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“Last Tango in Halifax” recap: Infected with Lesbian Spores (Ep. 6)

If we created a drinking game for each time I cried big, sloppy tears during this finale of Last Tango in Halifax, let’s just say that we’d all be shitfaced halfway through. I started off watching this series thinking it was a cute little show about some oldies falling in love; I’ve finished it believing it’s some of the finest television I’ve seen, anywhere, ever.

We left off last time in a bit of a mess: a drunk, grieving John had blurted out Caroline’s lesbianism to the entire family, upsetting Celia in particular. At the end of her birthday dinner, Caroline ended up in the hospital waiting on Judith, who took a drunken, bloody tumble at her house; knowing little of the storm that was brewing all around her as Celia and Alan drove over from Halifax in the dark. Kate waited at Caroline’s house with the boys, who are both now in the know, until she arrived home. We begin this time with Celia and Alan dropping off for a coffee in the middle of their ride, where Celia drops this bombshell: She’s always known. Caroline, in fact, came out to her when she was 18, at the end of her first year at Oxford. She came home and had “cut all of her lovely hair off.” Let’s just all take a second, shall we, and imagine Caroline as a youthful dyke in college, full of rebellion and Sapphic feelings? It’s enough to make your heart swell. Perhaps now is a good time for our first drink. Celia’s response had been, “For God’s sake, don’t tell your father. Or anyone else.” She continued, “Not for my sake – but for hers.” Ah, the classic parental response. So concerned with us not hurting that they don’t realize the hurt they’re doing themselves. Alan, intrigued, asks what happened next. Nothing, Celia says. There was one girl – “You know when they say a name once too often, in a particular way…” Do I ever. How obvious we all are!

And after that? Well, Caroline met John, and that was it. It was forgotten. As Celia surmises, “I suppose I imagine she got over it.” Got over it. Oh, Celia. Celia, Celia, Celia.

Meanwhile, Caroline has finally arrived home, and after she pours herself some wine, Kate delivers the bad news, all of it. Caroline seems to take it surprisingly well, with a healthy amount of rage at John, of course, but seeming more tired than anything else. And perhaps it helps that it’s Kate who’s telling it all to her. Even now, after a long evening, their conversation flows naturally, more relaxed than Caroline typically is with anyone else, and when Kate excuses herself from the house as Caroline prepares herself to check in on Lawrence, they share a reassuring hug, a “we can’t do this all together yet, but we’re going to get through it anyway, and I care about you, OK” type of hug that leaves Caroline staring at Kate’s back as she walks away. And then Caroline enters Lawrence’s room, and it’s been so hard to get a good grasp on who Lawrence is in this series. While the anger of William makes him seem more defined, more relatable, Lawrence is still just a kid who wants to be silly, who wants to hang on to his dad even when he knows somewhere inside himself that his dad’s done wrong. And when Caroline enters his dark room, it is full of his curled up, shoulders shaking, convulsive, scared sniffling. Caroline says quietly, “I love you,” and sits on the edge of his bed. And suddenly he bolts up and grabs on to Caroline for dear life, smashing his face into her neck, and as they rock back and forth for a bit, you can just barely make out when he says, still sniffly and muffled, “Don’t want people being mean to you.” Grab your glasses of alcohol, guys, because this is where I lose it. When Lawrence’s first thought is that he doesn’t want people being mean to his mommy – I can’t. Bless you, dear little boy. She cradles his head, assures him in her typical Caroline way: “Nobody’s going to be mean to me. I won’t let them.” And then a second later, “Believe me, I can handle mean.”

The next morning, John wakes up in Gillian’s bed alone. He discovers her outside trying to fix the clutch on her new/old lesbianmobile, with the pitiful assistance of Paul, who’s become one of my favorite comedic bits on the show. Just his constant, pathetic presence makes me giggle; I’m glad that everyone has just sort of accepted his existence in their world at this point. Anyway, Gillian quickly puts John in his place. He asks if there’s anything he can help her with on the car. She raises herself fully upright from under the hood and retorts, “How likely is that, on a scale of 1 to 10?” He mumbles, “Right, yeah, fair enough.” Snort. He then implores, as if he can’t believe she’s acting so casually right now, “We made love.” Without missing a beat she says, “You were upset. It was my birthday. We were both a bit pissed. Go pour yourself some tea.” Double snort. She then adds, “And then you better ring Caroline, because I think you owe her one hell of an apology.” The depth of my love for you know no bounds, Gillian.

On the other side of the lush English countryside, Caroline approaches her mother’s little cottage. While Caroline normally walks with her head high, right now her posture is decidedly different, purposely humble and quiet. She apologizes to Celia for the way she heard the news. Celia says that she assumes it was rubbish. Oh, Celia. Caroline takes a seat, and she starts to tell a story. She tells a story of a woman having a hard time after her husband had an affair, and how some people were kind to her, and some people weren’t.

