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“Skins” Retro Recap (3.04): “Pandora”

Thanks for being patient for Pandora’s recap! If you haven’t already read Rophy Does Panda, what are you waiting for? Free LOLs are waiting!

As always, there are series four spoilers in this recap’s business.

“Pandora” is the first episode of Skins I ever watched, and that almost didn’t happen because some Naomily shippers jumped me one time, early on, and ripped me a new one because I left Naomi and Emily off a list or something. I don’t remember. But they were just vicious in a way I still don’t understand even though my affection for Naomi and Emily knows no boundaries or end now. Like light.

So anyway, I got the flu and was stuck in bed and the words of the sweet and tender Naomily shippers broke through my fever: “No matter how you bend the space-time continuum, Naomi and Emily are the best lesbian couple on every tesseract.”

The general consensus was that I should start on episode four and take it from there, and I didn’t know anything at all about the lesbian couple, even what they looked like. So when we open on Panda snuggled up to Effy’s feet, I thought it was them. I spent the first ten minutes of the episode thinking it was them, which weirds me out so hard now, and doesn’t even make sense because of how Panda is going bonkers about Thomas.

I think it’s creepy now, though, just like I did then, that Anthea is watching them sleep.

Panda is making out with Thomo’s charm necklace and whispering, “Please come back. Please come back.” And when Anthea is sufficiently weirded out, she announces her presence with tea. (But what if Panda and Effy really had been a couple? Knock first, Anthea!) (Also, can you even imagine Jenna Fitch watching Naomi and Emily sleep in the same bed? Her head would twist round-and-round like the Exorcist as she plotted the most brutally inefficient way to axe murder Naomi. “It was a six-seater table!”)

Stray observations: 1) Lisa Backwell is so pretty. I think these may be her prettiest Skins moments, with the camera all hugged up to her face in the the morning light. It probably helps that I can’t see the horrific hodgepodge of patterns and colors Panda is undoubtedly wearing under the covers. 2) Effy’s bed is the Hopen from IKEA. 3) The art over her bed is one of those great Skins design touches: A stolen Daily Express sign that has been modified to say “Daily Sex.”

Panda gives Anthea spelling, geography and physics lessons, explaining that love is a four-letter word that she applies to her relationship with Thomas, who lives in the Congo (a democratic republic on the equator, bordering Gabon and Cameroon) which makes it sort of impossible for him to get a train back to Britsol. Anthea is really only interested in having a conversation riddled with double meaning about the affair she’s having and the brilliant things that accompany said affair. She tells Panda to wake up Sleeping Beauty, and so Panda pounces her because Panda is the cuddliest kind of puppy.

Downstairs, Panda is in full white-noise mode, explaining what they did last night and not even pausing to take a breath when she flips the story completely for her mum when she calls to see how her work went at the mission. Mr. Stonem is aghast about the the “pack of lies,” and Panda unabashedly says (still on that same breath) that she can’t tell her mum the truth, of course, and Effy concurs, taking a swipe at her own mum about how the truth makes things go BOOM! Which is an interesting retrospective image, Effy Stonem, beautiful bomb.

Mr. Stonem’s one friend in the whole world shows up to confess his love for Anthea, which sends him shouting and storming out of the house, and Effy too, and Panda chases after her.

Panda: You think your mum and funny bit have been, you know, making monkey?

Effy: Yes, Pandora. They’ve been making monkey.

Panda: Wow. Surfed and turfed?

Effy: Yep.

Panda: Eff. Eff, don’t cry. Does this … does this mean you’re not coming to my pajama party?

Effy: I’m not crying.

Panda: Right – but my party?

There’s an interesting thing that happens in this episode with Effy and Naomi both needing to feel safe, and Panda and Emily telling them half-truths to make them feel that way – unselfishly because they love them, and slightly selfishly because Panda and Emily just want Effy and Naomi to stay close to them.

