Who knew this recap thing was so hard? Warning: this thing turned into a real monster! There's too much dialogue, perhaps, but that's one of the most enjoyable elements of the show for me - the extremely vivid language.
For great taste of the episode visually, check out the
Photo Love Story (icky name, good snark).
The season opens with a bang – women in flashy, trashy costumes sashaying in a “Staying Alive” dance number, like a bad karaoke night in a drag bar in Provincetown. The scene is anxiety provoking, interrupted by short cuts of a woman screaming in pain – apparently for some other reason than the dangerously camp disco. The lights go up on the dance show, and we se that we are in Larkhall women’s prison, at a rehearsal for a “fashion show.” In the short opening scene we are skillfully introduced to nearly all of the major characters, save one. The editing and acting somehow manages to establish each character with just a few lines or looks. The guards (known to the prisoners as “screws”) are Jim Fenner, Sylvia “Bodybag” Hollamby, Dominic McAllister, and Lorna Rose. The women of G Wing include Nikki Wade, Shell Dockley, Denny Blood, Rachel Hicks, and The Two Julies.
Jim Fenner (played by Jack Ellis, who was superb in Prime Suspect) oozes a kind of malevolent, smooth menace that makes one think of a high-school principal with a thing for 14-year-old girls. He is odious. We immediately see him swooping down on Rachel Hicks, offering her his concern and affection. This girl had got the world’s worst instincts – hasn’t she seen even one teen horror movie? She’s more vulnerable and clueless than an albino rabbit in a room full of make-up testers.
We meet Nikki Wade, wearing more lipstick than the entire cast of the L Word, but also sporting a killer red, tailored shirt. If I’d been the judge, I would have convicted her for sure – that shirt is far from innocent. It’s also faintly ridiculous in context, but hey – now we know that Nikki is our Byronic hero. Filled with noble concern for the welfare of the prisoners, she confronts Hollamby, a cynical, burned-out, ill-tempered guard, about Carol, whom we suspect may be the screaming woman in the cell. Hollamby, tells Nikki to butt out, and she retorts, “You’d gas us all in our cells, wouldn’t you.” We get the feeling Hollamby might, if only she didn’t have to clean up the mess afterwards. The women call her “Bodybag,” which is a great description of her face and demeanor.
At lockdown Carol asks Bodybag for a doctor – we see that she’s bleeding. Hollamby callously refuses, accusing Carol of merely trying to get attention, or maybe sanitary pads, and locks down the wing for the night. We see that Carol begins to bleed profusely as though she were having a miscarriage.
It’s the next morning. We see a lovely young woman dressed in a dark suit over a red shirt (hmm – whose shirt does that remind me of? Is there some sort of – oh, I don’t know,
connection being made here?), driving to work, obviously late, as she’s trying to apply her mascara at a stoplight.
Cut to the guards unlocking the cells for morning. Hollamby finds Carol unconscious in her cell, covered in blood.
The young woman in the suit arrives at Larkhall Prison, and after a strange look from a security guard, she sees that she’s rather comically misapplied her mascara. These quick scenes show us she’s a woman who has not quite got her act together; she’s pressured, and her masque is slipping a bit.
She’s the Wing Governor, Helen Stewart, who want to be called “Helen,” as she says to Fenner, who insolently calls her “ma’am.” “Please, I’m not the bloody queen, Jim,” she retorts. In an absolutely lovely Scottish burr that completely disarms me, I might add, but not Fenner, I suspect.
Fenner convinces Stewart to put Rachel on “enhanced” wing, where she’ll have her own room and more privileges. “She’s got victim written all over her, ” Fenner reasons. And yes, you might as well have tattooed it right on her ass, Fenner. Stewart doesn’t realize putting Rachel on enhanced is like staking her up alone in a room with a wolf.
Breakfast time. We see Carol being taken away by EMTs. The entire third tier is clumsily held in their cells while Hollamby orders the Julies clean up the blood. The women are yelling, demanding to know what’s happened. Nikki becomes increasingly concerned, and demands a guard tell her of Carol’s condition. Nikki is tough, unafraid, a natural leader. If they played women’s flag football in England, she would be the quarterback. Which they don’t. But I can’t make a soccer, or god help me, cricket, analogy that works. Just trust me, Nikki puts the bits in Alpha on G Wing.
Governor Stewart confronts Fenner and Hollamby in her office, but doesn’t seem to be buying their story that Carol didn’t ask for medical attention at lockdown. She tells them she’s decided have a meeting with the entire G Wing. Fenner thinks that’s a terrible idea – the women are too angry. Stewart replies, “We need to be seen to care right now.”
Hollamby and Fenner leave the office, and immediately start bitching about her – “typical graduate type,” and “a bit too much of the prisoners’ friend.” Battle lines are, as they say, drawn.
Fenner checks in on Rachel, who reveals to him her boyfriend is dead from an overdose. He silkily tells her, “From now on, I’m going to keep a very special eye on you, and that’s a promise.” OK Rachel, there’s naïve, and then there’s 19 going on 6. I can’t tell if her problem is that she’s been bubble-wrapped her entire life before getting busted for drugs, or if she ought to be bubble-wrapped until she’s, say, 60 or so. I vote for the second – she’s pissing me off.
