Spellbound (by uber silly vampire crack telly)
I dunno what is is about Episode 8 of True Blood, but in every season Ep 8 has been the magic number for super fantastique TV. Season 1 had the outdoor mud sex of visceral, lusty awesome (still never to be topped, bitches), Season 2 had the white suit motherfucker church standoff and Bill hitting Lorena with the plasma TV, Season 3 had more fabulous fucking and that great handbags-at-dawn smackdown between Debbie ‘about to go psycho any second’ Pelt and the Sook. Despite much eye rolling and rude gestures (the bird, the ‘wanker’ sign) by myself and hubby at more gooey, saccharine and totally insincere babble between the blonde twins, this episode continued the grand tradition of demented brilliance mixed with only the occasional Nana Nap bit or ‘LOL, seriously?’ cringe moment.
Clearly stung by my acid-spitting critique from last week’s review, Saint Sookie the Single Brain-Celled decided to interrupt her V-trip to the Harlequin Soft Porn for Middle Aged Ladies Channel and go and do something useful for a change, but is not very useful at all. She ends up getting shot by some random after zapping a single inept witch and that’s our cliffhanger for this week. Much as I sadistically enjoyed seeing her get shot, they had to ruin my enjoyment with more rescuing of the damsel in distress schtick and pshaw, don’t insult my intelligence, Mr Ball. Alcide and Bill will save her pert ass and Debbie will get her skinny ass kicked over the edge of sanity into a murderous mental case sticky end, like in the Sacred Book 4. But that hallowed text has been mostly ignored this season, for which I am sooooo bloody grateful, so you never know eh?
Anyhoo, I am jumping ahead of myself to the big Bon Temps Graveyard Rumble at the end of the episode when I should be relaying other exciting events in a semi-coherent order with the usual uncharitable and generally retarded commentary. But how brilliant was Jessica in this episode, and how glad are y’all that she’s not a pile of unattractive goo on the lawn? Almost as glad as Vampire Dad methinks. She never, ever bores me, she’s always funny, sweet n’ vulnerable, scary as all hell, and deeply tragic. Also Jason Stackhouse, RAWR. That himbo is a real contender for CE’s bored-at-work daytime fantasies, and it’s not just his uniform (mmmm, uniforms). The characters I woo-hoo for are the ones that have put on their grown-up panties and learned from their crazy, whereas the ones that bug the shit out of me have stagnated and learned nothing at all. While I’m still gushing and yet to move on to mocking and bitching, oh William, the Conqueror of my discerning heart and lady parts, you’re soooo dreamy. Mean ole Nan Flanagan must never depose him but should give him a raise and a hybrid to replace that vile gas guzzling SUV he’s driving around in. Tree hugging CE disapproves.
As expected by everyone bar a few gullible stupids, Jason sails through the front door telegenically to save Jess, they kiss awkwardly but still with some heat, and he carries her back downstairs to frantic Daddy, displaying adorable dorkiness as he chains her back up until Bill gets mildly exasperated and sends him on his way. Being on Bill’s security team is the most dangerous job in Looziana, beating even doing public relations for British Petroleum and/or FEMA, so Jess n’ Jason’s dead and injured staff get properly compensated. Over at the werewolf meeting, the packmaster proves himself surprisingly sensible and his pack marginally more interesting than that shower of trashy junkies in Jackson last season, opting to stay the fuck out of the vamp vs. witch debacle. While Sam makes amends with his foxy girlfriend, who alas is the ex of said packmaster (sadly revealed to be a possessive, stalkerish blowhard later on in the hour), we take an uber disturbing trip into Jessica’s dreams, where the break up with Hoyt is brutal, cruel and ultimately murderous. This was so hideous and so well done I was utterly gripped, especially by the way she imagined him; smelly, slobby, clingy, whiny and unable to function without her. The reality when it comes later is no less WTF, but Hoyt is much nastier and assertive, telling her he doesn’t deserve her emotional fuckwittage, he deserves better, and going in for the kill himself in his choice of insults. Brava, Alan Ball and actors, just WOW.