Effy says that Panda’s party sound like fun because they can get “totally, totally f–ked.” And Panda explains, again, that it’s a pajama party, which involves pajamas – and Twister. Effy wants to know why she and Panda are friends, and Panda says it’s because none of Effy’s guys want to get off with her and she’ll do whatever Effy says, which isn’t true at all. She loves Effy more than anyone else because she sees her like this, in these moments, and this scene makes me sad the same way it makes Rophy sad because what a terrible, terrible waste not to explore Panda and Effy’s relationship in series four.

But I can’t stay sad for long because Katie Fitch’s laugh tinkles in my ears, and also there is the horrific sound of Danny guffawing like f–king Davy Jones some more. Danny leers at Effy’s breasts and ignores Panda – even though she is the most buxom buddy in this entire group of friends – and Katie is full-on propaganda about how Katie Fitch is played by Katie Fitch, with her weed and pills and skeezy boyfriend, but then she notices that Effy is upset.

Katie asks if she’s OK, and Panda goes with the jungle analogy about her mum making monkey and her dad going ape, and when Effy looks away, Katie makes the most beautiful, beautiful face, and it is so full of empathy and compassion, and it’s just a hint of glory Katie is going to grow into. But for now she just tells Danny to f–k off.

Panda’s mum has strategically placed balloons outside the house to let everyone know about Panda’s party, and did you know I am terrified of balloons? As soon as Panda starts touching them and her fingers start squeaking on the latex, I shut my laptop down. Every time. I can’t help it. Panda tells Katie and Effy that she also invited Emily and Naomi, and when Katie protests about Naomi, Panda says Emily wouldn’t have come otherwise. Effy goes, “Aww, sweet,” and pulls out her “Original Naomily Shipper” flag and waves it around.

Inside, Panda bellows for her mum like a fog-horn and they do some breathing exercises before Panda introduces her to Effy and Katie.

Panda’s mum: Effy, we meet at last. Panda’s told me so much about you.

Panda: Yeah, you know Eff, your missionary work.

Effy: Yes. I try to do as much of that as I can.

Panda’s mum: That’s good. There’s so many bad things in the world. Boys. Drugs and guns. Alcohol. Boys. Evil things. I’m glad Pandora’s found a channel she can pour her energy into.

Effy: Well, yes. All the seaman like her.

Panda’s mum: Seaman?

Effy: Oh, yes. Loads of seaman. Some of them are homeless as well. We’d all love to see Pandora get her own missionary position.

I could watch Meg’s face in this scene one hundred times in a row and never get tired of it.

In the kitchen, Panda starts a round of “London’s Burning” which is … a celebratory children’s song about the Great Fire? Is that right? Didn’t that fire destroy like 13,000 houses and 100 churches? Aren’t there only like a dozen pre-fire building left in London? Those black and white ones? Is that really what this song is about?

Anyway, Effy and Katie use the hullabaloo to lace the brownies with MDMA.

Naomi trudges up to Panda’s door and hears the singalong happening in the kitchen, and so she puts on that face she sometimes does, like she’s wondering if she’s stepped into a parallel universe where everyone is off their nut, like with Arse-isa. Creepy next-door-neighbor is creepy, but Naomi doesn’t jump the shrubbery and bludgeon him with his pruning shears because Emily wanders up and calls out, “Hi!”

Naomi sighs because she still hasn’t figured out that throwing herself into Emily’s path is going to result in her … being in Emily’s path. It’s honestly like her body just takes her to these places of its own volition. Naomi smiles to herself, her brain catching up with her feet: F–king hell, did it again! She turns around to face Emily, holding – note – an armful of alcohol between the two of them.

Emily: I’ve never been to a pajama party before, so I brought vodka. Is that right?

Naomi: Dunno.

Emily: I don’t wear pajamas?

