.  It manifests into a, well, manifesto about why he chooses to participate in the theatre, and results in Tom telling him he, Sam, is his, Tom's, best self.  I won't lie; I don't really get what that means, but it sounds sweet and seemed to be a nice thing to say, seeing as it led to kissing.  Yay, Tom and Sam!

It bears mentioning as well that we were treated to some extra little character interactions, like Ivy helping Derek solve his staging problem, Tom and Derek's endless bickering over the show's progress, Ellis continuing his pledge of loyalty to Ivy, and Nick supporting Eileen's business decisions.  Smash is handling its ensemble and their dynamics well these days, and this is probably a contributing factor to the show - and its characters - being engaging and enjoyable.

Ultimately "Tech" delivered a dimensionalized Rebecca Duvall, new obstacles for Bombshell and characters, and a few relationship shake-ups.  I can genuinely say I am looking forward to next week, as I feel pretty invested in these characters and their messy, tangled lives!  I really hope people stop cheating, though.  That'd be nice.  Oh, and more positively-developed Ivy-Karen interactions, too.  (Belabored siiiiiiigh.)

The Report Card:

Dialogue: B

Plot: B

Character: B

Musical Numbers: A

Episode MVP: let's say Sam!

 

The RBI Report: "Prom-a-saurus"

Ah, Senior Prom.  Literally the preeminent highlight of any teenager's entire existence!  Or so Glee would have us believe.  Sure, to really buy into all the storylines tonight, you also have to be sold on the fact that everything lives and dies by Senior Prom.  Prom is a Big Deal!  Prom is high drama!  But, "Prom-a-saurus" is one of the better episodes this season, and even though its centerpiece storyline was poorly constructed and sustained, it packed the rest of the hour with rewarding character interactions, meaningful payoffs, and a fair bit of solid comedy sprinkled throughout. 

"Prom-asaurus," written by Ryan Murphy, directed by Eric Stoltz

Like with Glee's more successful episodes, "Prom-a-saurus" employed a simple premise that doesn't require a lot of explanation: McKinley High's prom is coming up, and each character interacts with this reality in a different way based on their current situation.  Because of this construct, simple episodes like this allow more space and time for the characters to express their emotions through their actions, and for them to interact with other characters in a meaningful way - if all goes well.

For Brittany, prom became of utmost importance in a character-specific way.  While I don't love the insinuation that Brittany forgot she was class president after being elected, or the bit of meta about how she stopped talking for awhile, I do love that prom was presented to her as a challenge - and she met it head-on.  She had no problems being confident in her leadership, and even though her ideas were unconventional, the narrative never gave her any real opposition, or required her to seek out assistance from someone else to supplement her abilities.  Sure, it might have been nice to see Brittany actually doing the planning and having to work through the process, but I dare say I prefer how the episode handled it - setting up a huge task for Brittany, and then literally make it look like she had zero problems accomplishing it.  For a character that is portrayed most frequently as either dumb, slutty, or mute, it was actually a reward to see the bar set high and then easily achieved.  My only quibble is that it would have been nice to see a little moment with Figgins and Brittany at prom, wherein he communicates to her somehow that she's done a good job.  After all, the episode sets up this obstacle for Brittany, and even though witnessing happy promgoers is enough to let us know she did well, it would have been even better to have the payoff manifested in a little specific moment - especially because the stakes were so high for her.  Figgins basically insinuated that Brittany's tenure as president has completely ruined the institution of student government, and threatened to abolish the position.  The character arc merited seeing Figgins impressed in order to conclude the storyline.

Of course, Brittany's ideas did throw a wrench in one person's plan: she banned hair gel at prom, and that was enough to send Blaine into a tizzy.  After two episodes where Blaine's dramatics have been played in complete and utter seriousness, I was happy to see this silly little storyline for him.  While it might have been nice to reference his past prom woes, as they did Kurt's, I didn't mind the construct all that much, mostly because I was reveling in Blaine's ridiculata without having to wonder if he was going to bust out an empowering pop song about his hair woes.  (I was worried when he uttered the question, "How do you think I feel?" comparing his anti-prom problems to Rachel's and Kurt's, but then Rachel started laughing at him and I felt better about the whole situation.  Comedy!  Who knew?)  The result was nice as well, that Brittany would allow him some gel after he relented and showed his true curls (if only to keep students from turning to stone), and Kurt insisting he liked his hair the way it was.  It was simple and sweet, and the narrative kept it that way.

The same awareness of scope, character, and screentime was unfortunately not afforded to the centerpiece of the evening: a rehash of the Quinn/Finn/Rachel love triangle, accompanied by rehashes of Quinn's slightly deranged prom-related plans, Rachel's debilitating insecurity over Quinn and Finn's nonexistent relationship, and Finn's enduring need to make a choice between these two females.  This truly was an all-around display of frustrating regression on all angles, basically until the storyline's conclusion, where it took a turn for the better - but still made you wonder if all that other nonsense was necessary. 

It begins with Quinn.  As soon as I heard that damned tinkly piano music when Quinn announced her plan to walk at prom, and again when she deviously took advantage of voter sympathy, sirens went screaming in my brain.  Were the writers going to seriously try and convince me that Quinn was still hellbent on being her high school's prom queen, exactly like one season ago?  What about all that character development that happened?  Sure, it all happened at random times and completely offscreen,  but you can't just replace a character with a robot version of herself from a year ago.  It's like how "Funeral" tried to use Quinn-wanting-prom-queen as a character thing... literally the exact episode after prom happened.  So, character regression to support basic villainy is not something the Glee writers are above, especially with Quinn Fabray, and all scenes with Quinn raised my hackles as a result.  She wanted to be able to walk in at prom as a surprise, which is actually really understandable and kind of heartbreaking considering her circumstance.  But given her history as deranged crazy liar bitch, her role in Finn-and-Rachel storylines, and that creepy-ass piano music, the episode made it too easy to believe that she was up to no good.

Are we supposed to believe Finn when he calls Quinn a crazy liar and yells at her about how selfish she is?  About how she has everything, and how Rachel has nothing?  Last I checked, Quinn Fabray has never had everything.  I would love it if other characters would stop negating Quinn's canon struggles and telling her she has everything she wants.  Because even when it looked like she had everything, she really didn't, which, I repeat for the umpteenth time, was the point of the character.  And she certainly doesn't have everything now, as she's recovering from a near-death experience and trying to regain her ability to walk.  And it's here where a second layer of insult is added to Quinn's portrayal in this episode - is Quinn's status as wheelchair-bound really being wielded to make us suspicious about her intent when it comes to a prom queen vote?  It is bad enough that this storyline has thus far been incorporated into the narrative as equal parts non-issue and half-assed romantic storyline with a random.  It's bad enough that the writers are trying to fly the idea that no one is going to physical therapy with Quinn except Teen Jesus.  It's bad enough that Quinn was simply absent for two episodes and seems completely fine when she is present.  I'm not sure the fallout from this car accident could have been any more haphazardly handled, unless Quinn died, incorporated as a ghost, and then followed the students of McKinley around, pelting them with wads of chewed gum without any explanation whatsoever.

Regardless, Quinn had a plan to walk at prom, and Finn thought this was the most nefarious thing ever, and tried to physically force her out of the wheelchair so that the whole school could see what a "crazy liar" she is.  (More points against Glee not taking Quinn's spinal injury seriously - there are no real consequences for Finn potentially jeopardizing her personal health like that?  Oh, okay.)  He also accused her of being the reason he's not at the anti-prom with Rachel.  Ah, don't you just love an aggressive and violent Finn Hudson who doesn't take responsibility for his own actions?  I'm so glad he's around to call Rachel selfish and also to tell her how sexy and beautiful she is!  Give that boy a crown!

Of course, Rachel didn't really emerge from this situation smelling like a rose either.  She went ragemonster at the first suggestion that Quinn and Finn were campaigning together, and refused to attend prom if she was going to have to watch her fiancé dance with his ex-girlfriend who, need I remind the writers, she is canonically friends with now.  This side of two weeks ago, Rachel was still blaming herself for Quinn's accident, and now she's completely dismissive of it because she's having a tantrum?  Yikes.  But it was another incident for Finn to accuse her of being selfish, which is funny, because he did the same thing to Quinn, and I find myself wondering how it is that this love triangle is supposedly built with two females that are polar opposites, but both get chastised for their ambition by the boy in the middle.