Dragging myself reluctantly over to the House of Lurve, Stupid Sookie is still in La La Land, offering Eric her blood to heal (fair do’s, he looks pretty munted) and then inexplicably taking his blood despite all her rage and frustration about being tricked into drinking it not so long ago. Not only will this come back to bite her on the ass later, it also completely ruins the long awaited shower scene from the Sacred Book with sparkly V- addled bollocks. As I convulse with LOLZ and snorts, there’s awkward stroking (um, are her tits a no go zone or something?), the kind of loved up babbling you hear from two randoms on E in a nightclub, the magical land of ice and snow and convenient beds, and strategically placed furs. It’s consistently Twilight (or Narnia, but everyone on the interwebs has made that comparison, so I’m being ORIGINAL), but not particularly sexy.
Enough about THEM, lets go visit the King, he’s always doing something interestin’ these days, non? The goo puddle of daywalking Beulah Carter is attracting the interest of the cops (particularly Andy, typically strung out and sweary awesome, who wants to eat it, RANK), rubberneckers including ole Maxine, a news reporter, and famous local Vampire Bill. Glamouring the reporter into giving him a good spot on the news to exploit the death by pushing the AVL agenda, the slick operator then gives Marnie/Antonia/whatever a call. She’s just seen him on the telly and is both pissed and perplexed by using the number keys on the remote to get rid of his sly, smexy face. Making an apology on behalf of all bastard vampires and pleading for peace, he sets up a midnight summit in the graveyard that will not include Jess ‘cos maybe she’s too busy getting kicked out of her suitor’s houses, but will include Sookie n’ Eric because Sook insists, suddenly remembering she’s the goddamn star of this show so better be doing something other than rooting and breaking hearts. While Maxine is ghoulishly distracted by the spectacle of next door death, Tommy sneaks into her house and nicks some of her classy stout matron threads (and knickers, LOLZ). This skinwalking thingy is turning out surprisingly good fun. A sweary, uncouth, beer swigging, avaricious Maxine trying to shake down the gas man is so excellently out of character and yet not far from the delightfully awful person she is under the Southern lady facade.
More randomness is going on with the creepy baby, Creole lady, Lafayette and Terry n’ Arlene, with a slightly confusing flashback (um, 1920′s?) which shows the cracker father of Creole lady’s baby had him killed due to them days being moralistic and totes racist. So now she’s inhabiting Laffy and has kidnapped the creepy baby … um her accent is great but am I supposed to care about this? Back to witchy fun! The blonde twins turn up at Bill’s, which he’s visibly not thrilled about, insisting they want to fight the witches by his side, except Eric doesn’t really, he just wants to hide, shag like Nordic bunnies and trip his tits off, but Sook doesn’t roll that way. It’s looking promising for a temporary respite in this ersatz love story, as Eric’s about to go rogue, and Sookie rather evidently has not moved on from Bill, just taken a detour, especially now he’s being all noble and heroic and shit. Rejoice, partisan shippers! Myself, I’m just glad I no longer need a sick bucket and can look forward to some sex that actually makes me wanna hunt my man around the house and jump him. One day maybe … *sighs*
Midnight finally comes, drawing in vamps and nervous and badly armed witches (hope that silver tea tray came in handy, witch lady). And Alcide, ‘cos he can’t stay away from Sookie drama, and a trailing Debbie wolf. So both leaders lied and sensibly brought back up, but I don’t think Bill was planning to rip out throats if he could avoid it, it’s of course Eric who fucks that plan. Can’t we tattoo ‘cannot be trusted’ on him somewhere so everyone gets the message? The mist descends, the fight breaks out, Eric gorges himself on dippy wiccans, Sookie bumbles around in the dark and gets shot, Bill saves Tara from one-track Pam (hurrah! I hated how he blanked her in Jackson when she seriously needed help, and I like Tara, fuck all y’all, haters), and disdainfully repels shrieking, ineffectual assailants, and Antonia takes over Eric’s befuddled brain for more sinister motives than giving the writers an excuse to make him a suitable Sookie suitor. Violence is definitely going to ensue.
Is Antonia gonna make him go undercover as Nice but Dim Eric and launch a sneak attack on Bill, or is he just going to go mental the unsubtle, Viking, beserker way? I’m soooo goddamn excited to find out, as always. Until next time, fellow squeeing fangirls, who else is hoping for a blood-induced hot threesome dream that actually makes us horny next week? Clutching mah pearls in advance y’all.
Animated .gif: King Bill Tumblr