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“Rizzoli & Isles” Subtext Recap (5.02): Everybody needs a hug

The first time TV death and real life death intersected for me was with Mr. Hooper. Will Lee, the actor who played the Sesame Street storeowner, passed away while still on the show. How the show chose to deal with his passing became a touchstone for the program. The producers made a point to discuss his death, something some people thought was too difficult for its young audience to understand. But in the end, whether you’re talking with kids or adults, death is shrouded in the unknown. Those left behind always want to know why. And the universe is rarely willing to answer.

Big Bird: He is never coming back? … Well, I don’t understand. You know everything was just fine. Why does it have to be this way? Give me one good reason? Gordon: Big Bird, it has to be this way…because. Big Bird: Just because? Gordon: Just because.
No good reason. Just because.

Since news of Lee Thompson Young‘s tragic suicide last August, all Rizzoli & Isles fans have been quietly dreading this day. We knew it was coming; it was an inevitable truth. But we didn’t want to have to feel it again—the loss of such a talented young man. The shock of his death reverberates still. We want to know why. But there is no why, just because.

Since his passing, Lee’s family has launched the Lee Thompson Young Foundation to raise awareness about and erase the stigma around mental illness. It’s a worthy tribute to the man and a reminder to everyone struggling that they are not alone. Reach out, speak up, ask for help. We are here. And, unlike death, the reasons for living are infinite.

Because his death came while cast and crew were shooting the penultimate episode of the fourth season, Rizzoli & Isles producers decided to not address his passing last year. That left the grim task to new series showrunner Jan Nash. It is already a challenge to come on to an existing series with such a close-knit cast dynamic. But when tasked with immediately handling the untimely departure of one of those beloved members, it becomes so much harder. So I did not envy Nash’s position.

The decision of how to depict his death could not have been easy. Some may quibble with the ultimate choice of a car crash. But I have to applaud Nash’s tact throughout the episode. In the end it felt deeply respectful both to Lee the man and to Det. Barold Frost the character. And that, really, is all that matters.

Right. On with the show.

Maura is pruning roses. Mama Rizzoli walks in and they hug. When words fail, the body speaks volumes. Mama R asks how she is doing and Maura replies for everyone, “I don’t know, I don’t know.” Neither do we, neither do we.

Mama R is worried about Jane and how she is handling Frost’s death. So, of course, she asks Maura. At this point everyone knows that Maura is the source of all information on Jane and Jane is the source of all information on Maura. Even in our confusion and grief, there are constants in this world. And that, that is one of them.

Because Jane was so very close with Frost, and because Jane is so very pregnant, Mama R is so very worried. Maura shushes her, which—wow—that is next level comfort with your mother-in-law right there. She reminds Mama R that Jane does not know that she knows. Oy, drop the Clear Blue Easy and let’s get on with this charade already.

Mama R just wants everyone to have a good cry. But Maura tells her DABDA. She goes to hand her a metaphorical tissue for her word sneeze, but Maura politely explains it’s the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Then she explains that referencing seminal work from the mid-20th Century is a critical stage in her personal grieving process.

Oh, wait, did I mention they’re whispering all of this because Jane is still in bed? At Maura’s place? Again? Please, like she wasn’t going to spend the night at Maura’s after news like that. You hold those you love close when times are the worst. Jane comes in and thanks Maura for letting her stay over. This is no time for eye sex, but they give each other condolence eye snuggles instead.

So Det. Jane Rizzoli is off to work, but Mama R thinks she should stay home and feel her FEELINGS. Wow. OK. Who gave Mama R The Big Lesbian Handbook? Because Chapter 4 is literally called, “BIG LESBIAN FEELINGS.” It’s right behind Chapter 3, which is “Scissoring is Not a Thing.”

Jane says Frost wouldn’t want her to curl up in a ball and stop working. But Maura says a little cuddle time on the couch with a cup of coffee couldn’t hurt. Jane nixes the cuddles (I mean, you know they were doing that all night anyway) and goes for the coffee instead. She pours it into Maura’s gold ornamental vase and heads out. Yep, someone never made it to Chapter 37 of the handbook, “Never Mistake Your Femme Girlfriend’s Decorative Ornaments for Drinkware.” Poor Maura.

At the office, Frost’s beloved action figure still stands on his desk. It looms heavy in the room. Like a sentinel, it keeps a mournful watch on our hearts.

