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“Glee” Recap (4.01): Marley & Me

When Glee‘s pilot episode aired lo those many years ago, a stunned nation of homogays sat speechless in front of their televisions. I’m trying to remember what we expected back then, back before we saw the first episode. High School Musical 7, probably. Singing and dancing at the most awesome/ridiculous times. And yeah, it was that. But what was stunning was how the melodies were woven through with a harmony of hopefulness and this idea that it’s OK to dream big dreams, that it’s OK to care, and that the most important thing you will ever do in life is create for yourself a family of people who will celebrate the weird and wonderful things that make you you. Nobody understands that sentiment like the queer community. So even before Kurt and Blaine and Klaine and Santana and Brittany and Brittana and Dave Karofsky and Unique, Glee resonated with us. We just knew it was going to be our show.

Unfortunately, Glee couldn’t maintain the tone and cohesion of the pilot episode. Over three seasons, it got a lot of stuff right, but also it tripped and crashed and waffled and clanged and zigged and zagged and sucked donkey balls. In fact, at times, its bungling of LGBT issues and inexplicable sexism have been downright offensive. It has become a show gay people love to hate, or hate to love, or just regular old hate – but somehow it still feels like it’s ours. We want to love it. We want to believe in it again.

I haven’t always been fair to Glee. There have been times when I’ve written about it for AfterElton and AfterEllen from a place of such caustic moral and intellectual superiority that I want to punch myself in the face just thinking about it. But I’m not going to be that girl this year. You know the one. The one who comes to your viewing party week after week and bitches and bitches and bitches and doesn’t even offer to help clean up afterwards, and when she’s gone, you and all your friends are like, “Why does she keep coming over if she hates the show so f—ing much?”

Writing like a jackass is easy – trust me, I know – but I promise not to be that girl this time. Of course, “The New Rachel” makes it easy. It gives me “Pilot” feelings all over again.

Rachel Berry signs her name with a gold star. It’s a metaphor for her being a star. Except for now she’s a student at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, and the whole place is shimmering with talent. The belle of this ball is dance instructor Cassandra July, who is waving around a dancing stick and shouting numbers and insults. She pulls aside a new student and tells her to chop off her own ass because she needs to lose some weight. Of all the lessons Rachel Berry learned at McKinley High, respecting authority was not one of them, so she rolls her eyes. Cassandra July shuts down the whole class to clown on Rachel’s face and her piqué technique and her home state. “Your new name will be ‘Poophio!'” she says.

Rachel tries to get back to the business of dancing, but she trips and falls. Cassandra July squats down to the floor and Rachel goes, “I don’t need any help. I’m OK.” And Cassandra July is like, “I didn’t bend down here to help you. I bent down here to club you over the head with my dancing stick. Welcome to New York.”

McKinley High. Jacob Ben Israel kicks off the season with some expositional interviews, per the usual. For the first time ever, New Directions is at the top of the social food chain thanks to winning Nationals. Artie eats lunch with the Cheerios. Tina employees a freshman personal assistant (and more dialogue than the entirety of season three). Sam is constantly surrounded by a gaggle of ladies. Jacob Ben Israel asks those guys, plus Blaine and Brittany, which one of them will be the New Rachel now that the Old Rachel is living her dream in the concrete jungle. They’re all like, “Me, duh.”

Rachel watches from her NYADA dorm room, where her roommate is busy having all the sex, and Finn is busy doing that half-smirk in a framed photo on the bedside table, and Rachel tries to keep from having an emotional meltdown. She’s taken to performing her nightly ritual in the co-ed bathroom at 3:00 a.m. so her classmates don’t mock her. It sounds like a lonely proposition, but there’s another fellow who has a similar routine. His name is Brody Westin and he is like something straight out of the locker room at Beacon Hills High. He emerges from the shower with a full buffet of pecs and abs on display, and introduces himself as a third-year musical theater student. Rachel is like, “Despite the fact that I look like Rachel Motherf—ing Berry and sing like Rachel Motherf—ing Berry and am betrothed to the world’s most beautiful human, Quinn Fabray, I tend to rely on male validation to empower me.”