So, Rachel planned an "anti-prom," because of Quinn and Finn, and only shows up to regular prom when she has Finn on her arm.  For some reason (read: no reason), Rachel decides she needs to apologize to Quinn for her behavior, and explains it's because she still sees Quinn as the beautiful popular head cheerleader with claws in her hopeless crush.  (Well, at least the regression to Season 1 dynamics is acknowledged, I guess.)  She says she's proud that they're friends, and that she voted for her.  So, when Quinn wins by that one vote, she chooses to pencil in Rachel's name instead and give up the crown so that Rachel can feel special.  

On the whole, this outcome is great.  Rachel and Quinn got a chance to shake off this gross sexist love triangle bullshit and actually communicate!  Quinn's (and Santana's) actions provided a strong and rewarding payoff to the original dynamic between Rachel and the "popular girls," and the fact that Rachel will never be aware of the gesture makes it even more selfless.  Yay for lady friendships that used to be unhealthy but now aren't!  (Unless the writers change their minds again.)  But I wish the road to this result was stronger, especially since Rachel's in-episode arc was off-character, and interacting with Quinn and Santana would have helped make it better.

Coincidentally, this is where the "Prom is everything!!!1!!1!" conceit is a bit wobbly - in connection with Rachel's character.  "Prom-a-saurus" communicates, right from the get-go, that Rachel has now laid her Broadway dreams to rest and is instead looking forward to prom, and her wedding.  Ouch.  This is rough.  Just because Rachel didn't get into NYADA does not mean her Broadway dream is dead, and I wish that someone had reminded her as such, if apparently Rachel is now a kind of character who just sits back down when someone tells her no.  In a well-characterized world, Rachel would have still been hellbent on getting her dreams through whatever means necessary, and I find it disturbing and insulting that she's coping by peacefully saying goodbye to her dreams and instead putting stock in her high school experience.  Who is this person and what has she done with Rachel Berry?

It's not that Rachel doesn't canonically seek the approval of her peers, when it all boils down to it.  She has historically wanted to be accepted and loved just like anyone else, and it's fine if prom queen means that for her.  But the construct was always that Rachel had something beyond high school to help her get through her crappy teenage days, and that the big dream would sustain her.  This episode specifically communicated that because that dream is dead, she actually cares quite a bit about her prom experience to fill that void.  This weakens the character, and turns her deep-seated insecurity with her peers into a desperate need to feel good at something, because right now she has nothing else to believe in.  This is sad, and weird, and incongruent to what we understand about Rachel Berry's self-confidence when it comes to the way she behaves with regards to her dreams vs. her popular peers.  Frankly, it already means something for Quinn and Santana to give the crown to Rachel - why fuss it up with a plot device that is essentially out-of-character and slightly insulting?  A prom queen crown and a dance with Finn Hudson does not all problems solve - especially when the problems are related to Rachel's ambition, and not her status as high school misfit. 

There are several things that could have been done instead.  For one, strike the opening monologue.  Rachel's need for acceptance does not need to be set up as connected to her lack of Broadway future.  It's already there, separate from her ambition, and the payoff with the prom queen crown stands strong without pitying Rachel's lack of dreams as well as her loser status.  Second, make Rachel create the anti-prom because she doesn't care about prom when her dreams have all crashed down around her.  This is far more relatable than not going to prom because of Finn and Quinn, and connects her emotional state more to her current situation than to her delusions of what happiness is going to mean for her now.  Beyond that, I'd much rather see an angry and bitter Rachel than a petulant and self-pitying Rachel.  (Angry and bitter Rachel is actually pretty funny - if anyone remembers what she was like after breaking up with Jesse - and would still strike the right note of sympathy from the audience.)  

Even if you're going to communicate that Rachel's rechanneling all her energies into prom happiness because a dream snuffed out, why not construct her storyline around Quinn's sooner?  These girls didn't interact until the last second, when it was made perfectly clear that there wasn't even any conflict between them.  Whoops!  But Rachel's actions are pretty similar (read: identical) to Quinn's when she was convinced she had no viable future, and therefore, Quinn would be a solid candidate to tell Rachel to snap out of it, in so many words.  It would also help deflate the eye-rolling idea that somehow Quinn Fabray might be the villain in this scenario, and bonus points if it included Santana as well.  Santana had perhaps the best words of advice for Rachel the whole episode, in a reality check that perfectly balanced her snark with her softer edges.  Ultimately, she pointed out that Rachel's anti-prom was actually her way of coping with her NYADA failure.  If Santana had had more involvement in Rachel's storyline, perhaps we could have steered away from the notion that Rachel was simply throwing a hissy fit over Quinn and Finn and dealt with the real issues without simply putting a band-aid on a gaping wound.  That way, when Rachel gets the crown, it's less about the crown solving all of her problems and more about what happened for her to get the crown - Santana and Quinn helping her deal with her stuff.  The crown is just a bonus, and a manifestation of reward instead of pity.

But instead, Rachel Berry was given an emotional investment in prom, and the crowning played more like a fairy tale moment for an insecure girl, and her boyfriend, who finds her sexy and inspiring.  If only Rachel had done one inspiring thing all episode - like confronting her problems and getting back on that figurative horse to go to Broadway.  If only Santana and Quinn had helped her get there through actual storyline content, instead of just through a single crown that had to be injected with meaning through a episode-opening and character-derailing monologue.  Alas, alas, alas.  This was a storyline that had so much potential, and still paid off that potential, without really hitting the right notes along the way, and supplanting an unnecessary character reason to give emotional resolution to something that already had meaning.  Whoops.

Frankly, it would have been nice to see a little more screentime devoted to Santana in general, who has done a complete 180 since last year's prom - in the form of actual character development and not destruction.  It was nice that Kurt and Blaine and Sue all referenced the events of junior prom, but Santana should have been included in this as well, simply because of the positive change.  Last year, she went to prom with her beard, both of them too scared still to be outwardly accepting of their sexualities.  This year, Santana flat-out announces that she plans to attend prom with her girlfriend, so they can have a good time.  What a difference a year makes!  I wish that there had been even the tiniest acknowledgement of this character development.  But, at the very least, Santana's change was manifested in how she was wielded in the episode - happy, proud, snarky but not cruel, and surprisingly zen.  (It doesn't hurt that Naya Rivera slayed every bit of material thrown her way.)

Truly, the best storyline of the evening belonged to Puck and Becky, both of whom chose to skip out on prom because they were basically depressed, and, in Becky's case, angry.  In a wonderful return of Becky's Helen-Mirren-voiced narration, we discover that she wanted to be prom queen to show everyone that queens can look different, and be different.  Unfortunately, she doesn't score enough votes for a nomination, and so Becky wages war on xylophones and cafeteria lines.  (Seriously, how hilarious was that mini-montage?  So fantastic.)  Puck wasn't really in the prom mood, after last week's failure, and the heartbreaking confession that he can just go again next year.  So, they hole up together at the anti-prom, and play strip poker, and hate the world.

I have to say, I love that Becky's reaction to prom queen rejection manifested as actual anger, and not emotional withdrawal, which is more common to Glee's females who are met with opposition.  This choice really helped the emotional resolution of the storyline as well, wherein Puck carved two crowns out of empty beer boxes and declared themselves king and queen of the anti-prom.  Instead of designing the scene for Becky to be indebted to Puck's kindness, she instead exclaimed "I did it!" and we were lucky to skip over Glee's favorite trope: heavy-handed male heroics.  This extended even further to the idea that Becky distracted Sue so that Puck could spike the punch and fulfill his prom dream from the year previous.  The icing on the cake was Puck thanking Becky for making all of his dreams come true, and calling her "my queen."  Praise be!  This interaction was handled with far more equality than most others on the show, and I loved it.  The idea that two wallflowers celebrating prom their own way because of emotional setbacks was perfect, and the storyline felt almost like it was lifted right out of a John Hughes movie and doctored for Glee's focus on creating bonds between seemingly different people.  It was glorious.