“I think people are scared of me, or think I don’t need a kind word now and again. But she didn’t think like that. And we became close. And then she told me she had a bit of a crush on me. And one thing led to another. She thinks the world of me, and I think a lot about her, and it’s what I want.” It’s a lovely story, but one that has no affect on Celia. She asks all the typical things: Why can’t they just be friends? You can’t just switch! Why is this so sudden? (It’s not sudden, Caroline says; I’ve always known, I tried to tell you.) Why did you marry John? I’m sure there are plenty more men out there! At which point Caroline’s patience starts to crumble. “Oh, Mum, just try to GET IT. I’m too old to try and pretend anymore.” She then says she’d like both Celia and Alan to meet Kate.

Celia: Is that her name? Caroline: No, she’s called Zanzibar, but I just call her Kate for short, it’s easier. Celia: No. Thank you. I don’t think we do want to meet her. Caroline: [Sigh] She’s called Kate McKenzie. She’s nice, she’s kind, she’s thoughtful, she’s – Celia: Is she Scottish?” Caroline: No, she Nigerian. No, I mean, she is Nigerian, that wasn’t me being sarcastic.

Celia has finally run out of things to say at that point, except to remark that she and Alan have decided against getting married in Caroline’s school’s chapel, as had been previously agreed upon. This appears to be news to Alan. Indeed, all of this seems to be news to Alan. And the next scene we see is him arriving to Halifax by train, alone. He meets Gillian, and they go to a pub, a pub where I would like to be drinking some pints right now, too. Alan relays all the news to Gillian, including the fact that Celia also wants to move out of her cottage next to Caroline’s house ASAP. Gillian asks the obvious question: “What, is she afraid she’s going to get infected with lesbian spores?” The Lesbian Spores = my newest band name. Sorry, I took it first! Not related to anything but important: Nicola Walker’s eyes and face in general look so wonderful here I can hardly stand it.

More related, and also important: It’s clear that Alan is deeply upset by all this. Which makes me want him as my own honorary grandpa even more.

Meanwhile at Caroline’s house, John wanders in and slumps against the kitchen counter to have a conversation with Caroline about what she thought about during all those thousands of times they had sex. You see, John is feeling downright mopey because he thinks this is all about penis and men feel so sad when they feel their penises are inadequate. Caroline assures him it’s not a reflection on him, if that’s what he’s worried about. John sighs and looks at the floor and slumps even more. He says he feels used. Caroline’s face reacts like this: To emphasize the point that it was in fact she who was used for too long, Caroline decides now is a good time to explain how she spent last night helping Judith around to her flat. When John asks why she was at Judith’s flat, she responds, “I was having sex with her.” She allows a few seconds of horror to wash over John’s face before informing him it was a joke. *slaps knee* Holy crap, is Caroline hilarious. I don’t know what’s better, this or the Zanzibar line, but they are both damn good. When John accuses Caroline of always bringing things back to herself, she also knocks out this killer line, which I want on a banner, or a bumper sticker, or a tattoo or something: “Yes, well, I have the great advantage of having me on my side.” BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE! ALL HAIL CAROLINE.

Alan eventually does pressure Celia into meeting Kate; Caroline says she’ll cook dinner for everybody, minus John. She tells Kate about it as they walk down the school corridor, right before she bursts into a rowdy classroom and starts yelling something in Latin at the frightened children in the loudest, angriest Teacher Voice I may have ever heard and yeah basically Caroline is hot. In case this wasn’t already established.

The night of the dinner, Celia and Alan sit in her cottage counting down until 8:00, with Celia assuring Alan that she ISN’T bigoted, or small minded, or old fashioned. Promises which quickly begin to unravel as the dinner begins, a dinner that has potential to go well, as Kate enthusiastically tries to drum up a conversation about the hope and beauty apparent in Celia and Alan’s romantic reunion and all that. Yet Celia is so distracted by Kate touching Caroline’s hand at one point that she turns surly and rude to pretty much everyone, including Alan. When Kate presses, “You must feel so special, and so happy,” about reuniting with Alan, Celia says dismissively, “Oh, I don’t know, I suppose so.” Ouch. The night turns increasingly bitter from there, with Celia and Caroline eventually excusing themselves to have a shouting match in the next room, a shouting match that of course everyone still sitting at the table can hear perfectly. Celia says Caroline’s making a fool of herself. That it “turned her stomach” when Kate touched her. That Kate’s just using Caroline to get a promotion. And, worst of all, that Caroline told her herself that she doesn’t love Kate. When she told her about Kate that one morning, she says, “You said, she thinks the world of me–but I didn’t hear you say, ‘And I think the world of her back.'” Not surprisingly, after this, Kate calls herself a cab. Lawrence excuses himself to his room, Alan awkwardly follows Celia out, and poor William, who has also just been called a “puff” and a “pussy” by Lawrence with no one really coming to his aid, is left at the table alone. Caroline runs outside to try to keep Kate from leaving. Kate says through tears that she always knew that she cared more about about Caroline than Caroline did about her, but she didn’t have to tell her mom that. Caroline notably doesn’t say, “But I DO care about you just as much” here, not that Kate would have believed her at this point, but Caroline does eventually resort to pitiful pleas for her to come back inside. Oh, this really was the lowest blow of Celia’s, out of all the other ridiculousness. Don’t you guys know that Caroline just isn’t as open to show off her emotions so readily? Aren’t the lengths she’s gone to prove that this is something she wants evidence enough?

