Previously on Glee, Rachel broke up with Finn, Kurt broke up with Blaine, Santana broke up with Brittany, Emma broke up with Will. Blaine cried, we cried. Brittany cried, we cried. Rachel cried, we cried. Kurt cried, we cried. Santana cried, we cried. Finn cried, we were like, “Shut up, Finn.”
Finn is working at Burt’s garage and feeling pretty crappy about life in general. He blew it with Rachel when he blew it with the Army when he nearly blew his face off his head with his gun. But Artie doesn’t suffer self-pitying sad-sacks so he asks Finn to help him direct the school musical. It was his uncommon idea to perform that little known off-Broadway show called Grease, after all. Finn is like, “Do I get to make decisions for other people and call it heroism, because in terms of getting my life back on track, that’ll be just the thing.” Artie says yes so Finn says yes.
At McKinley, Sam is psyched on Grease, but Blaine isn’t psyched on anything, including food or sleep or even gelling his hair on the weekends because Kurt won’t return his calls. Blaine knows that the only cure for what’s ailing him is to feel his feelings out loud in song, so he auditions with a rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You” that would make Olivia Newton-John give him a double high-five. But then, the saddest thing: Singing the song of his heart doesn’t fix him, and that’s how Blaine Warbler knows he’s really broken. He turns down the part of Danny, which Artie and Finn offer him on the spot, because he can’t deal with anything romantical when the love of his life is no longer in his life. (I don’t know what it is about Darren Criss‘ sad-face, but it makes me get real tears in my eyes every time.)
Finn sighs and says, “I’m trying to think of a way to make this about me.” And Artie goes, “Don’t worry, I know that’s your move, so I flew Mercedes in from Los Angeles and Mike Chang in from Chicago to tell you how great you are.” Actually, they’ve flown back to Ohio to be the vocal coach and the choreographer, and my goodness, it is good to see them.
Coach Bieste (hi, Coach Bieste!) is a marriage counselor now. Which: sure, that checks out. Will and Emma go to her for some advice about whether or not Emma should trade her career for an apron and follow Will to D.C. to lobby for arts funding. Will promises that if Emma will follow him now, he’ll follow her later and for all time. Her mouth says, “Ohhhkay” to his mouth, but her face says, “…the hell am I doing right now?” to Bieste’s face.
Finn and Artie are blue because they can’t find a Danny, so Finn goes to Bieste for a pep talk because she’s like the only person on this show who hasn’t given his ego a handjob in at least two episodes. She’s like, “Listen, have you noticed how the new characters on this show are just like the old characters on this show, like there are only five archetypes and one way to write them? Jake is Puck and Marley is Rachel and Kitty is Quinn.” Even Finn is able to crack that code, so he heads on out to the football field to find the new him. The new him is named Ryder. He is a wide receiver. He looks like Aaron Samuels from Mean Girls. Grool.
Marley and Unique are in the whiz palace chatting about Grease. Unique isn’t going to audition because she wants to play Rizzo and she doesn’t know if this is a transphobic week or not. Sue busts up out of one of the stalls and goes, “Yep! It is!” Blah blah blah Unique is a dude and he can’t play Rizzo. No, Sue won’t stand for it. Blah blah Ryan Murphy character saying horrible cartoonish shit to minority characters as a “jokey” way to make them sympathetic to Real ‘Merica. (See also: Sue Sylvester, seasons 1-3; Ellen Barkin‘s character on The New Normal, every episode ever; NeNe Leakes every now and again, here or there or probably on American Horror Story: Asylum before the last rape is done this season.) Marley is like, “I really wish you wouldn’t talk like that, coach.” And Jane Lynch is like, “Me too, but I signed a 17-year contract, I guess.”
However, Marley and Unique audition to Pink‘s “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)” and it is awesome. They sound great together. This one’s going straight to my work-out mix.
A new day. Will Finn still be creeping ’round McKinley High? Yes. Yes, he will. He corners Ryder in homeroom and explains that Ryder can be Glee 2.0‘s version of Glee 1.0‘s version of High School Musical. “You could be the echo of the the whisper that ricochets off the reflection of the ghost of Zac Efron‘s abs!” It’s an offer Ryder can’t refuse. He tracks down Artie and Finn and tells them he’d love to be in the musical as long as he doesn’t have to sing. Finn is like, “Oh, you. I mean, mini-me. Oh, us!” They sing “Jukebox Hero” together and this is exactly the kind of hell Doc Brown warned us about in Back to the Future when he explained how past selves meeting up with future selves can cause rifts in the space-time continuum and next thing you know, it’s hell demons and this exact juke box scenario.