And, I just – Emily Fitch is just magical. I know I’m always going on about how Effy has magic, and she really does, but it’s very powerful, very general Veela magic that blinds men with lust and then kills them. Emily’s magic is particular and she keeps it locked down most of the time, but if she wanted to seduce you – if it could ever be just about the sex for her, and not also the thing behind the sex – you would wake up tomorrow morning completely naked, feeling like the opposite of a hangover, chuckling for you don’t even know why, reaching out to hug the sunlight, with no memory of what happened last night except that it was the very most awesome thing in your grownup-life – and then you’d realize you were floating above your bed a little and covered in crimson-colored fairy dust. I don’t wear pajamas?

Naomi: I don’t know why she invited me anyway; I hardly know her.

Emily: I asked her to invite you.

Naomi: [Sighing] I thought we sorted this out.

Emily: No, I didn’t mean it like – well, it doesn’t hurt to get to know each other, does it?

Naomi: Emily –

Emily: We’re in the same class. We’re going to be hanging out together for the next two years, and –

Naomi: You going to tell people you’re gay anytime soon?

Emily: What? I’m not. I’m not gay.

No? Not gay? Hang on to that declaration, Emily Fitch, and we’ll revisit it in … oh, ten minutes.

Naomi: [Smiling, sighing] I’m telling you, Em, you haven’t thought this thing through, have you?

Emily: No.

OK, two things – Naomi: liar-pants, Emily: liar-pants.

Naomi. “Em”? Really? Did that just fall out of your mouth on accident or what, because four milliseconds after you scoffed at the idea that you and Emily should get to know one another, you dropped an “Em” like it was the most natural thing in the world. And just in case you don’t know, when you shorten someone’s name like that, or toss in her middle name? That’s familiar. That’s endearment. And I can only assume that it feels normal on your lips because of the way Emily camps out in your mind.

Emily. You haven’t thought this through? Puh-lease. You’ve been thinking this through fifty-eleven billion different ways in every kind of weather pattern every day for the last five years.

Naomi wants to reiterate that she is, in fact, a cock-cruncher and not a muff-muncher, and this is where Emily’s magic gets very Naomi-specific. She makes their Naomily space safe. I know you. I’ve seen you. But OK, you like cock. How’s that going for you then?

Naomi says it would be going brilliantly if the guy with whom she was trying to get off didn’t have erectile dysfunction – which: if you’re having to try that hard with a teenage boy you don’t even care about, what’s the thing you need to prove? Emily and Naomi giggle with one another and are great because that’s what Emily making a safe space allows them to do: breathe, relax, fit together, snap into place.

Over Emily’s shoulder, Naomi notices creepy neighbor glowering, so she goes, “Yes, can I help you with something?” And the way he tilts his head, it’s like he realizes something about them; not that they’re vodka-bearing hooligans in his quiet cul-de-sac, but that they’re “disgraceful young women.” You know, gay. I really think that’s what’s happening there.

Naomi rightly tells him he can “go f–k himself.” But then Panda opens the front door screeching like a banshee, and in one fluid movement, grabs the bottles and cans from Naomi and Emily’s hands and chucks them into the shrubbery before shuffling them inside and un-shoeing them.

Panda explains to her mum that Ems and Naomi are “really good friends, you know? Really good.” Naomi smirks and turns around to look at Emily like, “Seriously?” but Panda’s mum has moved on to the fact that Emily and Katie are twins. She asks if they like all the same things, and Naomi is all, “Even my face – with its astonishing, ethereal assortment of ways to display emotion – is running out of ways to express the total gayness of Emily Fitch.” Emily just says, “Not sure.”

Panda slips up and says something in French, which causes her to mention Thomas, which causes her mum to flip out about how boys only want to get into her box. And is this the right time to say that Sally Phillips is my favorite Skins grown-up of this generation?

She is pitch-perfect with every line delivery, every face she pulls, every move she makes to Bon Jovi. And also, because she played Shazzer in the Bridget Jones movies, I keep hearing her go, “F–k ’em! F–k the lot of ’em! Tell them they can stick f–king Leavis up their f–king arses!” (“Shazzer. Journalist. Likes to say ‘f–k’ – a lot.”)

So Panda’s mum is like, “No boys.” And Emily is like, “No problem.”

