The RBI Report: "Lights Out"

"Lights Out" turned out to be a poorly organized hour of nonsense featuring unexpected reality bombs of tonal dissonance and characters doing and saying whatever necessary to prop up the Glee episode checklist.  Talk of dreams?  Check!  The pain of being different?  Check!  Top-heavy emotional design and sudden reveals about character backstory?  Check!  Oh, and let's not forget the super-serious, potentially triggering social issue.  Check, and check.

"Lights Out," written by Ryan Murphy, directed by Paris Barclay

I guess, if many a Glee episode has been written with these criteria fulfilled, it would make sense that a conglomeration of them would add up to a successful endeavor.  In the case of "Lights Out" -- it really didn't.  Instead, the episode felt carelessly assembled, with awkward commercial breaks, and horrible scene transitions.  Who on earth is ready for a jam session to "We Will Rock You" right after two characters confess that they were molested as pre-teens?  Why were we meant to feel the suspense of Becky possibly revealing the truth to Figgins, only for the very next scene to feature Figgins delivering monotone announcements about electricity over the loudspeaker?  And why on earth would a high school still attempt to function as usual for a whole week without power?  

But not much about "Lights Out" made sense, from the design, to the theme, to the character work.  Every storyline had its writing issues.

Ryder, Katie, and Kitty

So, Ryder is stubbornly (and stupidly) hung up on Mystery Girl, aka Katie, aka Someone Who's Lying to Him, aka Possible Glee Club Member.  Even though he knows she's lied and he has no clue who she is, he's still communicating with her, and wants to meet.  I can't tell if it's intentional, but there's something really unsettling - almost sinister - about this storyline, and Ryder's commitment to a completely unknown entity.  I'm guessing this level of seriousness was devised to set the table for his Big Confession this episode, which was that he was molested by his teenaged babysitter at the age of 11.  But it didn't quite work.  I definitely wasn't ready for that.  The route still felt too serious for Glee to do, and of course, they stepped on their own feet with a few poor execution choices in the wake of the reveal.  The first of which was Sam and Artie's complete and utter dismissal of Ryder's experience as a traumatic event - and they never came around!  Glee is a big fan of throwing somebody under the bus so another character can preach the moral of the story and erase their ignorance, so I thought this was another example of Sam and Artie learning a heavyhanded lesson.  But apparently Tina and Marley's defense of Ryder did nothing to reverse Sam and Artie's points of view, and Ryder thus withdrew, the opinion of Sam and Artie left to reign.  Must be a bro thing.  Masculinity definitely won that round, no comment made.

Let's get to actual writing issues.  The idea was that Ryder wanted to "unplug his feelings" for the week's theme, and once I had stopped laughing long enough to press play again, he dedicated his next number to... the glee club.  Wha-huh?  What followed was a song about feeling bullied, complete with cutaways to Tina, Jake, and Marley getting hit with slushies.  I'm sorry, this was supposed to be a song about Ryder's unplugged feelings, and it instead involved moments for other characters.  So that didn't do much to get us in Ryder's head - not helped by the fact that we've never seen Ryder get slushied anyways.  They've avoided the whole cool kid devolution arc with Ryder, and while I'm certainly not unhappy about that, it also means he's not really the best voice for the downtrodden at McKinley.  And there he was, singing about how everybody hurts, especially the glee club when they get freezing cold ice thrown in their face.  Oh, and also Ryder when he's molested at age 11.  Swerve!  Tonally-speaking, it did actually feel a little like getting hit with a slushie.  But that's not a great thing.

What's worse about this moment is that it's later devalued, spun away from anything genuine.  Ryder tells Katie he only told his secret so he could watch the glee kids' faces for any hint that they already knew, thereby revealing the Real Katie to Ryder.  Oh.  So... you just told that story as a sneaky way to find out the identity of your crush/soulmate/cyberkiller?  Guess we're not paying off Jake's "you tell secrets to people you actually know" line from earlier.  Even more cringeworthy is the fact that this confession from Ryder prompted Kitty to open up to him as well, in perhaps the only genuine moment Kitty's had when not faced with possible death by school shooting.  Kitty took Ryder out to Breadstix, and shared that she was molested at age 12, by a friend's older brother.  We also got the reminder that she dated Puck - an older, sexually-confident dude - which now feels even more disconcerting.  And while Ryder's babysitter eventually faced repercussions for her actions, Kitty's story was ignored by her friend's parents, she was socially ostracized, and ultimately she had to switch schools.  Yikes.  Suddenly Kitty was all about bonding with Ryder, but he's still glued to the ideal of Katie, and whatever he's decided about her in his head.

What with Ryder specifically identifying that his traumatic experience left him with girl-related trust issues, you could perhaps argue that his relationship with Katie, in that he was protected by the inherent disconnect of faceless contact, makes sense completely.  At first I thought it was a bit odd to give a kid with trust issues the complete faith in this online communication, without any question.  It's even more odd that Ryder is still obsessed with her, even after she betrayed his trust by lying.  So even if we give the first round of blind trust a free pass, the fact that Ryder's barreling past a breach of trust is a bit concerning for someone who claims to have trust issues.  Add that to the reason he has trust issues (childhood sexual abuse) and this shakes out to be one of the most disturbing storylines Glee has ever assembled.  Take it to American Horror Story, Murphy!  All signs point to Ryder being murdered after some really weird sex stuff, and then giving a calm voiceover at the end about what he learned in his tragically short life.

Santana, at the ballet

"Lights Out" endeavored to provide Santana with an emotional backstory and pivotal character moment on her journey forward in New York.  It did not quite achieve that.  What resulted from this intention was just a randomly-selected character backstory that didn't seem like a Big Deal, until suddenly Santana's standing in a spotlight hugging her child self and telling her she won't forget her again.  Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Where did this come from?  Why are there melodramatic character histories all of a sudden?  And why don't they quite make sense?

I still don't understand why Santana's ballet backstory was necessary.  Yes, Santana needs something to do in New York, but I kind of like the idea that she's cage dancing and working as a bouncer at a lesbian bar.  She doesn't need to have everything planned for her life yet, a concept Glee, taking note of Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry, loves to put forth as abnormal and even troubling.  But for a few brief moments, the episode allowed Santana to be okay with not knowing.  She defended her right to take time to "figure things out," and fairy godmother Isabelle encouraged her with the same advice.  Not everyone is a Broadway-seeking missile like Berry and Hummel, and Santana shouldn't feel badly about not knowing exactly what she wants right now, or even wanting something different.

But then... Santana kind of wanted the exact thing Rachel and Kurt wanted.  Because deep down, apparently, every little girl starts off wanting to be a ballerina?  Which, I can assure you, is patently untrue.  If my parents had tried to unilaterally enroll me in ballet class, I would have had a major conniption.  (Actually, I probably would have just cried a lot.)  Casting this swooping ballet net over all little girls and little gay boys felt a bit frustrating, especially considering how Santana was roped into it.  She was a tomboy, and there against her will, but it was an escape, and she didn't feel different?  Even though she was a tomboy?  I didn't follow.  Furthermore, this identity is truly who she is?  Or at least, that's what the poignant moment at episode's end told me: Santana abandoned her dancer's identity long ago (why, and when exactly?) and won't let it go ever again.

Since when was this a thing...?  We've had a fair share of exploring Santana's identity on this show, and they can't seem to get their story straight.  (If you'll pardon the choice of words.)  "I really like dancing," Santana says in "Lights Out," after standing ramrod still and singing for six minutes.  Add this to the fact that Santana talking about ballet class sounded an awful lot like Season 1 Santana talking about glee club, and one has to wonder if dance really is the best choice for Santana's character.  Glee club changed Santana as a person, perhaps more drastically than anyone else on the show.  She did it against her will, but it turned out to be an escape.  She felt safe there, and part of something beautiful.  Why on earth were these exact same identifiers outsourced to some abrupt backstory we have no level of emotional investment in?  And do the writers realize they've actually squandered an opportunity to praise the glee club's magical powers in earnest?  Instead, Ryder Lynn is singing songs about them when the club's done comparatively little for him in his 15-episode history.  Way to know where to put your emotional weight, Glee.

So let's say, for a moment, that we want to keep all this Santana-as-tiny-dancer content.  Would this storyline not work better as an opportunity to connect Kurt, Rachel, and Santana?  After all, even though they had individual ballet experiences, we saw them, all three, in the same shot, watching their tiny counterparts, all three, dancing together in the same timespace.  This device inadvertently connected Kurt, Rachel, and Santana in a way unexpected (since it was introduced literally just this episode).  Why not make that work for yourself, and design the point around the idea that they have more in common than they think?  The episode came so close to creating that feeling, but flitted away from it so Santana could discover her "big dreams" and "true self."  Rachel and Kurt didn't understand Santana's NYC gameplan; the setup was there.  Kurt and Rachel pressuring Santana into doing very "Kurt and Rachel" things should have led to Santana revealing later, with her ballet history, that she was more like them than they thought.  It doesn't require Santana to be married to dance forever, or drop a life path in her lap after reassuring her she didn't need to rush it.  It just tells us she's not so different from Kurt and Rachel in some ways, and helps cement their NYC bond.  It also makes clear that in other ways, Santana is different from them, and she needs them to let her be.  It's so like Kurt and Rachel to think they know best for other people, and so like Santana to resist that.  "Lights Out" could have been an exploration of that dynamic, and an opportunity to reveal a tidbit about Santana that wouldn't tip over much of what we know about the character, and force her into the same tutu as Kurt and Rachel.

