The Dee-Annotated Supernatural - Shadow
While I'm talking: happy birthday, tvm. Hope the Winchester boys get magically transported to your house, with the car, but bizarrely without their clothes. *G*
The Male: So what's this episode about?
Me: I don't know. When the fangirls talk about it, they never seem to mention the plot...
Girlie: *runs into her apartment, locks and bolts*
The Male: That will avail you naught.
Me: Just don't get into bed, because it'll be under the quilt.
Shadow: *coalesces*
Me: So it's another demon?
Sudden brutal bloody death: *happens and cuts to credits*
We: *blink*
Me: They suddenly realised they were running out of time for the intro sequence?
Boys: *arrive in uniform*
Me: Does his name badge say SVEN? ...oh, no, just Sam.
And once again they don't bother winding up the windows or locking the car. In the middle of Chicago.
Also, I think I'm starting to pick when they slip into Texan. They get a bit... mushy? Hard to tell, of course, because they're not exactly pillars of diction as it is.
Sam: *turns back from the window, looking particularly shaggy*
Me: CUT YOUR HAIR.
Landlady: If I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it.
Me: When I am queen of the universe, that phrase will be BANNED from storytelling. "If I didn't know any better" my left foot. What you really mean is, "Here, have a plot point."
Dean: *pulls stripped-back machine from his toolkit*
The Male: Hey, it's the pants-o-meter!
Me: And it's NAKED!
Dean: I spoke to Amy, a charming, perky officer of the law.
Sam: And what did you find out?
Dean: Well, she's a Sagittarius; loves tequila, I mean... whoa; and she has this little tattoo right--
Sam: DEAN!
Us: *helpless with mirth*
Sam: No, not a werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right.
When I was a kid, my father was involved in tanker shipping, basically. We had a book of tide charts for the entire eastern seaboard of Australia. The point of this is that Sam says that, and I just imagine him with a similar thing for the entirety of the United States. *G*
Dean: *plays with ducttape*
The Male: And he chooses where to put the tape how?
Me: The script tells him.
The Male: And you thought drawing a pentagram over the Hawksmoor churches in London was stretching it.
Dean: *stands up and looks at it*
Me: Bet it says "Fred woz ere 06"
Dean: *is chatting up the HOT bargirl when Sam walks in*
OK, so, he barely even says goodbye to her. Sees Sam and pretty much just walks. What? He gets laid with that lousy technique? (Well, who needs technique when you have that face, I suppose.)
Dean: I talked to the bartender.
Sam: You get anything? Besides her number?
Dean: Dude. I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that...
Sam: *just looks at him*
Dean: *dissolves into smirks and holds up napkin* Alright...
We: *die of laughter*
Sam: You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?
We: *are not getting over this gigglefit any time soon*
Alright, so, work with me here. Sam crosses, like, HALF THE BAR to get to Meg, and she's sitting with her back to him. Does someone have an obsession? I find it hard to spot people halfway across bars when I'm looking for them, and - call it a city defense mechanism - I never expect to see people I know unless I've arranged to meet them, so half the time I just walk straight past people I know on the street. I would've thought Sam would be in a similar headspace - he is never going to meet someone he knows, because what are the odds of that? - and thus I find it bizarre that he could pick the back of Meg's head out of a crowded bar.
On the other hand, he is psychic.
Also, they left the journal on the table. MORONS.
Meg: ...and I met whats-his-name. Something Michael Murray.
Me: *FALLS OFF COUCH LAUGHING*
The Male: Huh?
Meg: Nice. The way you treat your brother like luggage.
Me: Hey, I never put stuff in him.
The Male: Or send him around on the airport conveyors. Well, ok, there was that one time...
Dean: OK. Awkward. I'm going to go and get a drink, then.
And the look he gives Sam! So fucking priceless I want it framed and on my wall.
Meg: If it were me, I'd kill him.
The Male: Yeah, to power your eldritch mobile phone.
Meg: We should hook up while you're in town.
We: *blink*
Me: OK, so obviously that doesn't mean the same thing in the States as it does here.
The Male: Or she's a SLUT.
Sam: I think there's something strange going on.
Dean: Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me.
Me: OK, is it that time of the month or something? Is he slipping himself Spanish Fly? Tone it down, Dean!
Sam: I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on.
Dean: *leer* But I bet you'd like to.
We: *die laughing again*
Seriously, this whole episode was pretty much just us in fits of giggles.