Naomi can’t believe they’re really expected to play Twister. She and Katie get into a zing-off, using as many slang words for “vagina” as they can, making Emily entirely uncomfortable. Panda produces hand-made pajamas, and Naomi and Emily are stricken by the uncanny pinkness, but Katie jumps up and agrees to wear them with no fuss at all – because she’s Katie F–king Fitch is what.

And I’m not even going to recap this thing where Cook and JJ try to break into the party because I can’t start hating Cook all over again; it takes too much energy. Let’s just assume that Panda’s mum chases them off before getting friendly with some brownies and some jell-o. (Perfection, Sally Phillips. Perfection.)

Upstairs, Panda is helping Naomi, who is trapped in her pajama top, and Emily really, truly cannot help herself from looking. She’s saved from any embarrassment, though, ’cause Panda’s mum is three brownies into her night already when she shows up to share, and this is one of my favorite Skins scenes ever. I can’t really describe it, except to say: “Livin’ on a Prayer,” brownies, Katie (“I’m telling you: that is some f–king good s–t.”), Emily and Naomi openly flirting with one another, and this: “Eat your Cake, Panda; it’s gonna be a long night.”

Emily and Naomi kick off their long night by chucking Panda’s mum onto her bed, unconscious and fully-clothed.

Panda has a nuclear meltdown because no one will tell her how to give a blowjob, which is the exact opposite reaction I had to every pajama party I ever attended as a teenager. Can we please stop talking about boys? Hey, I’ve got an idea: how about we play football!

Panda is inconsolable because the only thing she ever asked for in her life was for her friends to take their shoes off and play Twister for one afternoon, and now her mum is passed out on the bed, and Thomas is still in Congo, and no one will tell her how to get a guy into her box! Effy actually starts to cry because she does love Panda, but then Katie accidentally makes it worse because she quietly says, “She’s upset.” And Effy says, “Do I ever get to be upset? Do I ever get to be anyone but me?”

And yes: One day you get to be lead rumba shaker in Panda and the Pops (the musical sensation that’s sweeping the nation).

Naomi stumbles outside to retrieve the alcohol Panda tossed earlier. She wobbles, says “Whoa,” and Emily shouts from inside the house, “Get beer, lezzer!” And Naomi shouts back, “Keep your vagina on!” before teetering back in and peeking around the corner all shy and flirty and giggly.

Emily meets her halfway, a mirror of Naomi’s tipsiness and unabashed glee just because they’re hanging out together. Naomi asks her what she wants, stumbles over the names of the drinks she’s clutching, and Emily answers, “Anything.” Her eyes wander all over Naomi’s face – just caressing it – before helplessly settling on her lips. “Just give me a f–king … just … just give me a …” Her eyes flit back up to meet Naomi’s, and Naomi is blitzed-to-sober in exactly zero seconds.

Naomi tries not to look at Emily’s lips – I mean, it is a concentrated effort – but she fails, and Emily really does attempt to give her an out. She glances at Naomi’s lips again, her eyes, her lips, her eyes, she gulps, and when Naomi doesn’t move, or stop staring at Emily’s mouth, Emily leans in and kisses her, softly, quickly. Naomi says, “Oh.” Oh. That’s what you wanted; Oh. You taste just like I remember; Oh. My imagination didn’t actually displace history; Oh. F–k.

She says, “It’s just the drugs, right?” And Emily makes it safe again, the way she always makes it safe. Because she doesn’t just listen to the words coming out of Naomi’s mouth; she hears the thing Naomi is actually saying, and that’s what she responds to, always – the thing behind the thing. And what’s funny/sad about this is that the thing behind what Naomi is saying is, “I need permission for this to be just about the kissing, not the thing behind the kissing.”

And Emily nods, her eyes as wide open as her heart and hands, and you always think it’s the other way around; you always think Naomi is the warrior. But Emily Fitch is standing unshielded and unarmed in the middle of the bloody massacre of love, carnage all around her, and she’s holding Naomi like a rabbit in her hands, Naomi’s tiny heart beating so fast: “Cage of fire! Cage of fire!” And Emily whispers, “It’s OK; I’ve got you.” It’s just the kissing. It’s just the drugs.