Sue, Blaine, and Becky

In the wake of her firing, Sue is now a personal trainer and loving it.  Blaine tells her the Cheerios are lost without her, and she needs to come back.  (Sounds like something for Kitty to do instead of Blaine, but unfortunately "Lights Out" had other plans for her.)  Becky feels guilty for Sue leaving, and is miserable with Coach Roz.  She tries to persuade Sue to return, only to have Sue sing about how much she hated her Cheerios (presumably lying... hopefully) and Becky goes to Figgins to spill the truth and get Sue her job back.  I'm assuming.

This story arc is built on garbage, so I'm not really enjoying the continuation of Becky as accidental school shooter, or Blaine as the noble male savior of the Cheerios, questing for a truth I'd rather forget.  I'm not entirely sure why he's so suspicious either.  "Something went down at that school.  No one feels safe."  Yes, Blaine, a gun went off and people huddled in terror to the endless ticking of a metronome and it frayed everyone's nerves.  You were there.  (I'm growing more and more convinced that hair gel causes memory loss.)

Ultimately, very little about "Lights Out" made any sense whatsoever, from the song motivations to the character choices, to the theme, frame, larger story arcs, structure, emotional pace, and payoff.  To borrow a phrase from suddenly-wise Kitty: it was just a projection of what Glee thinks defines its show.  But there was no real intimacy.  So why are we still staring at the screen?

The RBI Report Card...
Musical Numbers: C

Dance Numbers: D

Dialogue: D

Plot: F

Characterization: F

Episode MVP: Isabelle, as this may be the last time we have her

The RBI Report: "Sweet Dreams"

With its half-baked, oft-repeated theme, "Sweet Dreams" felt as though it may have been designed in reverse.  The episode wanted to show Rachel's Broadway audition, Finn partying his way through his newfound college career, and Marley gracing the world with her songwriting prowess.  What better way to tether those concepts together than with a bland attempt at Glee's catch-all theme?  Dreams, y'all.  Everybody's got 'em.  And by God, those special glee kids make 'em come true.

"Sweet Dreams," written by Ross Maxwell, directed by Elodie Keene

Yes, "Sweet Dreams" was a watered-down, messily-constructed, confused hour of television.  But at this point in Glee's season, it has precious few other options.  Fixing the sloppy setups and unrealistic payoffs, the unmotivated character choices and expository dialogue, believably balancing the graduates and the McKinley students -- at this point it requires a restructuring of Glee's fourth season as a whole.  Want to believably sell Marley as a songwriter?  Why not have made that an identifying trait when she joined glee club, to shake up the dynamics and give her something to do?  Want to give Rachel an important audition at the end of the season?  Why not give her consistent storylines in which she works towards that goal, so we're more organically invested in her pursuit and don't require a hurried narration reminding us how obsessed she is with Barbra Streisand right before she's meant to move forward in the arc?  And, if you wanted to give a touching moment with Marley's songs about being outcasts, maybe show the kids having been alienated from their peers instead of subjecting them to in-episode bullying by their teacher.

Will Schuester really was in fine (read: insufferable) form this episode, to the point where I wanted the kids to stage a coup d'appella.  Presumably suffering from Finn-related separation angst, Will snapped at the kids for "openly defying" him, flopped his ego around, singled out and insulted students in front of their peers, and guilted them into thinking they were less dedicated than he. Worse still, the episode made no effort to associate Will's heinous behavior with some kind of emotional reaction to the trauma of last week - when it made that exact association for the behavior of the kids he yelled at.  According to Marley's voiceover, which is apparently the best place to tell us about other characters' possible PTSD, people have been acting weird ever since the gunfire at McKinley.  Somehow this means that Tina dresses all steampunk now (may also have memory loss), and Unique's taking birth control pills, and Sam's subsuming another personality by pretending to be his sometimes-British twin Evan?  Or is that last one just separation anxiety from Brittany's sudden acceptance to MIT?  Any way you shake it, none of that behavior merited rage-insults from Schue, least of all when the issues were chalked up to post-traumatic stress disorder earlier in the episode.  Was the association just to have something to point to when the show's accused of not having any continuity?  If so, it came with a lot of baggage that the writers just ignored.

Anyways, Will didn't really have a realization about being a total ass, and instead lurked in the shadows of Marley's original song, indicating it was more a realization about not giving her a chance than anything else.  The only apology he gave was for denying the dissenters a voice - when it felt like Unique, Sam, and Blaine deserved at least a brief "I'm sorry" for having their teacher flippantly insult and/or shame them.  I mean, really -- "tone down the boob thing?"  Cringe.  Showing Will distressed in the hallway seemed to point towards wanting the audience to feel bad for the guy, but the moment wasn't specific enough to fully understand why.  

So, the most we have to go on is the problems with Finn, who, I'm beginning to think is Will's true soulmate.  I mean, he spends the episode trying to mend their broken relationship, spiraling into an emotion tornado at work, and by the end they've established themselves in a partnership.  While Will's having his own issues, Finn's partying it up at the fictional University of Lima, charging admission to indoor slip-and-slides in the form of girls' bikini tops.  I guess Finn's desire to delay adulthood makes a certain amount of sense, considering the number of times he's tried to step into some vision of his future only to realize he doesn't fit there.  So, naturally, he finds Puck partying too, they get invited to a frat, and then, when Finn misses a sociology test, Puck berates him into realizing he needs to buckle down and study so they can prove to the world they're as special as they've always known they are.  Or something.  The message is laid on thick, and through dialogue, which basically means it's poorly written.  

It's not surprising, though, that a supporting character on Glee steps in to force epiphany on the main character.  A stronger show would have created a situation in which we would see Finn presented with a choice between his studies and his social life, whereupon we would see Finn make the wrong decision, realize the consequence, and course-correct.  On Glee, however, we're treated to an expository voiceover clearly outlining the scenario, a pointless musical number showing us a college party, and then a morning after when someone's handily nearby to serve as moral-giver.  Thanks, Puck!  Finn couldn't have gotten there without you - well, not with the storyline structured the way it was, anyways.

Of course, since this is Glee, Finn got to play that role in someone else's storyline as well.  Rachel spent the episode struggling with what to sing for her Funny Girl audition, and naturally it's Finn who delivers her moment of clarity (after Shelby nudges her in the different direction).  What's frustrating about this, even aside from the outsourced revelation, is the fact that it's used to tentpole an arc for Rachel that's completely incongruous to her original character design.  At least with Puck's advice to Finn, it aligned with Finn's original arc: be more than mediocre, prove that you're special.  Both boys struggled with others' perceptions of them, how to succeed beyond expectations, and staying true to their true selves.  However clunky, poorly communicated, or random - it at least bears some tiny nugget of truth.  Rachel's "moment" doesn't quite have the same level of accuracy to it, and it's not hard to see through the machinations and understand why.  How else to justify dusting off three characters the narrative hasn't bothered with for two seasons to construct a fantasy sequence glorifying the show's original hit song and the impact it had?

See, in order to sell (milk?) this "Don't Stop Believing" moment (Glee's third iteration of their first chart-topper), the writers had to lean on the notion that this was an incredibly special moment for Rachel, as well as the audience (and the show itself).  We "fell in love," as Finn reminded us.  Now, I don't disagree with this necessarily.  "Don't Stop Believing" is, after all, the moment where a rag tag group of misfits came together and formed a unit.  First a club, then a family (if you don't mind dating a few of your relatives).  For Rachel, "Don't Stop Believing" is when she first found herself tethered to a collective.  Much of the first season's conflict came from the tension between a character wanting to be in the spotlight having to function as a member of a team.  Rachel with solos, or Rachel with friends?  You cannot have both.  Then, Glee decided to make everyone drink the Rachel Kool-Aid (Berry-flavored, natch) and embed her in a loving context - as long as she remembered to be eternally grateful for them not being douches to her.  (This context also only existed when the writers needed it to.)

The magic moments of "Don't Stop Believing" were specifically called upon for explanation (we'll ignore the part in my notes where I wrote "OH SHUT UP" in response to that suddenly curious member of the casting panel) -- and Rachel replied, "I wouldn't be the person I am today if [my friends] hadn't believed in me."  I'm not sure if Ross Maxwell was trying to draw overt connections to the title of the song, but frankly the sentiment is not quite accurate for Rachel's relationship to "Don't Stop Believing," and, in turn, her friends.  Rachel's dynamic with others' acceptance is not related to her self-confidence on stage.  Her self-confidence on stage is precisely what alienated her from others, at Glee's beginning.  What Rachel's friends gave to her was exactly that - friendship.  For the isolated girl who got slushied daily, having friends meant everything.  And "Don't Stop Believing" gave her a chance to make friends, and to be a part of something... special.  Rachel Berry already believed in herself.  She just wanted someone to sing with her.  So, the line of dialogue should have been more like "I was thinking about my friends.  I would never have been able to do this on my own."  Yes, it's a bit cheesy, but no less than the original line, and it's certainly more accurate to Rachel's arc.  

