“Wentworth” recap (4.8): Fuck The Labels

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It is certainly some of the best shot and best-edited work Wentworth has ever done, and it ends with a straight shot of adrenaline.

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I heard a couple of people speculating that Bea might actually be dead, and I have no information either way. That possibility wouldn’t have occurred to me, given next week’s promo, but God knows I’ve been wrong before. What I think is more likely is that Bea won’t remember exactly what happened to her, only that it happened in a place where only Allie knew she would be. Given the absolute romantic bliss we’ve enjoyed for the past two weeks, it seems inevitable that something will come between Ballie now. But let’s leave those worries for next week and take one more minute to enjoy what we’ve got.

Last week I told you about the cathartic tears that Wentworth let me cry. Even though that episode ended on a high note, the intensity of my feeling was so strong that all I could do was cry. So it seems somehow fitting that this episode, ending with chaos and uncertainty, left me feeling giddy and dizzy, like the first euphoric rush of falling in love. It took me ages to be able to write about it because I was so dazed like an instrument must feel in the hands of a virtuoso.

Living in this age of “peak TV,” we’ve become so accustomed to excellence that we are nearly exhausted by it. I personally feel such a strange sense of obligation to stay up to date on the countless “can’t miss” shows currently on air that I find it hard to take much joy in the experience of viewing. And even though I had to stop this episode several times to stave off panic, I will always come back to this show for giving me pleasure and pain so strong and so pure it feels just like love.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK SEE FRANKIE NEXT WEEK SEE MY SANITY NEVER.

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