"Prom-a-saurus" also treated us to some great sidecar interactions.  First, there was emotional closure on Sam and Mercedes, who ran into Shane and his date at prom, and caused no drama whatsoever.  Bless everything for that little wave, and every corner of that love triangle handling the situation maturely.  We also got a moment with Mike and Tina, the latter of whom doesn't want this year to end.  Does this mean we'll get a storyline about Tina, as a junior, being left behind while everyone graduates?  She's got a solo next episode, so I've got my fingers crossed, but no breath held. 

Overall, "Prom-a-saurus" was enjoyable, touching, and funny, despite bungling the middle parts of its main storyline.  However, there was enough meaningful resolution, with solid storylines and character interactions surrounding it, to make the hour one of the more entertaining that Glee's offered so far this season.

Also, as a note: next Tuesday is my birthday, and apparently Glee is giving me my present in the form of two episodes to watch and review.  Sigh.  So, I won't lie; I will probably not have the recaps for "Props" and "Nationals" up in any timely manner whatsoever, as I'm not sure I want to spend my birthday evening muddling my way through two episodes.  So bear with me, and hopefully I'll have them done in the following days.

The RBI Report Card...
Musical Numbers: B

Dance Numbers: B

Dialogue: B

Plot: B

Characterization: B

Episode MVP: Becky Jackson

TV Report Card: Smash 1x12 - "Publicity"

I REFUSE TO FALL THREE WEEKS BEHIND ON SMASH REVIEWS.  THAT IS JUST PREPOSTEROUS.  So here's hoping I can bang out the two I'm lacking and then I'll be as caught up as I can ever be with this show.  In terms of punctuality, I'm worse than Rebecca Duvall!

(Writing two reviews apparently means my transitions will be very forced and weak.)

With "Publicity," we're easing into the home stretch of episodes for Smash's first season, and that pesky movie star is still hanging around!  I'm torn on Rebecca.  On the one hand, I like that she's causing problems in all the dynamics on the show.  From a storytelling perspective, she's a bit like a drunken soldier trying to stand amongst the ranks but instead keeps swinging her elbows and knocking normally-composed people off-kilter.  It's interesting!  But "Publicity" didn't do much to escalate Rebecca's role as irksome catalyst, aside from Derek's growing impatience with her demands and the plea to Eileen to keep things under control.  But ultimately I fear Rebecca will become annoying sooner than she will become actually antagonistic, and Derek will just have to smash all the paparazzi's cameras in New York before Rebecca is an actual character.  Perhaps if we got something from her own point of view that isn't one-dimensional?  Perhaps if we understood more about her as a person, instead of how she affects others?  Or perhaps if she didn't just stir up trouble and back away slowly, it might be more engaging to watch her.  

For example, this episode found Rebecca threatened by her own understudy, so she's buddying up to Karen in case she has to take drastic action against her.  Clearly Rebecca is familiar with Sun Tzu (or at least every piece of pop culture that references his famous quote) and is playing the game of "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."  Of course, Karen is none the wiser that all this friendship is probably disingenuous, or at the very least, fleeting.  So she accepts Rebecca's superfluous gifts, and goes drinking and dancing with her, and shrugs off the rumors written up in tabloids about the two ladies.  Dev, on the other hand, is perturbed by this new development, and it doesn't help that Rebecca openly warns Karen against having such a committed relationship on her journey to stardom.  

What Smash set up for Karen and Dev through Rebecca is an interesting first step - but I wish they had done more.  For example, it's never explained why Karen is so adamant on being friends with Rebecca.  She's put in a position where she's stuck mediating her long-term partner, and a famous lady she met literally a week ago, and she doesn't really take a firm stand on either side.  She tries to have her cake and eat it too, and the question is never asked: what's so special about Rebecca, then?  Is it just because she's famous?  Or is it because Karen wants to be more like her?  Rebecca is certainly more famous than she is respected as an artist, and so what does that say about Karen if she's idolizing her?  Does Karen want fame and attention just as much as she wants to be on Broadway specifically?  I wish that the show had confronted these questions, simply because it puts a little dust on Karen's squeaky facade, and would afford her some rough edges and narrative interest.  But instead, the storyline veered more towards a general disapproval that Karen is losing her own identity in favor of the gloss of fame, and on the whole I'm less interested in anything that paints Karen as a small-town girl swept up by the big city, especially if it's going to be her boyfriend reminding her of where she came from. 

As such, I would have liked to see someone else participating in the storyline - someone from Karen's professional world.  I understood Dev's concern that Karen's making the wrong decisions when it comes to Rebecca Duvall, but it's clear that the writers are just using the scenario to drive a wedge between the couple.  So even though Dev is probably correct, I find it difficult to want to listen to his advice about "showbiz."  He's an outsider to the world of Broadway, and I wish the writers made his aspect of the conflict more strictly about the strain that it's putting on their relationship.  (As is, it's even more exhausting that it's being dragged out, when we all know what's happening even as Dev and Karen seem to avoid talking about it.  There was no resolution for them in "Publicity" at all!)  No, I wish a second party had something to say about Karen's chumminess with Rebecca - preferably either Derek, or Ivy.  Of course, because I am forever going to be proffering ideas on how to capitalize on the interesting dynamic between the ladies, I would have voted Ivy.  Simply because Ivy could snap at Karen that Rebecca's keeping her close to ultimately keep her down, and when Karen asks how she knows, Ivy would reply: "Because I would do the same thing."  Great, right? 

But unfortunately, Ivy had a tiny part in "Publicity," which was perhaps unwarranted considering her touching performance that capped the hour.  "Secondhand White Baby Grand" was the perfect song for Ivy to be singing at this point in the narrative - with the lyrics "something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound," and "I still have something beautiful to give" making me reach for the tissues.  Hello!  Ivy is down and out, having been ousted from her leading position in a musical!  This was the moment to bring Ivy back onto the audience's emotional radar so we can root for her, but ultimately Smash chose to sideline her for most of the episode, and give her a devious alliance with Ellis to sneak Karen's solo out from under her.  Do they really not want us to root for Ivy?  Because even without an Ivy A-plot to support her heartbreaking solo, I'm fairly certain there's a huge number of viewers that find her relatable in her ambition and imperfections - and also deserving of the lead in Bombshell.  So in the end, I still choose to sit squarely on Team Ivy.  I'm not even fussed that she teamed up with Ellis.  On the contrary, I kind of like that Ellis at least shows incontrovertible loyalty to someone, and if these someones are Eileen and Ivy, at least he chose well.

So, the Rebecca-Dev-Karen-Ivy corners of "Publicity" weren't as developed as they could be, but I was happy to see that the Frank-Julia-Leo storyline extended as far as it did.  Specifically, I was impressed to see that Smash honored Julia and Tom's partnership, and let Tom be nearly as broken up about Leo's disappearance as his actual parents.  It was a great detail that not every show would think to include, and it even had a nice payoff in the slow and seemingly-healthy-so-far progression of Sam and Tom's relationship. 

As for Frank and Julia, Leo's running away provided them with the tried-and-true storytelling device of a pair on the outs working together as opposed to against one another, in order to begin rebuilding their relationship.  This storyline was worth it mostly to see Debra Messing stalk and then threaten a 17-year-old and successfully make it both funny and sad, but not lose the audience.  (If there's one thing Debra Messing perfected on Will & Grace, it's the art of keeping the audience on her side, even if her character's behavior is totally unhinged.)  It worked as well to witness a broken family rebuild, even when it's sometimes slow-going, and rocky.  And it was nice to see more evidence of Julia's place as matriarch of the family - I loved the continued idea that sometimes Leo and Frank can be reactive with one another, and Julia is more the emotional rock in the family.  "Dinner will make us feel better," as a moment, was a great synthesis of all the angles of this storyline that are interesting, and almost enough to make me forgive Smash for writing the affair plotline in the first place.  (Almost.)

The simplest moments of the evening came from the pure bewildered joy that the Bollywood number inspired, and how easy Smash is making it for us to hate Jerry's guts.  I love both things unabashedly.  Sure, the transition to the Bollywood number was a bit rocky, but the whole piece was so delightfully campy - and included Dev! - that I can't complain.  And I'm beginning to find Jerry fun to hate.  The show makes no effort to redeem him, and I'm glad for it, because it's ridiculously rewarding to see  that Jerry has no power over Eileen anymore.  I'm madly in love with Eileen's empowerment arc, and would like it to continue forever!  (That's doable, right?)

