When I saw that Pretty Little Liars got straight-up snubbed by this year’s Teen Choice Awards, I rolled my eyes and laughed because of course it did. It’s the perfect irony. This show is a lot of things, and one of the sliest is a biting commentary on all the ways society tries to control female sexuality – especially teenagers’ – and convince girls they’re powerless.
Why do we celebrate a show like Lost, with its heightened reality and surreal, long form mysteries, but scoff at a show like Pretty Little Liars? I’ll tell you why: Because the loudest thing we say to teenage girls is “You’re not worth hearing because you’re so silly!” The Liars rub up against that noise every single week. Lost gets to tag itself “critically acclaimed,” but PLL has to tag itself “guilty pleasure.” Start honoring a show that refuses to play to the patriarchy, and who knows what’ll happen. Teenage girls will realize their sexuality endows them with power instead of shame, and whoo boy, will we ever have a revolution on our hands.
It is a pleasure to watch a program that knows what the f–k it’s doing, and I’m talking all the way around: Marlene King has her pulse on the heart of this narrative. Every direcor, from Norman Buckley to Dean White, brings it big screen-style every week with their direction. (Watching an episode of Secret Life after watching PLL makes my eyes bleed.) And the chemistry between the actors is only making everything richer and more real.
Remember when Aria’s former babysitter came to town and tried to get her swerve on with Mr. Fitz? It was the episode when Emily got drunk, so it’s understandable if you’ve forgotten everything else. Anyway, Aria tells her old babysitter how grateful she is that she made her stop watching The O.C. to read Wuthering Heights, and oh, how I bristled at that. Because Josh Schwartz is an infinitely better storyteller than Emily Bronte, for one thing. And because nothing pisses me off like art wankers who get off on spitting at Skins while quoting Proust. Naomi Campbell has enriched my life far more than ol’ Marcel ever could. (“You couldn’t make me feel all right if you stapled your tongue to my clit and stood on a cement mixer.”)
What I mean to say is, in lesser hands, Pretty Little Liars would have never made it past a half-season pickup, but in the masterful hands of its creative team, it has become an absolute treasure, and it makes exactly zero sense for people to scoff at and snub it. “What’s that, Spencer? Your sister’s husband is a voyeuristic pedophile who tried to murder you? You must be mistaken; you’re just a silly little girl.” “What’s that, Pretty Little Liars? There’s no way Teen Wolf deserves a Teen Choice nod over you? You must be mistaken; you’re just silly little girls.”
Hey, how good was last night’s episode of Pretty Little Liars? So f–king good.
Spencer returns to the pawn shop to buy back Melissa’s wedding ring, but A has replaced it with a horseshoe. Out in Knockturn Alley, she explains the situation to the other Liars while a dude literally rummages around in the garbage and The Eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg watch over them. It’s a nice touch, but I really wish Spencer had worn her Jordan Baker getup for the occasion. Or that Hanna had gotten run over again. Emily’s face is priceless when their phones start beeping at the same time, just like, “JFC, what now?!” It is A, of course, talking about, “I AM GOD ALMIGHTY.”
Remember how Spencer’s mom used to be the point person for the parent contingent? Not anymore. Not only because she was s–tty at it, but also because she no longer exists. The new HBIC ’round these Rosewood Parts is Ella Montgomery. She will be policing the Lying situation from her home, where she has returned to her role of pancakes purveyor, and from Rosewood High, where she has taken over the junior class’ literature curriculum, One Billion and One Ways to Murder a Mockingbird. Nothing will escape her notice. Except the fact that her son’s transformation to sociopath – under the tutelage of Noel Kahn, one supposes – is 89 percent complete.
Nothing’s getting by Ashley Marrin this morning either. Hanna tries to talk her way out of solo therapy, but Ashley’s like, “Between me being a burgling prostitute and Alison bullying you into bulimia and your dad being just the worst thing, we’re frankly lucky that petty theft is the extent of your criminal activity.” Pam Fields is up an at ’em, too, because a package of Danby swag has arrived on their doorstep, and that can only mean one thing: “Someone at that school really wants you!” Emily’s like, “You said a mouthful there, sister.”
At school, Lucas is freaking out about how he can’t stop freaking out about his impending date with Danielle. He’s like, “My game is off!” And Hanna gets helpful about, “Honey, you have less game than Caleb has homes. Which is zero.” In the lunchroom, Caleb wanders up and looks affectionately at his bunk-mate over Hanna’s shoulder, sighing about how just yesterday, Hanna was stomping on his heart for cash, and now he’s going on a date with a real girl all by himself. They agree it’s a terrible idea, and decide to chaperon him.