Ryder is so hopped up on the knowledge that he has been created in the image of Finn Hudson that he gets his flirt on with Marley in the hallway. Jake gives them the side-eye which causes Kitty to give him the side-eye. She marches over to Marley and Quinns her hard up against the lockers. Then she and Jake sign up for Grease because stealing someone’s would-be boyfriend is like a punch to the stomach, but stealing someone’s would-be solo is like a punch to the throat. They sing “Everybody Talks” and it’s pretty great.
I don’t even want to write about this next thing because it’s so stupid. When I think the writers are mistreating Finn, there’s something weird going on. It’s like Neville Longbottom asking Professor Snape to take it easy on Malfoy. So, here’s what happens: Mike and Mercedes and Artie and Finn are casting Grease. Sue overhears Finn say he’s giving the part of Rizzo to Unique, so she calls him into Figgins’ office and says Ohio isn’t ready for a transgender teenager to star in a high school play. I mean, what’s next? Three states voting for marriage equality and two states voting to legalize pot? And so Finn goes, “Golly gee whiz, Coach Sylvester, I thought you of all people would want to see outcasts have a chance to succeed, what with your baby being retarded and everything.” He apologizes right away but Sue glares at him to let him know he’ll be dead by sundown.
I realize I’m writing this recap like a real jackass, and after I promised to be gentle on this show this year, but good grief. Is it too much to ask for these writers to remember like one thing ever that has happened on this show? Does every character have to start off every episode like they’ve been hit with a Confundus charm? What in God’s name is the point of all these PSA-y lesssons if the characters don’t remember them ten minutes after they learn them? Finn would not call a baby retarded. Sue would not say Unique has “gender confusion.” It’s ridiculous and infuriating and just dumb, dumb, dumb.
Look, every show starts out with shells of ideas of characters. The jock, the head cheerleader, the gay kid, the dumb blonde, the drill sergeant teacher. Right? And then, through the magic of writing and acting and editing and directing, the types of characters become actual characters. They break out of the tired molds and come to life and they want things and they need things and they fall down and they break apart and they get back up and they learn and they grow and they love and they lose and the fictional bodies they inhabit blossom into authentic, organic, three-dimensional characters that reflect our real-life natures back at us. It’s one of the most beautiful things about stories, how real they can be. And you know when it happens. When you’re watching a new show, you can just feel the moment when characters spring to life and break free.
And the problem with Glee – no, a problem with Glee is that they destroy their characters and their fictional universe on the regular to make the same damn point over and over and over again. These characters aren’t growing, they’re not learning, they’re not living. They’re just puppets that get shoved into the closet between episodes and then trotted back out again as blank slates when it’s time to remind everyone that, “Hey, surprise! It’s OK to be different!” At this point, it’s impossible to even say these characters are acting out of character because every week the writers grab a lesson out of the communal recycling heap and shove it at whoever hasn’t had a solo in a while and call it growth. Who cares if that character learned that lesson in season one! And season two! And season three! They didn’t learn it to the new Adele song!
I’ve never seen a show with a more talented cast and a more passionate fan base, and these writers just squander it, over and over and over.
You know how you can prove the point that transgender teenagers and gay teenagers and teenagers with Down Syndrome and teenagers in wheelchairs and poor teenagers and whatever other thing are really just awesome people like all other people and deserve the same amount of love and respect? Show them love and respect! It’s not some kind of revolutionary concept. You want to prove the point that a male-to-female transgender person can play an awesome Rizzo? Just freaking cast her in the part of Rizzo and let her crush it! There! Point proven!
One more thing and I swear I’m going to hush. But it is a gift, as a writer, to be able to create a character or a couple that comes to life. It’s magic. It really is magic. It’s what writers want. It’s what writers strive for. It’s the actual thing that matters. And so when a writer makes that magic and then turns around and goes, “Ugh, why does the audience care so much? It’s fiction,” it is the most insulting and disingenuous thing, and it really gets my goat.
Anyway, Emma decides not to follow Will to D.C. because she’s her own person, thank you very much. Will recruits Finn to be the next Great White Hope; he’ll be taking over New Directions while Schue is out of town. And everyone performs “Hand Jive” and it’s excellent and I spy Brittany getting dragged across the floor and it makes me excited for next week because I think that’s when actual Grease happens, and the cast goes like this:
Brittany is Cha-Cha (perfect), Tina is Jan, Sam is Kenickie (perfect), Sugar is Frenchy (double perfect), Ryder is Danny, Marley is Sandy, Blaine is Teen Angel (duh), Unique is Rizzo. Eat your heart out.
An enormous thank you to my screencapping partner Lindsay. Follow her on Twitter (@ScenicPenguin) and show her some love. P.S. I promise to be nicer and happier and a better human being in next week’s recap.