Dean: What are you going to do?
Sam: I'm going to watch Meg.
Dean: *cackles*
Sam: I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry.
Dean: Alright, you little pervert.
He is SUCH a big brother. It's so fucking beautiful.
Dean: There's a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book.
The Male: She is SO much better at this game than you two. I bet if she stole a police badge it wouldn't be a black guy.
Dean: ...yeah, I called Dad's friend Caleb, he told me.
Me: Which is SUCH a more efficient way of doing the research, hello. Dean wins.
Dean: Now why don't you go give that girl a private strippergram.
Sam: Bite me.
Dean: No, bite her. Don't leave teethmarks though.
Dean's lovelife advice wins at everything. And once again, his big-brotherliness slays me.
Meg: *gets dressed in the window*
The Male: So she totally knows he's there.
Me: Yep.
Sam: *gets out of the car and follows Meg*
Me: WIND THE FUCKING WINDOW UP! It's RAINING for fuck's sake!
Sam: *sneaks after Meg; comes up against a locked door*
The Male: You are so made.
Me: Made of what?
The Male: MADE. Busted, caught, sprung.
Me: Sam is made of dork.
The Male: Plus there's no way you can sneak through a closed door. What was he thinking? You have to go through guns blazing with a full SWAT team in support.
Sam: *shins up the elevator shaft*
Me: Hey, not bad. Maybe he should work for Vertigo.
The Male: I don't know that there's much call for exorcisms halfway up a highrise.
Sam: *gawps at the altar with its candles and artefacts and--
Me: Symbol!
-- beads and chalices and--
Us: SYMBOL!
Me: He really is shit at this altar business, isn't he?
--huge big Zoroastrian symbol. Twice.*
Us: Finally.
Sam: What the hell?
Me: Isn't it fucking obvious?
The Male: Which is why it's obviously a trap.
Them: Dude, I gotta talk to you.
Us: *hilarity*
Dean: Holy crap.
Dean: *displays more sterling research skillz culminating in big Lawrence bomb*
Sam: Holy crap.
Me: He already said that.
Dean: I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.
The Male: His standard MO.
Me: Interrogation? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Sam: I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?
Me: Concurrent or consecutive.
The Male: But blood is compulsory.
Me: These guys are TOTALLY of the love, blood and rhetoric school.
Dean: *is a big woobie*
Me: *is a puddle of awww on the couch*
OH. GOD. HIS. FACE. Jensen Ackles, you own me. Any time you want to come and claim me, feel free.
Also during this period:
girloftheq (via txt): Sam looks like a monkey when he's trying to be serious. Also, he's being a dick to Dean.
Now, see, actually... this is probably the least obnoxious and offensive I've found Sam upon this issue in the entire series to date. He's being firm, but fair and gentle, whereas previously he's been rather rampaging-toddler i-don't-care-if-this-hurts-you about the whole thing. He is much less selfish in this scene than he has been. I find myself nodding and supporting him.
While still, obviously, breaking my heart over Dean. OMG. *squishes him*
The Male: Check out the pout on him!
Me: Him and Keira in the gold-medal fight in that category.
Meg: Guys. Hiding is a little big childish, don't you think?
Dean: Well, that didn't work out like I planned.
Me: I'm sure this often happens with you and girls, Dean.
Meg: Why don't you come out?
Me: Because we're comfortable in our heterosexuality.
Sam: Who's coming? Who are you waiting for.
Meg: You.
The Male: Oh. It's a trap. What a surprise.
Dean: Hey Sam? Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend? Is a bitch.
We: *feel the Dean-love like whoa*
Meg: This trap isn't for you.
Me: It's for somebody called Skywalker.
Meg: He has one weakness.
Dean: What's that?
Me: Showgirls.
The Male: Origami.
Me: Kryptonite?
Meg: You.
Sam: *looks over, startled*
Me: Yep, just Dean. Not you, Sammy. Live with it.
Once again, OMG re: Jensen's face. Just the slightest alteration in his expression as she's laying out her hand. It's barely even a twitch, but there he is, worried. He is SO AWESOME.
Meg: *crawls over to Sam*
Me: This is about to get ridiculously Japanese, isn't it?
The Male: Well, I don't think there are going to be tentacles, but yeah.
Meg: *rubs all over Sam*
Me: Yep. Bloody hell. I almost had respect for her and all.
Entirely predictable escape while she's distracted: *happens*
Me: See? You're fired from evil.