In all, Smash is solidly handling their ensemble, although I wish they had done more than skim the surface of a few of their conflicts in "Publicity."  Bombshell is still careening madly towards the curtain rise, this time with Ivy and Karen as "Shadow Marilyns," but of course I'm expecting things to come to a head with Rebecca Duvall, and when it does, I'm not sure I'm going to like where the show takes their renewed Ivy-vs-Karen complication.  But for now, I'll keep watching, for Julia's family re-establishment, Tom and Sam's progressing relationship, Eileen's self-discovery and emotional freedom, and whatever measly success Ivy Lynn can get her talented little paws on.

The Report Card:

Dialogue: B

Plot: B-

Character: B+

Musical Numbers: A

Episode MVP: Eileen (...again)

The RBI Report: "Choke"

This episode of Glee was upsetting, on so many levels.  It's bad enough that the main characters of "Choke" were subject to struggle, disappointment, and failure.  But on top of that, the episode was constructed on a disturbing foundation of misogyny that seeped into any sensitivity about domestic abuse and sent a disconcerting message about women, men, and the relationships they have amongst one another.

"Choke," written by Marti Noxon, and directed by Michael Uppendahl

Truthfully, we haven't had such an overtly misogynistic episode of Glee since the back-to-back crapfests of "Mash-Off" and "I Kissed a Girl."  And where "Choke" becomes even more distasteful is with the notion that it was designed to be an episode dealing with the hugely triggering topic of domestic abuse - against women specifically.  What are we supposed to think about an episode highlighting violence against women when the women in the episode were in turns mean, offensive, preached to, scolded, unempowered, victimized, and devastated by failure?  Meanwhile, over in Boyville, nary a word was whispered about domestic abuse - despite the fact that the episode specifically addressed all perpetrators of violence as men - as they banded together in their Noble Masculine Qualities of Courage and Camaraderie in an effort to help their fellow Man achieve his manly potential even despite his absent father.

Individually, the storylines for Rachel and Puck are not terribly problematic in terms of storytelling decisions.  Sure, they're sad.  But they both provided obstacles for the characters to overcome, which is a valid storytelling construct - and even though I saw Rachel's failure from six Tuesdays ago, Puck's failure was a great storytelling misdirect.  Beyond that, it makes a considerable amount of sense that Rachel could put too much pressure on herself and blow her audition.  It also makes sense that Puck wouldn't put any stock in his education until he sees his own deadbeat father as a cautionary tale.  (Although, in the first case, it'd be perhaps easier to swallow if the audition screw-up weren't "Don't Rain on My Parade," which Rachel performed on a minute's notice to complete perfection two years ago.  And in the second case, I kind of thought Puck already had ambitions with the specific construct that it was in direct and purposeful contrast to his abandoning father.  But whatever.)

Where the episode goes catastrophically wrong is in the execution of the stories individually, and in their marriage with the third: Shannon Beiste's inclusion as a women who is in the first romantic relationship of her entire life, and being physically abused.  With this incredibly grave story as the emotional weight of the episode, the choices for the rest of "Choke" become hugely important, and not unlike Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman: the writers blew it.

In order to get their Very Special Episode about domestic violence, which for some reason was 100% necessary four episodes before graduation, it became equally as necessary, apparently, to drag five female characters through the mud.  Upon seeing Coach Beiste sporting a black eye, Santana mouthed off about her husband hitting her, and Sugar, Tina, Mercedes, and Brittany all snickered at the remark.  Sue and Roz overheard the joke, and immediately scolded the girls for their insensitivity.  And while I certainly don't disagree with the idea that domestic violence is nothing to be joked about, I question why this became a teaching moment for the young girls only, and why it was necessary to show them to be so callous and flippant about abuse.  While it's great that Sue and Roz put aside their differences to stand up for a common cause, and had all the right reactions to Shannon's scenario, the thrust of the storyline was built on the idea that the teenage girls just Didn't Get It.  They had to be sat down and Taught a Lesson.  And when the assignment was to sing a song of empowerment, they went straight to "Cell Block Tango" without any discussion, and got scolded for their continued poor choices.  Not only that, but Santana got saddled with another instance of Unfortunate Plot Device, wherein the writers use her however they please in others' storylines, regardless of established characterization, to make sure they get their point across.

Why was it that only these five girls were subjected to this week's lesson?  Why were the boys excluded from this when "Choke" communicated very singularly that women are subjected to abuse by their male significant others?  Y'know, it's fine for the girls to be naive about Shannon's situation, especially since they're supposed to be 18 and they probably don't pay that close attention to their teachers' home lives.  But it's not fine for them to be rude and then scolded, in conjunction with the boys being excused from the message completely because the writers chose not to give them any nasty dialogue.  And I'm not saying that the teenage boys needed to be held accountable for another man's actions - but they needed to be a part of the conversation.  How many young men are aware of the fear that most women carry with them every day - the fear of being physically or sexually harmed by a man?  Usually this applies more to violence from strangers than loved ones, but the point still stands.

But instead of a gender-inclusive discussion of domestic abuse, the education was doled out to the girls only, as if this is solely a "girl problem."  Sorry ladies, but this is something you might have to deal with!  It could happen to you!  And while that is sadly true, it's still not okay to leave the boys uneducated about the power dynamics between men and women, especially when the episode communicates that it's the boys who can become violent.  Wouldn't it have been better to use the scenario to highlight the internalized misogyny that snakes through both the infliction of domestic violence as well as how society chooses to educate about it?  Instead of assuming that all transgressors of abuse are men, why not acknowledge that domestic violence is not unilaterally defined by a male harming his female significant other?  For instance, where do Brittany and Santana, and Kurt and Blaine fit into this lesson, as same-sex couples?  And, in communicating the important information that yes, women are more likely to be physically harmed by a significant other than a man, why not ask the question of both sexes: why?  The answer paints a disturbing portrait of power, aggression, and misogyny that is crucial to understanding how society imparts its own damaging lessons about gender norms and equality.  But instead of exploring these areas, "Choke" just offered up another nasty example of its own internalized misogyny, and focused only on the insensitivity of the potential victims of it.  And if the response here is that the preferred explorations are "too serious" for Glee, then frankly that means that the topic of domestic violence is likewise too serious for this show.

It's bad enough that the men of the hour weren't involved in any discourse on domestic violence.  What makes it even worse is that the supplanting storyline was built entirely around a "bro-vention," wherein Finn and the guys rallied around Puck to help him pass a test.  This storyline, while sound for Puck conceptually, was riddled with example after example of expressions of masculinity that become offensive when paired with tonight's other fare.  For instance, it's communicated (twice!) that the guys have to help Puck because "no man gets left behind," an adoption of the noble attitude of male soldiers at war.  When they stand by him and help him study, he's grateful for their assistance, and tells them that each and every one of them have taught him how to be a man.  And of course, this discourse on masculinity happens, as it does on Glee, against the backdrop of an absent father figure.  Puck changes his mind when he's approached by his deadbeat dad begging him for money - it's enough to light the fire under his ass and get him focused on graduating and not being a loser.  And the writers even had the audacity to give Mr. Puckerman this line: "The hardest thing for a man to do is to ask for help."  Really?  Really?  Tell that to fucking Shannon Beiste two storylines over, who, as a woman, is not asking for help and remains, as a result, in a physically harmful relationship.

I'm not saying Puck's dad isn't allowed hardships, or pride.  But to attribute his difficulty asking for help as a strictly masculine problem and ignoring the fact that a woman on the show is struggling with a parallel difficulty in the exact same episode?  Party foul.  This incites the same kind of rage in me as the carousel of "what it means to be a man" storylines that Glee has had us on with four different male characters, while the only repeated message about its female characters seems to be that their relationships are one-dimensional or absent entirely.  It's also the same rage I have when Finn & Bro-Co. are portrayed as noble and well-intentioned, but Santana & Girl-Co. act like bitches in the first five minutes.  It's the same rage I have when every male character with an absent father also has, as a result, a working single mother who assumedly experienced no lack of struggle in raising their kids, and yet Glee shines no light on the role she had on her childrens' lives.  We don't see Puck's mom.  Carole hasn't been an active force in Finn's life since she started dating Burt.  And even Will's mom, in the one episode we saw her, is not taken seriously.  The message is that women can't teach boys about being "men" - only other men can do that, even if they're 17-year-olds.

