Fashion notes first . . .
Something that's been done well for the past few weeks: the makeup of Jonathan Frid. There has been a refreshing amount of restraint of late and it is really, really appreciated (retrospectively, but considering how much I usually complain about it, I'd think they'd be happy with any compliments even those given 35 odd years later).
Perhaps this is a tacky thing to say, but maybe it was a good idea that Barnabas decided to emulate my late grandfather and drive over the sidewalk nearly killing Quentin. Just think, if he hadn't, Quentin would have seen Carolyn in the patchwork skirt from hell.
I have to agree with Steve, Grayson Hall really appears to advantage during this plot. Again, excellent makeup (did Vinnie whatshisname go on v-kay?), good hair and some nice clothes.
And then there's Joan. I loved, absolutely loved that black dress she wore post-clown/Leviathan drama. It was a great cut on her and she looked great, helmet hair (that got cut the next day, thank you, God), and all. I really think she picked up something of a glow whenever they let her play evil (maybe that was more a "finally, something to do that's interesting" glow). The woolen cape was pretty cool too.
That was an unfortunate greenish suit that was given to Dennis Patrick. Paired with the blue shirt, it was positively disastrous.
I do not like Elizabeth's rolled collar dress. Also pink and purple are colors that should be combined sparingly, if at all.
Maggie was sporting a grey minidress with buttons down the front and a pleated skirt. Did nothing for her figure. KLS' hair was fab though.
Gold brocade lounging pajamas. I have to say, McKechnie managed to pull them off. Actually, so far I've liked most of Olivia's clothes. They fit the character. Lots of flash. Lots of drama. The way people visualize movie stars dressing. However.
It was orange. It was fur. It was cheap. It was something that Nanook of the North might have worn. I'm not liking Olivia's fur.
And onto the show . . .
You know, I realize that Collinsport is supposed to be a small community. I realize that the family has this great, if occasionally ill-placed trust in Julia's skills. I realize that Julia actually holds a M.D. and presumably has some ability to handle medical emergencies. I realize that Carolyn was very upset (although why? I mean, she met a guy for a space of like oh, ten minutes. They arranged to meet for a date. Okay, he gets run down in front of you, upsetting, but I mean, she just met the guy). But I digress.
Grant/Quentin is in an actual hospital. Perhaps not the Mayo Clinic, but presumably a facility able to handle accident victims, presumably staffed with doctors who regularly treat patients for physical ailments. Doctors, who presumably keep up with the medical literature and have an active and honed skill set. I'm not a doctor and I have to tell you, I would not be calling my shrink friend to come on down to the hospital and second judge the ER doctor's assessment and treatment of some guy who just got plowed over by a car.
Moving on. Frid. I'm really liking his performance as the scary Leviathan leader. Like the coldness. Like the focus he manages to convey. It's working for me. It's very, very effective.
Writingwise, I am at a loss as to why it is necessary to make Megan forget he told her they'd be SORASing little baby doll Joseph into the Campbell Soup Kid. I mean, Liz seems to be aware of who Barnabas is. Philip and Megan have been equally cognizant of his true role several times, so all of the sudden Megan's not supposed to remember this little psychic chat? Why?
I find it extremely amusing that the Leviathan Messiah has a lisp and a soup bowl haircut. Too bad he was such a bad little actor. That voice. That accent. That bad relentless Iambic pentameter sounding delivery. "Tomorrow is my birthday. Carolyn's going to be there." And of course, "Mrs. Stoddah! Mrs. Stoddah"
Speaking of Mrs. Stoddard, yet another nice performance from Miss Bennett in her scenes with Patrick. I really liked the dialogue as well. Interesting to see how she managed to manipulate him and how he was planning to manipulate her.
Yeesh, though. Paul, sweetie. This is not The Parent Trap. You didn't have twins. You're not Brian Keith. Carolyn's not Hayley Mills or Hayley Mills and Liz sure as hell ain't Maureen O'Hara. You should have gotten out of Dodge when you had the chance.
Heh, I had to laugh when Paul caught Julia eavesdropping. The way these people listen at doors. Had to happen sooner or later.
Since when have Roger and David been so close? I mean, honestly, it would have been more consistent with the previous history to show them acting awkwardly and Roger thrusting the transistor radio at David and maybe, (if they were aiming for warm and fuzzy) to have them tentatively shake hands. Hugging each other? Since when?
Or did they air the touching reconciliation scenes where they got over their emotional baggage when we weren't looking?
Paul got off some nice shots at Roger and Elizabeth there.
It's very refreshing to watch a man being gaslighted for a change.
So like is anyone actually emotionally invested in the saga of Olivia and Grant? Does anyone really care? This chick shows up, rents a hotel suite and liberally sprinkles framed photographs of herself around. Egad! When Maggie had a head shot of herself in her bedroom I thought it was weird enough, but Olivia has multiple photos of her and her alone and she travels with them.
Again, nice touch if we're aiming on portraying the vain movie star. However, it's not making me give a fig about what's going to happen to her. I never thought there was much there to sell the romance of Amanda and Quentin and now I'm supposed to care about this bimbo, Grant, and her machinations with chocolate box art and x-ray machines?
I do have to say that McKechnie did fairly well with what they gave her, but so so bored now.
I also, forgive me, seem to recall quite vividly a certain sequence that aired very recently. The year was 1897. The place: Quentin's room. Judith had thoughtfully arranged for her husband to have some time to meditate without interruption. And like a good hostess, she'd provided him with a few items to help him: namely the portrait of Amanda Harris.
Dear Gregory, who proved he wasn't as dab a hand at seclusion as he preached, trashed the portrait shortly before ending his time on this, our earth. After which, his wife decided to seal up the room.
So anyone want to tell me how the hell said picture resurfaced, unharmed and got into the hands of Charles Delaware Tate so that he could re-use the canvas?
Inquiring minds want to know.
