By S.P. Ashworth | TV | November 9, 2009 |
By S.P. Ashworth | TV | November 9, 2009 |
Previously on “FlashForward”: A hand. A BLUE hand. ‘N’ shit.
Punching Bag Al starts us off, dictating a letter to a lady named Celia. We watch Celia find a flier under her windshield wiper containing the URL www.alreadyghosts.com, beside it a blue hand like that which they found in last week’s episode. Al tells Celia that he knows she experienced no flash forward, but that she’s not alone. And by the way, he expresses it with pitch-perfect lachrymose. E-to-the-M-to-the-M-to-the-Whhhhhyyyyyy, Lord, why?
Moving along, NotRalph, Demetri, and Al hang out with the three cadavers found in the blue hand house. It turns out — da-da-da DA — all dem bodies were suicides. Twist! What’s weirder still is that they were all normal peeps with kids and everything. So why the eff would they kill themselves, you ask? Because, Silly. “FlashForward” thinks it’s being interesting. DUH. Oh, and one of the bodies is that Rutherford guy from the case Al’s working on in his flash forward. Dippity-doo.
Aaron and his ginormous beard head to work where he’s stopped by a Corporal Mike Willingham. He knew Aaron’s daughter, and wanted to pass on a possession: a Swiss army knife. Never expecting to see it again, Aaron starts blubbering like a woman, believing the knife proves his flash forward; his daughter will live. And then, Jesus Christ, Aaron gives Mike a fucking hug, like. Whatever, dude. Man up.
Hey-Oh. Fiona Banks (the lovely Alex Kingston from “E.R.”) has arrived at the FBI from London. Having shared her flash forward with Al, she knew to visit them regarding the Rutherford case. The crew (sans-Janis) find out that the blue hand suicides were “ghosts” (people with no flash forward). That’s what the website is for — to connect with other ghosts. “Like a book club,” NotRalph mumbles, “with bullets.” Thanks, NotRalph. Tard. Then Demetri clicks on a screen with a big clock on it where a voice ominously repeats, “Tonight go downtown, and check the time.” Naturally everyone looks ready to shit their pants.
Uh, oh. Guess who totally forgot to pick invitations out with his fiancé? Demetri the D-Bag. Oh man, and he is a being a total D-Bag! WTF. So yeah. He leaves the house after telling Zoey she’s annoying. Slick.
Over at l’hopital, Nicole is volunteering, probably to gain peace of mind from her flash forward of, you know, potentially murdering someone. Then a Japanese woman starts freaking out at another nurse in her native tongue, but it’s cool, ‘cause Nicole totally knows Japanese. And of course you do.
Now Demetri, NotRalph, and Al stroll down a dark alleyway, shoot the shit, emote massive amounts of chemistry and buffoonery. Oh! You’re wearing a lame sweater vest! Oh — oh! But you’re wearing a lame leather jacket! Geez guys. We are such great friends.
But it appears they’ve found the entrance to the ghosts’ hideaway house. They get blue hand stamps (don’t worry — no cover), and make their way in. Ten bucks says Al buys a strawberry margarita.
OK. What the fuck is this? Industrial music? An old dude who wants to play Russian roulette? Seriously? This is the best scenario the writers could conjure up? Come ON, people. Think outside the G.D. box. Fuck. So this old dude chides them on and Al takes the bait ‘cause he’s badass and — click! The gun doesn’t blow his head off. Balls. However, the boys gain passage into the heart of this gimcrack asylum. Then over at the bar, NotRalph asks a Bai Ling lookalike if Raynaud is around. Yup. He sure is. Dis iz teh excitesment.
Hee. Lloyd is visiting Olivia at her office to thank her for everything, explain that he’ll be moving to the Bay area with Dylan ASAP, and assure her he will not be sleeping with her any time soon. And then they pretty much display the awkwardness of two people who will most definitely be fucking.
Oh, hey! Looks like Dr. Bryce needs Nicole’s help. There was a Japanese symbol in his flash forward, so since Nicole conveniently knows Japanese, and is conveniently volunteering at a hospital where Dr. Bryce conveniently knows Nicole through his boss, could she oh, so conveniently tell him what that symbol is for? Kthxbai. (It’s “belief,” btw. Barf.)