Dean: Hey Sam. The next time you wanna get laid, find a girl who's not so buckets of crazy, huh?
We: *cackle*
Me: Can't keep a good man down.
Boys: *walk into their hotel room*
Dean: Hey!
Shadow at window: *turns*
Me: Oh, I see. That's why Dean always shouts at things and waits for them to turn around before he shoots them. Just in case it's Daddy.
The Male: This is a trap.
Me: You are all about the paranoia this week, aren't you?
The Male: An exploding Sam trap.
I'd just like to point out that, once again, their hotel room is the size of our apartment.
Out of the flippant, the way their body language shifts when Dad's in the room is just awesome. They're younger, more awkward. They're boys again, not men, especially Dean, and that's just so fucking brilliant.
Sam: Dad, you don't have to worry about us.
Dad: Of course I do.
Me: He's your father, numbskull.
Dad: I'm your father.
Me: ...numbskull.
Winchester huggies! Dean's face! Losing coherence!
Dean: Dad, you can't come with us.
And it's entirely possible that I'm being too clever for the WB network and everything else will contradict me, but that moment, right there? That's when Dean grows up. It's when he makes the personal sacrifice of immediate for overall. He compromises himself with the universe.
I could just kiss him. Of course, that's par for the course and also, he's bleeding pretty again. But yeah.
Big Black Truck: *drives off down the alleyway*
Me: Hey. Same alleyway from Skin.
Big Black Impala: *reverses out of the alleyway*
The Male: Straight over Meg. ker-thump.
Me: We wish.
Meg: *comes up out of the subway*
Me: Goddamn, now I'm going to be in trouble. This was 90% of my final grade!
So. Hmm. Once again I find myself itching to smooth the kinks out of the Significant Dialogue. And I know I have unreasonably high standards and this is "just television" and "just the WB" and whatever, but it makes me make the frowny face. Sometimes I really do feel about this like I feel about the prequel Star Wars movies - I love what is there, it's just not always delivered as well as it could be.
That said, the banter in this episode was GOLD. Rock-solid GOLD. Quick and clever and edged and appropriate. And Dean was awesome, and Sam was good. I'll never be a Sam girl, but I didn't want to smack him upside the head ONCE in this episode, so I think we're getting somewhere.
Hell House next week! \m/
The Male: So what's this episode about?
Me: I don't know. When the fangirls talk about it, they never seem to mention the plot...
Girlie: *runs into her apartment, locks and bolts*
The Male: That will avail you naught.
Me: Just don't get into bed, because it'll be under the quilt.
Shadow: *coalesces*
Me: So it's another demon?
Sudden brutal bloody death: *happens and cuts to credits*
We: *blink*
Me: They suddenly realised they were running out of time for the intro sequence?
Boys: *arrive in uniform*
Me: Does his name badge say SVEN? ...oh, no, just Sam.
And once again they don't bother winding up the windows or locking the car. In the middle of Chicago.
Also, I think I'm starting to pick when they slip into Texan. They get a bit... mushy? Hard to tell, of course, because they're not exactly pillars of diction as it is.
Sam: *turns back from the window, looking particularly shaggy*
Me: CUT YOUR HAIR.
Landlady: If I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it.
Me: When I am queen of the universe, that phrase will be BANNED from storytelling. "If I didn't know any better" my left foot. What you really mean is, "Here, have a plot point."
Dean: *pulls stripped-back machine from his toolkit*
The Male: Hey, it's the pants-o-meter!
Me: And it's NAKED!
Dean: I spoke to Amy, a charming, perky officer of the law.
Sam: And what did you find out?
Dean: Well, she's a Sagittarius; loves tequila, I mean... whoa; and she has this little tattoo right--
Sam: DEAN!
Us: *helpless with mirth*
Sam: No, not a werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right.
When I was a kid, my father was involved in tanker shipping, basically. We had a book of tide charts for the entire eastern seaboard of Australia. The point of this is that Sam says that, and I just imagine him with a similar thing for the entirety of the United States. *G*
Dean: *plays with ducttape*
The Male: And he chooses where to put the tape how?
Me: The script tells him.
The Male: And you thought drawing a pentagram over the Hawksmoor churches in London was stretching it.
Dean: *stands up and looks at it*
Me: Bet it says "Fred woz ere 06"
Dean: *is chatting up the HOT bargirl when Sam walks in*
OK, so, he barely even says goodbye to her. Sees Sam and pretty much just walks. What? He gets laid with that lousy technique? (Well, who needs technique when you have that face, I suppose.)
