TV

“The L Word” Recaps: Episode 6.03 “LMFAO”

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

Transformative: Leisha Hailey’s facial expressions – they turn garbage into comedy gold.

Laughter: Definitely the best medicine, especially when the laugher is Bette.

Jobs: Even deans and talk show hosts can lose them.

Eww: The standard response to Shenny.

THIS WEEK’S GUESTBIANS: Cybill Shepherd pulls rank; Roger Cross twirls Kit; Mei Melançon gives Alice a purpose.

Shaolin Studios – Tina has just arrived at work. Hear those drums in the background? It’s the corporate jungle! She gets a text message: Her boss, Aaron, wants to see her right away. Actually, what he really wants is to scream at her for aiming to destroy Lez Girls – er, The Girls. Tina doesn’t know what he’s squalling about.

Tina: I would never do anything to sabotage this film, OK? I put my life into this film.

Your whole life? Yow; I guess so, but I also hope not. I am reminded of Rosie O’Donnell throwing her heart and moola into a little show called Taboo – and we all know how that turned out.

Somewhere in all the ranting, Aaron reveals the source of his concern: the negative was stolen from the lab last night. He simmers down long enough to say something sensible.

Aaron: I don’t actually think that you were the one who stole the negative, Tina, because you are not a complete and total raving lunatic. Like, for example, Jennifer Schecter.

The guy is a first-class schmuck, but apparently he’s also a keen judge of character.

Tina: And you think Jenny did it?

Aaron: I cannot, in my wildest dreams, imagine anyone else on the planet being that devious or insane. But Jenny Schecter? Piece of cake. And since she’s your friend, Tina, I am holding you personally responsible.

He storms out. He always storms out, so I think it’s losing its dramatic impact.

But wait: He’s holding Tina personally responsible? Because she’s Jenny’s friend? That’s like holding me personally responsible when my dog barfs. He can’t help it, and I can’t do anything about it except clean it up. Oh – OK, maybe that’s exactly the right approach to this situation.

Tina doesn’t seem half as upset as Aaron, but she’s sufficiently moved to utter a threat:

Tina: F—ing Jenny. I’m gonna f—ing kill you.

Oh, boy. Isn’t it fun to collect suspects like this? But I don’t understand why Niki and Tina delivered their murderous lines so flatly. I’m tempted to fault the acting in Niki’s case, but not in Tina’s – maybe they’re being told to be cold and calculating so we can’t guess who the killer is. Or maybe they’re just unable to believe they actually have to participate in this little parlor game. Hey, I’ll bet that’s how Season 6 came about: somebody gave Chaiken one of those stupid murder mystery dinner party hosting kits!

Before moving on from this scene, I have to note that I giggled when Aaron said that Tina didn’t want to “let the girls be released.” Hee. Release your girls, Tina! I guess that would take this show beyond TV-MA-LSV and right into TV-MA-LSVXXXYUM.

Morning (or mourning, depending on your proclivities) – Jenny and Shane are curled up in bed. Shane wakes up to find yippy little Sounder II right next to her on the bed. Sounder! Where ya been? Whatcha been up to? Peed on any conference tables lately?

Shane unceremoniously pushes the pup off the bed. Aww. I don’t know, Shane; that may be the surest sign yet (well, that and Jenny’s eventual expiration) that this dalliance is doomed. Love Jenny, love her dog. Um, unless the dog is pawn in a twisted game of revenge, like the first Sounder was. Maybe it’s better that you don’t get too attached.

Shane gets her bearings, as much as she can in this wackadoo, topsy-turvy world. Somebody should have warned her that when you step through the looking glass into Jennyland, you get sort of twisted up on the way through – fun-house mirrors have a different coefficient of lucidity. I think it’s something like -7734 or -666 or -8675309 . Jenny, Jenny, who can I turn to?

Shane: S—. [looking around, chuckling] I don’t know what to say.

You were right on the mark with that first word you uttered, actually.

Jenny: I’m happy we f—ed.

Shane: Are you sure?

Who can be sure of anything? In this world of pregnant men, vengeful Jodi and hatless Papi, even death and taxes are unreliable.

But Jenny is sure she’s happy. She expresses this by instigating another round of hanky-panky. Sounder, please come back and pull up the sheets, will you? And could you also do hospital corners so we can keep these two under wraps for a while? But the pup is too smart to return to this den of illogicality. At last, the remaining shreds of our retinas are saved by the doorbell.

The bell ringer is Alice. She’s there to get notes on her film treatment. Yes, even Alice has lost the ability to protect herself. She’s like the blithely clueless girl in the horror movie – the one who cheerfully knocks on the serial killer’s door, somehow oblivious to the chainsawed bodies strewn all over the front lawn.

As Alice continues to mash the doorbell the way Max mashes his Xbox controller buttons (um, that sounds wrong somehow), Shane scrambles for her shirt. Jenny, so recently sure about last night, asks Shane whether they’ve made a mistake.

Shane: No.

Jenny: Really?

Shane: [shrugging] You know as much as I do.