If you'll allow me to further endorse this line change: if Rachel had said something about not being able to do it on her own, it would have made everyone's thankless backup roles a little more acknowledged.  As it was, Spotlight Girl tried to honor her team by... singing the solo and imagining them all as her backup.  No, there was no way to make that moment into an opportunity for someone else to sing (it was awkward enough for Rachel to "interact" with spectral visions of her past) - but couldn't something have been done to make it work a bit better?  It's more than a little telling that the most amount of episode screentime for Artie, Tina, Kurt, and Mercedes came in Rachel's fantasy sequence.  Thanks for showing up, guys.  I'm glad we did this in Rachel's imagination and not in last year's finale with your actual corporeal selves.  Final plea for the "on my own" line: it subtly contrasts "Don't Stop Believing," Rachel's first group number, with her original solo title, a song sung about loneliness by a very lonely girl.

In sum: this show simultaneously glorifies and craps on their main character, all the while misinterpreting its own creation.  I don't know how the writers manage this - but they do.

Meanwhile, the Second Coming of Rachel (did anyone catch the owl sweater?) has decided to reveal her singer-songwriter talents and try to get original songs in Regionals.  After all, since Rachel wrote "My Headband," maybe Marley can write something like "My Newsie Cap?"  Nah, Marley's legit (just like Rachel was after Quinn yelled at her) and writes about being an outcast.  And apology ditties on behalf of her douchebag teacher.  Naturally, these dazzle and move the glee club members, and Marley's on track to have a song featured in Regionals.  Which is fine.  A bit heavyhanded, already done - but fine.

The last thread of "Sweet Dreams" involved Roz Washington coming to town and belittling everyone's gun violence experience with a poorly-written joke about growing up in the ghetto.  Ah, yes.  Let's just breeze past that.  Roz finds Sue's departure fishy, especially in conjunction with Blaine's sudden appearance on the Cheerios, which naturally means she swears both Blaine and Becky to an oath pledging not to hex Roz Washington into bringing a gun to school.  Blaine finds Becky's behavior about the incident unusual, presses her for questions, and gets a defensive Becky tantrum in return.  Those used to be so absurdly charming before they ruined her character.

In the end, "Sweet Dreams" is a thematically loose, messily-assembled episode that tries its damnedest to maximize emotions with the least amount of effort.  But as we near the end of the season, with a massive tangle of unresolved storylines pressing the show forward, there's not much else Glee can do but limp to the finish boasting whatever unearned payoffs it thinks the audience will enjoy most.  It's too late to refocus.  

Stray Observations:

• Glad things aren't awkward between Will and Shannon after she confessed her love to him last week, and he in turn set her up with an online dating profile.  Buddies!
• Don't think I didn't notice the Pilot-inspired shots of Rachel's hand lifted to the ceiling as the camera panned up and away.  It's included three times.  Once clearly wasn't enough.  Let's really hammer this nostalgia in, gang.
• To this end, I can't believe the shot of the glee club's "all in" hand gesture (what the hell is that thing called?) didn't get an overhead shot like this one in the Pilot.  (Minus the text, of course.)
• I'm kind of genuinely concerned for Sam's mental health after seeing him completely devoted to being both "Sam" and "Evan."  Like, this doesn't quite play as a comedic thing.  I worry for him.
• Between Will, Rachel, and Finn, it seems like main characters on this show only make decisions when other people tell them what to do.  It's maybe the easiest way to remove main character qualities from your lead.  

The RBI Report Card...

Musical Numbers: C
Dance Numbers: C
Dialogue: D
Plot: C
Characterization: D
Episode MVP: Literally no one.

A Very Special RBI Report: "Shooting Star"

Over the years, Glee has become more and more shameless in its attempts to capitalize on current events in a bid to retain its perhaps prematurely-appropriated mantle of "revolutionary TV show."  (This posturing was made sometime in Season 1, probably around the time Kurt came out to his understanding father, Artie had a storyline from his own POV, and episodes featured more than a half-hearted miming of emotional authenticity.)  Mostly, these current events have revolved around the inclusion of the Top 40 charts, incorporating Justin Bieber and Katy Perry whenever possible, and drawing up a tribute to Whitney Houston shortly after her death.  (Despite the fact that Amber Riley's touching rendition of "I Will Always Love You" aired the week of Ms. Houston's passing and served coincidentally as a lovely and understated homage to the late music icon.)

Smattered through these relevant but mostly harmless song selections are Glee's more damaging attempts at shining a light on issues affecting teens today.  While its first season stumbled earnestly into adolescent issues of belonging, identity, and self-acceptance, the subsequent seasons rang shrilly with the hum of false emotion and forced parables.  Glee trotted out episodes devoted to exploring religion, teen drinking, texting and driving, struggling with sexuality and gender identity, physical disability, death and grief, suicide, bullying, domestic abuse, adoption, eating disorders, mental illness, race, and sex.  Only a handful of these endeavors were handled with even a modicum of sensitivity, and fewer still made it to our screens without swerving into the territory of after-school special.  Glee has never quite figured out how to balance its crown as History-making Television Program and still keep its original absurdist comedy.  It's a tonal impossibility.  Trying to fuse together comic self-reference with broadly-stroked morality tales is as futile as mixing oil and water.  And yet, for three seasons, Glee has tried, failed, and insisted it worked perfectly all along.

Tonight, they aired their latest in the attempt to remain message television: an episode featuring a possible school shooting, and those terrifying moments ticking endlessly in a darkened classroom suspended in horror and disbelief.  I suspect Glee is trying for an episode to spark a national discussion on gun violence, because they still believe they have the power to engage their audience in a thoughtful discourse on the topics affecting today's youth.  But the truth of the matter is that I've long since distrusted Glee from handling any sensitive issue gracefully - from Santana's coming-out storyline, to Artie's erasure from the narrative unless his storyline deals with his wheelchair, to Mercedes and Tina sidelined and reduced to black and Asian stereotypes, respectively, and the list goes on.  Glee has not proven themselves capable of handling an episode about a school shooting.  Not when the nation is still feeling the shock of the tragedy at Sandy Hook, and holding onto the memories of Columbine, Virginia Tech, and other losses.  And not when Glee is, at best, a poorly-written echo of a show that urges teenagers to accept their differences through song and dance.   Like oil and water: these things do not mix.

This friction between Glee's fantasy world and the rules of reality is something the writers cannot seem to negotiate and neutralize - or even acknowledge.  This has long been a show devolved into its own kind of reality, a world where rules are made up and broken as seen fit.  Characters are accepted to college when their significant others secretly apply on their behalf, as a loving surprise.  Students and teachers' personal lives are entangled and intertwined with little consequence.  College freshmen without jobs live comfortably in Brooklyn, where they will soon audition for Broadway leads.  These same jobless freshmen apparently afford airfare back home to Ohio multiple times a semester.  The rules of reality are bent and jammed as necessary to make the high-gloss fantasy of Glee's story work for the writer's ill-devised purposes, before they wipe away for the next installment.  

It is jarring, therefore, that "Shooting Star" attempted to cleanly portray reality without any illusion of a filmmaking hand.  The time spent during the shooting unfolded onscreen almost in real time, as a large chunk of the act was devoted to showing kids crouched in dark corners of the choir room, crying.  The camera was handheld, providing a documentary-style visual to make everything seem even more real, and then went one step further in shock value by actually using "cell phone footage" of the students' tearful messages to loved ones.  As expected, the editing cut quickly and frantically during initial moments of panic, and lingered uncomfortably during the seemingly endless moments of waiting, mimicking the emotions felt.  So Glee told their story.  But I'm not sure why they wanted to.  The fact of the matter is that I can't imagine anyone wanting to see, scripted onscreen to seem as real as possible, those moments of fear.  As a nation, we are already afraid.  We already read eyewitness accounts from Newtown, and put ourselves in those darkened classrooms, and wondered what we would do if we were faced with a moment where our choices and our strength and our love meant nothing to a man with a gun.  

We already know this reality.  We've imagined this reality.  We are living this reality.  We don't need to see it packaged up and presented to us on a television show which usually parades through with a glossy world of bright colors and narrative fluff.  At this stage in Glee's storytelling, the show is best suited for escapist television, and little more.  Not only did "Shooting Star" endeavor to show a beat-by-beat experience of violence in school, but it also put the gun in the hands of a student with Down Syndrome, who until now was one of the few examples of a usually "otherized" character being wielded sensitively as a real person.  She was allowed to be her own character, with her own POV, and while Down Syndrome played a part in her identity, she was also a sometimes-bitchy cheerleading captain who could dish a pretty inspired barb.  Becky existed without being reduced to or defined by her "other" trait.  Unfortunately, she was the easiest figure for Glee's writers to pawn off as an overwhelmed student who brings her dad's gun to school and scares the shit out of everyone.  But with only two scenes where Becky reveals how scared she is of the real world (news to me), it's difficult to dredge up the sympathy - or even understanding - for her when we spent ten minutes cowering with the glee club in fear.  Truthfully, I feel more sympathy for Lauren Potter, the actress portraying Becky, who has been vocal about advocating positive representation and visibility for those with Down Syndrome in popular media.  I fear audience members may assume, because of the shooting, that Down Syndrome is a mental illness and not a genetic condition, and only hope the sudden introduction of Becky's distress helps illuminate the fact that her emotional crisis is unrelated to her "label" as a character with Down Syndrome.  Regardless, it's a sloppy and somewhat disheartening choice for a pretty beloved character.