Alan can’t hold in his complete and utter disappointment in Celia anymore, and we once again see Gillian waiting for him at the train station in Halifax the next morning, where he steps off the train, once again, alone. They share another pint at the pub while Gillian tries to make sense of everything Alan tells her, which is, essentially, that he and Celia had come to the end of the road. “Oh, Dad. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” And there is nothing worse than seeing your dad cry, or your hypothetical honorary grandpa cry. The only thing that would make this better is if Boyz II Men burst into the pub for a performance of “End of the Road,” but they don’t, so everything just sucks. Other than Gillian’s eyes which are still real nice. And even with all the awful things Celia has said, it’s still heartbreaking to see her so heartbroken, and Anne Reid‘s acting job has been absolutely smashing. You see it in her eyes, you can almost feel the devastation in your own bones. And when she goes to talk to Caroline the next afternoon you think it might be to apologize and seek comfort, yet she chooses the path of anger once again, blaming Caroline for everything that’s happened, telling untruths that are so transparent at this point – that Alan wouldn’t want to marry into a family such as this, all amuck with lesbianism and whatnot – that you almost start to feel sorry for her. Caroline says that if it’s any consolation, Kate’s finished with her, too, even putting in her resignation at the school that morning. Caroline then outright explodes, calling her mother a “nasty, small minded old bitch” who’s going to “die alone, very bitter and very, very lonely” and that she’s glad she’s heartbroken because “Alan is worth a thousand of you,” storming out of the kitchen with a final, “Fuck off.” Celia has gasped, “Oh, Caroline!” and covered her ears in pain, and the only person left to comfort her is pathetic old John. Caroline rushes to her room, and William steps into the hallway just in time to see her slam the door and then hear her gut wrenching sobs emanating from inside. And oh God, I am drinking pretty much constantly at this point, because whose pain is worse at this point, Celia’s or Caroline’s? Each of their anger carries its own vital hurt, its own potent sadness. Over in Halifax, Gillian and Alan are chilling on her cozy couch post-pub and Gillian’s trying to tell him how she Like Likes Robbie and maybe always has, when Alan starts to get a slightly pained look on his face with his hand on his chest. Gillian asks if he’s alright, he says it’s just a bit of indigestion. NO. NO. IT IS NEVER INDIGESTION! NO. I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN! NOOOOOO.

Before we get to see what happens next, we first see Celia pulling her car up, surprisingly, to Kate’s house. She sits down and gives a great spiel about how much she loves Caroline, and how unhappy her own marriage was, and how the truth is she always thought it was her fault, the lesbianism, projecting her own unhappiness with her husband onto Caroline. Kate tries to tell her, “That’s not how it works.” But whether or not Celia does truly understand how it works, she knows she was wrong, and asks for forgiveness, and implores Kate to not leave her daughter. And then they show up together on Caroline’s doorstop, and after a moment of shock, Caroline smiles. Celia then returns to her own cottage, and as she starts to unlock the glass doors, she thinks she sees Alan waiting for her inside, smiling and warm. She gasps with happiness, rushes in, shouting his name. And then she looks around and realizes he’s not there; he was never there at all. GIVE ME ALL THE ALCOHOLS YOU HAVE, I’M DONE. When Celia drives over to Gillian’s house, Paul explains what’s happened, the heart attack that happened right where Celia’s standing now, how his heart stopped but the paramedics were able to get it started again. (Paul was “right impressed.”) Celia then rushes through the halls of the hospital with the panicked face of someone who’s about lose something they love, and when a nurse finally stops her to ask if she needs help, she asks how she knows Alan, and Celia replies, “I’m his best friend.” Welp. When she finds his room, he’s lying unconscious and Gillian can’t stop crying and Celia keeps saying, “I need him to know I put everything right,” and basically this show is a life ruiner. Gillian takes Celia into the hall and sobs some more, explaining that the doctors told her they have to be brave because he could only have a matter of time. As Celia sits with him, we get to see a glorious little flashback to their youth, to that time we’ve heard of so often throughout this series, when Alan asked Celia out when they were teenagers and she left him hanging at that bridge, waiting, waiting. We’re brought out of the flashback as current day Alan croaks, “I always knew you’d come – even if it took you 60 years.” Everything is rainbows and unicorns and sweet, classic love stories! Celia fills him in on the good news: Kate can play the organ, which will come in handy for Celia’s desire to walk down the aisle to “The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba.” And as Handel starts to play, the first series of Last Tango in Halifax finally comes to a delicious close. Tony Gardner tweeted me last week to let me know they start work on Series 2 in June. This seems like too long, but for a show such as this, it’s worth the wait. Thank you for everything, you beautiful, beautiful show.

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