What? Is that supposed to be reassuring? You’re telling us that for comfort and clarity, we must turn to the Möbius strip that is Jenny’s gray matter? We’ll never get out alive!

Shane finally answers the door.

Alice: I know that look. Woo!

Shane: What look?

Alice: The “I had sex all night” look. Anyone I know?

Shane: No. No, I didn’t do anything. You know I look like this every morning.

Alice: Oh, my God, who are you kidding? You wear your sex nights on your sleeve.

Your what? Your “sex nights”? That sounds like something Penny Pingleton‘s mother would say. Devil child, devil child!

Alice: So when did Jenny let you back in the house?

Shane: Uh… last night.

Jenny: [from the bedroom] Hey, little monkey? Have you seen my earrings?

Alice: “Monkey”? Wow, you guys, like, super made up.

Right on cue, Jenny bounces out. She and Shane talk like lovers do. (Here come Jenny and Shane again, raining in my head like a tragedy.)

Jenny: Are you gonna do Patrick Dempsey’s hair for some kind of commercial this morning?

Shane: [shyly] No.

Jenny: [teasing, flirting] No? What are you doing, then?

Shane: I mean, um, I’m not … who am I doing? I’m doing, um, Eric, uh, Eric Mabius.

Eric Mabius! Nice touch – that’s the kind of meta that’s actually fun. And how happy is he that he ended up on Ugly Betty instead?

Jenny and Shane go back to the bedroom so that Jenny can “help Shane get dressed.” I would try to describe how this makes me feel, but Alice has already done it for me. She has been present for the entire exchange, the sparks and the body language and the batted lashes. The horror has dawned on her slowly, violently and hilariously. I can’t do justice to her expressions – as Dorothy Snarker notes, her face captures disbelief, shock, nausea and every nuance in between. Her nostrils even flare, and she twitches and squints and reels. It’s simply DeLeishous.

She steps stealthily after the giggly couple and sees them disappear into the bedroom, and then tries to collect herself.

Alice: S—, s—, s—!! Oh, my God!

She shakes her hands in the air as if she’s trying to get something icky off them; she rocks back and forth as if to keep herself from retching; she stamps her feet in an attempt to make it stop. It’s almost like she’s leading the viewers in a game of Simon Says – and I for one am repeating every move. Simon says freak the f— out!

Shane finds Alice and dances around the subject at hand.

Shane: Hi.

Alice: Tell me you didn’t.

Shane: You know that I have to be at work. So we’re gonna talk later.

This isn’t even remotely OK with Alice, but Jenny is back, so she pretends all is well. Jenny offers Alice and Shane a cappuccino. A what? I thought she refused to drink that toxic stuff now. Didn’t she say that just last season? Or maybe that was about carbs. Sorry; I have this pointless, atavistic urge to seek out continuity. I should get that checked.

As Jenny and Shane start to make eyes at each other again, Alice excuses herself and retreats to the bathroom. Once there, she tries to talk herself down, but it works about as well as it works for Rachel Maddow.

Alice: Oh, my God. OK. Don’t think.

So instead of thinking, Alice does the next best thing: she texts the news to all her friends. One by one, we see the text messages arrive at their destinations, in a zippy, happy montage set to “Shut Up and Let Me Go” by the Ting Tings. (I’m not complaining, but what kind of deal did they make to get featured on this show so much?)

Here are the various reactions:

Who Where What How Helena At the gym Shrieks and falls off the treadmill Hilariously Tina In a pitch meeting “What the f—?” Alarmedly Tasha At the police academy Shakes her head and chuckles, saying, “Alice” Adorably Bette In a stuffy board meeting Unbridled guffaws Uproariously Kit At the Planet Has no idea why her cell phone is buzzing Cluelessly

(Sorry; couldn’t get a clear shot of Helena because she was running!)

I have to explain that last text-message scene (Kit). it goes like this:

Kit: Why is my phone buzzing? [to a nearby employee] Why is my phone buzzing?

Helpful Planet Employee: You got a text message.

Kit: A what? A text message?

This reminds me of the time my girlfriend texted Sarah Warn and never received a reply. When questioned a few days later, Sarah explained, “I don’t know how to use that part of my phone,” and a good laugh was had by all. And now Sarah is a totally savvy iPhone user, so there’s hope for Kit yet!

I should also elaborate on the scene of Tina’s text message. She’s in a pitch meeting. The pitchers are Angela Robinson (the director of this episode) and Alexandra Kondracke (the writer of this episode), and they’re describing a vampire movie. Can I please watch that instead?

Alice emerges from the bathroom as Jenny and Shane go to the doorstep to say their good-byes. Helena calls Alice for all the details, so Alice dutifully hides behind the half-open front door to listen and watch, relaying everything to Helena as she does.

Jenny: I don’t have expectations for our relationship.

And then Jenny avers that she wants to “set boundaries.”

Helena: [on the phone] Boundaries?! Jenny doesn’t even know the meaning of the word. She’s never had any boundaries. Ever!

And then it happens: Shane and Jenny kiss. Full-on. On the mouth. Passionately. Gone-With-the-Wind-y, as the South (aka my optic nerve) burns in the background.

