All fantasy requires a little suspended disbelief, but patience is finite and requires an ordered universe with rules and boundaries. True Blood has taken your suspended disbelief and expelled it, sent it to live with its nanna at a new school district before it stole all of her silver. For this reason, many of us stopped entrusting the writing staff of True Blood with our fragile faith, and quit watching the show around maenads or those rape panthers.
But I think that once a show crosses over beyond a certain point and just says, “Fuck it, there are werepanthers and they rape people,” then it circles back. It’s so off the rails that being off the rails becomes the point — you know, like riding an ATV while loaded on oxy. Thus, True Blood, season five.
To that end, we’ll be recapping this episode via Believability Index, ordered by things that made us go from most to least “hmmm.”
Eric Bangs His Sister
True, Nora isn’t his real sister. They have the same maker, and we’re probably just throwing “incest shock” into the mix this season to keep up with the Game of Throneses Jonses. Here’s where things got Not Believable: Nora stopped having sex with Eric because his cell phone rang, heralding Russel’s return. Listen, Nora, it’s not a Broadway show and you’re not an indignant, mid-performance Hugh Jackman; you’re having sex with Alexander Johan Hjalmar Skarsgård. Hit silent.
Reverend Steve Newlin’s Declaration of Love
Sure, everybody wants to do Jason just a little. And yes, every HBO program is contractually obligated to feature a secretly gay guy who acts like a lunatic because of it. It’s almost kind of sweet how Steve only glamours Jason to invite him in and then allowed him free will from there, which is more than we can say for those rape panthers. It’s a bit like slipping a lady a mickey and then waiting till she’s awake to inquire politely about whether she’d like to make love. It was, however, pretty believable when Jason rescinded his invite and Steve got sucked out of the house and into the night while screaming “I love youuuuu,” because, been there.
Jessica’s Underage Drinking Party
Jessica celebrates having run of Bill’s house by throwing the lamest rager I’ve ever seen. There are, like, four kids in Polos encouraging her to apply to college (what?) and then they all play Guitar Hero with a cop. This is a house party? Kid and Play are rolling over in their graves! (I assume they are dead.)
Scott Foley As a Desert Storm Veteran
I guess we’re getting some kind of Jacob’s Ladder subplot with Terry’s former platoon, who have all mysteriously been involved in fires. I’ll be onboard if he turns out to be a lightning demon or the god Prometheus or a Mayan spirit invoked by Felicity’s witchy roommate Meghan, but I just don’t buy him as a Marine.
Alcide and Sookie Drink Lemonade
There are carbs in that.
The Wolf Pack Funeral
What a treat to see Dale Dickey of Winter’s Bone lending a little menacing hill-person flavor to the show, but I have a hard time believing that anybody could summon any kind of depth of feeling for Marcus, let alone enough to eat his intestines.
That One Naked Werewolf’s Butt
Are you serious with that butt? Unbelievable.
The Authority Has Some Pretty Sweet Equipment
Following the vampire-government-mythology of the show is like trying to play a board game with a small, cheating kid. I know you’re just making this up as you go along, so I’m having a hard time INVESTING in the outcome. It’s sad to have Nan Flannigan reduced to Hormel chili and exciting to hear that Russel is back, but I could do without the whole vampire-shadow-government thing. Like, really? They have helicopters and rocket launchers and silver casting nets? What’s funding this kind of reckless defense spending? Not my tax dollars, I hope.
Last season when she had most of her neck blown off, I immediately started Googling “Rutina Wesley True Blood Contract.” But I guess she’s back and a vampire now, albeit maybe a “fucktarded” one. There’s a tip for you: If you want to use the word retard in myriad variations, just do every other wildly offensive thing and it’ll look pretty mild in comparison.
The Wal-Mart Sweat Suit
I guess making a cast member of True Blood wear anything designed for Deeply Unsexy People was a nice visual gag. But in real life, when you have a friend sleep over who won’t fit into your minuscule trampy nightgowns, you give her some yoga pants and a roomy T-shirt.
Jessica’s Performance of “Cherry Bomb”
I know that being in the cast of True Blood probably comes with a live-in P90X trainer and a copy of Orthorexia and You, but who among us has ever seen a rural law enforcement agent who didn’t look like he was deep in the clutches of Hazelnut Coffeemate–induced Type II?
Usually when it comes to death, the citizens of Bon Temps are about as resilient as memory foam. But poor Lafayette’s been hit hard by his boyfriend and his cousin, so we momentarily think that maybe he’s eyeballing Sookie’s lady Bic in the bath to end it all. Jokes on us, he was just deciding to shave his head. Disbelief: high. That razor couldn’t take the downy left eyebrow of a Swedish baby, let alone decimate Lafayette’s glorious Grace Jones in the span of one bath.
Why Do Any of You Have Jobs?
Seriously, if you can turn into an owl or clean at hyperspeed, you can rob a bank. Ask anybody who owns a bar. It sounds fun, but, man it’s a lot of work.
All in all, this season looks promisingly ludicrous. Tune in next week for more vampire batshit insanity.