The L Word recap: Lone Star (season 3, episode 7)
(Original airdate: 19 February 2006)

THIS WEEK'S L WORD VOCABULARY:

• Operatic: Transcendently orgasmic.
• Subtlety: If you don't know what it is, you're in good company.
• Gold star: Not if I'm grading the episode.

THIS WEEK'S GUEST-BIANS: Alexandra Hedison continues to rock my world, as do the B-52s; Eve Ensler shares another monologue; Alan Cumming takes his curtain call.

Bliss, a.k.a. Los Angeles Opera, 1996 — Do you hear that divine music? It's Jahna, bringing opera to people who think they don't like opera. Check her out here or here or go directly to a sound clip here. The aria is the Flower Duet (Sous le Dôme épais) from Lakmé (Delibes), and if you've seen The Hunger, you already know it's incredibly sexy. (Speaking of which, I had a really long dream about Catherine Deneuve the other night. Talk about bliss.)

Under the thick dome
of white jasmine
with the roses entwined together
on a river bank covered with flowers
laughing in the morning
come, let us go down together.

But right, why are we hearing this? Because we've gone back a decade, to when Bette and Alice were dating (ill-fated, perhaps, but it's kind of intriguing anyway). And they're at the opera, and as the Flower Duet begins to soar, Bette reaches over and starts a different sort of flower duet. Yeah, that's not a good pun. The point is that her hand is between Alice's legs, and the music is so glorious, and there's a pinched-faced society type watching them from above through her opera glasses. It's perfect, because Leisha Hailey knows just how to make her face show how delicious such an experience would feel, and Jennifer Beals knows how to make her face show just how satisfying it can be to give someone such an experience. Not to mention she's also very aware of how naughty it is to be doing so in public.

The duet reaches its peak, and Alice reaches hers. She whimpers ever so softly as she comes and as the singers on the stage embrace. Bette simply smiles and slips her hand away, joining it with her other hand in applause. And Alice applauds too, but her smile is a full-on hell-yeah grin. I now have a new favorite fantasy, not to mention a new favorite L Word scene and a new definition of "box seats." Highbrow + lowbrow = heaven.

And this is where The Chart first connected to the woman who would become its purveyor; because language is a virus from outer space, and hearing your name is better than seeing your face. (That's Laurie Anderson. I cannot explain.)

One more thing before we move on: I have pretty much refrained from commenting on the theme song this season, but hearing it after hearing Delibes is like taking a sip of coffee right after you've brushed your teeth. Especially if the coffee is the nutty kind, a la Austin Powers.

A curb — There's Dana. On the curb. Well, I mean, there's the Olivia cardboard cutout of Dana, waiting on the curb with the rest of Alice's trash. I just can't figure out what I'm supposed to get out of this; she's being dumped, unceremoniously tossed into a garbage truck, but what does it all mean? It's so subtle and layered... I just don't see an obvious message here.

By the way, this episode is directed by the brilliant Frank Pierson (of Dog Day Afternoon and Cool Hand Luke, for cripes' sake), and the writer credit is frankly unmentionable.

Poke my ass like you mean it — Jenny is giving Moira an injection. Yes, Moira has decided to go the hormone route; not only that, but the illegal hormone route. Am I the only one who saw TransGeneration and thus the only one who knows how disconcerting it can be if your illegal hormone contact suddenly disappears?

Jenny says it turns her on that she's helping Moira become "more of a man." Next thing you know, they're fucking, and the camera is focused on the syringe.

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