Alice’s reaction is visceral and, again, genius:

Alice: Eww! Eww!

Helena: Alice. You’re being childish. They’re both grown-ups; if they want to get involved with one other, then that’s totally their prerogative.

Alice: Shane just said Jenny was a good kisser!

Helena: [jumping up and down] Eww, ooh, ooh, my God, that’s disgusting!

The funny thing about their disgust is that a couple of decades ago (or, depending on where you are and who you’re with, right now), an on-screen kiss between two men or two women elicited the same revulsion-as-amusement. Does this count as progress, or is it just more proof that we’ve gone through the fun-house mirror?

Shane leaves and Jenny returns, so Alice pretends to be on a work-related call. But Jenny’s not as easy to hornswoggle as you might think.

Jenny: Right. Alice, I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention that stuff. [motioning toward the door] You know.

Alice: [nodding] Um … it’s none of my business.

Jenny: Nope.

Alice: [in a way that says no and yes at the same time] Mm-mmm.

Jenny suggests that they start “work” (i.e., discussing Alice’s treatment), but I’m pretty sure Alice thinks today has been plenty taxing already.

Obviously I’ve already spent waaaay too long on that scene, but before I leave it, I’d like to offer a sort of remix. Clearly Alice has witnessed the arrival of a monolith that will change life as we know it, so here’s my attempt to capture that. (Be sure you have the sound on.)

California University – Bette is strolling into her office, talking with Tina on the phone as she walks. Her first order of business is to declare Shenny a “complete and total train wreck,” and the second is to reassure Tina that the missing negative is probably just some misunderstanding. Yeah; I mean, it was definitely a misunderstanding to shoot the thing on film instead of DV, but I guess that’s why I’m not a studio exec.

She sits down at her desk. Jodi and Tom are already there, waiting for her. Bette says “I love you” into the phone, looking at Jodi while she says it. Um. That’s so not classy, San Diego.

Bette: What is Tom doing here?

Tom: Hello, Bette. It’s good to see you too.

Don’t be so smug, Tom: your pregnant boyfriend might end up giving Bette and Tina his baby. Cute little Mini Max Portard!

Anyway, Tom signs Bette’s question (“What is Tom doing here?”) to Jodi.

Jodi: Well, the ADA says I have the right to an interpreter in the workplace. [after Bette looks at her blankly] The Americans With Disabilities Act?

Bette: But you know perfectly well that I can sign.

Jodi: Mmm, actually … your signing has never really been that great. So it’s probably better if you just speak.

What?! That is just spiteful. It’s mean. I cannot stand this version of Jodi.

The dastardly ploy allows Jodi to look at Tom (rather than Bette) while Bette is speaking. Bette tries to keep her voice level as she says that “working together has become very uncomfortable.”

Bette: And since I am the head of this department and I have to have it run smoothly, I think it would be best for you to resign.

Jodi: [after a pause] No.

Bette: Excuse me?

Jodi: I love my job. Why would I resign?

Bette: A few weeks ago, you volunteered to resign from CU.

Jodi: Right. I offered to resign to protect your ass. Which is something I would do for someone that I’m in love with. Obviously I’m no longer in love with you.

Bette: If you don’t resign, then I’m going to have to fire you.

Jodi: [chuckling] Go right ahead.

Jodi walks out. I wish she’d take my memory of this scene with her. No good can come of it.

Back at the epicenter – While Alice and Jenny are discussing the craft of writing a treatment, Alice’s phone keeps ringing (quacking, actually, which is very Alice).

Alice: Getting a lot of phone calls. I don’t know why.

Jenny takes Alice’s stack of paper and points to it accusingly. You! You’re the killer!

Jenny: How long did it take you to write this?

Alice: Oh, I just wrote that in a night; I just kind of stream-of-consciousness spit it out.

Jenny: One night. This took you one night. You people think that you can just come into Hollywood and suddenly you’re gonna make it. And you’re gonna, like, write everything, and it’s gonna be great in one night.

Gosh, who does that remind me of … what was the name of that character from the middle of nowhere who moved to Hollywood and had the writing studio and the swim-coach boyfriend? I think it rhymed with Fenny Fecter.

But really, who can blame Alice for thinking she could write a screenplay in a night? That’s how writing is always depicted in the movies. I always thought I’d have my own personal cinematic all-nighter, emerging victorious the next morning with scraps of paper in my hair and ink stains on my smock and my glasses all askew, a fully formed novel in my hands. It’s alive!

Jenny: My work, to write a screenplay, is a craft, OK? And if you’re gonna sit here across from me, you have to start taking it seriously.

Oh. What if I move over here, a little to the side? Is mocking from an angle OK?

Jenny suggests that Alice practice pitching the movie to her.

Alice: It’s about a, um, talk show host who’s really fantastic, and, um, is dating a cop who’s dark and broody … and they get caught up in this murder mystery.

Hey, Jenny, will you look at that? Clearly Alice did learn your craft: she’s typing up everything that happens around her.

Alice says her movie has car chases and action and romance and “everything.”

