American Horror Story
Hello, my little inmates. Was it me, or was this kind of a good one?
When we open, my favorite tushy-flasher and yours, Dylan McDermott, is meeting with a hypnotist. And hooray, it’s Brooke Smith*!
His name is “Johnny Morgan” and he found her in the Pennysaver. Cool, that’s where Jennifer Garner found her baby. Lots of attractive people, finding stuff in the Pennysaver.
Maybe Brooke Smith can help him not skin and kill pets anymore. Or maybe he’ll sew a bunch of their pelts into a sassy suit. What is she, about a size 14 cats?
Then he tells her he can’t stop thinking of murdering women and she’s all, “Uhhhh.” Basically, add a plate of calamari and it’s your last OKCupid date.
“I’m the son of Bloodyface!” he finally announces, mercifully not adding “beeyotch,” because this episode is clearly titrating its bonkers for later. Back to the sixties!
Sister Mary Eunice cheerfully informs Lana that she’s pregnant and makes a pretty classless joke about serving her an abortifacient “Drano margarita.” (Remember, this was before Chi Chi’s closed.) But alas, it’s one of those blasted Catholic hospitals, and ending the pregnancy is not an option. No worries, though, Mary Eunice assures her that asylums are sexy places where people make loads of well-adjusted babies.
Meanwhile, poor Jude is strapped to a bed, in halo brace, while the monsignor explains that she’s on the hook for Frank’s death, because that’s what Arden, Mary Eunice, and Crazy Santa Rampage Lee told the cops. That’s right! Ian MacShane lives, and he’s got a groovy Scott Stapp haircut. Happy Hanukkah, everybody.
She’s also been stripped of her nun-title and proscribed to life in Briarcliff. Sad for her, but a big win for local chronic masturbators. The monsignor, who I guess isn’t evil so much as a big big dummy, brings in Lee, who shuffles in with aaaaaaarms wide ooooopen to forgive her. She does a lot of sexy Jessica Lange writhing, and if I ever get New York State lottery, I’m paying these two to do an unhinged “On Golden Pond” together in my living room.
Oof. And down in the basement, Lana’s unspooled a coat hanger. Do you think she’s making a mobile? She sneaks into Kit’s room to figure out how to get Thredson to tell everybody that he’s the real Bloodyface. She decides to use the baby as leverage and gets him to cough up a whole bunch of information about when he liked to skin people while Kit records him.
But oh snap, she tells him she’s already terminated the pregnancy. “You’re a monster!” he says. Ha ha ha, Republicans.
Arden catches Kit trying to hide the tape under a bathtub, and decides it’s time they geek out over aliens together. Arden shows him a plaster cast of an alien hand or something, and I half expected him to also pull out some of those pewter-and-crystal dragon statues and maybe a little replica of the Tardis.
But no — he thinks the aliens are studying Kit specifically, and wants to conjure them by almost killing him. Kit’s like oh, okay, sounds good, because he knows he’s in safe hands with Bill Nye the Science Nazi. “Well then, Mr. Walker. Prepare to die,” says Arden. Ooooh, girl.
Elsehwere, because AHS writers probably have a big white board someplace that says “Cool Ways to Blashpheme,” monsignor Wences is preparing to baptize Lee. Lee, obviously, drowns him in a baptismal font.
The Angel of Victorian Cosplay comes to him, where he’s been sloppily affixed to a crucifix and may not be 100 percent dead. Spectacle, testicles, wallet, Silence of the Lambs homage.
Lana can’t get her hands on a knife to kill Thredson, so instead repurposes the coat hanger into a shank what for to stab him with. She even practices on a pillow, much in the same way that you and I learned to French kiss. But oh, man, he’s escaped! Even worse, Mary Eunice lays her ultrasound hands on Lana’s womb and pronounces that she’s still with child. Really? I mean, maybe she’s just with burrito. We’ve all been there.
Lana heads off to the common room for smokes, because if she can’t kill the baby, at least she can make him unappealingly short. She’s joined by Jude, who vows to spring them both, while I admire their kinda beachy hair and beautiful skin. Apparently being in an asylum makes you look like you’re en route to a casual dinner in Malibu.
Arden’s attempting to bring Kit to the brink of death to summon the aliens or whatever (I honestly don’t even know), and he’s just about to go to the big Citgo sign in the sky when the room lights up and — stay with me — there’s a guitar solo? I don’t know, it was hard to hear over the involuntary noise of confusion I was making. It was sort of like a dial-up modem but louder and more incredulous.
So who was at the door? Aliens? Iron Butterfly? No! It’s Pepper! HI PEPPER I LOVE YOU! And she’s brought back Grace, who is not only alive but super pregnant? What? Man, oh man! So Dylan McDermott could be Grace’s OR Lana’s scary baby, I guess? Is that a possibility? I don’t know. I wish I paid more attention in health class.
Either way, we’re really keeping the Christ allegories in Christmas. Will the monsignor live? Will aliens come for Kit? Don’t you wish you had a cool lesbian mom? See you guys next week.
* Brooke Smith, not Kathryn Hahn. Though we do love Kathryn Hahn!