Brody Westin, it seems, is just the guy for that. He calls his face a canvas and his hands the paintbrush, or his hands a canvas and his face a paint brush, or his torso a carving of ivory. I’m not sure. But he tells Rachel she’s there because she’s the best of the best and for the first time since arriving at NYADA, she doesn’t want to hurl herself out the window. After complimenting her, Brody makes a point of telling Rachel that he’s straight. (Don’t you love that new characters on this show have to spell it out? Basically, Glee is the only homonormative show on earth. Everyone is assumed gay until proven otherwise.)

Rachel makes her bi-hourly call to Kurt to let him know she’s good everything’s good, it’s all good, her dance teacher worships her, she didn’t step in front of a moving cab this morning and close her eyes and hope for the best, because she’s good, she misses him, but it’s good. Kurt is roaming the halls at McKinley. He stops by Sue’s office to find her cuddling(!) and cooing(!!) the cutest baby(!!!) on this earth. Her name is Robin because Sue is Batman and she needs a sidekick. Sue beckons Kitty, the new captain of the Cheerios, to feed and change little Robin. She introduces Kitty to Kurt like, “This is my new head bitch. She’s like Quinn Fabray without the pink hair, baby-napping, fake paralysis, and closeted lesbianism.”

Kitty’s like, “According to the reality TV shows available on Bravo, I thought all homosexuals were overachievers. What are you still doing in high school?” Uh, wearing a jaunty hat and looking like God’s gift to faces, Kitty! Go away! Kurt will be starting community college next week. His mouth says he’s excited. His posture says he is not.

Will Schuester runs through a smoke tunnel into the choir room blasting “Final Countdown” on his boom box and high-fiving everyone. He literally goes, “Gllllleeeeee!” And oh, they cheer! He says now that glee club is popular, they shouldn’t have any trouble replacing Mercedes, Rachel, Santana, three of the most talented high schoolers in the history of high schoolers. Actually, he’s off to a good start, because the first new member of New Directions is Wade “Unique” Adams. And oh, I cheer. (For real, when she walked in, I air-punched and said, “Yes! Unique!”) The New Directions welcome, however, is tepid. They don’t need more competition for the New Rachel. Brittany isn’t worried, though, because McKinley alumni aren’t allowed to try out for glee club, and she thinks Unique is Mercedes. (“That’s a great haircut, Mercedes. I thought you graduated.”)

Unique says she came to McKinley because McKinley celebrates diversity, and maybe that’s true, but also Unique came to McKinley because she wants to be the New Rachel. Mr. Scue is like, “What’s this rubbish? We don’t win with superstars! We win with team work!” Blaine rolls his eyes because did Will Schuester even watch the first three seasons of this show? He says they’ll settle the New Rachel in the auditorium this very afternoon, Thunderdome-style! OMG, yes! They’re going to lock themselves in a cage and sing each other to death! Finally!

Oh, wait, no. Blaine just meant they are going to have a sing-off to “the song of the summer, ‘Call Me Maybe.'” It’s hard to pull off the “song of the summer” the second week of September because usually people are ready to rip their own ears off from hearing “the song of the summer” 10 gazillion times. The performance is nothing special vocally, but Heather Morris and Darren Criss make those faces that make us love them so much. Tina flips her hair at Brittany one good time and Brittany’s kind of impressed. They ask Artie to declare a New Rachel, but he needs exactly one commercial break to deliberate.

The Lima Bean. Kurt works here now. (You know who else works at a coffee shop, Hummel? Pretty Little Lesbian Emily Fields.) Blaine asks after Santana and Brittany says she’s kind of lonely, what with not being able to scissor over Skype. Kurt interrupts their conversation, the details of which I am sure you will be able to read within six hours at fanfiction.net, to cheer about Friday’s New Directions auditions. He wants to know if his interest is pathetic. Blaine’s like, “Sweetheart, no.” Brittany’s like, “Honey, yes.” Kurt gets called away to fill the biscotti jar and warm up Kitty’s iced latte. Blaine bounces to go buy some more hair gel and Brittany leaves to Google “long-distance finger-bang.”