Jenny: Except a good idea. Just saying. I mean, I don’t think that’s gonna sell. [shrugging] Pretty boring. But you know, the heart of this is that it’s just not realistic. These two people would never be in a relationship together.

Alice shakes her head and starts to disagree, but there’s no stopping the crazy train.

Jenny: Well, Alice, you know what I think? The future is now. Right now. And this [tapping Alice’s notes] is not the way forward. Because when I’m with you in a group of people, I close my eyes and I’m like, “whoa … eww, yeesh” that girl … ooh, the voice. [pointing to Alice] She should be doing cartoon voiceovers.

Alice: I’ve never really thought of cartoons as a career move.

Bwah! I don’t know what sort of executive Jenny was just then, exactly. I just know that Leisha and Mia are feeding off each other again, and it’s delectable. It’s like Angela Robinson wound them up and said, “Go!”

Someone’s knocking at the door – Speaking of studio executives, Tina is ringing the doorbell. Not just ringing: impatiently ringing and knocking and yelling. Alice is relieved to have an excuse to wrap up this “meeting.”

Alice: [to Jenny, fakely] Thank you, so much, for the inspiration.

Snicker. I wish I could do that faux thank-you thing. I’d probably end up saying, “Suck it, Schecter.”

Alice trades places with Tina, giving her a word of warning in the doorway:

Alice: [breathlessly] Don’t tell anybody I told you ’cause I promised I wouldn’t say anything.

Tina agrees to that, but she has to ask whether Alice is sure about Jenny and Shane.

Alice: I saw them make out. With tongue.

Tina: Eww. Gross!

Tina gleans that Alice didn’t have a good encounter with Jenny, but Tina is too busy being mad at Jenny herself, so they’ll have to talk later.

Alice: Why, what’d she do to you?

Oh, here we go with the murder mystery again. Everybody has a motive! But at least it’s nice to see that our favorite ladies may all band together again, united by this ridiculous notion of wanting to kill Jenny. Murderous instincts: the bond that lasts a lifetime.

Tina marches into the kitchen.

Jenny: [blissfully unaware] I got a new cappuccino maker. Do you want one?

What’s with the cappuccino in this episode? Is it infused with some sort of mind-control serum that makes other people see reality through Jenny’s eyes? Maybe this is the seed of Angela Robinson’s long-awaited sequel to D.E.B.S.: Jenny is involved in a secret government project to put Formula JDS in the nation’s coffee supply. Or … oh, my God, maybe Jenny is the Jenbot!

Tina says she doesn’t want a cappuccino and needs to talk to Jenny.

Jenny: I can make it with soy.

Temptress! Siren! You would have to offer the soy! Tina finally agrees.

Tina then tries to talk over the sound of the coffee grinder; she tells Jenny the negative was stolen from the lab. Jenny proceeds to say, “What? I can’t hear you” but doesn’t actually stop grinding the beans. This is the quirky, exasperating Jenny who made Season 5 so much fun.

Jenny: [finally done grinding beans] Why do you keep on saying the word “negative”?

Comprehending at last, Jenny says it doesn’t matter because the editor “has it on her computer.” Tina says this won’t work because that version of the film can’t be projected – the movie was shot on film, so without the negative, it can’t be printed, and that means no screenings anywhere. Is that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? Or, I mean, wouldn’t it be, if you weren’t watching the most ridiculous show you’ve ever seen?

Tina: No one’s gonna see our movie.

Jenny: [blankly] Are you saying that nobody’s gonna see the movie?

Tina can only roll her eyes. I think she would echo Liz Lemon’s “uh, doi” if she could.

Remember, Tina: things aren’t real for Jenny unless they come out of her own brain/mouth/pen. It’s cognition via proclamation.

The gravity of the situation finally sinks in for Jenny. Tina turns on the studio-exec smoothness and tries to have a “one-on-one” talk with Jenny. She approaches Jenny the way you might approach a twitchy Chihuahua who’s snarling and sitting on your wallet.

Tina: [sweetly, carefully] Is it here?

Jenny: Is it here? You … if I stole it? You want to know if I stole the movie.

Tina promises that nothing bad will happen if Jenny just returns the negative. Yeah, right: Thelma and Louise taught us not to trust that kind of promise, especially when offered by cops and executives. Maybe that’s how Jenny ended up in the pool – she thought it was the Grand Canyon and she was plummeting to her poetic release from patriarchy.

Jenny is shocked by Tina’s accusation and suggests that “that twerp” Adele took the negative. Tina doesn’t know why Adele would do that; it would ruin her career. But Jenny points out that she has even fewer prospects than Adele.

Jenny: If this film doesn’t come out, then I’m totally f—ed. So I need this film to come out.

It’s kind of cute when Mia Kirshner’s Canadian accent shows up, like it did just then with the word “out.”

Jenny reiterates that she didn’t steal the negative. Tina believes her and apologizes. Tina! You believe her? Did you drink the cappuccino?! Maybe when Jenny told you to “smell the beans,” she was offering you an airborne hallucinogen – you’ve just been hoodwinked by the mind-warp machine disguised as a cappuccino maker!