Even with the episode's disconcerting structure, a few problems could be eradicated if there were simply no offensive joke from Santana right off the bat.  Surely there's another way to introduce the episode's "theme" without dragging a character through the mud so they can be yelled at?  The problem would be assuaged further with a redirection of "Cell Block Tango."  That musical number is legendary, and the fact that Glee repurposed it to be taken seriously, without any of its original context and tone, completely ruined it.  What should have been done instead is the idea that the glee ladies performed "Cell Block Tango" as a form of misguided encouragement for Shannon.  Roz even expressed the question: why not just fight back?  But it's easier said than done, and it makes sense that teenagers would give well-intentioned but ultimately off-the-mark advice that amounts to "if you hit him back, he had it coming."  This way, "Cell Block Tango" could still be used in the same basic construct, but with considerable less offense concerning the intent of the girls performing it.  With their naiveté  played as the result of well-intentioned youth, the result would feel less like shaming young women about their ignorance of domestic violence and more like young women trying to be supportive in whatever way they know how.  It would also feel less like Sue Sylvester getting preachy about the topic when she's shoved a lady down a flight of stairs, onscreen, and has habitually pushed around students in the hallway.  (I prefer to count those moments as times when the writers did wrong by Sue Sylvester's characterization, though.)

I could go on and on about gender issues.  I could talk about how the boys rallied around Puck, but the girls didn't rally around Rachel.  I could talk about how the only people at Rachel's audition were Will, Kurt, Finn, and Blaine.  I could talk about how Puck's attempts to seduce a female teacher nearly worked (again!) because said teacher is "excruciatingly lonely" and so of course an older woman would shelve all logic and morals to have a chance with a student who got a girl pregnant his sophomore year.  I could talk about this moment in contrast with Shannon's, where she admits that she thinks no one else could love her except the man who's abusing her.  I could talk about how the writers gave Puck a song from My Fair Lady and reappropriated him to be a growl-rock version of Eliza Doolittle. 

But I'm tired of talking about all of Glee's gender issues.  It's upsetting that a show with such widespread popularity and self-purported "good messages" offers up such a flattened, insulting, and imbalanced portrayal of men and women.  Because I am a masochist, I have a post-it on my desk listing the show's most sexist episodes.  There are twelve titles written on it.

It's unfortunate, because there were several decisions in "Choke" that, when divorced from gender politics, were compelling under the basic lens of narrative interest.  When Puck received his "F," despite his attitude change and studying regime, it was enough to make me sit up and pay attention.  Really?  No reward for his hard work?  The choice felt almost like older Glee fare: an unexpected tragic outcome that resonates emotionally despite its simplicity.  This show was built on the idea that little things, to teenagers in Middle America, can feel like they carry the weight of the world.  With the right emotional circumstances and larger consequences, Glee was originally able to make theatrics and exaggerations incredibly significant - when they were scaled down to have meaning in the small, specific reality of a character's worldview.  Since then, theatrics have been rendered two-dimensional, and Glee has devolved into an orgy of melodrama, self-indulgence, and over-hype with fewer reflections below the surface.  But Puck's failure resonated with some of the show's original tone, made even more poignant with the idea that none of us were expecting it.

Rachel's failure, however, was far more predictable.  She spent the episode gearing herself up for her NYADA audition, armed with her heretofore flaw-free rendition of "Don't Rain on my Parade," and the confidence that it's now her time to shine.  This was Rachel Berry in classic form, as her dreams finally resurfaced in the narrative in their original incarnation, and not as mere plans she might give up should her high school romance demand it.  We even got original Rachel Berry monologues, and the classic construct of Rachel staring herself down in the mirror - negotiating her identity with her future at stake.  What could go wrong?  She's been preparing for this moment her whole life.  But "Choke" presented a conflict of ideology in Rachel and Kurt.  Is it better to take a risk, or play it safe?  Rachel insisted that this was not the time for risk-taking, while Kurt wants to break out of the box.  But with Rachel's pressure, he sticks with his more typical rendition of "Music of the Night," instead of his apparently wild idea to perform "Not the Boy Next Door."  That is, of course, until he's on stage and sees Carmen Thibedeaux's tight-lipped reaction to his song selection.  So, naturally, it's breakaway Phantom clothes, standby gold pants, and back-up back-up in Brittany, Tina, and Mercedes.  (It's nice to see they're recycling their Regionals outfits from two years ago!)

Kurt, of course, is rewarded for his risk, and receives high praise for his somewhat impromptu performance.  But Rachel sticks to her guns, and royally screws up.  She somehow flubs "Don't Rain on my Parade" not once but twice, and is shut down completely by Carmen.  Cue the most heartbreaking thing to witness: Rachel Berry begging, with tears in her eyes, for another chance.  Of course, she doesn't get it, and for the first time in her life, it seems like her future hopes are completely dashed.  Now, I don't mind in theory the idea that Rachel would experience some sort of failure on her journey to Broadway.  It's realistic, and provides her with something to triumph over.  However, I find the message here interesting.  She goes with her gut, and fails.  This, of course, plays in contrast to Kurt, who goes with his gut, and succeeds.  I almost wonder if it would have been better for Rachel to switch songs as Kurt did, before ultimately tripping up - thereby reinforcing the notion that Rachel's success is also contingent upon her instincts.  Because how many times has Rachel Berry been rejected for being exactly who she is?  I'm not fussed about Rachel failing; I'm fussed about Rachel receiving the message that she's not enough, or that her core traits are not valued, no matter how many times she recites mantras in the mirror.  But if Rachel had switched songs, it would have been more indication of her character devolution through the seasons, and I can't decide which is a worse: a classic and unchanging Rachel Berry that is tragically stuck in the same conflict, or a new-and-improved Rachel Berry who gives up her identity for what she thinks others want from her.  

In the end, it wasn't so much that Puck and Rachel failed, or that Shannon chose to give Cooter another chance despite having told everyone that she had moved in with her sister.  These individual choices, while tragic and upsetting, can be made valid by storytelling construction - and to a certain degree, were.  All three were tragic heroes at the helm of their own stories, and the cross-cutting in "Shake it Out" and "Cry" with the reveals about Puck and Shannon were incredibly powerful and emotionally resonant.  However, when combining these storylines, the Glee writers somehow came up with "Choke": an episode intended to deal with domestic violence, but instead revealed the misogyny inherent in their own structure, all wrapped up with a title that's either a nauseating attempt to be clever, or a disturbing piece of insight as to how little these writers think about their choices.

The RBI Report Card...
Musical Numbers: B+

Dance Numbers: B+

Dialogue: C

Plot: D

Characterization: C

Episode MVP: Shannon Beiste

TV Report Card: Smash 1x11 - "The Movie Star"

Yes, this recap is impossibly late.  But I have to catch up some time, and that time is now!  (And also later, when I recap the other episode I missed.  Sigh.) 

Smash's eleventh episode finally put into action what we'd all been awaiting with a combination of dread and excitement: the arrival of "the movie star" who had been hired to helm Bombshell.  She was a name on everyone's lips for a whole episode, a player in the wings, and she finally made her entrance.  And oh, was she memorable.  Rebecca Duvall stormed the rehearsals with a kind of persistent and backhanded optimism, as she simultaneously shmoozed and insulted the creative choices of the musical.  Not only that, but she's not a strong singer!  So she wants fewer numbers, longer scenes, and more of Marilyn's dark psychology.  Of course, she goes about requesting this in the sneakiest of ways, and her brand of manipulation is weird and impressive.  She shows genuine interest and wants to be involved, but can't manage to suspend reality for a music cue.  She says the writers are being too careful with her feelings, and uses her own seemingly ego-free honesty policy to make her own straightforward requests.  I'm completely dumbfounded by the way she operates.  She is neither villain nor hero, just... a mind-boggling actress with a drunk ex-boyfriend who interrupts rehearsals.

