BUSHWICK, NEW YORK
When the NYADA storyline kicks off with Santana framed in snowy New York window, you know it’s going to be a good day. When she voices over her feelings about being stranded in a blizzard with a bunch of theater kids, all, “It’s like Eli Roth decided to make a gay horror movie and this is the scene right before we all eat each other,” you know it’s going to be a perfect day. Snowbound together are new roomies Kurt and Rachel and Santana, and also Adam of Adam’s Apples, who is adorably whiling away the day doing Downton Abbey impressions. Santana tries her damndest to make conversation, even attempting to engage Adam on every Anglophile’s favorite topic: Doctor Who. Only, Santana’s “damndest” attempts at politeness last about 5 seconds, tops, so she decides to toss a firework on this pile of homo-kindling and get the party started.
First topic of conversation: Blaine. Is Kurt dating Adam? Because he and Blaine were seen groping one another in no less than eleven locations during Mr. Schue’s wedding. Like, at one point, Mercedes legitimately had to drag their half clothed asses from the backseat of a car so they didn’t miss the alleged ceremony. Second topic of conversation: Why is Rachel so bloated lately?
Rachel bursts out of the bathroom and says Santana has to leave because she’s making her uncomfortable and Brody uncomfortable, and this is her and Kurt’s sanctuary. Kurt’s face is like, “You weren’t calling it our sanctuary when Brody was prancing around here naked three weeks ago runing Cocoa Pebbles time.” He says they should all just relax and have a movie marathon, to which end Santana suggests a whole bunch of pregnancy movies that Rachel doesn’t want to watch. Kurt, amazingly: “Oh, reaaally, Rachel? Not even She’s Having a Baby, ’cause you always cry at the end when Elizabeth McGovern has the baaaaaby.” But no. Baby movies are out. And so Moulin Rouge it is! (We love those dancin’ hoes!)
Blaine leads us in on “Come What May” on an almost shot-for-shot remake of the movie. The set, though, is a kind of cross between the film and what Kurt’s Bushwick roof would look like. Kurt and Blaine sing to each other and hold each other and promise to love each other until their dying days, and the whole time that’s happening, it’s all gauzy flashbacks to the first time they saw each other, the first time they slept with each other, their hands intertwined. The way it’s introduced into the episode, especially after Will’s opening dream sequence, especially knowing what we know about how Blaine is the one who refuses to let go, you totally think it’s Blaine imagining this scene, so at the end, when we find out it’s Kurt, it’s even more of a kick in the heart. His face is so broken because his heart is betraying his head. He doesn’t want to be remembering and he doesn’t want to be hoping and he doesn’t want to be projecting his hidden desires onto the screen, but he cannot help himself.
It’s hard to recap Glee a lot of times because there’s no way to do it and make everyone happy. Shipping is a bloodsport and someone is always gunning for you. And the thing is, I don’t really have an emotional stake in any of these couples. I don’t read their fanfic or watch their fanvids or speculate about their endgame potential in forums. Not because it’s weird or anything, but because when you start doing that kind of stuff, it clouds your ability to be fair to the million other gay shippers who deserve to have their voices heard on AfterElton and AfterEllen too. But there is something about Kurt and Blaine that gets to me no matter how objective I try to remain. If you write about TV for long enough, your heart starts checking out of the experience, but goddamn, man, watching these two sometimes, watching this scene right now — it’s like, every gay thing on TV, I’m always thinking about the emotional ramifications for the LGBT community, the potential for the writers to fuck it all up, how the gay thing is playing to straight people and what the social impact will be.
But Kurt and Blaine doing “Come What May”? I’m not thinking any of that stuff. For three glorious minutes I’m just a gay girl on her couch feeling feelings. Feelings like I felt like when I watched TV as a kid, like it was magic. Deep blue soul magic. Kurt and Blaine fit so effortlessly together and I’m all sighs and cries. I guess that makes me Klainer 12s or whatever, but it’s not everyday a professional TV critic gets to watch TV with her heart.
Jesus. Santana, save me from myself!