No shoot-outs, punch-ups, or random freak-outs followed by running away (cough, Shane) descended upon us this week. Instead, we were regaled with a stream of bodily issues — burping, grunting, sexually deviant big toes, and post-operative breasts. Mixed in with all the drawn-out kitchen scenes, sentimental conversations, and melodramatic moments, the sum was very daytime soap opera. And we liked it!
A man flying a kite found Scottson (Peter, remember — Nancy's second husband), and the crew buried him in the lush Agrestic ground to little fanfare. At least everyone wore black: Nancy, while stalking Scottson's family, and Celia, while sipping morning martinis in a camisole and lavender hair rollers, signing her divorce papers. Aside from Andy entering porn and the tabloids sniffing a rat in Scottson's death — a rat that may or may not lead to Nancy — the show mellowed this week, in its own grim way. A surprisingly philosophical Sullivan Groff (Nancy’s creepy boss, played by Matthew Modine) humanized Celia in her single, cancer-recovery state; Nancy entered a medical clinic, baring her breast to a woman whose husband's murder she's responsible for. Sullivan, with Celia, unknowingly spoke to this fraught little situation of Nancy's: “The first time I saw you, there was something familiar in the best possible way. Like we shared a secret.”
And then there was the garden scene between the two little weirdos, Shane and Isabelle, who spent the episode lying on the grass, smoking, fondling each other, and finally laying down some preadolescent wisdom: “We've bonded through sin,” said Shane, holding a cig to Isabelle's lips. “This is the moment where I finally become cool, right?” —Emma Pearse