Jane arrives, promptly throws out the coffee and uses the “mug” as a pencil holder. So, someone got to Chapter 37 after all, and just wanted to screw with Maura. But Korsak isn’t happy to see her. He’s all, “Go home. I’m your boss. Because I said so.” They bicker (but not nearly as well as our Adorable Bickersons, that kind of bickering takes years of practice). Their feeble attempts are interrupted by Frost’s mother. She has come because she didn’t know where else to go.

Mrs. Frost is overwhelmed by the task of planning his memorial service. Barry’s father is on a mission in the middle of the Pacific and won’t be able to return for the funeral. Hey, where did her partner Robin go? Weren’t they getting married? Did she have to stay back and watch their son? At times like these there are always so many questions and so few answers. Jane volunteers to have them take over the planning for her because she’s a good person and that’s what good people do.

Mrs. Frost tells them Barry would have liked that, because those were the people who knew him best. It’s actually nice to see her again, even under such terrible circumstances. Of the myriad of reasons to miss Det. Frost’s character, one of them is his love and respect for his gay mom.

She leaves, but before a single plan can be made a woman holding a gun and covered in blood stumbles into the police station. Mayhem does not respect a mourning period. Jane and company spring into action, guns blazing. I believe in strict gun control just like the next pinko liberal bleeding heart, but damn, if Jane isn’t hot brandishing a firearm.

The blood-spattered woman gives up the gun almost immediately, but can’t give the detectives anything else. She thinks she might have killed someone, but doesn’t know who. I’m no Maura, but I think that woman is in shock. What? I can Google stuff on Web MD, too.

Jane goes for a much more lesbian approach to diagnosing her current condition, asking her the essentials like, “What city are we in?” and “What’s your favorite baseball team?” Geez, why don’t you just ask her what softball rec league she plays on and get it over with? Jane glances over at Maura like, “See, told ya she was family.”

Maura brings in folding screens to give the woman some privacy while they process her and take her clothing. I’m not sure why they have to do this in the lobby, but it’s probably because that’s where the In Memoriam plaque is honoring the fallen officers. Jane walks up to it and Maura follows quickly behind. Like with any good girlfriend, she can sense a disturbance in the force. And she knows when she is needed.

But Jane already knows what Maura is going to say and, ever the stubborn one, insists she isn’t going home to plan the funeral. She is going to work this case, like he would have wanted.

Maura notices Jane isn’t saying his name, so Jane swallows hard and says, “Barry Frost, there, you happy Dr. Freud?” Maura countered that Freud thought everything was related to some repressed sexual desire. And then she nudges Jane and says, “Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Nudge, nudge. Wink wink. Say no more.” Oh, yeah, those two have totally used those privacy screens before for their own Freudian purposes in the past.

Jane says she has to leave to solve the case, but Maura knows it’s because she mentioned repressed sexual desire. You can’t blame her. If Maura were your girlfriend you’d have to repress your sexual desire all the time just to make it through the day.

Now Frankie and Jane are talking about Frost’s funeral arrangement. He could have a full police service, with all the pomp and circumstance that follows. But Jane says a cop’s funeral becomes a photo op. Then everyone shows up. The Cardinal, the Mayor. And Frost hated the Mayor. In fact, he wrote in former Red Sox pitcher Bill “Spaceman” Lee instead of voting for him. If I don’t like either candidate I just write in “Hillary Clinton.” Damn right, I’m ready for Hillary.

Instead they say no to the police ceremony, no to the Mayor and yes to bagpipes. Then the team argues about who will be in charge of what. Korsak picks pictures and Frankie gets stuck with music. Good rule of thumb, no dubstep. Much to everyone’s chagrin, Lt. Cavanaugh walks in with a grief counselor. And, once again, Frankie gets stuck with the worst job—talking with him first. I know, I know, FEELINGS are hard. Just man up and talk about them, people.

Back in her lab, Maura is examining the now considerably less blood-covered woman. She decides to call her Jessica Doe, to distinguish her from the less lively bodies she normally sees on her table. Then she chats her up more about baseball to confirm Jane’s previous gaydar ping. Maura breaks out some impressive stat knowledge, because you can never show off your Lesbo Street Cred enough in front of a cute possible murder suspect.