NYADA. Cassandra July isn’t a monster, you guys. OK, she wrote a letter of recommendation for her TA and it propelled him into the chorus of Wicked. She even gives him a hug and tells him there are no small parts, only small actors. He’s like, “It’s too bad I’m not going to be on this show for real. I am adorable.” She shoos him out to go get fitted for a flying monkey costume, and then makes herself a cherry berry vodka smoothie.

McKinley. It is such a day for jaunty hats in Lima, Ohio! The latest person to display one on her perfect, perfect head is new student Marley. (Dibs! I call dibs on Marley!) She introduces herself to New Directions at lunch, tells them she’ll be trying out for the club, and smiles sweetly at them all, even though Tina is a jerk to her. (Dibs, I said!)

The truce between New Directions and the “truly popular” kids (none of whom we have ever seen before) is apparently based on the glee club’s ability to sell themselves as normal. When Unique joins them for lunch, they tell her to stop being transgender during regular school hours. It’s pretty gross. Also gross is how Kitty & Co. slither up to the table and start dogging the new lunch lady for being overweight. They goad the glee kids into joining their jackassery. Brittany does, on accident. Then Artie does, on purpose. Marley overhears them and almost bursts into tears …

… because the new lunch lady is Marley’s mom. Yes, Marley is a Poor. In a school where Kurt Hummel spends more money in one day on clothes than I do in one month on my mortgage, Marley’s mom is sewing a J. Crew label into her sweater so she can be “the right kind of special.” Marley hugs her mom and says, “Do you really think I have a chance of getting into these viewers’ hearts? Or am I always going to come up short when they compare me to Naya and Dianna?” Marley’s mom goes, “You have magic in your voice, Marley, and also in your face.” She tells Marley to sneak out under cover of her Invisibility Cloak so they won’t be seen together, and I mean, Glee is always as subtle as a sledgehammer like this, but for some reason it’s working on me this time. Probably because of the magic of Marley’s face, like her mom just said. But also, when I was in high school, one of my best friends’ moms worked as a lunch lady and it was awesome. We got double mashed potatoes, double dinner rolls, double chocolate milks for free.

At NYADA, Cassandra July stumbles into class, spots Rachel, goes, “Oh, hi, Poophio. I see you recovered from the literal beat down I gave you yesterday with only minimal damage to your ugly face.” Rachel, who has never seen an episode of Gossip Girl and thus does not know that gin and jam is the Manhattan breakfast of champions, gasps and says, “There’s liquor on your breath!” Cassandra July is like, “It gives my character depth, you twat! And an excuse to sing and dance to a Lady Gaga/J. Lo mash-up!” We’re meant to think she’s the greatest dancer in all the land, but we’ve been watching Harry Shum and Heather Morris for three years now, so we know a thing or two. Mostly Cassandra July writhes and slings her hair around and the camera keeps it above the waist except for a couple of long-distance quick-cuts.

If there’s one thing Smash and Glee have taught me about New York dance studios, it’s that they are bathed in the light of heaven. It is always the golden hour in those places. Anyway, Cassandra July dismisses class without ever teaching class. On the way out the door, she gets in Rachel’s face, all, “I’m the best goddamn dancer at the American Ballet Academy! Who the hell are you? Nobody!” And then she wallops her in the head again with that stick.

Glee club try-outs. Stoner Brett, who you might remember as the guy Kurt said “smells homeless,” raps “Mind on My Money,” much to Brittany’s delight. D’Wanda shows off more dance moves in ten seconds than Cassandra July did in five minutes, and she’s cuuuuute, but she doesn’t ever sing. Jake No Last Name sings half of “Never Say Never” and Unique and Sugar Motta rightly think he’s sexy as hell. Or, well, he is sexy as hell until Mr. Schue stops him mid-chorus. And then, on behalf of all the Not Rachels who were never allowed to finish their solos on this show, Jake thrashes the stage, flipping over music stands and pianos and just generally Hulking out. New Directions’ faces are like, “Well, I have never!” And Mr. Schue’s face is all, “Voice of an angel, issues like a Fabray! Oh, yes!”