In another stomach-turning decision, Glee also chose to wield the school shooting situation as an opportunity to resolve a bunch of storylines they didn't care to give closure to anytime sooner.  Much like their (now-repeated) threats of apocalypse, it seems the easiest way to raise the emotional stakes in a Glee script is to loom the threat of death and make all that resolution come swiftly.  The high-pressure scenario dissolved Kitty's meanness towards Marley and Unique, huddled Ryder and Unique together, presumably without the conflict of gender identity, and gave suspense to the storylines quickly minted for Brittany and Sam and Will and Shannon at episode's beginning.  The takeaway, even before the shooting happened, was that with or without a meteor hurdling towards earth, you should live your days as though they are your last.  Knowing that school violence was pending only made this message more awkward as it was hamfisted into the beginning of the episode like an anvil about to drop.

All of this was wrapped up in the title "Shooting Star."  Unfortunately, this episode's existence serves primarily as evidence to a complete lack of respect by the Glee showrunners, and a display of deluded arrogance by a group of people who somehow believe it falls on their shoulders to script and deliver what is essentially a horror story for humanity and a still-bleeding wound in the collective heart of a fearful nation.  To poke at that, even with the best intentions, only reveals an utter lack of self-awareness and humility that, unfortunately, Glee has displayed for years now under the guise of revolutionary television.  Would that any indication otherwise - of reality - fall on listening ears. 

The RBI Report: "Guilty Pleasures"

I'll be honest: at first, "Guilty Pleasures" didn't seem like an episode I would enjoy.  I'm not a big fan of the concept of a "guilty pleasure" in the first place, because it implies feeling shame for liking something and we'd all be better off not feeling like we have to apologize for the things we genuinely enjoy.  (Although we wander into new territory when that thing we like is Chris Brown.  But more on that in a moment.)  No, a "guilty pleasure" episode featuring wacky pointless covers of Wham! and ABBA seemed like it had the potential for high cheese.  But in a weird way, "Guilty Pleasures"... worked?

"Guilty Pleasures," written by Russel Friend and Garrett Lerner, directed by Eric Stoltz

There are a few things that helped "Guilty Pleasures" along, which were done surprisingly well.  First of all, the episode was low content.  This can either be a blessing or a curse.  Having room to breathe can mean letting us spend fun time with likeable characters just doing their thing, or it can mean that the audience might tune out because nothing in particular is holding their interest.  Low content doesn't sound like a selling point, right?  But low content for "Guilty Pleasures" worked, simply because Friend, Lerner, and Stoltz allowed for the fun stuff in between the plot and supporting the plot, which kept it from wading into murky and overwrought territory.  Elements of the story tied together without being hamfisted or too melodramatic!  (Okay, maybe not those slow-motion running shots during "Creep."  But otherwise.)

The other aspect of "Guilty Pleasures" that helped bolster this lack of content was the idea that these kids were unsupervised for a week.  Glee has rarely been able to seamlessly incorporate the adults into their universe, and thus tends to work better when we leave Sue and Schue and Emma and Beiste at the door.  It's less cluttered to just deal with the kids, and there's something charming about this gang of misfits plugging along without any adult supervision.  "Guilty Pleasures" featured a Schue-less week, and left the kids in Lima and the kids in NYC to their own agendas.  And the agenda this week?  Getting secrets out in the open.  

The third highlight of "Guilty Pleasures" was what the narrative chose to do with these secrets.  Usually, the unveiling of secrets is an easy way to create conflict - both inner conflict and person-to-person tension.  It's a tried-and-true, go-to, shit-stirring device.  In other words, Finn's bound to kick a chair.  So it was refreshing that Glee instead chose to use secret-revealing as a way to bond the two groups of kids together... without anyone making them!  There was a lovely sense that we were somehow watching these mini-groups (the New New Directions and the New York Roommates) cement their camaraderie as they weathered through a barrage of truth bombs.  It's the first time this season where I've felt any real inkling of togetherness in either location.  The character dynamics in "Guilty Pleasures" were actually firing naturally on more cylinders than we've seen in a long while.

Which brings me back around to my first point: the filler.  Those spaces in between the necessary serialized plot points found interesting character interactions for Kitty with the New Directions - Brittany?  Tina?  Artie?! - as well as Rachel and Kurt with Santana, and even Blaine and Sam, whose storyline finally confronted the awkward unrequited love thing and made good on the straight-guy-and-gay-guy-are-meaningful-bros display Glee's put in their front window.  We were shown things about these new and heretofore-underdeveloped interactions!  That's what happens when, y'know, there's actually time to do stuff.  We get little gems like Kurt and Santana watching The Facts of Life, y'all.

In New York City, Santana has promised Kurt to keep the Brody-is-gigolo secret from Rachel, which makes it super weird when you realize she has no idea why he broke up with her.  But the secret doesn't stay in for long, and eventually Santana drops the truth bomb and Rachel is forced to confront Brody.  I will say this: I feel really badly for Brody, actually.  Guy does not deserve all the heat for being a male prostitute.  He needs a way to pay the bills!  Guy probably does deserve all the heat for having lied to Rachel about it, because having sex with a dude who's having sex with a lot of other people and not telling you is not quite on the up-and-up.  Lying?  Yes, bad Brody!  Gigolo?  Cut the dude a break.  If Glee shames their male prostitutes this much, I'd hate to think how they'd treat a lady prostitute character.

Anyways, "Guilty Pleasures" made me feel genuinely bad for Brody, and that, for me, is a point in the plus column.  Of course, this point is negated completely by Rachel seeming to swell with love at the idea that Finn beat the shit out of her boyfriend for her.  (More awkward still that this physical violence was romanticized in the same episode where Chris Brown was vilified for his own acts of physical violence.  So it's bad when Chris Brown does it, but romantic and gentlemanly when Finn does it?  Yikes.  It's bad all around, Glee.  Physical violence is bad.  Sure, I guess you can argue that domestic abuse is not the same as an all-boy saloon brawl, but... that's getting into a whole mess of gender-related issues.  Let's just stick with this: physical violence is bad.  I don't care if it's 'on behalf of a lady's honor.'  Let's not glorify male aggression and encourage feminine frailty.  Physical violence is bad!)

So Brody accuses Rachel of still being in love with Finn, and Rachel basically agrees.  Actually, the moment at which I felt worst for Brody was when Rachel told him she was dating him because part of her wanted to make Finn jealous, and the other part wanted him to help her with her own heartache.  Uh, ouch?  Two terrible reasons to be in a relationship!  And while I think the writers were stretching these reasons to (re)write their own history for Rachel and Brody, it doesn't change the fact that those reasons, assuming that Brody accepts them as true, really, really suck.  I was never Brody's biggest fan, but damn.  Damn.  

(Also, on a sidenote, did the thought strike anyone that maybe Cassandra July paid Brody for sex back in that one episode where she wanted to piss Rachel off?  Add Brody's cost to the JetBlue miles Cassandra gave up so Rachel could go home, and that was one pricey backstab.  And it somehow makes Cassandra July really rather tragic.  But she's not here anymore, so I don't know why I'm devoting brainspace to her.  Be free, Kate Hudson!)

Through all this messy Brody-Rachel-Finn nonsense, though, we finally got to witness a fleshed-out dynamic between Kurt and Rachel, Kurt and Santana, and Rachel and Santana.  "Guilty Pleasures" seals the deal on Santana's incorporation into NYC being a good choice for the show.  We got great moments of snark and heart, all with effortless ease of interaction.  Kurt and Santana casually watched The Facts of Life and chatted; Rachel and Santana casually went about their morning routine in the bathroom and argued; Rachel and Kurt casually made gooey-BFF eyes at each other as they supported each other through their troubles.  Rachel and Santana were going to prank Kurt!  Kurt made Rachel and Santana matching boyfriend/girlfriend pillow arms!  Santana's a part of the family now!  This three-handed dynamic is easily the best character-based thing Glee has done since... well, who knows how long it's been.  

Back in Ohio, Blaine and Sam co-opted glee club and decided to make it all about spilling your secrets because it feels so good.  What idiots.  In a charming way, it worked, albeit with a few hiccups.  These all kind of boiled down to the fact that confessing you like Barry Manilow is really not the same thing as confessing to your same-sex crush that you like them.  It's really, really not.  But luckily, this was helped along by the redirect at the end of Blaine's piano ballad - he never meant to reveal that his "guilty pleasure" was Sam (which is kind of a weird notion in and of itself, but whatever) and instead stuck to his Phil Collins story.  I breathed a sigh of relief that this was not going to blow up in Blaine's face in front of the whole New Directions.

In the end, Sam brings it out in the open for Blaine, and reassures him everything's going to be fine.  What could easily have been a big deal, for drama's sake, was wrapped up smoothly and without embarrassment.  There was no "predatory gay" angle, or discomfort on Sam's part that Blaine has a crush on him.  Basically, this was the Finn-Kurt storyline from S1 done with far fewer cringeworthy moments - although, admittedly, with far less character-based emotional depth as well.  So, I choose to remember the Blaine-Sam team-up for this graceful sidestep of messy homophobic drama, while I simultaneously choose to forget that Sam told Blaine he could never really bond with Kurt because of the gay thing.  