Of course, Team Bombshell has to deal with her across the board, and the braintrust is at odds.  Julia is up in arms about her forcefulness and critique, whereas Tom is simply stuck on the fact that she can't sing.  Derek placates her because he's given up hope that she'll be able to fulfill his vision anyways, and also he keeps having those pesky hallucinations of Karen playing the role.  (Seriously, how ridiculous are these moments?  But, I have to say, I enjoy them, simply because of the way Jack Davenport plays them.  Where he could easily be lascivious and indulgent of these weird-ass fantasies, he is instead completely thunderstruck that they're happening, to the point where his bewildered expression, mouth agape, is almost the highlight of the episodes for me.  Surely this'll cause problems when it's inevitably back to Karen vs. Ivy - Derek's fantasy Marilyn up against his actual girlfriend.) 

Ultimately, though, Rebecca Duvall's insistence on creative change forces Eileen into an interesting position, character-wise.  As the producer, she is tasked with the challenge of keeping everybody happy - from investors to actors to the Julia-Tom-Derek triforce.  So what do you do when your movie star's wishes go against the creative team's?  How much do you let Rebecca Duvall have her way before you draw the line and protect your writers and director?  It's another interesting challenge to give Eileen in her journey as a one-woman producing force, and I was curious to see how she would handle the situation.  She's not perfect, and honestly I wasn't going to be surprised if she sided with Rebecca in all the arguments.  The "star" is the main draw at this point, and Eileen's shown thus far to be open to suggestions about the direction of the musical, if it will ensure their shot at Broadway success.  And while she didn't disagree with the braintrust's opinions, she was far more willing to work with Rebecca to make that success happen.  I thought for sure Eileen was going to let her ambition get the better of her again.  But when push came to shove, she stood by Tom, Julia, and Derek, and it was a lovely choice.  Sure, it could have been played as part of a bigger in-episode arc for Eileen, but it was still a nice decision conceptually. 

Instead of this decision taking up Eileen's screentime, we instead were treated to more development in her love life.  Last episode, she and Nick, her ruggedly handsome bartender, finally kissed.  This episode, Eileen was unsure she wanted to go any further with him, especially when she discovered (through Ellis' detective research) that he has a criminal record.  It raised the question: does she want to get involved with any more unreliable men?  She's clearly referencing her bad relationship with Jerry, and I have to give kudos for the writers allowing Eileen this hesitation.  She is a woman emerging from an emotionally damaging marriage that also dominated her professional life, and for all intents and purposes, she is basically experiencing a rebirth.  We are given the chance to witness Eileen Rand coming into her own, and I appreciate that the writers are bestowing her with some hesitation over getting herself into another relationship - especially when that relationship has already bled into her business life, what with Nick's investment in the musical.  Even though Eileen seems to be moving ahead with Nick, I'm glad that Smash handled the situation realistically and maturely, and in keeping with what we know about Eileen and her arc.

Speaking of love blooming, we also got the initiation of Tom and Sam's relationship.  I didn't think it would be so soon, but I'm glad we're not prolonging their obviously-pending coupling.  I feel much like Julia did: stop flirting already, and just go on a date!  And luckily, she took matters into her own hands and made them a restaurant reservation.  Sam and Tom ended up ditching dinner, instead settling in at Tom's apartment for drinks and conversation - where Tom made a pretty bold first move, and Sam immediately shut him down.  Turns out Sam is an "old-fashioned" kind of guy, who believes in taking relationships slowly and really spending time together before rushing the physical stuff.  Tom looks at Sam like he's an alien until Sam asks him how old he is (37...ish) and how old his longest relationship was (5...months).  This idea also spawned a somewhat unexpected discussion of religion and God, which felt a bit out-of-left-field, but it was only one little piece of the larger picture with this dynamic.  So, with two sweet kisses and a swift departure, Sam reassures Tom that his way is better, and the slow-burn relationship has officially begun.  I'm game! 

But, as Tom and Sam's relationship moves forward, Julia and Leo's is still at a standstill.  They were forced to interact in "The Movie Star" because Leo's grades have taken a turn for the worse, presumably as a result of his parent's split.  And while I tend to groan at any glimpse of Julia's personal life, this episode's sojourn through Houston-ville didn't sour me quite as much as previous incarnations.  What really made this installment so much more tolerable was the role that Julia played in her own story.  In previous storylines, she's been held at the mercy of her husband's, lover's, and son's emotions.  Her ability to choose has been marginalized, and her access to positive reinforcement even more elusive.  But "The Movie Star" showed a Julia who was able to take charge of her own story, and make decisions!  She did not shy away from talking about her mistakes, even sharing it with Leo's guidance counselor, and speaking of it plainly to Leo himself.  Not only that, but she was also allowed a modicum of success.  She was able to talk Leo out of his bad attitude, where Frank only succeeded in yelling at him a lot.  Julia was allowed to be funny, and honest, and bold, and vibrant, even with her mistakes!  She faced her problems head-on, and dealt with them.  Maybe not perfectly or even gracefully, but courageously.  It's the strongest we've seen her, and she's even better with Debra Messing hitting every self-deprecating and brutally honest moment with clipped comedic mastery.

Other rocky relationships include Karen and Dev, as more things happened with Dev that no one cares about, and somehow it's splintering his dynamic with Karen.  It's clear I'm paying close attention, right?  Whoops.  I just... have so little invested in Dev at this point.  I like the guy well enough, but I still just don't understand how he figures into a show about Broadway.  To make matters worse, I'm not into this "work flirtation" nonsense with RJ that Karen conveniently seems to be witnessing at the dumbest moments.  Meh.  It's a cheap way to make me try and care, and it's not even working.  Especially when the reveal that Dev was having drinks with RJ comes right before a commercial, as though the writers thought they were ending it on a really intense cliffhanger moment.  I'm not nearly invested enough in this RJ-Dev storyline to warrant any sort of reaction the writers seem to be wanting me to have.

Truthfully, I'm far more interested in Karen's relationship with Ivy.  I find these ladies fascinating in that they're basically on the same team now - a team of scorned Marilyns - and have reached this place of truce.  I love that they have a tendency to end up drinking together and Ivy likes to bitch about things and Karen doesn't really want to be mean and Ivy tries to get her to loosen up.  It's a delightful dynamic that's a strong one for the show to build, and honestly speaking, when I say they're on the same team now, I almost wish that extended to their sexualities.  Smash has a strong representation for gay men; where are the queer ladies at?  Somehow I feel like Karen and Ivy could solve a lot of their problems if they just loosened up and made out a little bit.  Katharine McPhee and Megan Hilty are not lacking in chemistry, is all I'm saying.

But, I'm not picky, and as long as Karen and Ivy's interactions continue to be layered with conflict yet respect and a budding friendship, I'm good.  And, because I've totally cornered the market on female relationships that blossom from animosity, let me tell you what I would like to happen with Ivy and Karen from here on out.  Now, I'm not really sure where they're headed with Ivy's pill addiction, so I'm going to leave that out.  Regardless, it'd be nice to see the two of them have one more awkward bonding experience, perhaps where a really personal thing is kind of let out in the other's presence that wouldn't ordinarily be shared freely.  Karen, Ivy, it doesn't matter.  While Karen has been privy to Ivy's drunkenness and the inside of her apartment, I'm wont to say it's Ivy's turn to accidentally get a glimpse into Karen's world.  It should be something meaningful, a way for them to see the other's true self.  Then, they're in this weird personal space with one another and neither of them really want that and so when the competition reignites (assuming Rebecca Duvall is indeed fated for departure) they are are all too happy to avoid one another completely to focus on themselves and their re-auditions.  And then, eventually, one of them gets the part and feels an unexpected twinge of guilt at their own success, and it's all because their stupid competition got under their skin. 

Of course, that's just how I would handle it.  At this stage in the game I can't gauge if Smash would endeavor to do something similar, or if I'm going to be saddled with one-dimensional Karen-Ivy competition scenes again.  In any case, I find this dynamic fascinating and hope it pays off to the strength of its full potential.  For now, though, Rebecca Duvall is at the helm and both Karen and Ivy are relegated to the ensemble.

Finally, the most magical thing happened in "The Movie Star."  Ellis got his ass handed to him!  Or at the very least, got called out on his bullshit, which was the most delightful thing.  Randall, Rebecca Duvall's agent, wised up to the fact that Ellis has been pretending to like him simply to foster the Duvall-Bombshell union, and confronted Ellis about using him.  Praise be!  Go figure that the one character other than Eileen to put Ellis in his place is a random guy we barely know.  But how could you not feel badly for him?  I'm curious, though, if Randall's discovery will perhaps cause him to be less encouraging of Rebecca Duvall's participation in the Marilyn project.  In other words, if Duvall walks, will Ellis be partly to blame?  Although, given her rocky standing with the creative team, I doubt Ellis' actions will directly affect any departure from Bombshell's leading star.