One of the reasons this episode worked so well for me is that it pinged a lot of “Pilot” places in my heart without hammering me over the head with a dancing stick. Glee has always loved its parallels and this is one of the most seamless ones they’ve ever attempted. Rachel is no longer on the stage at her high school in Lima, Ohio. She’s in the round room at NYADA in New York City. There’s a new girl on her old stage. Marley Rose. Both of them have something to prove to themselves and to everyone around them. Both of them are just trying to fit in while knowing in their hearts that they were born to stand out. There’s something beautiful and bittersweet about the juxtaposition. In one way, it’s about believing in the beauty of your dreams always. But in another way, it’s about how time doesn’t stand still. When you’re a kid, you think the distance between dreaming a dream and living a dream is a hundred thousand years and billion miles, but it’s more like a single breath. Rachel was standing on that McKinley High School stage. And then you blinked and Marley Rose was standing in her place.

Rachel and Marley sing “New York State of Mind.” It’s a ballsy move, throwing Melissa Benoist up against Lea Michele and asking her to make us love her, but somehow she does it. Even in Rachel’s shadow, she does it. The Glee kids begrudgingly admit that Marley is awesome. And Carmen Tibideaux, who threw one girl out of the round room after three notes of “Ave Maria,” tells Rachel her performance was “nice.” After being literally beaten down by Cassandra July every time she shows up to dance class, “nice” probably feels like winning Nationals all over again.

Beautiful Marley makes the New Directions cut. Mad Jake does not. So he sets the school on fire.

Kurt is cataloging the glee club’s sheet music, which we have never seen them use in 100 episodes, when Artie wheels himself into the classroom and drops the bomb that Blaine is the New Rachel. Everyone is shocked – shocked! – even though Blaine was kind of the New Rachel when Old Rachel was still Rachel. Unique, who has decided not to hide her light under a bushel thank you very much, gets in Artie’s face and goes, “Why do you hate strong black women?!” Which is almost as amazing as Sugar Motta lounging around atop the piano wearing pink sunglasses. Mr. Schue crashes the party to introduce Marley. They welcome her with open arms and Sugar fully Regina Georges her about, “I love your sweater; where’d you get it?” Before stage-whispering to Sam: “That is the ugliest effing sweater I have ever seen.”

Marley is all smiles when she tells her mom that she made the cut. Now, look. I am fine with the way one needs to suspend disbelief to enjoy this show, but Marley’s mom is in the lunchroom pulling a tray of cartoon-sized steaks out of the refrigerator. Steaks! In the school lunchroom! Unless those are going to be Salisbury, I call shenanigans. Anyway, Marley’s mom says, “That Rachel Berry rode the glee train all the way to SoHo!” But Marley doesn’t want to be on Broadway; she wants to be on the radio. She also wants to be honest with her mom. She tells her the glee kids were making fun of her, and even though it stings, her mom says that’s all the more reason for Marley to keep their relationship a secret. She’ll be the friendless daughter of the overweight lunchroom lady, just like all the schools before.

In the courtyard, the new Cheerios are messing around with some plastic glassware, and just when you think it’s gonna be “Red Solo Cup” all over again, Blaine saves the day. Kurt is still hanging around, drinking coffee and giving out tips on how to become a diva. Blaine affectionately tells him it’s time to take the knowledge of his noggin and and the song of his heart and the glory of his face to New York. Kurt knows it’s true. He’s like, “But what if I fail again? What about us?” And Blaine goes, “I believe in you and me and you enough for both of us. They don’t call me Gay WonderTeen for nothin'” Kurt smiles and says, “Be cuter, I dare you.” So Blaine goes and sings a song by Imagine Dragons while double dutch jump roping. All the puppies in the world hang their heads and shuffle home because not even smooshy faces and floppy ears are going to out-adorable Blaine Warbler on this day.

Kurt and Blaine embrace in the courtyard.