Dean: I talked to the bartender.
Sam: You get anything? Besides her number?
Dean: Dude. I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that...
Sam: *just looks at him*
Dean: *dissolves into smirks and holds up napkin* Alright...
We: *die of laughter*
Sam: You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?
We: *are not getting over this gigglefit any time soon*
Alright, so, work with me here. Sam crosses, like, HALF THE BAR to get to Meg, and she's sitting with her back to him. Does someone have an obsession? I find it hard to spot people halfway across bars when I'm looking for them, and - call it a city defense mechanism - I never expect to see people I know unless I've arranged to meet them, so half the time I just walk straight past people I know on the street. I would've thought Sam would be in a similar headspace - he is never going to meet someone he knows, because what are the odds of that? - and thus I find it bizarre that he could pick the back of Meg's head out of a crowded bar.
On the other hand, he is psychic.
Also, they left the journal on the table. MORONS.
Meg: ...and I met whats-his-name. Something Michael Murray.
Me: *FALLS OFF COUCH LAUGHING*
The Male: Huh?
Meg: Nice. The way you treat your brother like luggage.
Me: Hey, I never put stuff in him.
The Male: Or send him around on the airport conveyors. Well, ok, there was that one time...
Dean: OK. Awkward. I'm going to go and get a drink, then.
And the look he gives Sam! So fucking priceless I want it framed and on my wall.
Meg: If it were me, I'd kill him.
The Male: Yeah, to power your eldritch mobile phone.
Meg: We should hook up while you're in town.
We: *blink*
Me: OK, so obviously that doesn't mean the same thing in the States as it does here.
The Male: Or she's a SLUT.
Sam: I think there's something strange going on.
Dean: Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me.
Me: OK, is it that time of the month or something? Is he slipping himself Spanish Fly? Tone it down, Dean!
Sam: I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on.
Dean: *leer* But I bet you'd like to.
We: *die laughing again*
Seriously, this whole episode was pretty much just us in fits of giggles.
Dean: What are you going to do?
Sam: I'm going to watch Meg.
Dean: *cackles*
Sam: I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry.
Dean: Alright, you little pervert.
He is SUCH a big brother. It's so fucking beautiful.
Dean: There's a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book.
The Male: She is SO much better at this game than you two. I bet if she stole a police badge it wouldn't be a black guy.
Dean: ...yeah, I called Dad's friend Caleb, he told me.
Me: Which is SUCH a more efficient way of doing the research, hello. Dean wins.
Dean: Now why don't you go give that girl a private strippergram.
Sam: Bite me.
Dean: No, bite her. Don't leave teethmarks though.
Dean's lovelife advice wins at everything. And once again, his big-brotherliness slays me.
Meg: *gets dressed in the window*
The Male: So she totally knows he's there.
Me: Yep.
Sam: *gets out of the car and follows Meg*
Me: WIND THE FUCKING WINDOW UP! It's RAINING for fuck's sake!
Sam: *sneaks after Meg; comes up against a locked door*
The Male: You are so made.
Me: Made of what?
The Male: MADE. Busted, caught, sprung.
Me: Sam is made of dork.
The Male: Plus there's no way you can sneak through a closed door. What was he thinking? You have to go through guns blazing with a full SWAT team in support.
Sam: *shins up the elevator shaft*
Me: Hey, not bad. Maybe he should work for Vertigo.
The Male: I don't know that there's much call for exorcisms halfway up a highrise.
Sam: *gawps at the altar with its candles and artefacts and--
Me: Symbol!
-- beads and chalices and--
Us: SYMBOL!
Me: He really is shit at this altar business, isn't he?
--huge big Zoroastrian symbol. Twice.*
Us: Finally.
Sam: What the hell?
Me: Isn't it fucking obvious?
The Male: Which is why it's obviously a trap.
Them: Dude, I gotta talk to you.
Us: *hilarity*
Dean: Holy crap.
Dean: *displays more sterling research skillz culminating in big Lawrence bomb*
Sam: Holy crap.
Me: He already said that.
Dean: I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.
The Male: His standard MO.
Me: Interrogation? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Sam: I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?
Me: Concurrent or consecutive.
The Male: But blood is compulsory.
Me: These guys are TOTALLY of the love, blood and rhetoric school.
