"Do you take requests? Please stop."
The Office 5.10 - " Moroccan Christmas"
asta77 asked if the Christmas episodes were always this dark, and it made me realize that even by the standards of this show, this was biting.
Meredith's alcoholism is often played for laughs, but it's never treated as entirely funny; there are always hints that not only does Meredith drink, but that she does so to fill an otherwise empty and gray life, and we've seen some of the poor decisions she's made because of it. Everybody else just looks the other way, though, because while they spend all day with Meredith, they're her co-workers, not her friends, not her family. Michael's the only one who makes the mistake of thinking he has the kind of relationship with her that justifies an intervention. (Michael also has some wildly mistaken ideas about how rehab works; this is not surprising, but the awkward struggle in the parking lot was hard to watch.) He does it because he cares, and that is sad and terrible on several levels, not the least of which is that he apparently cares more than Meredith does, because Meredith doesn't care at all.
And then there's Dwight, whose Christmas spirit can be summed up with his version of a carol: "Fa la la la la la la ka-ching." The Princess Unicorn dolls were delightfully ridiculous and plausible at the same time, as was the fact that Michael not only knew what they were but could sing the jingle by heart.
But the most wrenching part of the episode was the very last forty seconds or so. Phyllis has always had a little bit of a ruthless streak, and an inability to judge her limits, so I can't say I was surprised to see her pushing Angela so hard, but the show did something I never thought it could, which was make me feel horrible for Angela. The worst part is that Angela has nobody but herself to blame for the mess she's in right now; still, nothing justifies making someone wear a hairnet. I'm sure Phyllis felt the glow of satisfaction for about three seconds after she told the whole room Angela's secret, before the seriousness of the situation sank in: the horrified looks, Angela's despair, Dwight's weirdly satisfied smirk. (The fact that Dwight regards this as a win for himself did more than the Sprinkles incident or even the trick wedding last week to convince me that on a fundamental level, he just doesn't understand other people and their compassion and their feelings, and that that blind spot extends around Angela for at least a mile in every direction too. Oh Dwight.) Andy's chipper goodbye to the shellshocked office was awful, almost physically painful in its quiet, horrifying intensity. I think Andy's been wilfully blind in his relationship with Angela. More than that, I don't actually think he's in love with her; she was there, she was mysterious and unattainable for a while, and some internal social programming told him to follow all of the prescribed steps to the altar with her. But he didn't deserve the infidelity, and he especially doesn't deserve the public humiliation.
*wrings hands*
And then Toby couldn't even pull off being a hero to his little girl! The only person who made it out of the Moroccan Christmas more or less intact was Darryl and his $200 profit.
* * * * *
TSCC 2.13 - "Earthlings Welcome Here"
I'm still not entirely sure what to think about this episode--especially the last fifteen minutes--and that might be because we don't have quite enough information yet, or it might be because I was watching it around a conference call. It gave me lots to think about, but I didn't feel safe drawing that many conclusions. In no particular order:
* * * * *
Although I always feel slightly ridiculous for complaining about California weather, I'm going to go ahead and do that, because it is freaking cold out. I am thinking tropical thoughts, and this wonderful Hawaiian lizard picture from National Geographic makes me smile.
asta77 asked if the Christmas episodes were always this dark, and it made me realize that even by the standards of this show, this was biting.
Meredith's alcoholism is often played for laughs, but it's never treated as entirely funny; there are always hints that not only does Meredith drink, but that she does so to fill an otherwise empty and gray life, and we've seen some of the poor decisions she's made because of it. Everybody else just looks the other way, though, because while they spend all day with Meredith, they're her co-workers, not her friends, not her family. Michael's the only one who makes the mistake of thinking he has the kind of relationship with her that justifies an intervention. (Michael also has some wildly mistaken ideas about how rehab works; this is not surprising, but the awkward struggle in the parking lot was hard to watch.) He does it because he cares, and that is sad and terrible on several levels, not the least of which is that he apparently cares more than Meredith does, because Meredith doesn't care at all.
And then there's Dwight, whose Christmas spirit can be summed up with his version of a carol: "Fa la la la la la la ka-ching." The Princess Unicorn dolls were delightfully ridiculous and plausible at the same time, as was the fact that Michael not only knew what they were but could sing the jingle by heart.