At lunch, Brittany makes the pronouncement that she will no longer be singing with New Directions because Blaine murdered the song in her heart. Kitty leads the Plastics in another round of Bash The Lunch Lady, but Marley isn’t having it. She goes, “You don’t know her life! She’s my mom!” Everyone except Kitty is appropriately ashamed of themselves. Brittany even literally facepalms. Marley says she thought these guys were different and storms away with her lunch tray (which probably has twice as much applesauce as all y’all’s lunch trays, jerks!).

Washington Square Park. Rachel is looking at photos of Finn on her phone when Brody stalks up behind her and gets stalky and is also a stalker. He does that patronizing thing people always do when their long-distance/post high school relationship has failed, like, “Oh, you have a teenage boyfriend? I had a teenage girlfriend once. It lasted about ten minutes after I left home.” For some reason, he grabs Rachel’s phone and take a photo of them together. She’s like, “Cool idea, bro! You know what they say about cell phone cameras going off in the final act!” Brody blah blah blahs about how Rachel shouldn’t give up on herself and he’s the new Finn and blah blah whatever. RACHEL BERRY. YOU ARE MOTHERF—ING RACHEL BERRY. YOU DON’T NEED A MAN TO TELL YOU THAT. STOP IT.

Kate Hudson’s abs ab around NYADA like she’s some kind of beach volleyball player. She gets in Rachel’s face in the way that always launches a crack!ship and goes, “Crushing girls like you is my favorite sport, but only because I have been jaded by the industry and it’s my weird, sick way of trying to protect/motivate you. It’s a teaching technique I learned from every dance movie ever.” And then she smashes Rachel in the face with her dancing stick.

At the airport, Dad of the Century Burt Hummel says goodbye to Kurt. He’s given him some money, an emergency credit card, and enough unconditional love to fill a hundred oceans. Kurt asks his dad the same thing he asked Blaine, about what it means if he fails, about how he’ll cope if he falls. Burt says making it in New York will be a breeze after living through the homophobic hell of small town Ohio all his life. They say they love each other the most and some other stuff, but just typing about it is making me cry like a bleating lamb. Burt says, “You can always come home.” And when Kurt gets out of the car, he says, “But you won’t.” And I just … remember when he used to take away Kurt’s car when Kurt would video himself doing Beyonce choreography? And look at him now. Look at them both. You look, I’ll be over here in the corner sobbing.

At McKinley, Sam has a chat with Marley about how he knows what it’s like to be a Poor. (Yesterday I said I rolled by eyes zero times while watching this episode but that’s because I missed the sign in Marley’s locker that literally says, “I love my mom.”) The whole of New Directions invites Marley to join them for a rolicking good time of singing and dancing and diversity in the choir room, and she says OK, as long as they don’t have to sit with Kitty and the Plastics at lunch again. Which is Kitty’s cue to slushie them, of course. I didn’t hate her until she tried to flip her ponytail like Quinn Fabray when she stormed off and now I hope she gets hit by a bus.

Mr. Schue summons Jake to his office and calls him out as a Puckerman. As in Noah “Puck” Puckerman. Puck never mentioned he had a brother, but only because he didn’t know he had a brother. Mr. Schue is like, “Have you ever seen one of those infographics at the vet’s office about how one un-neutered cat can father 144,000 kittens in its lifetime? That was your brother Puck before he joined glee club. Think about it.” Jake is like, “If I join your stupid thing does that mean I have to stop being a jackass?” Mr. Schue says that is correct, that jackasses are not allowed in glee club, proving again that his memory is worse than Dory from Finding Nemo. Jake says he’d rather be a street urchin than a singing sensation.

The final montage is “Chasing Pavements.” Shue teaches New Directions to dance. Blaine takes Marley’s hands and hugs her into the fold. Jake watches from cheap seats. Rachel calls Kurt to tell him she’s not OK. “I wanted that spin-off with you,” she sobs. “But we’re never going to get it!”

“No?” Kurt says. “Turn around.”

She does. He’s there. And for one glorious hour, this was the show I fell in love with.

Welcome back, Glee.

A huge thank you to my Glee screencapping buddy Lindsey (@scenicpenguin) who stayed up all night stalking capping ten million photos of Marley’s face!

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