By S.P. Ashworth | TV | November 17, 2009 |
By S.P. Ashworth | TV | November 17, 2009 |
Previously on “FlashForward”: Punching Bag Al threw in the towel which then fell twenty stories to the ground, cracked its skull, and made 90 per cent of all “FlashForward” audiences high five their friends.
Aw man. Do I have to do this? Really? You realize it’s not even half way through the season, right? That it’s only a third done? Oh this is such balls.
So we open on Celia at home. Apparently she received Al’s letter and, understanding her that flash forward can be thwarted, contacted the newspapers. They’re super joyous. In fact, everyone’s shitting-their-pants excited over Al’s nose dive: NotRalph and Olivia get it on at a beachside hotel, Nicole contemplates her redemption. Oh, it’s just happy times in “FlashForward” Land.
Except in Lloyd’s sector. He creases his forehead big time while staring at an email he’s composed, titled, “WE HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY,” before clicking send. A PDF file is attached in the main body. You know, I kinda dig Lloyd—he may be one of the saving graces of the show, even if he spends most of the time fucking the dog.
Oh, and look: Janis is back at work. And she wants to quit ‘cause of what happened to Al. And boo-fucking-hoo. Here’s something you can do for me: open your mouth when you talk. You sound like you have lock jaw while in the middle of a twenty-five day period. Those who think Janis should quit the FBI, raise your hands. And hey — you. In the corner. Yeah. You. Raise your fucking hand, my friend.
Back at Lloyd, Simon pays a visit to him and Dylan at the hospital, wondering what the eff is up with the email Lloyd sent to their crew. Feeling slightly guilty over the 20 million dead folks, Lloyd wants to fess up to the crime, although Simon thinks otherwise. Then they have a badass staring contest.
HUUuuhhhhhhMLLAAAAHhhhh. Guh-huh-huh-HUH! HU-WAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh! Oh. Oh, god. That was awful. I just … I just lost my dinner. Can someone please flip to the next scene? Watching Olivia and NotRalph half naked in bed is just … Oh god. Here comes the spinach dip.
But luckily NotRalph is pulled away from his wife, since Demetri received something interesting from the Barstow PD: a recording of an armed perp with the same stars tattooed on his forearm as that of the guy in NotRalph’s flash forward. (‘Cause there isn’t a plethora of douchebags with the same tattoos in North America or anything.) But, hey! This teaser is good enough for a…
So NotRalph is on a mission: get the fucker with the star tattoos before he gets him. That works. Well, outside of all the reasons it totally doesn’t work, but hey. Enough with the pessimism, folks.
And guess who’s totally alive-alive? Aaron’s daughter, Tracy, and she freaks the fuck out from a nightmare of her time in Afghanistinani. Aaron tries to calm her down, asking why she was hidden away for two years, insisting that he’s ready to hear her story and to be there for her, but it’s a no go. Tracy looks exhausted and pissed off and well. She lost half her leg, ya’ll.
Over at the hospital (which, btw, I am really beginning to loathe along with the FBI and NotRalph’s home) Lloyd and Simon corner Olivia about Dylan’s never-ending condition. And blah-blah-blah Simon rattles off a bunch of reasons why, based on Dylan’s chart, Dylan’ll be fine and why Simon can take Lloyd out to play “catch up”. Yeah, catch up your FACE. Zing!
With Olivia off to see another patient, Lloyd and Simon find a solution to their conflict: Texas Hold ‘Em. If Lloyd wins, they give themselves up. If Simon wins, they don’t. And if I win, I get to eat Oreo ice cream while watching “The Sopranos”. Please? Maybe? Aw, man. This is bullshit.
In the meantime, Demetri, NotRalph, and Janis find the woman who recorded Tattoo Guy on her cell phone while he murdered an innocent man in an alleyway. Apparently the victim gave up a briefcase to the bad guys before being killed and dicka-dicka-doo, I have totally stopped listening. Grey hair. QED. This scene sucks.
