American Horror Story
Can I say something kind of terrible? I don’t know why I’m asking, because I’m just going to.
If you’ve ever read anything about the state of mental health care in this country in 1964, this place seems … not that bad? The lesson seems to be that if you just sit quietly and don’t try to escape or fellate any members of the staff, you can have kind of a chill time. Shabby chic rompers, cardigans, and cute, funky haircuts. They smoke; they bake bread; they watch kooky movies together on stormy nights. Don’t make me make the obvious Brooklyn joke I’d like to make here! Don’t make me do it!
Speaking of which: Perhaps I should address that the storm episode was oddly prescient? I mean, this is a pastiche horror show, so possibly the decent thing for me to do is ignore any similarity to recent events and move on to something everybody can feel good about. Like more of Adam Levine being brutalized.
Even after being vented like a potpie last week, the tattooed nightmare responsible for a host of the most irritating songs ever to inexplicably chart lives to die another day. After a quick replay of last episode’s stabbing, Leo then gets shot a couple of times for good measure. So does his wife, Teresa. The culprits turn out to be a pair of Leopold and Loeb types who are then summarily menaced by a third Bloody Face.
I’m confused here. Which Bloodyface did Teresa stab a whole bunch? If it’s one of these young murderers, then why is he fine? I cut my hand on one of those bagel slicers last week and texted like everybody I knew. I feel like you probably make a bigger deal if you get repeatedly ice picked, no? Maybe I’m just dramatic.
Well, no time to wonder, because now we’re back in 1964. Crazy sister Mary Eunice is full of the devil, which jumped from the cow-killer to her during the exorcism. Now she’s doing bad things like graphically murdering old Mexican women, trying to seduce Dr. Arden, and wearing lipstick in the wrong shade (stick with corals and soft pinks; the pinup thing is very 2002).
I guess we’re also going someplace with this aliens and nanobot story after all, because Dr. Arden is back poking around in Kit’s neck, with the little critter that ran out there doing a merry little jig in a jar. It kind of looks like that old screensaver. You know, the one that started out as a box and then grew legs and walked around. Hello! I’m old, how are you?
Speaking of Windows operating systems, Sister Jude once murdered a child when she was drunk. The ghost of the little girl is now apparently calling her and reprimanding her. Worst Jerky Boys sketch ever! Clearly, this necessitates drinking a whole decanter of church wine. She gets so loaded she can hardly blow a whistle, then starts talking smack about Charles Laughton. She rants to the inmates, who are just trying to watch a nice Mel Gibson movie, then stumbles off to encounter what I believe is an alien. Yellow Tail: It’s not for kids.
Meanwhile, the escape plot continues. Lana is desperately trying to get a message to her girlfriend, Wendy, who, according to Thredson, has probably been murdered by the real Bloodyface. She and Kit and Grace try to escape during the storm, while Chloë Sevigny provides a distraction/Brown Bunny homage by blowing a guard. (I love that Shelly is trying to get to Paris, because it’s where sluts are “celebrated.” I don’t know, Shelly, I went there in college and all they did was crab at me about Bush a lot.)
They do get out, just in time to replicate that famous shot from Shawshank in the rain. Apparently this is a little on-the-nose for the forest mutants, who emerge and attack them. Okay, fine. But forest mutants aside, wasn’t that kind of an easy escape? I’ve been in department stores that are harder to get out of. Hey, excuse me, forest mutants, but did we come in by the hats, or Menswear? I don’t remember. Anyone for Auntie Anne’s?
Back in Briarcliff, Academy Award Winner James Cromwell is attempting to rape Academy Award Nominee Chloë Sevigny while two-time Academy Award Winner Jessica Lange sleeps off her church wine. Bravo, everyone. When Shelly makes fun of Dr. Arden for being unable to perform, he beats her into unconsciousness and Kids-subway-guys her legs. I was waiting for those three singing mice to pop up and do a little “In Utero,” but alas, no luck.
Lots of questions for next week. Is Ryan Murphy dating the heir of the “Singing Nun Song” royalties fortune? Do you guys think that I can pull off Ravish Me Red? Are we all getting the same hilarious commercial that goes, “American Horror Story is brought to you by … THE BURGER KING GINGERBREAD COOKIE SHAKE?” Heart disease: It’s the Bloodyface or our times.
See you next week for an episode entitled (wait for it) “I Am Anne Frank.” Oh, boy. Stay warm and dry, my little forest creatures.