Meanwhile, Jake tried to sing Chris Brown and everyone yelled at him.  Sure, the "separate the art from the artist" argument has its merit, but the issue with celebrity and success is that if you're buying the music, you're paying the artist, and therefore endorsing the continuation of the celebrity and the success.  It's messy.  Tackling Chris Brown is a messy, messy topic.  Much of what was said is not entirely wrong - Chris Brown has done some real shitty stuff.  And allowing so many people to speak out against Jake's song choice is fine.  But I'm not entirely sure I'm on board with Marley voicing concern that Jake liking Chris Brown's music might be a red flag that Jake is capable of domestic abuse.  It's a messy, messy implication that's a) pretty heavy, and b) kind of offensive.  I felt a definite twinge of discomfort about Glee questioning its only MOC (currently onscreen) about his capacity for physical violence.  Let's just not, please.  Again - especially when two scenes over, Finn beating up Brody is treated as the equivalent of handing a lady a white rose.  Messy, messy, messy.

(On a sidenote, is anyone else wondering, after Jake's performance, why he isn't the new featured player of New Directions?  It's never even been a consideration, and yet I find myself watching his fancy footwork and thinking it should have at least been on the table.  I'd love to see the guy lead a group number, instead of his endless string of shmoop duets with Marley and bro duets with Ryder.)

The remaining guilty pleasure at McKinley High belonged to Kitty, who for some reason didn't want to divulge her love of the Spice Girls.  Spice World, as a masterpiece of high camp, I could maybe understand - but the Spice Girls?  Since when was it embarrassing to like them?!  Finn and Will had no issue recreating the boy bands of the same era, but the Spice Girls are embarrassing?!  I comprehend nothing.  Anyways, I just appreciated the way "Guilty Pleasures" wielded Kitty as a character.  She's finally starting to show some layers, without feeling really inconsistent!  She's becoming interesting, without declawing her completely!  Consider me intrigued.  Her brief interaction with Artie has me hopeful for some kind of goofy relationship, and her quiet "don't" to Tina after Blaine's performance has me wondering what exactly prompted the emotional nuance.  Basically, I'm curious about how the writers are choosing to handle Kitty, who was basically introduced as a Molotov cocktail of Sue, Quinn, and Santana.  At first, she was a bit two-dimensional.  Then, she started getting funnier and a little less villainous.  Now, she's one of the gang, but still pretending to be annoyed about it.  (Her offscreen exasperation at Tina following her as Vicki the Robot Girl cracked me up.)  I think this works for Kitty, and might perhaps be a new way to explore the loser vs. popular kid theme without being so heavyhanded about it.

Finally, credit must be given to Eric Stoltz for directing the crap out of this episode.  Glee's pesky "oh by the way" flashbacks and signature-if-clunky narrations were handled a bit better than usual, thanks to visual intrigue.  I loved the cutaway to Tina watching Brittany and Kitty on "Fondue for Two," placed perfectly after the line about the internet being a safe space.  There was also a bit of fancy directing with the two time-lapse segments in the episode: Kurt zoning out in front of his "powerhouse ladies of television," with Rachel and Santana milling around behind him, and Brody and Rachel not quite connecting as one sits up and sings while the other half sleeps in their bed.  Both instances worked rather well.  The choice to act out the story of "Copacabana" with Artie, Brittany, and Jake was another smart choice.  

And while this bit of praise can also be attributed to the individual actors, I'm going to throw a little Stoltz's way as well: he got some great performances out of everyone this episode.  Chord Overstreet and Darren Criss did fine work with the comedy, and did well to avoid cheesiness in their final scene.  Naya Rivera, Lea Michele, and Chris Colfer had a great ease of chemistry and walked that fine line between warmth and sass in their dynamic.  And Michele and Dean Geyer both demonstrated some strong and specific acting choices in "Creep" - the closeups onstage actually showed off the genuine emotion of the song in this context.  I was surprised to find myself actually engaged in their emotions of their breakup.  Rachel exuded anger, pain, and sadness, while Brody sort of numbly expressed bitterness only.  Some really great acting choices by all in this episode, actually, and very well-directed.

So, in a weird way, "Guilty Pleasures" was one of the stronger episodes this season.  It didn't try to do too much with its potentially overdramatic plot threads, and instead focused on using its spare time to foster friendships and create a believable group dynamic without any adults watching.  Because of that, there were so many little gems in this episode, all of them pretty delightful.  With only five episodes left in this season, it's a bit disheartening to say that this was the first episode to feel like the characters are all finally clicking.  But, better late than never.  

The RBI Report Card...

Musical Numbers: B
Dance Numbers: B
Dialogue: A
Plot: B-
Characterization: A
Episode MVP: Santana-Rachel-Kurt

The RBI Report: "Feud"

I know that Glee exists in a heightened reality, where wacky things happen to exaggerated characters and we all just have to suspend our disbelief to enjoy the ride.  Early on, the writing balanced out these moments with glimpses of emotional depth in their archetypes, allowing them to express themselves in the quiet spaces between the big musical numbers and glee club circus.  Now, we're just kind of expected to fly along with the plot as it leaps from one scene to the next, accepting whatever rules the writers flimsily define for this episode and this episode only.  "Feud" definitely filed into this category.

"Feud," written by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, directed by Bradley Buecker

It's not that there weren't any good moments in "Feud."  But between these few gems of comedy and genuine emotion, I found myself wondering how much suspension of disbelief was required to get full intended enjoyment from the episode.  Will and Finn's feud naturally must result in a Very Serious Sing-Off between 90s boy bands - as assigned to them by their students.  Naturally, Sue must desperately want Blaine on the Cheerios and will do anything - including a glee performance - to win him.  And just as naturally, we're supposed to believe that it was Blaine's plan all along.  Oh and also, Rachel is dating a gigolo.  I guess Glee is just like Santana: "You can't apply logic to Lopez."  I should probably stop trying.

So, the feuds...

Will vs. Finn

The biggest feud of the episode belonged to Will and Finn, simply because it involved the most deep-seated emotions.  Will felt betrayed by Finn because Finn kissed Emma in a moment of panic.  How could these bros ever survive?  Well, they first had to get all their feelings out in a mashed-up duel of Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" and NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye."  The physical brawl turning into happy man-hugs was a bit weird, but Buecker needed something to cut to so he could track the emotional journey of the song and what else was he supposed to do?  I will say, I was pretty impressed with the amount of upper body strength required to maneuver dance choreography with those life-size marionette strings.  Respect on that front, for sure.

As for the Will vs. Finn of it all, I wasn't really interested until Marley swooped in to give Finn a cold dose of reality.  (Although I find it awfully fresh that Marley's advising people to grow a pair.  I'm pretty sure I've been wanting Marley to grow a pair all season long, simply to make her character less passive.  Her boys-fighting-about-me love triangle and mean-girl-brainwashed-me-into-an-eating-disorder certainly don't give her Active Character points.)  This was perhaps the best moment of the evening, because it allowed for a teeny glimpse of what Glee used to do with their characters originally: let them show vulnerability as they struggled with negotiating their identity and the real world. 

Since Finn has graduated, he has been a lost little tumbleweed looking for direction.  And as the erstwhile Mr. Ethos of glee club, the football team, and McKinley High in general, he doesn't know how to redefine himself beyond that realm.  What a lovely little construct for Finn to actually manifest, because it's true.  Finn has been grasping at the passions of everyone else in his life - Rachel, Will, Burt, his father - trying to cling onto something of his own, and he's never found it.  His glory days are defined by being Mr. Quarterback and Mr. Glee Club - but what next?  Every post-McKinley endeavor has been a failure. 

Turns out Finn's talent is for teaching and leadership, in the footsteps of Mr. Schuester, which is apparently only a surprise to Finn himself.  Character parallels are never in short supply on Glee, usually for worse than for better.  We all saw the Schuestering of Finn Hudson from a mile away, from the plaid shirts to the Emma kiss to the belief that you totally don't have to respect the boundaries of your ex and her new boyfriend! 

Anyways, Finn is not exactly reconciled with Will, and he's off to pursue a teaching degree thanks to the doe-eyed wisdom of Marley Rose.  Was anyone else expecting Finn to haul off and kiss her too?  Part of me hoped he would.  That same part of me hoped that Finn would march up to Will and declare passionately "We are endgame" when Will admitted he wasn't ready to forgive.  When will Finn show up on Will's doorstep and serenade him, thereby solving all the problems?  And, finally, the same part of me that wished for these absurdities (or continuation of pattern?) went straight to the gutter when Ryder told Jake, "you know I have good hands."

Ryder vs. Everyone with Human Emotions

Yeah, Ryder was in the dog house with pretty much everyone this week.  Jake was pissed at him for kissing Marley, and pissed at Marley for letting Ryder think that was an option.  (I really wish Marley knew how much Ryder and Jake talked about dating her without her even there, because she really has a leg to stand on with that argument in her back pocket.  Also, Jake, you were the one that basically let Ryder woo Marley with all those presents, so are you just as guilty of "letting" Ryder think that Marley was a kissable option?  Messy.)  Eventually Ryder apologized, and it was boring.