The Planet – Alice is finally getting the scoop from Shane. She wants to know whether Shane and Jenny are a couple. Shane laughs this off and insists that one night of sex isn’t a big deal.

Alice: Shane. It’s Jenny! I mean, I just want to make sure you know who we’re talking about here.

Shane: I’m truly aware of who it is, thank you. But listen: we get each other. We do. And I have to believe she’s not gonna get weird.

You also have to believe in unicorns; leprechauns; Santa Claus; E.T.; gremlins; pixies; Peter Pan; hoodia; ginseng; paintings by cats; the fundamental soundness of the economy; the Bermuda Triangle; Bigfoot; the Loch Ness monster; Jan Brady’s boyfriend, George Glass; the ShamWow; the Secret; the heterosexuality of Ted Haggard, Larry Craig, Jodie Foster, Anderson Cooper and Chet on The Real World; and everything you’ve ever seen on The X-Files and on Fox News. And you have to believe that the WMDs are still out there somewhere; a Nigerian prince needs your money in order to save his country; Bronx Mowgli is a perfectly acceptable baby name; Sarah Palin would have made a good vice president; Pat Summitt makes as much money as Geno Auriemma; Penny isn’t Desmond’s constant; Forrest Gump, Jerry Maguire and Claire of the Moon are brilliant films; you were always on Willie Nelson’s mind; the Cashmere Mafia writers handled the Caitlin story line expertly; Kissing Jessica Stein ended just the way it should have; Tina Fey isn’t very smart; Cheeta the chimp was in Bedtime for Bonzo; Bernie Madoff is a stand-up guy; Daniel Day-Lewis won’t drink your milkshake; the Grey’s Anatomy producers appreciated Brooke Smith’s unique beauty; and separate is equal.

I mean, if you’re really gonna own this make-believe fairyland thing. Just saying.

Alice: I’m just … you’re expecting Jenny to set boundaries. It’s like … what?!

She points out that even the most level-headed person would be freaking out after sleeping with his or her roommate.

Shane: Just because it happened, doesn’t mean we’re going to add water and become instant relationship all of a sudden.

As Shane says this, she gets a text message. It’s Jenny, asking her to get beer on her way home. Oh, so you won’t add water – you’ll add beer. Now you’re just quibbling over beverage choice, Shane.

Alice knows this is a sure sign of danger – it’s so obvious, it renders her speechless.

But the assault on Alice’s core values has only just begun. Shane makes a confession:

Shane: Listen, between you and me, if it was to happen again …

Alice: What. What is that face?!

Shane: I wouldn’t … I wouldn’t mind.

Alice: Oh, God.

Shane: It was good.

Alice: How good was it?

Shane: Better-than-I-expected good.

Well, OK. But is that sort of like saying that the 44th president is going to be better than the 43rd president? The bar is very low. But I’m probably projecting my own expectations, which would be, like, swimming-with-the-manatees low. Depths-of-the-Daniela-Sea-acting-skills low. Level-of-Chaiken-self-awareness low.

Alice predicts that Shane will sleep with Jenny again tonight. Shane insists she’s not planning on it.

Shane: At the end of the day, I really am happy that she’s back in my life.

Well, we certainly are at the end of the day. The end of the day and the beginning of Armageddon.

Alice looks like she wants to stage an intervention, sort of like she did Season 1 when Bette and Tina had become “boring.” Grab your clipboard, Al, and make your list of pros and cons. Make that “pro,” singular: comic relief!

Anyway, it may be too late. Look how koo-koo-eyed Shane is already! She’s totally been swilling that psychedelic Jenbot cappuccino.

Phyllis’s office – Bette is trying to have that conversation about “implacable Jodi” – you know, the one she started with Phyllis last week, when Joyce’s junk got in the way. But Jodi has beat her to the punch, and is about to punch her in the gut.

Phyllis: Jodi has given me her side of the story. So if there’s anything you think I should know, now is the time.

Bette: Well, Jodi agreed to resign several weeks ago, and I simply asked her to submit that resignation.

Phyllis patiently points out that the reason for that resignation (the Justin Donovan gun-to-the-head incident) no longer exists. But Bette’s point is that the underlying problem continues to nettle her: namely, Jodi’s failure to recognize any authority but her own. Isn’t that the hallmark of a good artist? Not that Jodi is practicing any art but revenge these days.

Bette: As my subordinate, she has repeatedly demonstrated that she is determined to make it as uncomfortable as possible for me to do my job.

Phyllis: So, you threaten to fire your ex-girlfriend because having her around makes you uncomfortable?

Bette: No, I … that’ s not what I said. It’s a question of authority, Phyllis.

I’m sure Joyce would say that it’s really a question of which lawyer you hire.

Phyllis: I’m really shocked, Bette. I would never have imagined that you of all people would allow this … this dyke drama to interfere with you doing your job.

Ugh, that’s the second episode in a row that has featured the phrase “dyke drama.” It does serve as a helpful reminder of exactly what we’re watching, though. Sorta like that giant logo that hovered at the bottom of the screen throughout the premiere of Prayers for Bobby.

