If There Is a God, This Will be My Last Grey’s Recap. Ever.
Recap of “Grey’s Anatomy” (S4/E10) / Dustin Rowles
TV Reviews | December 12, 2007 | Comments (29)
A couple of weeks ago, in Pajiba Love, I suggested to you all that, should our sister site, QuizLaw, place in the top three in our category for the American Bar Association’s Top 100 Law Blogs, I’d stop writing these damn recaps for “Grey’s Anatomy.” The truth is, while placing high on that list would be killer for Seth and I, the real victory for me is that I’d never have to write another one of these goddamn recaps again. Seriously, I’ve loved absolutely everything about writing for this site except for these recaps — I absolutely loathe them; it feels being shoved in a closet and forced to smoke a carton of American Spirits until I’m defecating lung. And poor Katherine Heigl — the woman is going to take a restraining order out if I have to finish the season. So, if you want to do something nice for both this site, my sanity, and QuizLaw for holidays, take ten seconds and vote for QL here, so I never have to write another one of these goddamn recaps again. Do it for Knut the Polar Bear, who I may take a club to if forced to write another recap (and no, I can’t just decide to quit — I need to feel like it was someone else’s decision, damnit).
And, if “Grey’s” recaps bite it, in February, either myself or, more likely, someone else on staff may recap “Lost” instead.
And hell, since this is a two-parter, and since I recapped the first part in indecipherable, brain-punching kitty pidgin, I suppose I’ll need to recap my recap first. Here it is, in brief: Four paramedics were involved in an ambulance-on-ambulance massacre; one guy in halfsies saved another guy before kissing the sky, though the other guy is still in danger, hanging upside down in the ambulance; the female paramedic needs a hole in her head, but the brain surgery navigation went down mid-hole; and the other male paramedic is a white supremacist, who doesn’t want Bailey and Christina opening him up cause he doesn’t want minority cooties; Alex is caught in an awkward love triangle — he digs both Ava and Lexie, though before last week’s episode ended, Lexie discovered he was involved with Ava, right before Seth Green ‘s carotid artery popped open and sprayed Christmas joy all over her scrubs. Meanwhile, Bailey is having issues at home and The Herp doesn’t want Derek seeing other people, though he’s become intrigued by another doctor in the hospital, a doctor who just happens to be assisting on the drill through the skull operations.
So, moving on to this episode. Let me just reiterate: This show is dumb. Inhumanely dumb. And now, in addition to its Dana Perino levels of stupidity, it’s also increasingly dull. This two-part episode, in particular, may be the worst 84 minutes on a network non-reality show this season, save for “Big Shot.” Two fucking episodes and every ounce of overall story progression, what little there was, took place in the last seven minutes of the show. So, to sum up: In the two-parter, there were six patients — four from the ambulance carnage, Seth Green, and some dude with four kids that mostly amounted to episode filler. Two died: The paramedic who was cut in half in the accident, and Seth Green, who died when Lexie’s finger couldn’t stem the flow of blood from his popped carotid and he eventually succumbed to a stroke. It was a complete waste — I mean, a complete waste — of Seth Green, who deserves much better than a C-plot in a shitty medical drama. Otherwise, Meredith — after delivering a string of platitudes — saved the upside-down passenger paramedic, while the white supremacist came out of surgery just fine, but for having his swastika tattoo rearranged by Bailey. Elsewhere, the doctor who Derek is interested in saved the day by fixing the brain navigation system, so that Derek could perform the brain surgery on the other paramedic while simultaneously performing a lobotomy on the entire fucking audience watching at home.
As for character developments: Bailey’s husband left her while she was in surgery, because he got sick of her prioritizing the lives of others over his own need to have cereal at the breakfast nook with her every morning. George acted as go between in their little tussle, while Bailey performed surgery and her husband hung out in the waiting room. It was exciting TV. Clearly, Shonda is wrecking the one decent character left on the show by sabotaging her marriage for no good reason at all, save for the possibility of she and The Chief doing the surgical whoopee. I think, too, that there is some controversy over whether it admirable for Bailey to intentionally alter the Swastika, but it’s a silly controversy: Of course it’s admirable. Allowing him to bleed out would have been admirable.
Meanwhile, in a ridiculous, contrived plot turn, Derek made out with the Rose, doctor who saved the day; minutes later, Meredith asked him to please not see other people while she continues to refuse to have a serious relationship with him. Derek, naturally, said nothing — he let the silence linger in the air like a rancid, chili-powered cliffhanger.
Back at home, Alex, after being suspended a week for allowing Ava into the gallery, tells Ava to shut up and fuck him, because — after all — that’s really all she wants, what with having a kid and husband at home. She looks hurt at first, and then resigns herself to a months-long meal of cheap fucks and bad conversation. Months I have no intention of suffering through.
Elsewhere, near the end of the episode, George and Rainbow Assassin imply that they are donesies; no real reason, actually. Just bad timing, so says George. Maybe later, he suggests. Rainbow Assassin seems perfectly OK with that. There are no tears. No hysterics. Just the usual numb pain that emanates from an episode of “Grey’s Anatomy.” The SkankFuzz is dead, y’all.
And, at the very end of the episode, Lexie, Meredith, Rainbow Assassin, Christina, and George all dance in Meredith’s living room. Because when you lose a patient, or your relationship is in turmoil, the thing to do is dance. As Meredith intones, “and then somehow, improbably, and when you least expect it, the world rights itself again.”
Fat chance.
This show is a cyst on the ass of television.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives with his wife and son in Ithaca, New York. You may email him, or leave a comment below.
Comments
Posted by: TK at December 12, 2007 1:09 PM
Dustin... I'm begging you.
Please stop. I'll vote for Quizlaw. I'l drink less. I'll stop badmouthing Peyton Manning (OK, that's an exaggeration).
Please. Do it for the children.