Dean: *is a big woobie*
Me: *is a puddle of awww on the couch*
OH. GOD. HIS. FACE. Jensen Ackles, you own me. Any time you want to come and claim me, feel free.
Also during this period:
girloftheq (via txt): Sam looks like a monkey when he's trying to be serious. Also, he's being a dick to Dean.
Now, see, actually... this is probably the least obnoxious and offensive I've found Sam upon this issue in the entire series to date. He's being firm, but fair and gentle, whereas previously he's been rather rampaging-toddler i-don't-care-if-this-hurts-you about the whole thing. He is much less selfish in this scene than he has been. I find myself nodding and supporting him.
While still, obviously, breaking my heart over Dean. OMG. *squishes him*
The Male: Check out the pout on him!
Me: Him and Keira in the gold-medal fight in that category.
Meg: Guys. Hiding is a little big childish, don't you think?
Dean: Well, that didn't work out like I planned.
Me: I'm sure this often happens with you and girls, Dean.
Meg: Why don't you come out?
Me: Because we're comfortable in our heterosexuality.
Sam: Who's coming? Who are you waiting for.
Meg: You.
The Male: Oh. It's a trap. What a surprise.
Dean: Hey Sam? Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend? Is a bitch.
We: *feel the Dean-love like whoa*
Meg: This trap isn't for you.
Me: It's for somebody called Skywalker.
Meg: He has one weakness.
Dean: What's that?
Me: Showgirls.
The Male: Origami.
Me: Kryptonite?
Meg: You.
Sam: *looks over, startled*
Me: Yep, just Dean. Not you, Sammy. Live with it.
Once again, OMG re: Jensen's face. Just the slightest alteration in his expression as she's laying out her hand. It's barely even a twitch, but there he is, worried. He is SO AWESOME.
Meg: *crawls over to Sam*
Me: This is about to get ridiculously Japanese, isn't it?
The Male: Well, I don't think there are going to be tentacles, but yeah.
Meg: *rubs all over Sam*
Me: Yep. Bloody hell. I almost had respect for her and all.
Entirely predictable escape while she's distracted: *happens*
Me: See? You're fired from evil.
Dean: Hey Sam. The next time you wanna get laid, find a girl who's not so buckets of crazy, huh?
We: *cackle*
Me: Can't keep a good man down.
Boys: *walk into their hotel room*
Dean: Hey!
Shadow at window: *turns*
Me: Oh, I see. That's why Dean always shouts at things and waits for them to turn around before he shoots them. Just in case it's Daddy.
The Male: This is a trap.
Me: You are all about the paranoia this week, aren't you?
The Male: An exploding Sam trap.
I'd just like to point out that, once again, their hotel room is the size of our apartment.
Out of the flippant, the way their body language shifts when Dad's in the room is just awesome. They're younger, more awkward. They're boys again, not men, especially Dean, and that's just so fucking brilliant.
Sam: Dad, you don't have to worry about us.
Dad: Of course I do.
Me: He's your father, numbskull.
Dad: I'm your father.
Me: ...numbskull.
Winchester huggies! Dean's face! Losing coherence!
Dean: Dad, you can't come with us.
And it's entirely possible that I'm being too clever for the WB network and everything else will contradict me, but that moment, right there? That's when Dean grows up. It's when he makes the personal sacrifice of immediate for overall. He compromises himself with the universe.
I could just kiss him. Of course, that's par for the course and also, he's bleeding pretty again. But yeah.
Big Black Truck: *drives off down the alleyway*
Me: Hey. Same alleyway from Skin.
Big Black Impala: *reverses out of the alleyway*
The Male: Straight over Meg. ker-thump.
Me: We wish.
Meg: *comes up out of the subway*
Me: Goddamn, now I'm going to be in trouble. This was 90% of my final grade!
So. Hmm. Once again I find myself itching to smooth the kinks out of the Significant Dialogue. And I know I have unreasonably high standards and this is "just television" and "just the WB" and whatever, but it makes me make the frowny face. Sometimes I really do feel about this like I feel about the prequel Star Wars movies - I love what is there, it's just not always delivered as well as it could be.
That said, the banter in this episode was GOLD. Rock-solid GOLD. Quick and clever and edged and appropriate. And Dean was awesome, and Sam was good. I'll never be a Sam girl, but I didn't want to smack him upside the head ONCE in this episode, so I think we're getting somewhere.
Hell House next week! \m/