But the most wrenching part of the episode was the very last forty seconds or so. Phyllis has always had a little bit of a ruthless streak, and an inability to judge her limits, so I can't say I was surprised to see her pushing Angela so hard, but the show did something I never thought it could, which was make me feel horrible for Angela. The worst part is that Angela has nobody but herself to blame for the mess she's in right now; still, nothing justifies making someone wear a hairnet. I'm sure Phyllis felt the glow of satisfaction for about three seconds after she told the whole room Angela's secret, before the seriousness of the situation sank in: the horrified looks, Angela's despair, Dwight's weirdly satisfied smirk. (The fact that Dwight regards this as a win for himself did more than the Sprinkles incident or even the trick wedding last week to convince me that on a fundamental level, he just doesn't understand other people and their compassion and their feelings, and that that blind spot extends around Angela for at least a mile in every direction too. Oh Dwight.) Andy's chipper goodbye to the shellshocked office was awful, almost physically painful in its quiet, horrifying intensity. I think Andy's been wilfully blind in his relationship with Angela. More than that, I don't actually think he's in love with her; she was there, she was mysterious and unattainable for a while, and some internal social programming told him to follow all of the prescribed steps to the altar with her. But he didn't deserve the infidelity, and he especially doesn't deserve the public humiliation.
*wrings hands*
And then Toby couldn't even pull off being a hero to his little girl! The only person who made it out of the Moroccan Christmas more or less intact was Darryl and his $200 profit.
* * * * *
TSCC 2.13 - "Earthlings Welcome Here"
I'm still not entirely sure what to think about this episode--especially the last fifteen minutes--and that might be because we don't have quite enough information yet, or it might be because I was watching it around a conference call. It gave me lots to think about, but I didn't feel safe drawing that many conclusions. In no particular order:
- There seemed to be a lot of overlapping identity issues between Sarah and Alan. Alan is also living as a solitary woman, following an obsession in a way that's tactical and practical, living in hiding. There's a sense of almost palpable kinship between them from the beginning. (In general, Sarah's approach to the UFO group seemed oddly honest and open: she couldn't explain what she knew about the dots, but she believes it's important and real, just like they do. And it makes the person she loves the most doubt her for the first time.) That's on top of their already blurry identities, as Alan lives as someone else entirely, and Sarah has picked up and moved from place to place under assumed names. Alan is horrified that Sarah doesn't feel the visceral fear of someone trying to kill her any more; that she just reacts mechanically; he asks her what she was before they killed her. (That is, he asks what she was before they killed the person she'd been before she became John Connor's mother, and took on that new identity.) Sarah said that she was a waitress. That's also what Alan says--or at least what Sarah hears--before he's shot; and that's what Sarah sees when she lies bleeding under three dots in the sky that might be a ship from the future. John killed Sarkasian; Sarah kills the security guard, but only as a last resort, and only after being shot herself. Whatever Alan saw and identified as hardness, it wasn't hard enough.
- Sarah's still not as hard as Jesse, whose calculated selection and grooming of Riley was chilling. And it again, I think, goes to what the machines have made of the people they touch--both Sarah and Jesse, who ruthlessly discourages Riley's human need for relationships and meaning in what she's doing, because the mission is the only thing. What was Jesse before they killed her? And while I doubt very much that Riley dies from her wounds, it's a way that the death of whatever had been human and caring in Jesse has projected its way outward, from the machines.
- Catherine Weaver, the machine, has selected Ellison to teach John Henry morality. She believes Ellison's religious beliefs and paternal instinct make him the ideal candidate. But why does she want John Henry to learn right from wrong? And is it even possible, or is it something that's too intangible for a machine to grasp? Ellison explains the value of human life in terms of God's creation; as he puts it, the question is whether John Henry also falls under that umbrella.
- Cameron's incredibly pushy sociability with Riley was wonderfully unsettling. She says that the tattoo she's thinking of getting is of a tiger or a wolf, which makes me think that Alison's memories have stamped themselves in some strange corners of her mind.
- The flying thing makes me think of the machines that hover over the wasteland of wreckage and human skulls in the future, but I have no idea what one is doing in the present. It's hard to say whether it's actually from the future, or whether it was build from something else that came back and is unique unto itself. Or maybe (like John Henry?) it's its own ancestor.
* * * * *
Although I always feel slightly ridiculous for complaining about California weather, I'm going to go ahead and do that, because it is freaking cold out. I am thinking tropical thoughts, and this wonderful Hawaiian lizard picture from National Geographic makes me smile.