Bette insists that “dyke drama” isn’t a fair characterization of this situation, so Phyllis offers another, very precise assessment:

Phyllis: When you entered into a sexual relationship with a subordinate, as you referred to her, you relinquished your right to fire her. Because that’s what’s called sexual harassment.

Bette: [to Jodi] Are you threatening to sue me for sexual harassment?!

Jodi: [innocently] That thought never occurred to me. I’m not really interested in lawsuits.

Phyllis doesn’t care whether it has occurred to Jodi or not (I think we all know it probably has); she’s just trying to protect her kingdom.

Phyllis: I cannot allow you to expose this university to this kind of threat. Have I made myself clear?

Her Chancellorship dismisses her subjects. As they sit next to each other for a few seconds, Bette and Jodi look like the masks of comedy and tragedy. Or maybe the masks of smugedy and shockedy.

Jenny’s house of boundaries and cappuccino – Shane is napping (you know, because of the “sex night”). Jenny wakes her up to tell her that she’s finished her “whole treatment.” If only this were a reference to some sort of therapy, instead of more prattle about her film treatment.

Oh, my mistake. It’s more like shock treatment:

Jenny: I was thinking about you.

Shane: You were?

Jenny: I was. Everything that we did last night.

Shane: And what were you thinking?

Jenny: I was thinking that I liked it.

So they do it again. At least the scene is really dark; I think this was Angela Robinson’s way of helping us cover our eyes.

On the set of The Look Oh, right: Alice is still a talk show host. I forget that these people have jobs.

It’s time for Alice’s salacious segment on secrets, but today she’s not interested in outing any celebrities. She has received a letter from someone whose brother recently died.

Alice: [reading from the letter] My brother’s dead because he wrote a love letter to a guy named Marcus. And Marcus shot him in the face. I’m writing to ask you to please tell your viewers that it’s not OK to hurt gay people.

Alice’s co-hosts and producers are freaking out about the heavy turn this normally lightweight show has taken, but Alice is determined to use the daytime medium for a different message.

Alice: I know I’ve justified outing in the past, saying it’s a political act. I certainly do believe that the world would be better if people felt free and safe enough to be who they really are, but what I forgot was some people choose to stay in the closet for other reasons. One of those reasons is homophobia is alive and well, and oftentimes in this country, it can be deadly.

The audience is silent, so the vacuous co-hosts cut to commercial. This whole thing is obviously a reference to the Lawrence King tragedy. That was a horrible, terrifying hate crime that should never be forgotten. But here we are again with a scrapbook instead of a script, which sorta undermines the gravitas.

Still, it’s nice to see this version of Alice. From LOL to PSA in just a few short scenes: that’s our girl!

Shaolin Studios – Tina is back at work. As she makes her way through the office, everyone stares at her. Why does this seem so surreal? It’s not just the stares; she’s walking around like she’s never been there before, or like she’s not quite sure who she is. It’s the L Word meets Mulholland Dr. – is she Betty? Is she Diane? Is she dead? Is this a dream? Where’s the blue key? ¡Silencio! ¡No hay filma!

Tina asks an assistant what’s going on.

Assistant: Aaron wants to see you right away.

Tina: [weakly] Again?

Aaron has just printed a copy of a recently faxed document. He reads it aloud:

Aaron: Dear Deluxe Motion Picture Lab, please release the Lez Girls negative to the East Side Messenger Service, who will arrive at 8 p.m. tonight. Sincerely [passes the letter to Tina] – you wanna read that signature for me?

Tina: Oh, my God. You don’t actually believe that I did this.

Aaron: Is that or is that not your signature, Tina?

Tina: Yes. But I didn’t write this letter!

Aaron: Then you’d better find out who did. [storming out again]

Tina: Ffffaaahhhkkk.

I wonder who sent that fax? Maybe Patricia Velasquez did it because she didn’t get enough screen time last season. Really, who could blame her? But there I go, mixing up all the meta again. It can be so confounding.

It’s more likely that Aaron has concocted this whole thing to get rid of Tina. He obviously hates her now, to the point of having an aneurysm every time she’s in the room. It’s like Stanley’s biofeedback machine on The Office, going haywire whenever Michael gets within two feet of him.

A bar made of awkwardness – Phyllis and Bette are out for a drink. But it’s not a very relaxing one.

Bette: So you want me to resign?

Phyllis: Yes.

Bette: Look, I know I’m not the only administrator at CU who’s ever had a relationship with another faculty member.

Phyllis: No, but you’re the only lesbian administrator who’s had a nasty public breakup with a faculty member.

Bette: So this is because I’m a lesbian. Or is it because you’re a lesbian, Phyllis?

Phyllis admits that she’s partly covering her own ass. (She’s probably covering Joyce’s, too, because clearly the Lovesick Flasher can’t be trusted to do that herself.) Phyllis also reminds Bette that this isn’t her “first offense”: Nadia filed a complaint against her too. Bette is stunned to hear that, and wonders (just like we do) why she didn’t learn about it at the time. Phyllis says she didn’t want it to blow up, so she just covered it up. Yeah, and, uh, we couldn’t get Jessica Capshaw to come back to film the scene because she got a better offer. (Hasn’t she been cute on Grey’s Anatomy lately?)