Turns out Ryder is getting over Marley because he's got a new mystery love interest, seen only through internet chatting.  This girl may as well serve as Ryder's brain/moral compass, because homeboy acted real stupid and insensitive until she spelled things out for him.  See, Ryder was having trouble being a decent human being and accepting Unique's right to define her identity whatever damn way she pleased.  Oof, this was awkward and terrible.  Yeah, in the end the right message was communicated, but there were a few problems with the execution.

First: it threw Ryder under the bus.  I know that most teenage boys in Middle America aren't going to be understanding of trans* issues, but the sheer refusal to even respect Unique's point of view rendered Ryder beyond both sympathy and likeability.  The exercise used him as an excuse to PSA, making him little more than a prop for the message.  Which wouldn't be so bad, if his epiphany actually came from an interaction with Unique instead of his online flirt buddy.  The whole point of this storyline is to demonstrate that it is entirely up to the individual to decide, embody, and project their identity into the world, no questions asked.  This idea is centered squarely on the notion that this decision and declaration come from the person in question - in this case, Unique.  And while Unique made her case and stood her ground, Ryder didn't accept it until someone else's voice did the talking.  And not just anyone else - a faceless girl who he's imagining to be cisgender, blonde, white, and into him sexually.  This sadly undermines the whole point, and makes me wish that Ryder's mystery girl is in fact Unique, effectively proving a sadder truth about the acceptance of trans* voices by society.

The one nice result of this storyline was a pretty solid mash-up between Elton John's "The Bitch is Back" and Madonna's "Dress You Up in My Love."  I was digging it.

Blaine vs. Sue

So apparently Sue Sylvester must have Blaine's skills on the Cheerios, and will stop at nothing to recruit him.  I feel like this storyline overlooked a few details that would have helped float its boat a little easier.  Do we not remember Blaine's Warbler training?  Both Dalton's Warblers and Sue's Cheerios have demonstrated a high level of showmanship throughout the seasons, and it makes sense from that angle that Blaine would fit right in on the Cheerios.  The uniforms, the precision choreography, the sacrifice of individual identity for the sake of the group?  All Warbler and Cheerio qualities!  It would make so much more sense to hinge Sue's pursuit of Blaine on this textual commonality, rather than rest it on that certain je ne Blaine quoi. 

This could have also bolstered the performance duel between Blaine and Sue, if both parties brought their flashy choreography and army of sycophants to back them up.  Sue had the A-game, but apparently the New Directions has rendered Blaine's performance abilities to some basic incarnation of putting on a hat and twinkle-toeing around the room.  Warbler may have lost his touch.  Anyways, Blaine whines about unfairness (while I whined about him singing Queen Mariah) and got his ass dragged back to the Cheerios.  Except - plot twist, y'all!  He and Sam somehow planned this all along, so they can finally take Sue Sylvester down once and for all, FROM THE INSIDE.  I mean, I guess these two sleuthed their way into uncovering the Warblers' steroid regime, but I'm not entirely sure I buy this deus ex machina reveal.  Blaine and Sam are the equivalents of two human puppy dogs.  They like to jump around and smile at people.  Neither of them seem quite capable of rivaling the Clever Underboob of Santana Lopez!

Santana vs. Brody (and Kurt and Rachel)

So, now that Santana is in New York, this naturally means that she is supportively accompanying Rachel to pregnancy-related doctor visits, calling Rachel back to her true identity, actively trying to take down the gigolo boyfriend that she perceives as a betrayal of Rachel's true identity, and working at Coyote Ugly.  Well, sure.  Even with this clunky assemblage of plotlines, Santana still manages to be a welcome presence in the New York landscape - if only for her scenes with Rachel and Kurt where they all get to show off their snarky sides.  Santana doesn't even mind that they make her breasts ache with rage! 

Basically, Santana becomes a heat-seeking missile intent on ridding the Hummelberry Loft of Brody and his gigolo lies.  She intimidates him at NYADA with a sultry performance of Paula Abdul's "Cold Hearted," and when Kurt and Rachel kick her out for embarrassing them and being hostile towards Brody, she sets a trap for Brody and invites Finn to come beat the shit out of him.  Damn.  Don't mess with Santana Lopez.  Girl's a trickster.  While I kind of think Kurt would be Team Santana in opposition to Brody, and that it's tiresome to bring in Finn to brawl with Brody (especially with the line of dialogue "stay away from my future wife!") - this storyline is dumb from every angle, so I may as well enjoy whatever snarky tidbits it brings me.

Perhaps this Brody-as-gigolo storyline is the pinnacle of Glee's ridiculata. Yes, so many storylines require complete surrender of reality for them to make any sense, but this one takes the cake. It's so beyond the realm of grounded human emotion that it's just floating in a sparkly cloud of melodrama, perfectly primed for pregnancy scares, Santana snark, sexualized group dances, brawls in hotel rooms, and even a weird long shot down a hallway with weird snappy editing. (Buecker. This isn't The Shining. I know you're bored, but all play and no work makes Brody seem like a serial killer.) Anyways, my point is that this Brody business is nestled so neatly in the stratosphere of soap opera plots that I can't help but let myself float right through it marveling at all the rainbows and overwrought drama. I've found my threshold, right after I loop-dee-looped by Sue Sylvester in full Nicki Minaj gear.

The RBI Report Card...


Musical Numbers: C
Dance Numbers: B
Dialogue: C
Plot: C
Characterization: C
Episode MVP: Santana Lopez

The RBI Report: "Girls (And Boys) On Film"

Last time we saw Glee, big stuff was happening.  A runaway bride!  Wedding hookups!  Inappropriate kissing!  A pregnancy test!  A possible gigolo!  This is the stuff of high drama, folks.  And "Girls (And Boys) On Film" devoted itself to continuing the development of these storylines, in one of the rare episodes that doesn't actually introduce any new plot points and holds responsible to the already-established.  Everything within the hour was a linear progression from the events of "I Do," managed neatly within the confines of the week's theme: movie songs.

"Girls (And Boys) On Film," written by Michael Hitchcock, directed by Ian Brennan

Generally-speaking, the structure of this episode was a little bananas.  Act breaks happened in really weird places, and exposition came from left field.  (Seriously, they couldn't figure out a better way for Santana to talk about Brody being a psycho besides just having her get up and announce it?)  Beyond that, the choice to pay homage to famous film numbers didn't have as much impact as perhaps the showrunners intended.  The musical performances were actually the worst part of this episode, save for the stylized opener, simply because their content wasn't actually all that relevant.  They just made me want to watch Moulin Rouge itself, instead of sitting through the songs cribbed from it for less dramatic impact.  (Also, shouldn't the girls be disqualified for their mashup being completely snitched from the movie itself?  I mean, Marley was spouting Jim Broadbent's dialogue.  They don't lose originality points for that?)

Anyways, the backwards (and probably unintended) result of this construct was that "Girls (And Boys) On Film" was an episode of Glee where the actual scene content was stronger than the musical numbers padding out the hour.  When's the last time that happened?  Usually the music is what hides the imperfections in Glee storytelling, giving the episodes at least a mindless jolt of energy if not, at its best, an emotional anchor.  But this episode's musical numbers were flatter than ever, and instead we got three, maybe four nuanced dramatic scenes and a solid smattering of comedy.

The episode's strongest scene goes to Kurt and his new beau Adam, in a refreshing conversation intended to cut the bullshit.  I love when characters decide to cut the bullshit!  We had to wade through some BS to get to this point, though, naturally.  See, Kurt gets all weepy watching Moulin Rouge because he always dreamed he'd sing "Come What May" with Blaine at his wedding.  Adam notices, Santana spills the truth tea, and Kurt tries to hide the feelings.  I don't think these story elements are all that bullshitty (except for maybe Santana knowing what Kurt and Blaine want to sing at their wedding) - but the musical number was.  It's one thing if Kurt watches Moulin Rouge and fantasizes about singing the song with Blaine.  But with the way "Come What May" actually happened in the episode, it felt more like Inception than Moulin Rouge.  As in, they decide to watch the movie, we cut to commercial, and when we're back, Blaine is wandering on top of a rooftop wistfully singing to the night sky.  Kurt is nowhere to be seen.

I'm sorry, but aren't we in Kurt's fantasy?  Why did he not even bother showing up for it until it was time for the harmony?  Couldn't we at least have him watching Blaine sing, like Marley watched herself confuse her love interests over the potter's wheel?  As it stands, we have a Kurt fantasy that doesn't even seem like a Kurt fantasy because it's not even from his point of view.  And the writers tried to cover that up by sticking a commercial between Kurt's POV and the actual musical number, to break it in two.  You can't fool me, show!  I have DVR!  I fast-forwarded through the ads!  Honestly, the whole things smelled like a reason to give Blaine most of the song, with the nasty side effect of completely marginalizing Kurt from his own POV and also confusing the hell out of the audience.  It was like a fantasy within a fantasy within a fantasy.  But look - slow dancing and twinkly lights!  How romantic.