Then they talk about hotdogs and mustard and good dental care. If she also clipped her nails I’d say this is just about the perfect lesbian foreplay. Maura brings her findings to Jane and Korsak, along with a healthy dose of Dr. Isles intellectual babble. Jane realizes Maura has named the stray victim/suspect and is worried they’ll have to take her home and raise her as their own now. Give into it, Jane. All lesbian couples adopt strays. It is just our way.

Maura also says she thinks Jessica the stray victim/suspect might be in a dissociative fugue state. Jane and Korsak aren’t convinced it’s not just a dishonest state called faking it. But they drive her around to Indian restaurants anyway because Maura said something about fennel. And we all know that woman knows her spices. And also her ornamental vases, which she swipes back off Jane’s desk.

But instead of finding out who Jessica is, Jane finds a ghost. She glances up and sees Frost standing on the sidewalk. Naturally she freaks out, jumps out of the car and bolts across the street. But, alas, he is not really there. The mind does what it wants when the heart is too hurt to keep it in check.

Afterward, Jane tells Korsak she feels silly. But something in her can’t help but think that maybe Frost is helping them after all. The victim/suspect then hears kids singing “The Wheels on the Bus” as they pass by and remembers she’s a teacher. That’s our Barry, always helping out.

Of course that narrows it down considerably because there are basically no teachers in Boston. Just kidding, there are a shit ton of teaches and Frankie is getting nowhere fast. He is no Frost on the computer. No one is Frost. Frankie is going nowhere for lunch fast, because he kept wondering where Frost would want to go. I joke because that’s what I do in the face of unbearable emotions. Did you hear the one about the chicken and the road?

Jane heads down to Maura’s office to say goodbye. She is finally headed home. Maura invites her back to her place again—where she belongs. But Jane says she wants to be alone tonight and leaves. And then pops back one second later and says, “No offense.”

Yep, ladies, that’s what we call covering our bases so our girlfriend isn’t mad at us and withholds sex as a punishment later. Chapter 24 of the handbook, people. Read it.

Maura asks how Jane is holding out, i.e. fine, I won’t be mad at you this time, but you’d better not make refusing snuggles a habit. Jane says she is tired, i.e. I don’t want to snuggle because you might see me cry and even though I’m mostly butch on the streets, femme on the sheets I like to keep up a façade of toughness because I grew up with two brothers and now work in a male-dominated profession where emotions are seen as weakness.

Maura hones right in on the not crying part. Jane asks her how she knows she hasn’t cried yet. Oh, honey, a girlfriend always knows. Then, of course, Jane tries to deflect and asks Maura how she is doing. She analyzes herself as at the B of DABDA. She is planning her good cry for when she gets to the D. Yeah, lots of lesbians cry if they find themselves confronted with a D. Sorry, sorry—I already said I joke to hide my FEELINGS.

Maura being Maura, she decides this is the perfect time for her and Jane to discuss their final wishes. The couple that funeral plans together stays together. Macabre, but true. Maura wants to be buried at sea, which—really? That’s interesting. I thought she might want to donate her body to science.

Jane nixes the idea anyway because she hates boats and doesn’t want to get the permits and also, stop talking about your death—our love will live forever. But Maura insists. She wants to return to the primordial soup from whence we all came. Also she wants a cello playing Bach’s Cello Suite in G Major and a champagne toast.

Jane is all, I’d be super annoyed with you if you weren’t such an adorable, adorable geek. Fine, burial at sea. But then she tells Maura her final wish is to die one day before Maura so she doesn’t have to live a single day without her. And, um, also she gets to avoid the whole boat thing.

And then they have some eye sex because when you reconfirm that you’ll be together until death do us part, a celebration is most definitely in order.

At her apartment, Jane opens the door to find Mama R making lasagna. But all Jane really needs is a little mama time. Those hugs can help soothe almost anything.

Maura eventually makes her way home, too. But not before she greets the night shift. One of the techs offers his condolences about Frost. And then it happens, Maura hits D. So the tears come. This episode, you guys.

The next morning Maura shows up at Jane’s apartment, because couples have to switch it up to keep things lively. Mama R is still sleeping on the couch, which means no quickie before work. Maura is like, can I at least get some breakfast? But Jane says they have to go to Lily Green’s apartment. The stray has a name. But Maura is still focused on food.