Bette starts to remind Phyllis that this isn’t a great time for her to be out of a job, what with the baby on the way.

Phyllis: Bette, don’t grovel. It’s beneath you.

Speaking of things people shouldn’t say, Phyllis begins to slowly reveal that she’s had a crush on Bette for a while now. Bette almost misses the news entirely – she’s so busy drowning her sorrows in peanuts, she can’t hear anything but the crackle of the shells.

Weirdly, Phyllis makes a Jimmy Carter reference to go with the peanuts.

Phyllis: As Jimmy Carter once said, “I’ve strayed in my mind’s eye many times.”

And here it comes:

Phyllis: Bette, I’ve always found you wildly, exquisitely attractive.

Bette emits another deep chortle.

Bette’s hearty laughs in this episode are so scrumptious, they almost rival Tasha’s. But they’re almost desperate, too, as if she finally sees that yes, she is the victim of a very elaborate cosmic joke. Several of them.

Bette tries to get Phyllis to stop confessing her love. She reminds her that she’s engaged to Joyce.

Phyllis: Joyce is wonderful. Oh, yes, she’s TCB, she’s good in bed, makes a good living, tight with Mayor Newsom … but if you gave me the smallest amount of encouragement, I would lose her in a second.

Bette: [in disbelief] You just fired me.

Phyllis: I know. But it may be the best thing that ever happened to both of us. Bette, you are and will always be the woman of my dreams.

Phyllis puckers up and leans over, forcing Bette to spin her way out of the kiss and off the bar stool. Ack! Phyllis! What are you thinking? It’s like you’ve been spending too much time watching Bad Girls, especially that scene where Helen says, “I’m not your jailer anymore, which means I can do this” – and then plants one on Nikki. But unfortunately, this is just nothing like that.

The Planet – Some flowers have arrived for Helena. Kit is impressed, but Helena isn’t.

Helena: Next time Dylan Moreland sends me flowers, Kit, just please, don’t accept them.

Kit: OK, I’ll throw ’em out.

Helena: No, that’d be a waste. Let’s put them in a bathroom, or … [seeing a pretty young thing at the bar] maybe we recycle them. [taking a flower and going over to the PYT]

I’ve seen this pointed out elsewhere, but that bartender does sorta look like Elizabeth Keener, doesn’t she? If only Dawn Denbo were actually stirring up drinks (and people) at the Planet.

The talk show host, the cop, and the wardrobe – Alice is trying to find something to wear.

Alice: I guess hate crimes aren’t “fun gay”; they’re depressing gay. And now I’m going to this f—ing 7:00 meeting where I’m gonna get fired.

She plans to apologize and beg to keep her job, but she’s having trouble finding the perfect outfit. As Alice presents several possibilities, Tasha reclines on the bed, wearing an absolutely perfect outfit herself.

Tasha doesn’t know why Alice wants to apologize, considering she’s not actually sorry.

Alice: I will be sorry if I lose this job. I do not like being broke.

Tasha: But Alice, you don’t always get rewarded for doing the right thing. I mean, some people get punished. I got punished.

Alice: Are you really gonna make this about you right now? Are you really gonna do that, make it about the f—in’ Army right now?

The phone rings, saving us from another round of that classic lesbian game, Whose Needs Are Biggest Right Now. Tasha picks up the phone.

Tasha: It’s some woman from the L.A. Gay and Lesbian Center.

Alice: Tell her I donated last year.

When Tasha tries to give the woman the brush-off, it turns out not to be quite so easy. The woman doesn’t want a donation. She wants Alice to help her “talk down” a young woman who is about to jump off a ledge.

The Gay and Lesbian Center – Jamie, the woman who made the phone call, is thrilled to see Alice. Incidentally, Jamie is played by Mei Melançon, who can also be seen canoodling with Lauren Lee Smith (the actress formerly known as one Miss Lara Perkins) in the movie Pathology.

Jamie leads them right out to the roof to rescue Marie, the desperate teen. As Dorothy Snarker said, this suddenly feels like a classic ABC Afterschool Special. Alice, if Helen Hunt shows up, do not accept anything she offers you! Same goes for Jessie Spano, and she might actually be hanging around somewhere.

Jamie: Marie doesn’t believe me. She was already out there when you read her letter today, and she thinks I’m just making it up to get her to come in.

Alice interrupts Jamie and says she doesn’t know how to do this whole saving-a-life thing.

Tasha: Alice isn’t qualified for this. She’s not a psychologist.

Alice: I’m not.

Tasha and Jamie continue to discuss Alice’s qualifications or lack thereof, and before you know it, Alice is on her way to the ledge to sit next to Marie.

Alice tells Marie she just got fired for reading that letter on the air. But she’s not sorry.

Alice: Millions of people heard the truth today. They heard what you had to say. They did; I mean, you changed the world a little bit when you wrote me that letter. You really did. And if you stick around, you could help change it a lot more.

Marie: Is that what you’re trying to do? Trying to change the world?

Alice: I don’t know. Maybe I am in my own little way.