Sorry.  That was the BS that set the scene for Kurt and Adam's BS-cutting interaction.  Adam is straightforward with Kurt, who does his best to be truthful in return.  In an echo of the conflict between Kurt's wishes and reality, it's not as simple as wanting to forgive someone, or be over someone, and making that materialize emotionally.  I appreciated that continuation of Kurt's complicated feelings, and the acknowledgement that it's near impossible to move on when you're stuck hoping for a fantasy.  While Adam making it clear that he can't compete with that is perhaps a gloomy harbinger of their demise, I still liked that he brought it up.  Because it's true.  And Kurt knows it, judging by his forced enthusiasm at scene's end.  All in all, it was an interesting interaction to shake out onscreen.

The other darling thing from these two was their impressions of the characters from Downton Abbey, which frankly showed up Sam's blowhard impersonation of Nicolas Cage.  I'm less about Adam's take on Mr. Carson, mostly because I couldn't stop laughing at how accurate they were at imitating Mrs. Patmore and Daisy.  Not only are they two of the funnier characters to mimic, Chris Colfer and Oliver Kieran Jones were eerily spot-on with it.  So delightful.  

The roommate dynamic has much more possibility for this type of goofy comedy now, with Santana around to poke fun of Kurt and Rachel, accentuating their dork status by contrast, and getting dragged into it herself.  "Girls (And Boys) On Film" already made good use of the new trio's back-and-forth(-and-back) by pitting Kurt and Santana against Brody, as they think he's actually a drug dealer.  They got a lot of joke mileage out of this concept - my personal favorite is a toss-up between Santana's confusion over Brody offering her a New York makeover, and her description of him showering: "scrubbing the drug shame from his frictionless body."  But the montage of Santana going through all of Rachel and Kurt's belongings was pretty great as well, if only for the sight gag of Naya Rivera flailing on the ground with her head under the bed.  How nice to see her getting some physical comedy to go with the usual verbal charge!

The Rachel/Santana scene didn't quite rank as high for me as a few others in the episode, but it was an interesting vehicle for the new turn in this duo's dynamic.  I confess, I'm still not really on board with Santana saying things like, "Rachel, I'm your friend!  You can trust me!" in complete earnest, but hey.  We can get there.  What I liked more is how defensive and angry Rachel was in response to Santana, which felt like a very real reaction for someone who is scared and alone and taking a lot of crap from an uninvited house guest.  And I like the idea that because Santana is an uninvited house guest, who has decided to pry into Rachel's business, she's kind of all Rachel has, whether she likes it or not, and so Rachel kind of has to open up to her.  It's a nice way to show both sides of this prickly friendship, in the classic "lock them in a room together and make them be friends!" tradition.  So, cue the floodgates, and the moment we thought we'd never see on Glee: Santana holding Rachel in her arms and telling her it'll all be okay.  You know what they say; babies make for strange bedfellows!  Erm, metaphorically-speaking.

I think the best scene of the episode, for me, was Will and Emma finally getting a chance to talk about their botched nuptials.  Again, this did a lot to cut through all the BS people like Finn were spouting all episode long.  Because naturally, Glee applied its classic male-female interaction paradigm, and even hung a lampshade on it through dialogue:

Will: She's made it clear she doesn't want to see me.
Finn: Well, then make her want to see you.

I don't know if the urge to laugh or cry was stronger, when these awful words fell on my ears.  It's classic Glee: when a lady's not doing what you want her to, just ignore her wishes and make her see it your way!  She'll come around.  Trying singing to her.  It'll work.  And, of course, this is exactly what Will did.  Finn advised him to make the Grand Gesture, which sits at the end of every romcom, when a dude goes all out to "win" his girl back.  My main problem here is not even on principle; it's the fact that this generalized movie bullshit was applied to a situation where it didn't even fit.  Emma left Will at the altar; this story involves her POV more than anyone's.  It's not about Will getting Emma back and proclaiming that he'll never leave her again.  Fool, she left you!  This whole exercise completely marginalizes Emma from her own story and replaces her with bland Hollywood nonsense.  The arc should really be about Emma getting a chance to voice what made her run, and why.

Luckily, after another dumbass musical number cribbed from Say Anything, Emma actually got that opportunity.  Turns out she felt like she didn't know Will anymore when he got back from DC, and didn't know what to do about it.  Sure, it's kind of an underwhelming reason, but it's believable and a bit heartbreaking that something so small blew up so big.  Plus, Jayma Mays was on my screen effortlessly acting her butt off and it's a surefire way to enchant me.  But narratively speaking, this basically returns Will and Emma back to square one, and an eensy part of me wonders then what the point was.  It'll be interesting to see the couple after this development, simply because the writers have deconstructed them so far away from their original fairytale paradigm that I'm curious to know how intent they are on demonstrating that in practice.  Will and Emma, weirdly, feel like more real a couple than ever, with a lot of problems to work through and no promise for the future except the one they keep making to each other, despite the obstacles.  In a strange way, I find that more romantic than any narrative promise of "endgame," the talk of "soulmates," or even any heartfelt duet.  The little nod to the tradition of date-night moviegoing was a nice touch to theme, as well.

But the little hiccup in Will and Emma successfully moving forward at this point is, unfortunately, Finn's confession that he kissed Emma during her pre-wedding panic attack.  This was another solid scene, although a bit melodramatic with Will's silent walkaway, and lacking the one element I really wanted, which was for Will to think Finn was joking when he first confessed it.  How great would it have been for him to laugh in response to it, and then realize that Finn was being serious?  Alas, that was not meant to be, as mostly we got Finn hurriedly explaining everything and Will looking more and more betrayed.  So, the true love story of Glee has now been sullied by treachery and lies, and it's unclear whether these dudebros will recover.  But I think they're going to sing about their feelings next week, so the broken trust stands a chance.

In the final continuation of "I Do," Marley confesses to first Kitty and then Jake that Ryder kissed her.  Awkwardly, I didn't really care.  Although for a brief moment - speaking of dudebros in love - I was confused by Marley's out-of-body experience and thought she might be watching Ryder and Jake canoodling over the potter's wheel.  Anyways, I have little invested in this triangle, perhaps because Marley and Jake's innocent sweetness isn't interesting enough on its own, and somehow becomes even more boring with the added complication of the best friend.  Wake me up when Kitty comes around to make fun of them all.

At the end of "Girls (And Boys) On Film," we were reminded that this "mash-off" was in fact a competition, one in which... everybody wins.  The resulting outrage from the overly-competitive glee kids was pretty hilarious, I must say.  Gettin' real tired of this shit, Mr. Schuester!  But then they did another musical number that didn't matter, this time to "Footloose."  By that point I'd taken to picking out the most attractive glee club member in each performance outfit.  (Tina won the girls' mashup, Jake won the boys' mashup, and Sugar won "Footloose.")

Weirdly, the musical numbers of "Girls (And Boys) On Film" fell short of engaging and relevant, as Glee's scripted scenes actually took up the challenge.  The added element of Santana in New York shakes up the dynamic and provided both comedic and dramatic content, and we got a few refreshing scenes that actively worked against the show's own BS!  It was an unexpected hour of Glee, still telling outlandish stories and presenting its own half-baked universe of romantic drama and random character progression, but at the same time it found some good moments and refreshing emotional honesty in the spaces between.

The RBI Report Card...
Musical Numbers: D

Dance Numbers: D

Dialogue: B

Plot: B-

Characterization: B

Episode MVP: Adam, for his flawless Daisy impression and intolerance of bullshit  

Bunheads 1x18 - "Next!"

What a bewildering season finale!  Where most season-enders would find closure, or leave questions dramatically unanswered, "Next!" just kind of scuttles off into an episode-long exploration of teen sex and auditioning.  But, with Amy Sherman-Palladino at the helm, the result is an elevated hour of television where honest moments are doled out in an alternating pattern of stylized comedy and emotional depth.  Few shows can stitch these two polarities into something coherent, let alone engaging and likeable at every turn.  For that, "Next!" earns its stripes.

Conceptually, this episode is a bit weird.  While the girls spend most of the hour stressing out over sex, Michelle drives to LA so she can audition for a Broadway show.  Bunheads nudged Michelle here through her interactions with Talia in “There’s Nothing Worse Than a Pantsuit,” and “It’s Not a Mint,” so it only makes sense that the narrative would follow through on this pursuit.  At first, I didn’t know what good could come of this endeavor.  Like the girls, I was afraid this would cause Michelle to run again, which is a character retread, even if realistic.  Further still, taking Michelle away from Paradise deflates the whole purpose of the show.  So what's the point of working against yourself, even if Michelle's dreams are still in the big lights?

But Amy Sherman-Palladino did something smart to manage the risk: it didn’t quite matter if Michelle got the audition or not.  This wasn’t a plot expansion or character development.  It was closure.  Michelle’s auditions bookend the show’s first season - in the pilot, she bombs her audition, gets wasted, marries Hubbell, and here we are.  That wound has not healed.  It’s hung over Michelle through her dream performance of “Maybe This Time” in the midseason finale, through her takeover of Ginny’s audition for The Bells Are Ringing.  Narratively speaking, Michelle doesn’t necessarily need to get a role.  She just needs a successful audition.