Jane: Why didn’t you eat a muffin before you left the house? Maura: There’s no nutrition in a muffin.
True, Maura, there’s minimal nutritional value in a muffin. But, damn, it sure tastes good. You know they’re not talking about actual muffins here, right? You know a muffin is a euphemism here, right? But, like I said, there’s not even time for a quickie so Jane gives Maura some gum to satiate her oral fixation. Maura looks at it, resigned, and says, “Hm, Juicy Fruit.” I am not even making this stuff up. It’s what happens.

The detectives break into Lily’s apartment. Jane has the Ponytail of Righteous Justice going, so you know shit is serious. She slept alone last night and didn’t even get any muffin in the morning. Some bad guys are going down. But no one is there and the apartment has been tossed. Ponytail Justice, interruptus.

Jane is frustrated, for so many reasons, and bangs on her keyboard back at the office. I’m telling you, girl, shouldn’t have skipped the muffin. It really helps to alleviate stress. They do find out Jessica/Lily the stray victim/suspect had a boyfriend. And while they can’t find him they know his cellphone has been pinging off the same tower. Saddle that ponytail back up, Jane.

So they find him, or what’s left of him. I’ll give this episode this—I have no idea whodunit yet. Or why. But what we do know now after finding the boyfriend’s body is that Lily is a victim, and not a suspect. She couldn’t have shot him because of physics and physiology.

Maura and Jane go to talk with Lily together. At this point, I don’t even question why a medical examiner would ever join a homicide detective during an interview with a witness. Maura just goes where Jane is, duh. In a bit of dialogue that takes on extra meaning, Maura tells Lily that “Pretending that it didn’t happen is not going to change anything.” And then Lily tells them that her boyfriend was, “a good man, I think he just lost his way, you know? He started selling drugs when he lost his job, owed money to someone he shouldn’t have owed money to. And as TNT is so eager to say these days, “BOOM.” They find his supplier/murderer in short order, and then the easy bit is over.

So back to the hard bit. Frankie and Korsak are discussing the arrangements. Korsak is still having trouble with Frankie’s old job, the music. But after visiting Frost’s apartment, Frankie returns with some of his vinyl collection, including the last thing on his turntable. Korsak compliments Frost’s taste. And now it is his turn to have FEELINGS.

After his good cry, Korsak recommends Jane have one herself to loosen herself up. She has a big eulogy to deliver. Deep breath. Steady yourself. This part is going to hurt.

At the funeral bagpipes play “Amazing Grace.” The camera pans the crowd. Mrs. Frost is there, holding hands with her partner Robin. I know it’s a little thing to notice, but such continuity matters. Even Admiral Frost makes it after all. It’s another small, but significant, sign of respect. They’re going to do this right. The music stops and Jane rises.

 

Everything she says is about Barry, but we know it’s really about Lee. We shouldn’t be here today. He was too young and too good for us to be here today. Pictures flash up of Lee as a chid, Lee clowning with his co-stars. These are real, not staged—and so too was laughter and his smile. Even to those of us watching through a screen, it was infectious. Death may have taken him, but it can’t take our memories of him. And that, indeed, is the good news.

It’s short, but true. The scene doesn’t dwell, yet allows us time to grieve. Angie Harmon should be commended for her acting throughout, though there’s no disparagement in saying she probably wasn’t acting all that much. The loss is real. We will miss him. We were so lucky to have had him.

And then it’s over. We could discuss why the writers chose this route to memorialize Lee. A car crash has a suddenness and finality they probably found fitting. If he has been killed in the line of duty there would have been more reverberations echoing throughout the season of that case. And if they chose to mirror his real-life suicide, Nash said in an interview with Slate that they risked feeling exploitive. But the end is the end. And so it has come and the writers, cast and crew should be commended. And also given a hug—a big one.

After the service Jane returns to her apartment. Maura is on the phone with her, of course, fussing over her. She swears she’ll be OK. Jane says she’s going right to bed. And then chuckles because she tells Maura she knows she’d come over and stay with her in a heartbeat. Please, tell me again how they aren’t married.

She sorts through her mail before turning in. But in it Jane finds a postcard. It’s from Barry. After you lose someone, you can never really tell when the tears will come. Sometimes they happen at the obvious moments. At that phone call. During the funeral. And other times they come when you least expect it. When there’s a joke you can’t tell him anymore. Or a song you can’t hear him hum anymore. And you remember again. And it hurts because it has to.

And now, your #gayzzoli tweets. Pass the tissue, friends. We’ll get through this together.

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