‘Weeds’: What the Hell Is Going On?

Also, what the hell happened to the Olsen twins? Photo: Courtesy of Showtime
Show
Weeds
Episode Title
He Taught Me How to Drive By
Season
3
Episode
7

Virgins (Mary-Kate Olsen's Tara Lindman) and whores (Celia Hodes); scoundrels (newly conniving Marvin) and dead pimps (U-Turn, wearing a spiffy suit, propped up in a hot tub because "the boat didn't fit"); 10-year-old angels (a porcelain-faced carrier of the Lord's word) and horny preteens (Shane and Celia’s lesbian daughter, Isabelle); professional shaven mavens and “Peckers of the Caribbean” (Andy is an on-site cook for a suburban porno starring well-hung, nutritionally challenged master, Lexington Steel): All the suburban demons really came out to play in this episode, with Church battling State, man demeaning woman, Agrestic rejecting Majestic, and all of it feeling rather empty, though still absurdly entertaining.

With everyone stripping off and mouthing off and confessing to sins (“I'm a blasphemous liberal Jew, what could be worse than that?" yells Shane during afternoon playtime), it feels like the cast of Weeds just returned from a long vacation to discover that no one really knows — or maybe even likes — each other, but they're all pros so let's just draw our guns, take our clothes off, and see what happens. Only, they didn't just return from vacation; we're in the middle of the season, so there's really no explanation for any of this.

While Shane is getting beaten by a gang of Jesus-loving pre-jocks, Nancy is having confusing sex with her lecherous, unattractive boss — the aging redhead who keeps grabbing her behind while simultaneously propositioning Celia. She does this in celebration of her handing off the trunk of heroin to the Mexicans, despite said Mexicans putting an end to Nancy’s weed sales. Also, pardon us for asking, but isn’t Nancy’s dealing the premise of the show?

Our guess is that this is all leading toward more drive-bys and shoot-outs, after which Nancy will be left standing in her camisole and Prada heels, blowing smoke from her gun and summoning her boys for a big family hug. Has it really come to this? Or will her second dead husband wash up in a sea of Majestic sewage and bring down a few much-needed real-life consequences on our wayward well-meaning Agrestic Mom’s behind? Nancy, we say: Join the PTA, open a cupcake store, and start smoking some of your own medicine. —Emma Pearse