So for now, Rebecca Duvall is here to stay, and she's causing change in almost all the pre-existing characters and their relationships.  It's possible that Ivy and Karen could be channeled into "shadow" Marilyns representing other parts of Ms. Monroe's personality, but it's more likely at this point that things will come to a boil with the movie star and one of the two ladies will have to step up.  But hey, is Derek still looking for fresh interpretations?  Because at this point Bombshell still needs a Joe DiMaggio, and if they need someone to fill his shoes, they're going to have a leftover stage actor from the Ivy/Karen conflict... what's more fresh and unique than an all-female interpretation of Marilyn's life?  Just a thought.

The Report Card:

Dialogue: B

Plot: B+

Character: A

Musical Numbers: B

Episode MVP: Julia!  Finally.

The RBI Report: "Dance With Somebody"

In life, there are optimists, and there are pessimists.  The optimists out there probably thought that "Dance With Somebody," conceptually, was a touching tribute to a beloved music icon.  The pessimists probably saw it as a whored-out attempt for Glee to cash in not only on the memory of a recently-passed singer, but also her vast and chart-topping body of work.  I couldn't muster up enough energy to feel one or the other; this episode became much easier to watch when I sat back and let it wash over me like a strange wave of clammy serenity.  And now that it's all said and done, I've found the best course of action is to continue listening to Whitney Houston as if Glee inspired me to keep on loving her as I do - and didn't try to get me to buy any of their reproductions.

"Dance With Somebody," written by Ross Maxwell, directed by Paris Barclay

Honestly, what sacked this episode most was that the best performance happened before the title card even appeared.  The stripped-down version of "How Will I Know," helmed more-than-capably by Mercedes, Santana, Rachel, and Kurt, was really the only tribute needed for the late great vocal icon.  It was solemn, respectful, well-performed, and ultimately understated - something Glee struggles with on a minute-to-minute basis.  Okay, fine, they did toss in a locker-shrine to Ms. Houston, as the kids reverently passed around a framed photo, but whatever.  The performance was understated!

But unfortunately, the tribute spawned further, and as soon as Will Schuester put his marker to white board I knew we were in for a rainbow of performances that somehow manage to be forcibly-themed as well as completely random.  The framework of the episode was this: Will witnessed the Fabulous Four mourning Whitney's death, two months later, in the McKinley hallways, and decided they were redirecting their sadness for graduation into a prolonged grief for an icon.  As Emma explained, Whitney's passing is a metaphor for the loss of their youth - just like the passing of Princess Diana was for hers.  Oof.  This is not a graceful setup.

Mostly, I'm to the point where I would like Glee to come up with an episode structure that doesn't amount to Will giving the kids a themed assignment, and then lets them perform songs from that theme which also haphazardly relate to their lives.  In the case of Whitney, everything Houston-related was spelled out to the letter in the first ten minutes, and then the rest of the hour spun away from theme completely as the kids realized they were saying goodbye to their classmates.  In a way, it was doubly-themed, and honestly I wish that Will had just said, "Hey, sing Whitney this week," and the rest fell into place naturally.  Why does it have to be laid out completely at the top?  Wouldn't it be better if the theme emerged as the storylines unraveled, and the message happened subtly and simply towards the resolution?  Wouldn't that be... development?  Or, if you're going to lay out a theme at the top of the hour, why not show a twist on the message by the end?  "Dance With Somebody" presented the idea that these kids had not laid Whitney to rest because they were avoiding saying their own goodbyes, and in the end, they had not laid Whitney to rest because... they... were avoiding saying their own goodbyes.  Oh.  No new information?  Really?

Alas, we weren't in for a sophisticated framework, so we might as well move onto the actual underlying theme running through the episode: the idea that this is the beginning of 'goodbye.'  This theme works on its own, and doesn't really need a Whitney Houston hook shoehorned in there to sell it.  It's incredibly saddening to see these characters confront the notion that they'll have to part ways and leave this happy existence behind.  In fact, the episode's most touching moments hit on that idea - the reveal that Will wants the wedding in May because he can't not have the kids there, the parting words from Puck to his boys, the confession from Burt to Kurt that sometimes he wishes he could have his sweet little boy back, and the request from Rachel to Santana to keep her photo in her locker so that they can be friends for the last forty-two days of high school.  All of these individual scenes were great in concept, and pretty solid in execution as well.  The particulars of the surrounding storylines and performances are of course a bit rocky in places.

Let's start with Will and Emma.  Will swoops into Emma's office, procuring an incredibly fancypants paper decoration advertising a renowned - and expensive - wedding coordinator.  (It's cool.  Will didn't need those platelets.)  He wants to push the wedding up to May, and seems hellbent on making that happen.  In fact, when the coordinator tries to tell Will there's no place for a stage at the current venue, he fires him in a huff and keeps barreling ahead - trying to set the wedding at KOA campground until Emma finally gets him to calm down.  The idea that Will was determined to get married in May because he wanted the kids to be there was sweet, but I definitely didn't get that until Emma flat-out brought it into conversation.  Was that supposed to be an actual reveal?  It wasn't quite that revelatory, and I almost wish the suggestion came sooner, so I could feel sympathy towards Will during the earlier scenes.  Because as is, I was more preoccupied with annoyance at the fact that he totally hijacked his and Emma's wedding and started making all sorts of plans without asking her.  When she protested, he smothered her with kisses, and then he unilaterally fired their coordinator in a fit of hot temper when things didn't line up how he wanted.  This begs the question: when will the writers let Emma Pillsbury have any semblance of control over her own life?  The answer remains: not this episode.  

But, it was sweet that Emma's reassurance about the glee kids returning to Will no matter what was actually paid off at episode's end.  Each student had the opportunity to skip a glee practice, but one by one, each of them trickled in to sing "My Love is Your Love" with Mercedes and Artie.  I confess, it was heartwarming to see them all assemble and perform together, with the idea that they (and we) should treasure these moments, because they're not going to last forever.  And even greater yet was the nod to the Pilot, where Will watched them from the wings in an actually non-creepy way.  Part of me wishes that homage were even more apparent, by giving Finn, Rachel, Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, and Tina the first spots on the stage.  They were close to ordering everyone that way, but unfortunately Blaine couldn't stop at the bathroom or something on the way to the auditorium, and Tina of course paraded in last with Mike in hand.  (I assume this to mean that they were making out somewhere in the school because they had little else to do this week.)  The emotion was still there, though.

Will wasn't the only one manifesting his angsty feelings about the glee club disbanding.  Blaine too was feeling the looming gloom of Kurt leaving his side, and handled it poorly by distancing himself from Kurt without explanation.  Ordinarily, this arc would be enough to sustain a character's storyline, but the writers fussed it up a little further with the idea that Kurt, in the lack of positive attention from Blaine, sought giggles elsewhere by taking up texting with some kid named Chandler that he met at a record store.  Naturally, Blaine found the texts, accused him of cheating, diva'd out for yet another I-will-rise-above-your-emotional-abuse performance, and then the two got swept away to couples counseling.  Phew!  There was a lot on the plate for Kurt and Blaine, and of course, everything was wrapped up neatly with Blaine's confession that he feels like Kurt is leaving him behind, and Kurt reassuring him that he won't lose him. 

I'm not sure why the writers are so intent on taking Blaine so seriously.  To me, part of the guy's appeal is that he seems really put together, but that actually he is kind of ridiculous.  Because seriously, this is a young man who serenades Gap employees in plain sight of everyone, and who routinely sings songs out of the Contemporary Pop Diva Songbook.  He is the sloppiest drunk on the planet, and hasn't the first idea about how to tell Sebastian to take a hike.  He sings "Fighter" when his brother overshadows-slash-ridicules him, and "It's Not Right (But It's Okay)" when his boyfriend starts texting another guy.  This boy is a melodramatic idiot, and I mean it in the best way possible.  Because it's endearing, when it's framed as the kind of over-the-top ridiculata that it is!  When the writers try and sell the hardcore emotional aspects of his character, I have a tendency to laugh.  Because he's silly.  He has completely valid emotions, and it's great when a character is allowed to have emotions and layers and multiple dimensions... but the writers choose to express Blaine Anderson's in the goofiest of ways and I wish they would just own up to that and roll with it.