When Hanna was at Rosewood Hospital getting the tire marks removed from her cleavage that one time, it seemed like the lighting was warm and friendly. But not anymore. Or at least not on the floor where Dr. Wren works. It’s straight up 1950s lunatic ward green up in there. Which suits Spencer just fine as she goes marching in and demands an audience with the good doctor. There’s a nurse with him and Spencer goes, “I’m sorry, but -” and it seems like she’s going to say “Could you excuse us for a moment?” But her face gets really hard when the nurse doesn’t melt under the intensity of her gaze like a normal person, and she goes, “Could you, like, not be here right now?” Everying about Troian’s delivery in this episode is magical.
In some kind of medical supply room, Wren explains the intricate details of his involvement in Melissa’s schemes: “She needed nebulous medical supplies, which I provided out of guilt. But not all the nebulous medical supplies she requested. No, indeed. Upon my honor, I only treat the wounds of a zombie if I see him face-to-face.” Spencer grabs his crotch, all, “Upon my honor, your testicles will be the first thing to go if you don’t help me.”
Annabeth Gish, hi! Your hair looks better than it ever has done, and that is saying something! Hanna is attending her first solo therapy session. Since she refuses to talk, Annabeth Gish is calmly explaining how clocks work. Finally, she’s like, “So, how are your friends?” And Hanna is like, “Nice try, lady.” And Annabeth Gish is like, “Speaking of your friends, Ali damaged them for sure, but she f–ked up your headspace in a much bigger way. Maybe you could pretend Alison is sitting in this chair. Why don’t you tell her everything you never got to tell her when she was alive?” And Hanna’s like, “Yeah, I gotta go.”
Unnecessarily long basketball montage. You know how many faces we could have watched Spencer make in the time it took to show all those shirtless guys? Sort out your priorities, PLL! Guess what? Aria’s brother isn’t at his pickup basketball game and he hasn’t been at his pickup basketball game in several months. But you know who is at the pickup basketball game? Jason DiLaurentis. Frankly I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to get nekkid; his pecs have been peeking out of every shirt he’s worn since he got his new head. He spots Aria and flirts with her in the grossest possible way about how attractive she was when she looked more like a child. Aria’s into it for some stupid reason. And I mean, yeah, Mr. Fitz is older than her, but he’s the only dude on this show who hasn’t infantilized her. Go away, Jason. This town ain’t big enough for two Boo Radleys. (But congratulations on your pecs.)
Emily won another swim meet, and you know Pam Fields was in the stands wearing her “Danby Mom!” shirt and waving her “Danby Mom!” flag and hollering about, “Danby full scholarship!” the whole time. Samara confirms it when she lezzes on up to Emily talking about, “Your mom told me you’re going to Danby, so I have, of course, taken the liberty of signing a four-year lease on an apartment for us! Aria and Ezra will certainly let us have the pick of the litter when their love cat has kittens!” Emily’s like, “That is definitely the correct next step in a relationship according to lesbianism. We have, after all, been on one date. However, that scholarship letter was a lie.” Samara goes, “You wrote it and mailed it yourself?” And Emily’s like, “You would think the explanation would be that easy, wouldn’t you?”
Pam’s trajectory of awesomeness is just stellar right now. After fawning all over Emily’s swim skills, she looks back and forth between her and Samara and realizes there are some gay lady feelings going on. Seriously. This is so good. Nia Peeples gets this so right I can hardly handle it. Pam is a little bit awkward and a little bit afraid, but she’s so determined to be awesome for Emily, to make up for all the times before, that she nearly knocks Samara over with the force of her affability. She shakes her hand and says she’s heard so much about her and then insists that she come over for a home-cooked, poison-free dinner. I am so freaking nuts about this storyline. Remember when Pam almost fainted in the pantry because of Emily smiling at Maya? And now this? God bless you, PLL writers, for actually showing us the story.
After Pam bounces to prepare what will no doubt be a five-course meal, Samara’s like, “If the truth about Danby comes out when I’m there, maybe your mom won’t get so mad!” Emily’s like, “Girl, she will kill us both with a single swipe. Have you seen her biceps? But thanks.”
Spencer returns home to find a note from her nonexistent parents, which she reads out loud – punctuation included – with a voice dripping with enough sarcasm to make even Dorothy Zbornak swoon. She sneaks out to the barn and finds Melissa’s suitcase filled with Ian’s things, plus Ian’s passport, plus a package of Doctor Wren’s Cure-All.
Spencer calls Aria and asks for a sleepover, and Aria shoots her down like Emily the week before. Dummies. They agree that they’d have this case solved in no time if they could just spend some time in the Mystery Machine, munching on “Scooby snacks” and putting their “noggins” together like Velma and Daphne taught them lo those many years ago. Their reminiscing is interrupted by an intruder in the Montgomery house. It is Mike. Aria’s like, “I went to your pickup basketball game today to give you your keys, which apparently you don’t need since you just got into the house without them, but rumor is you’re out whoring it up with Noel Kahn.” She threatens to tattle. He threatens to tattle. They slam their doors in each other’s faces and scowl. Tale as old as siblings.