And so they kiss again. And again. And again. And they don’t mean to mean it, but they do.

Their eyes stay closed for a moment when they break away from one another, memorizing, juxtaposing, comparing, pushing down the thing behind the kiss because if they want to do it some more, there can’t be a thing behind the kiss.

Note – again – that Naomi is holding something between them, ’cause I’m going to talk about that in a second. And also note that JJ, who originally tried to ruin this scene with his presence, has completely disappeared, which (as HJC123 commented on Twitter) means that JJ might not be as shit at magic as we originally thought! (Or it might mean that the Rophy Magic Removal Tool in Photoshop is perfection!)

Emily nudges Naomi, gently: “You liked that.” (Just so we’re clear, the actual my-lips-on-your-lips thing? You liked it.) Naomi responds with a lip bite and a quizzical brow before brushing past Emily and declaring, “You’re gay.” Once Naomi’s out of earshot, Emily agrees, out loud, for the first time: “Yes.”

Katie wobbles downstairs and spies something silly happening in the bouncy castle outside, and so she walks toward the window, face more bemused by the second, because Emily’s flash of red hair is mixed with blonde. Naomi and Emily fall down, Emily rolls on top of Naomi, studies her for a minute, kisses her, and for very first time in her whole life, Naomi stops clutching what’s in front of her and wraps her arms around Emily, clasping her hands to Emily’s back.

We all learn at different ages – young, young, young if our parents can’t protect us – that we have to arm ourselves to survive in the world. We can’t all be Emily Fitch, standing naked in battle with the sun on our faces and a song in our hearts. Most people pick up whatever weapon is handy, and just the cold steel or rough wood in their hands makes them feel safe. But at the tender age of 17, Naomi is already shouldering a full arsenal: guns and swords and lances and lasers and cannons and axes, and she’s clutching them with her whole self because she already knows that when you put down a weapon to let somone get close to you, they’re just as likely to pick it up and use it against you as anything else.

But now she’s stuck because she can’t keep holding on to every single weapon and reach for Emily at the same time, and her tiny heart is still beating so fast she could be ashamed, but is it really a cage of fire or just the proximity to Emily’s hands? And so she drops something – doesn’t matter what – and grabs onto Emily.

And what happens next, for a while, is that she doesn’t even realize she’s dropping her weapons (one-by-one) or that Emily is picking them up (one-by-one), not because Emily will ever ever ever attack her, but so that later, when Naomi realizes how exposed she is, Emily can hand them back. “Emily slept here” is a lot of things, and one of them is: “Here, you dropped these rocket launchers. You don’t need them. But here they are anyway.”

Katie doesn’t have time to panic because she hears a car honk and it’s Danny with his entire team of Bristol Rovers Reserves and hangers-on, which is gross because these girls are in college, dudes!

What matters after this isn’t anything much, except Freddie finally shows up to get JJ, who is locked on like whoa and nearly sobbing, all, “I’m telling you, I was standing in the doorway looking at Naomi and Emily, and then I just disappeared.”

Effy, who has been shagging Cook in the closet, chases Freddie outside, but he blows her off because he’s got to take care of JJ.

And when the party is finally over, Cook wanders downstairs and offers to play Twister was a bereft Panda. These are the Cook moments I love because at the end of the day, he’s the one who gave Panda exactly what she wanted – Twister, yes. And just seeing her. (And shagging her.)

The next morning, Effy tries to work up a rage about how Panda slept with Cook, but she honestly doesn’t give a shit, and then – just like that – Thomas is back. Panda holds him and sobs about how she missed him so much, too much.

Omniscient Effy watches Panda get what she wants, just like she watched her mum get what she wanted, and she wonders if anyone can ever win the battle of love. She tightens the belt around her armor and hides behind the bushes. She doesn’t have to fight now. Not yet. Not until next week.

 

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