On a purely objective level, yes, I feel bad for Blaine.  Who wouldn't feel badly for someone in that situation?  It sucks to think about the idea that a significant other is definitely going to leave you, and you have no control over the situation.  But the constructed storyline around this notion was bizarre, in that it tried to pin something on Kurt as well, so that they could justify Blaine singing "It's Not Right (But It's Okay)" with the double meaning of being hurt by Chandler's dumb puns as well as by Kurt's inevitable departure.  While we did get to hear Kurt voice his opinion about the negatives to being Blaine's boyfriend, I still frowned that Paris Barclay chose to assemble the New Directions behind Blaine as they sang sassy backup, as though Kurt was getting group-chastised for his actions.  Not only that, but Blaine was the only one in couples counseling to suggest ways in which he felt his partner could change behavior.  And he hauled out three examples!  Yikes.  Yes, what Kurt was doing wasn't entirely on the up-and-up.  But for as much as the "gray areas" of cheating get dusted under the rug on this show (with Santana, with Quinn, with Finn, with Puck, with Will, with Sam... although not as much with Rachel or Mercedes) it seemed strange to hold a character accountable for flirty text messages.  Between this and the recent propensity of the writers to take Blaine's emotions with sincere - and severe - gravity, I never really warmed to this storyline as a result.  (Although the argument over having bronzed hands was hilarious.)

Far stronger in relation to Kurt was of course his scene with Burt about how things will never be the same after he leaves.  Cue a million tears!  The idea that Burt and Kurt have lived their lives as a team after the death of Kurt's mother is incredibly heartwarming, especially considering how "different" these two men are.  And now, of course, it's incredibly heartwrenching knowing that Kurt's leaving the nest and this pair will be split up.  Honestly, it's 1000x sadder to think about Kurt and Burt being separated than Kurt and Blaine.  For years, Kurt and Burt were all each other had in their lives, and they had each others' backs the entire way through.  Separating a kid from a parent is upsetting enough, but the idea of separating this kid from this parent had me reaching for the tissues far before Burt even uttered the phrase "Starsky and Gay Hutch."  The conversation was a perfect segue to Kurt singing "I Have Nothing" for his assignment, but my emotions ebbed considerably when I realized Kurt was actually singing to Blaine.  Wah-wah.  This television show's expressions of love are monumentally one-dimensional in action and dialogue yet profusely preached in storyline, and I'm getting to the point where any "romantic" scene inspires no sort of emotion in me other than nausea.  Will I ever wholly love a couple on Glee again?

Methinks the answer is an unfortunate yet resounding no, as "Dance With Somebody" lined up the next pairing in rotation: Quinn, and Joe - also known as "Dreads" and "Teen Jesus."  Now, I'm terribly discriminating when it comes to Quinn's love interests.  As in, I haven't liked a single one.  (Okay, I've liked some things about some of the relationships, but mostly, I am a Quinn-should-be-single girl, and I have an arsenal of character-based proof to back up my opinion.)  And the streak continues!  There are myriad reasons why this pairing positively baffles me, and for the sake of making it look like a Laundry List of Reasons, I shall bullet-point them:

• Quinn was just in a life-threatening accident, and the one person who rushes to her side is someone who has known her for literally three episodes.  Why does something as character-important as dealing with possible paraplegia get shuffled over to a guy we hardly know?
• This of course only lends itself to the notion that Quinn is somehow being saved by this guy, because he is Teen Jesus and has a soothing way about him and that is all we know. 
• It is also alienating Quinn from characters she has actual relationships with, especially in light of her accident.  Her bond with Artie was nowhere to be seen, and the untied threads of her dynamic with Rachel are being expressed simply with Rachel apologizing at random points in conversations that don't actually have to do with her.
• Quinn is about to graduate in forty-two days, and seemed intent on not letting any part of her past prevent her from meeting her future.  Why on earth would she take up with a sophomore she barely knows?  (And if the reason is because she is in a wheelchair now and her opinions about her future have changed, then make the storyline about that instead!)
• While their duet was sweet, they've been dressing Quinn so much more maturely lately that honestly as I was watching it, I couldn't help but see a housewife singing with her son's hygiene-challenged friend who hangs around all the time and is kind of inappropriate but also underage and so the mom tries to keep him at arm's length.  (Oops.)
• This particular episode confronted the notion that Joe doesn't know how to negotiate his penis and his faith, and he sought out Sam for advice in pursuing Quinn.  Um, hi.  Does no one remember that Quinn has probably not had sex since she got pregnant because she got pregnant and is probably the most skittish person around reproductive organs?  Nope?  No one?  Oh, okay.
• Joe's reasons for liking Quinn are that she is the prettiest, nicest, best-smelling girl he's met.  Prettiest, I'll give him.  Best-smelling, I have no evidence.  Nicest?  Oh, no, buddy.  If you think Quinn Fabray is the nicest person you've met you have clearly met exactly one person: Quinn Fabray.  And I'm supposed to want them to be together?  I don't understand.
• Also, Quinn should be single, and I have a whole laundry sub-list of character-based reasons why, that I will not list because a laundry list within a laundry list is far too much for this review right now.

So there you have eight very valid reasons as to why this Joe/Quinn pairing is mystifying beyond all reason, and mostly I just want to frown at the show for treading the waters (again) of "how do I resist the carnal temptation of hot girls" question from dudes, and as well for trying to make Quinn's physical therapy erotic somehow.  Why?  She's recovering from a near-death experience!  Why are these moments played out to be sexual?  No!  I don't like it one bit.  I also don't like how Quinn was subjected to flattened-out "girl talk" in the bathroom, where women say things that only men think that women say, wherein every single glee girl commented on how Quinn's got a little somethin'-somethin' cooking with Joe and just encouraged her with flirty boy talk.  No!  Why couldn't that time have been devoted to a series of shots where we got a single of each girl looking at herself in the mirror, and then cut to Quinn having to put on her makeup in the reflection of a hair dryer, because that's the closest to her height?  The only Quinn development in this episode came with the hardened belief that no one could possibly love her in this condition, and it wasn't even delineated that she's regressing back to being resigned about her future.  No!  Instead, she was given awkward Bible sex talk in physical therapy sessions, and weird romantic storylines that have no business taking precedence over her recovery arc.

Again, I'm basically revolted by the majority of Glee's "romantic" expressions these days, and after "Dance With Somebody," the couple I think I liked most during the episode was Rachel and Santana.  I mean, Santana willingly put Rachel's picture in her locker when asked!  (And didn't put any weird decorations around it like the photos in Kurt's and Rachel's.)  Not only that, they banged out a hell of a duet, complete with Santana trying to adorably squirm away from the iron grasp of a Rachel Berry hug.  Yet Santana will miss her!  If only this prickly friendship could have been actually expressed on the show from time to time instead of randomly paid off forty-two days before graduation.  The scene was certainly included to supplement the inclusion of "So Emotional," which is more than any scene could say for the performance of "I Wanna Dance With Somebody."  (It's because there is none.  The latter song got a strange and manic club-hit treatment, and was presented without any narrative tether - except Will Schuester's trusty Whitney theme.  It was cute, but a floater.)

As such, "Dance With Somebody" was overall a sloppy execution of themes - where one could have been strong on its own, Glee oversold the construct of including Whitney Houston, and ultimately cluttered the narrative.  However, the writers are getting good mileage out of the pending curtain calls for New Directions, and emotionally, this episode hit those notes well.  The tone of friendships on this show have always outweighed the mess of romantic relationships, and "Dance With Somebody" only served to reinforce that dichotomy.

(Now, I'm gonna go listen to some Whitney Houston.)

The RBI Report Card...
Musical Numbers: A-

Dance Numbers: B+

Dialogue: C

Plot: C

Characterization: B+

Episode MVP: Burt Hummel

Poll: Rachel seemed to laugh at Kurt and Blaine for having scheduled makeouts.  Is this a) in-character, because Rachel would totally appreciate the drama of impromptu face-sucking?  Or b) out-of-character, because Rachel Berry makes cat calendars and would totally schedule mack time into her days?