OK, but you might have to do that from jail. Hey, maybe you could start a version of OurChart in jail – call it OurCage. Instead of the Hookup, it will have the Lockup. On second thought, never mind. That whole thing is just tired now. OurYawn.

The Hit Club – Gosh, this joint is really jumping. There’s even a velvet rope and a line. Maybe Dusty (Helena’s former cellmate) should have a cameo as a bouncer.

DJ Sunset and Kit have taken their sideshow outside. They’re surveying the crowd and taking a break. DJ Sunset guesses that all the boys used to love Kit.

Kit: I had my share, back in the day. But men … they just mess me up.

Sunset: What about women?

Kit: Oh, women? Oh, puh-leeze, they can mess each other up too. I can’t begin to tell you how much drama I see.

You see it, and sometimes you “Girl!” it, but you so rarely get to participate in it.

Sunset: Oh, but you’re happy now. Happy with Helena?

Oops. Kit doesn’t try to correct Sunset’s misinterpretation of her “partnership” with Helena. Sunset isn’t really that interested anyway; she soon excuses herself to fix her face.

By the way, Sunset is played by Roger Cross, and he’s not ordinarily in drag. He did get to romance Queen Latifah in Mad Money, though, and that qualifies as fabulous.

Inside, it’s time for one of those great group scenes. Yay! It starts with Tasha toasting Alice.

Tasha: To Alice! I wanna say that she really surprised me today, and I’m very proud of her. And I’m very happy and proud to be her girlfriend.

Awww. So cute. Who needs therapy, anyway?

Outside, Kit sees Jenny and Shane making out in the parking lot. The resulting expressions on Kit’s face are just like Pam Grier’s expressions in every blaxplotation movie she was ever in – specifically, the scenes in which she happened upon a cop or a drug lord or a pimp.

She hightails it back to the Filipino prison camp – er, I mean she goes back inside the club.

Inside, Bette has apparently just told the tale of her super-crappy day: getting fired (“Technically, I resigned”) and getting hit on by Phyllis (“And she didn’t make out with me; there was no way that I was gonna make out with her”).

Uh, I wonder how Tina feels about all of this? Why didn’t we get to see her reaction? “Hi, honey, I’m home. Oh, and I got fired today because … well, you know. But I promise I share your values now!”

Kit interrupts, all a-flutter with the abomination she has just witnessed.

Kit: I just saw Jenny and Shane in the car. Shane’s hand was all up Jenny’s skirt and Jenny’s tongue is all going down Shane’s throat –

Alice: Kit. Kit! You don’t know how to check your text messages, do you?

Kit: Is that what my phone was doing all the buzzing about?

Everybody shushes her as Shane arrives. They offer Shane some overeager hellos – except for Bette, who is too tipsy and too amused to do anything but chuckle into her martini.

Shane: Why are you laughing?

Bette: Nothing. Just, we were talking about this … nah, I had something in my throat, and I …

This causes Helena to burst into chortles too. And her laugh is delicious too! Why have we been deprived of these aural feasts? Thank you, Angela Robinson, for bringing the fun. It’s so much better than the funereal.

They all toast Kit and Helena and their newly redecorated club. Jenny arrives, prompting Alice to mutter, “You showed up all by yourself.”

Bette says, “Hi, Jenny” as innocently as she can, and Jenny says, “Hi, Bette” in a perfectly weird, exaggerated way that sends Bette into another fit of cachinnations.

Shane continues to wonder what’s going on as they all continue to laugh, but Shane and Jenny are also too busy staring at each other to really care. Bette’s paroxysms continue – did we know she was such a happy drunk? The only other time I can remember her being drunk is when she was on the prowl in NYC. That wasn’t quite so giggly and bubbly.

Helena and Kit talk about their new club, including the V.I.P. room on the second floor. Jenny decides to go check it out. Cue Shane:

Shane: Hey, Kit … how big is this place? You said there’s two levels?

And of course Shane has to go check out that second level.

Alice: [mocking, in a doofus voice] Oh, there’s a second floor?

I love love love love it when they all sit and talk and generally behave like friends and human beings.

DJ Sunset, now at her mike and tables, asks for the fabulous Kit Porter. Kit sashays onto the dance floor and twirls and whirls and laughs with Sunset. At first I did not approve of this little rendezvous at all, but I’m coming around. If Sunset is going to treat Kit like a lady, that’ll go a long way with those of us who are tired of Kit being treated like an extra.

Up on the second level, Jenny and Shane can be seen watching the crowd and chatting.

Jenny: Are you OK lying to all our friends?

Shane: I don’t care. I really don’t … it’s between you and me.

And now what’s between them is a thin slice of air, as they embrace and kiss. And as all their friends laugh and laugh and laugh – especially Bette and Tina. It’s almost maniacal, actually, and it feels like four laughs at once: Bette and Tina laughing at the slings and arrows of life, and Jennifer Beals and Laurel Holloman laughing at the lunacy of The L Word.

Let’s all raise a glass and laugh with them, shall we? It’s the best way to turn folly into jolly.

Next time on The L Word: Jenny explores her boundaries; Bette gets a job offer; Helena goes on a date.

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