So let’s watch Simon and Lloyd rock The Poker inside this fancy-pants room. Somewhere. With two other dudes. While drinking whiskey. In suits. Okee dokee. Simon throws his weight around talking about QED and how he’s going to kick Lloyd’s ass at poker. And as ridonkulous as this whole scene is, I can’t help enjoy listening to these guys talk. Just a little.
In other news, Tracy spills the beans to her Dad about her leg. Long story short (because, well, you understand) Tracy can’t trust the military since she was attacked by a business named Jericho who works for said military. She cried a lot during the attack. And it was very dusty.
Naturally, Aaron flips his shit over his daughter’s safety. So, needing to vent, he turns to NotRalph. Not the first place I’d turn to for relief, but okay. Aaron then asks NotRalph for help regarding Jericho. And yeah. This episode is just a big ol’ pile of donkey balls boring. Next.
GUH. NotRalph and Olivia. Skipping forward to the scene’s beat, NotRalph gave Olivia a bra and panties set while on vacation. The set is the same that she wears in her flash forward. So, to thwart the future, she throws it away, which is actually kinda smart. Nice one, Olivia.
Back at the FBI, the gang talks about a lot of shit. Blech. I am so sorry guys, I am flat-out exhausted by all the talking in circles. Okay, here: it looks like the crew thinks there’s a mole in the department since every move they make appears to be anticipated by the bad guy. To try to catch Tattoo Guy, then, they want to use Ingrid as bait at her pet store.
Woah. Hey. Looks like Tracy is kind of a super bitch. After Aaron admits he told NotRalph about her arrival, she freaks out, sure that Jericho will find her and kill her. But Aaron thinks otherwise since he saw Tracy in Afghanistan in his flash forward. He remembers also meeting a friend of hers named Kahmir, so you know—it’s all good in the hood and she should take a pill.
So the gang is on another stake-out. Man they love those. Janis stays with Ingrid in her bird store while Demetri and NotRalph shoot the shit in a patrol car. Both conversations leave much to be desired, so why don’t I sum it up with this picture:
Anyhow. Apparently there is a mole in the department since Janis hears activity in the bird store’s hallway, and after the lights mysteriously shut off, Demetri and NotRalph move in. With … no one else as back-up. Okay I give up, “FlashForward.” Whatever. What the fuck ever.
So the guys creep around the corners of the building for about 20 years when — kazam! They find the guy. And NotRalph totally shoots the fucker. And then every audience member and their dog goes, “Who the fuck cares.”
Well, maybe the FBI does since NotRalph tells Demetri to cover for his trigger-happy emotions by saying the bad guy drew his gun first. Meanwhile, Janis tells Ingrid she’ll have to go into witness protection since the second bad guy is out there and will probably kill her. Why this matters is because it lines up with Ingrid’s flash forward, and why that matters, well fuck if I know.
Over in Pokerville, Simon is kicking Lloyd’s ass. With Lloyd sitting on only $15, 000 of a what was initially a massive mound of money, Simon decides to do a winner-takes-all. He’s of the mind that Lloyd is out of luck, so why not! And then guess who totally gets a straight flush? Lloyd. Granted he also cheated by using his card tricks, but I guess that doesn’t really matter. Lloyd won and they’ll now be admitting to the world what they did. And then Simon makes his sad face. Aw.
The home stretch! Woo!
Back at the office, Janis wikis sperm donors. Yeah, ‘cause that’s a reliable source of information. Stan then arrives and Janis shows him a further rendered photo of the man at the stadium on the day of the black out. And since Stan is fucking super human, he notices the dude is wearing a ring, and that if the picture’s further rendered, this ring could be a prime source of evidence. And suck my clank, Stan.
Over at NotRalph’s abode, he reveals to Olivia that he killed Tattoo Guy. Hoping they now have a second chance, they hug. And stuff. Oh how my heart feels dry and joyless.
So guess what! There are ten-trillion bad guys with stars tattoos on their forearms. I lay on the floor a changed woman. This news is more life changing than Obama. There are other bad guys with star tattoos on their forearms. There are other bad guys with star tattoos on their forearms.
And then one of those guys presents the suitcase from earlier to a head bad guy. And, hey! The suitcase is full of rings, with one missing. So sit on that one, ya’ll. I’m fucking out.
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.