And “Next!” provided that for her, even though the cattle call was just for show.  With that heartbreaking twist, it keeps Michelle in Paradise a little longer, and suspends that sense of failed potential that identifies Michelle’s character identity.  And even despite that, it reminds us that Michelle is talented as all hell, and reiterates its own suggestion that just because you have potential doesn’t mean you’ll have success.  In all, this mini-arc was the perfect step for Michelle as a character, without messing up her role as the central fixture on Bunheads.  A delicate balance of pushing her forward without loosening the strings on the core tension of the character or her place in the narrative.  Well-played, ASP.  Well-played.

The girls followed Michelle to Los Angeles, to make sure she wasn’t running away again - which was a pretty cute reason, I have to say.  “Next!” was a great showcase of these four girls’ talents and chemistry in a group dynamic, which is rewarding to see in a season finale.  This back half has brought each of the girls into their own, especially Melanie and Ginny, and it's great to see everything firing on all cylinders.  They’ve all gelled so nicely, even with their distinct personalities, and it’s completely entertaining enough to just watch them function as a unit as they traipse through the narrative.  Of course, having four voices for Amy Sherman-Palladino’s screwball dialogue doesn’t hurt.  

Let’s back up for a minute.  The girls also had group content this week thanks to Sasha being obsessed with researching every little detail about sex and dragging everyone in on it.  This turned out to be surprisingly funny, from several angles.  From its most basic concept, it’s pretty hilarious to watch Sasha tailspin herself into a preparedness tornado as she bakes pot roasts, reads Sex and the Single Girl, and requires Tolstoy-inspired letters of romantic inquisition.  But the way she swept everyone up in her path also mined a lot of comedy.  Roman affably - if bemusedly - just kind of went with it, as needed.  Michelle was blindsided, but listening - and gave us the delightful bit of dialogue “I overintellectualized it, y’know?” / “…no, no I don’t.”  (Even in tiny moments, the appeal of these two as a poorly-matched yet effective mentor/mentee duo is wonderfully present and specific.)

But perhaps the funniest - and most interesting - stretch of Sasha’s obsession was the extension to Boo.  The Boo-Sasha dynamic is one of the show’s more complicated and affecting dynamics, simply because there’s a push-pull there that doesn’t ever escalate into actual antagonism.  They are very different, and they may not be best pals, but there’s a level of tolerance and affection there that rounds out their interactions and makes them incredibly engaging.  Boo gamely suffers Sasha’s relentless opining, and Sasha kind of keeps Boo under her wing.

“Next!” demonstrated this dynamic with all its edges, and proved that comedic content goes a long way between these two as well.  Sasha co-opts poor Boo into her tailspin about sex, substituting every “I” for “we,” and forces Boo to try and get an Anna Karenina sex letter out of Carl as well.  (Carl, sweet Carl, sends a comic book.  I mean, graphic novel.)  Boo drags her heels, Sasha badgers her, and eventually Boo fights back - only to have Sasha back down without any ounce of drama.  The whole endeavor was amusing, yes - Boo’s hesitant reply of “…with each other?” in response to Sasha’s boorish “We need to consider having sex, now” slayed me, especially with that little dab of face mask on her cheek.  But it also was an interesting demonstration of the Boo-Sasha dynamic.  Sasha tries to boss Boo around enough, and Boo fights back.  And instead of Sasha rising even higher and summoning wrath, she backs down and lets it happen.  Escalation of drama doesn’t ever quite come to blows.

This brings me back to the interest in watching these four girls interact in their group dynamic - especially with regards to Sasha.  Clearly the de facto leader, Sasha actually flirts with dictatorship over these girls.  She singlehandedly ropes everyone into group study sessions about sex, even when at least two of the other three aren’t interested.  She also unilaterally gets everyone in the car to LA, with the proverbial snap of her fingers.  But they also clearly tolerate her, even love her - and Sasha is also clearly not a monster.  She makes pot roasts and popovers, and still agrees to do night masks, and manages to make bitchy also really gooey.  She’s become such a wonderfully fleshed-out character, and “Next!” showed that in full display.  How hilarious was it to see her go full-on dance mom over Michelle’s audition?  “Suck your stomach in, for god’s sake!” she hisses from the wings, and then complains that the anxiety shaved ten years off her life.  She gets in a pretty mean backhanded burn in response to Michelle’s claim that “artists are so temperamental,” replying, “So’s Ginny.”  But she also coos “look at her!” at Michelle singing and dancing, and lets Boo take a piece of pie home for Carl.  It’s basically a treat to watch Sasha interact with anyone in any scene, simply because there’s no telling what exactly the snarky-to-soft ratio will be.  At this point, she’s Bunheads’ most effortlessly expanded character.

There’s one result of the sex storyline that was pretty unpredictable: Ginny had sex with Frankie, whom she's pretty much stared at like a creeper for several episodes now.  She confesses this to Michelle, then cries because Frankie hasn’t said anything to her in a week.  She’s not entirely sure he knows her name.  He was just so beautiful.  I have to say, I can’t imagine this is quite what they were planning for Frankie and Cozette when they arrived on the scene back in “Channing Tatum is a Fine Actor.”  In fact, it’s kind of a random conclusion on a storyline that seemed to be more about Cozette’s relationship with the girls.  Of course, that’s assuming that Cozette and Frankie won’t be back, on the assumption that Bunheads even gets a second season.  

Regardless, it’s safe to say that this turn of events has catapulted Ginny into the stratosphere of Most Tragic Bunhead.  Usually Sasha is queen of this domain, but lately she’s so freakishly well-adjusted that it was only a matter of time before someone usurped her.  Because really, how crappy was this back half for Ginny?  All her friends found new interests outside their group, she felt betrayed by her best friend, and her home life consisted of her holding her mom together as her dad remarried.  When you add up all those events and realize what stands on the other side of the equals sign - an inconclusive one-night stand with Frankie - Ginny basically becomes the most tragic character.  Her scene with Michelle was painfully honest, and the subsequent dance number to “Makin’ Whoopee” only served to sharpen the emotional blade through contrast.  Even though the girls wore coquettish costumes and danced flirtatiously, the staging was still dark and hazy, accented by swaths of red light - a stirring mix that highlights the complicated message about teenaged girls, adulthood, and sex.  Of course, it’s an obvious choice to make Ginny front and center in this number, but I was intrigued as well by the attention given to Cozette.  There's not really enough evidence to conclude anything from that; but it’s an interesting choice.

There was one actual wrap-up in “Next!” - with some prodding by Fanny, Milly gives Truly a new space for Sparkles, which has apparently died since its eviction in “Channing Tatum is a Fine Actor.”  This little storyline was handled nicely, in that Truly’s depression manifested in gloomily charming ways - writhing sadly in a pile of tutus, for example - and it paid off in a great scene with the two sisters finally making some sort of peace.  Milly offers up a mostly asbestos-free business space, and promises to waive the rent.  Truly accepts, and all is well with the sisters… until Scotty Simms comes in.  Yes, Scotty’s back, and it seems the only real reason why is to give him some chores and also eye candy for the Stone sisters.  Both Truly and Milly found him cute (“He kind of looks like [Michelle]!” / “Except cute.”) only to realize that… they both found him cute.  “Ugh, crap,” Truly complains.  I hope this is just a little one-off capper on the scene to provide some humor, and Milly and Truly will not actually compete for another man’s affections in a Hubbell redux.  As is, it was a charming finish on a poignant scene.

Also, Fanny was back, mostly to be a responsible adult about sex education, even if it involved using the phrase “clandestine carnal knowings.”

I do want to mention, lastly, some of the heightened moments of both comedy and truth Amy Sherman-Palladino dug out, because there were quite a few.  Michelle making her way through the long audition line was a great bit, in that the line was so exaggeratedly long for comedic purposes as well as illustrating Michelle’s chances at success.  The same goes for the four girls’ sex research montage; it did such a great job of finding a kernel of truth (what smart teen wouldn’t do a little research?) and then expanding it into something quietly madcap.  The moment where all four girls step up to the wall of condoms, in sync, and then fold their arms?  Genius.  Also genius?  Boo reading a Judy Blume book, then just switching to The Hobbit.  Another moment of genius, this time foreshadowing?  Ginny was reading Girls Who Said Yes - perhaps a heartbreaking clue to her offscreen timeline.   (Her desperation to be better at art also makes more sense, in a completely awful way.)

In all, “Next!” manages to be highly stylized yet completely grounded.  It’s still an oddball season finale, especially considering what Bunheads had set up for its back half, but as an episode unto itself it works remarkably well, and looks like nothing else you’d see anywhere else on television.  For that reason alone, I hope dearly that ABC Family renews the show and we’ll see it again for a second season.  And if not, maybe they’ll pick up the Melanie-Ginny spinster buddy comedy.  I’d watch it - especially since Frankie might want to hire a bodyguard if Melanie finds out about his tryst with Ginny.

The Report Card:
Dialogue: A+
Plot: A
Character: A
Joke of the Night: Between Boo and Ginny, at the Methodist church where auditions were being held - "I'm not supposed to be here."/"You'll be home before dark."/"No, I'm Lutheran."
Scene of the Night: The sex research montage
Episode MVP: Tied between Sasha and Ginny.  Sasha for the versatility, Ginny for the sheer power of sympathy.