Hanna and Caleb are chaperoning Lucas and Danielle’s date in the most awkward way possible. Hanna climbs into Lucas’ lap and wipes the Cheeto dust off his chin and then wonders why Danielle thinks she’s into him. Watching Hanna Do Good is somehow the most heartbreaking business. Oh, the things that girl needs to prove to herself. Or prove to Alison’s ghost. Or prove to her mom. Or prove to everyone, really.
At another awkward date across town, Emily and Samara are cuddled up, flipping through some of Emily’s old scrapbooks, when Pam pops in on them to make sure their feet aren’t touching. Samara works her so good it’s scary. She compliments Pam’s scrapbooking skills, bonds with her over hot glue, and explains how athletic recruiting works: “Think about what would have happened if Emily had settled for her first girlfriend. Drug dealer, ammirite? Now extend that train of thought to colleges. Danby is the Maya of athletic scholarships. Beautiful, certainly, but her parents – may they rest in peace – had tattoos instead of wedding rings.” Pam’s like, “I see your point, Samara. I will wait a few more episodes before I cause this plot to come crashing down around Emily’s ears.”
Emily, your new girlfriend is a really good liar. You better have Spencer keep an eye on that one.
Spencer’s still got Dr. Wren’s balls in a vice and he’s squeaking into the phone to Melissa about how he needs to see Ian to treat him in person, which: How can you not just love this show? In this scene alone, you’ve got a doctor calling a lady to say this exact thing: “You know Ian? The guy you married after I kissed your underage sister, whom he then tried to murder? I need to do some work on his staph infection.” Melissa agrees to let Wren follow her to Ian, which of course means she’s agreeing to let Spencer follow Wren to follow her to Ian.
Therapy. Hanna busts up into Annabeth Gish’s office because she’s finally ready to confront Alison’s ghost. This is one of the most emotionally resonant, well-acted scenes PLL has ever done. I mean, just some serious, real life s–t right here. Hanna explains to Annabeth Gish that Alison was the worst person on earth, but also she was like a fairy godmother. Like the Turkish Delight Edmund Pevensie eats in Narnia: It makes you sick, but you can’t control your craving for the delicious taste. Hanna talks to the chair: “Alison, you were the best friend I ever had. And that meant a lot to me. You meant a lot to me. But you were also the worst enemy I ever had. And I can’t believe it took me this long to realize that.”
And, you guys, Alison f–king answers her. It’s so intense. Alison says every single thing that Hanna is afraid of, just knits it together and hurls it at her like it will level her, like it leveled her all the times before. Hanna untangles all of it, separates the fears from the grief and the guilt from the rage, and she says goodbye to Alison’s ghost. It’s amazing.
Also it means someone’s ass is gonna get murdered.
When Annabeth Gish returns to her office, the place has been ransacked and there’s a threatening, misspelled note on the wall in neon pink blood talking about, “Nosey bitches die.” Gossip Girl is so embarrassed for you right now, A. You could have at least used some kind of song lyric or limerick. Or a dictionary.
At home, Ashley’s like, “Hanna, you didn’t happen to black out and rip Annabeth Gish’s office to shreds after your amazing breakthrough today, did you? It’s just that she taught you how clocks work and then someone smashed up her clock and the camera lingered on it, so.”
Hanna doesn’t have time to deal with this latest confirmation of her insanity because it’s time for Spencer’s nightly SOS text.
The Liars follow Wren following Melissa to Ian’s lair. They hide in the bushes and discuss how every single one of them has almost been murdered about ten dozen times because of nosing up into creepy situations with no escape plan, and do they have an escape plan this time? No, they do not. Someone, I don’t even remember who, is like, “Let’s take a photo of Ian with our phone, which will obviously convince the cops we’re not obsessed with him/somehow involved in his disappearance/murder.” While they’re working out the finer points of their scheme – how to keep living, for example – they hear Melissa scream.
Every Liar goes running and – you knew it! but you didn’t know it! – Ian is dead! Dude has shot himself in the head and left a suicide note about how he killed Alison and can’t outrun the law or something. Melissa’s just sobbing over there like there’s not a hundred other Satans in this town to help her raise her demon baby, and everyone else is just super grossed out and shocked and also relieved, and the camera’s like, “Hold up, I’m not finished BLOWING YOUR MIND. See those horseshoes up there? ONE OF THEM IS MISSING. Probably it’s the one Spencer bought at Borgin and Burkes this morning. BOOM!”
Outside, the Risen Mitten puts someone’s phone in someone’s purse. Inside, Melissa is still just a-wailing: “Beelzebub! BEELZEBUB!!!”
Y’all were on FIYAH with your #BooRadleyVanCullen Tweets last night!
