Revenge S1E17: Doubt
Last night, as we watched Hamptons Batman get in some righteously furious head kicks, we looked to the the heavens and silently whispered, “Thank you.” Revenge is finally back in our lives.
Don’t get us wrong, we loves us some Mad Men, but sometimes, you don’t want to have to analyze costumes or put things in historical context or tease out the meaning behind pregnant pauses. Sometimes, you just want to watch Victoria Grayson and Emily Thorne put on some tight dresses, sit down at a table, and silently trade bitchfaces back and forth.
Which isn’t to say this is some sort of mindless television show. Oh sure, it’s not Masterpiece Theater or anything, but last night’s episode was an impressive reminder of how well this show juggles multiple plot strands and a ton of characters, keeping the viewer utterly invested in their fates, while still managing to wink at the audience knowingly, as if to say, “We know why you watch.” Why else would they give us a prison shower scene where every prisoner had impressive pecs and washboard abs? They might as well have flashed at the bottom of the screen, “THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL THE GAYS IN THE AUDIENCE.” Why else would they give Victoria the hilariously campy line, “What is it you used to say? Flowers are earth’s way of laughing?” Why else would you have Emily intone, “We need real-time blogging!”with all the seriousness of a heart attack at a funeral?
“Am I bothering you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
We rest our case. Alexis Carrington was fun, but she was never this much fun.
And just as we got finished marveling at Daniel’s ability to wrap a towel so tightly around his waist that it didn’t budge even while he was getting a beating, Victoria stunned us with her sheet-wrapping abilities as she reconnected with an old flame, promptly fell into bed with him, and then swanned around his apartment wearing the latest in 600-count Egyptian cotton and spewing twenty-five years’ worth of exposition, without so much as a nip slip and with her massive necklace firmly in place.
By the way, James Purefoy is still hotter than Georgia asphalt, but we liked him better when he was getting full-frontal naked oil rubdowns on the late, lamented Rome.
That got you all scrambling to your Netflix queue, didn’t it?
Anyway, we hit the ground running with this episode – so much so that our heads were spinning for the first ten minutes or so as we tried to get up to speed while hanging on to every bit of bitchy, rapid-fire dialogue. Victoria (whom we will now call Vicky Harper behind her back, because we know it would make her furious), spent the first half of the episode trying to pin the shooting on pretty much anyone in the Hamptons who isn’t related to her (we’re surprised she hasn’t tried to finger Conrad – not THAT way, you pervs), which forces Emily to once again dangle a carrot in front of the practically brain-dead Jack to get him out of the Hamptons and on the road to finding Fauxmanda, who hasn’t withdrawn a penny of her 5 million dollars. So dim-witted is the scruffy little bartender that his wool-headed brother Declan actually comes off like a mastermind in comparison. We were impressed with the little toadstool for figuring out that throwing a little shade on his girlfriend’s recall abilities would be enough to get the case against Jack dismissed. Unfortunately for him, he’s lost her as a girlfriend. We don’t have a lot of love for the little hobbit with the weird speech patterns, but we can’t help thinking that getting as far away from the Graysons is probably the best thing for him. We don’t trust his intelligence to figure this out, though, and we fully expect him to park himself under Charlotte’s window and hold a boombox over his head. This will be the moment when we hope that Victoria has attack Dobermans somewhere on the property.
And speaking of attack Dobermans, Vicky’s cute little brush-headed thug-for-hire once again gets called up for duty. This time, to pay off people on the inside to beat up her son. It’s for his own good – or at least, that’s what she told herself. Emily, of course, figured out what she did instantly, which gave her yet another opportunity to tuck her head down and viciously stare at her future mother-in-law and long-time nemesis. She’s getting really good at that – especially since no one ever seems to notice and say, “Hey Emily, why are you always tucking your head down and staring daggers at people?”
Also, Emily brilliantly figured out a way to get that nasty little bitchqueen Mason Treadwell back in the picture. At first we weren’t sure why she would want to do this, but it all became clear by the end. She had just enough information to rearrange in such a way as to not only get him to think what she wanted him to, but also to get him to do what she wanted to. We know at some point Ems is going to get bested by Vicky, but we do so love that she’s so fucking brilliant and no one but Nolan really knows it.
But goodness, so many questions still to be answered.
Where is Fauxmanda, anyway? Does Revenge Sensei have her locked up somewhere or did he kill her?
Who exactly is this Dominik dude from Vicky’s past? Could he be Daniel’s bio-dad? Because they kind of look alike. He certainly looks more like him than blue-eyed Conrad. And what happened to the C in his name? Did Vicky steal it when she stole his heart?
When is Charlotte going to cut to the chase and just make that suicide attempt we all know is coming?
Why did Emily take an imprint of Brush-Headed Thug’s car key? And far be it for us to question the methods of Hamptons Batman, but was it really a good idea to whisper “This is for Jack,” just before she beat him unconscious? Or is she trying to get Vicky to think that Fauxmanda is the one that beat him?
How soon will dim-witted Daniel walk off the property and set off his alarm?
How in the hell does a former party planner wind up being the family’s spokesperson while they’re going through a press-fueled scandal?
And most important of all:
Where does she get those fabulous wigs?
[Photo Credit: ABC]