So I guess Corporal Mike isn’t done with Aaron since he corners him at a gas station. Perhaps feeling a wave of conscience, he needs to elaborate to Aaron how he was with his daughter when she died. And. Well. She was kinda sorta blown to pieces. Gotta go.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhahahahahahahahahahahahah. The depths of the blue hand abyss has become shitballs retarded—electric chairs, nooses, and all. Listen. If I was gonna die, I’m pretty sure you’d find me in Puerto Vallarta shooting tequila, not hanging from chains while listening to fucking Econoline Crush. Anyhow. The doctor they’re searching for makes his way out, tells everyone to “surrender to the inevitable,” and then gets taken down by the FBI.
Because it looks like Demetri, Al, and NotRalph want to interrogate this man, whose real name is Jeff Slingerland. They give him shit for putting together these groups and yell at him to talk, but all he has to say is “you can’t escape what you saw.” Fan-frickin-tastic.
Do you guys ever notice as you’re watching an episode that you’ve completely forgotten the reason the FBI is investigating anything? That they’re searching for people like Simon? My god there is absolutely no forward momentum, no cohesion. It’s amazing, really.
And now for the dramatic scene of the episode. Demetri and NotRalph chat about Demetri being a “ghost” similar to the people at the blue hand society. NotRalph believes Demetri should fight against it, Demetri thinks NotRalph should, “WAKE UP DAMMIT WAKE UP!” and to, “look around you, man. Look around,” because “there’s no way out.” Deep.
So I guess NotRalph feels shook up by Demetri’s words since, while watching television with his daughter, he nearly blubbers the way Aaron did earlier, and Joseph Fiennes makes another one of his goofball faces. Honestly. Fiennes is on fire this episode. I have no clue how he got nominated for an Oscar. What a fucking stooge.
In the meantime, Demetri makes up with Zoey. Ooo, and then he tells her the truth of his black-out flash forward. Yet Zoey still knows what she saw in her flash forward, which is Demetri. She believes they should have faith in her flash forward, not his, and to choose hope. Aw, shucks.
Oh my GOD, Mike and Aaron again. Aaron wants to thank Mike for finally giving Aaron closure about his flash forward. As a token of his gratitude, he gives Mike a job. Right — Mike’s having a hard time finding work. You tell me my daughter is a pulpy bloody mess; I give you an orange and black vest with your name on it. Tit for tat.
So Bryce shows Nicole around his house (which, okay?), and he has a zillion paintings of this Japanese woman from his flash forward. He wants to find her. Nicole agrees. End of story.
Back at the FBI, Al leaves a letter on Demetri’s desk. OooOo — I know what this means! Teehee! Please, please, please. As Demetri opens the letter during a meeting with Stan, Fiona, and NotRalph, he realizes what Al is about to do, and tells everyone to hold up.
But first let’s give the back story of why Al is going to do himself in: apparently he (accidentally) kills this Celia chick. Dunno how. But her death leaves her twin boys behind as orphans. So I guess Al can’t deal with that and is going to take charge, bitches.
So as he’s poised at the building’s roof edge, Demetri, NotRalph, Fiona, and Stan race up and tell him to stop. However, Al’s changin’ up the game. C’mon, Al! Do it! Find your balls! Dig deep!
Aaaaaaaand! He dies! He actually, 100 per cent, kicks it! And that, my friends, deserves a solid ZANG. Thank god. Awesome. Finally. Does anything happen following this? Sure. Sorta. Doesn’t matter, though. Punching Bag Al is dead. I’m spent.
So, okay. Looks like the flash forwards can be thwarted, which is awesome because frankly, it’s just plain interesting. But now what? Who gives a shit now? And that’s about as much effort I’ll put into those questions.
(And, fine — the final scene was Aaron standing face-to-face with his “dead” daughter. Hallucination, perhaps? Or is she actually alive? Or, is it really worth being intrigued since it’s such a cheap cliffhanger?)
S.P. Ashworth is a fourth-year creative writing student from Victoria, B.C. with aspirations of screenwriting, but realizes that without penning the next Devil Wears Prada, she’s pretty much hooped. You can email her or leave a comment below.