The Two Julies are talking with Nikki on the wing. Both are middle-aged blondes, one short, and the other tall. They finish each other’s sentences and frequently talk in chorus. They’ve got comic relief written all over them. Julie S is wearing a “Hello Kitty” t-shirt - an inspired wardrobe choice. They are obviously concerned when they tell Nikki they heard Carol ask Bodybag for a doctor. Nikki vows to “take it to the top” if Hollamby is not held to account, and the two Julies say (together) that they’re calling “all us kitchen women out on strike.” Solidarity of the seriously ditzy – warms the heart of the hardest union buster!
We see Stewart striding onto the Wing, her face set and tough. She’s small in stature, but the energy is rolling off her in fierce waves.
The women are gathered all around on the three levels at the center of G Wing, making a terrible racket. It’s a very aurally and visually dynamic scene, unusually so by American TV standards.
Fenner yells to everyone to settle down, and Stewart begins to address them, trying to make herself heard over their voices. She tells them Carol has suffered a miscarriage in her cell wasn’t discovered until morning unlock. She says she’s very concerned, but after conducting a “through investigation,” has concluded what occurred was “a tragic set of circumstances,” using the exact phrase Fenner offered in her office in explanation. It’s an odd moment, and it doesn’t convince the women, or us.
Nikki Wade shouts down from an upper level, acting as spokeswoman for the prisoners. “A what? She nearly bled to death! You should all be sacked!”
Nikki comes barreling down the stairs to confront Helen on her own level. The Julies and others yell to Stewart that Hollamby knew Carol was bleeding, and did nothing. The women are getting extremely loud and restive. In my mind I’m starting to shout Riot! Riot! Riot!
But Fenner quiets them down again, as Stewart starts to explain that it was an accident. Nikki interrupts with an angry, impassioned speech about how none of the women are safe on G Wing, that they aren’t believed when it’s their word again a guard’s. Nikki points in Hollamby’s direction and says it was no accident - “that cow” let it happen.
Now the Greek chorus in my mind is shouting Moo! Moo! Moo! Good thing I’m not on G Wing – I’d be in segregation most of the time, I fear.
Nikki and Helen are starring at one another with ferocious intensity. Nikki tells Helen that if the women don’t get “respect from your screws,” they won’t help her by making her “look good in front of her VIP visitors,” to the fashion show. Nikki, getting really wound up, one-ups herself with “And you can shove your stupid fashion show up your arse!” The Greek chorus women erupt in cheers.
Helen approaches Nikki, stepping directly into her personal space. “Fine, consider it cancelled. This wing won’t be taking part.” Never taking her eyes off Nikki, jabbing a finger into her face, she barks, “You’re on a Rule 43.” We have no idea what Rule 43 might be, but Helen’s eyes are so angry and electrified, that we suspect it may include beheading.
Please, someone, I need a cigarette! There are some rocket fuels with less combustible chemistry than these two. On second thought, a “no smoking” policy around them is probably safest.
Fenner tells Stewart she’s making a mistake. “One thing you better learn about me, Jim, is that once I make a decision, I stick to it.” Wait a minute, I thought Nikki was the butch here? Stewart’s jaw is tougher than Washington’s on Mt. Rushmore.
Fenner insists that the women will become even angrier if she cancels the show. Helen is furious. “Do you think I believed all that shit from Sylvia? I had to face a near riot out there because of what she let happen, so don’t blame me for coming down heavy.” Great toss down there, Helen. Did they teach you this in management grad school?
The entire wing is being put on lockdown. Fenner locks up Shell Dockley, who is fuming that she’s “worked for weeks on her cosi,” and now can’t wear it. She threatens him that he’d better fix things “or else.” Ah so! Something is up between these two, and it’s clearly Shell that’s got Fenner in some sort of lockup.
We see what Rule 43 entails. Two guards are dragging a resisting Nikki to solitary confinement – “segregation.” Hollamby sneers “put her in strips, that will give her something to moan about.” When Nikki yells, “you vicious old bitch, I’ll…” she takes a hard one in the gut from one of the guards. Ooofff. I felt that.
Helen’s office. There’s a picture on the wall of a dove being cradled in nested hands. Ha! I love art with a subtle message. Helen receives a phone call in her office. It’s the “Number One.” “Can you pop up for 5 minutes, need to have a talk with you about the fashion show,” says a bureaucratic older man with posh accent. Helen, wearing an anxious expression, says she’s on her way. Oops. In trouble with the big daddy. We see “Number One,” Larkhall’s Governing Governor Simon Stebberfield, on his end of the line, speaking an aside to someone in his office, “Your name won’t be mentioned.” It’s Fenner. Office politics being played as a gender wars: it’s just so easy to hate these smug, self-satisfied men. OK, so TPTB are stacking the deck here, but I don’t care. It’s believable. It’s a scene being played out in some cigar smoke-filled room near you right this moment.
Stebberfield tells Stewart G Wing can’t be absent from the fashion show – there are too many VIPs attending, and it would look bad to have an entire Wing “banged up,” whatever her resolve and reputation for making decisions. “I assure you, this is about more than your personal pride.” Helen looks like she’s been spanked, which she has.
Helen asks Hollamby to see to a returning prisoner with a “particularly difficult hygiene problem.” “Not Smelly Nelly Snape!” Hollamby exclaims. “If you could check her top and tail for parasites – we certainly don’t want an infestation, do we?” Ah, revenge is – sweet. Hollamby knows Helen didn’t buy her story, but also knows she doesn’t have the political cards to play to do much about more about it. “Yes Ma’am,” she responds, knowing Helen hates to be called “ma’am.” This is more fun than watching monster trucks play tug-of-war.
Fenner is next. “So, you thought you’d go over my head, Jim – man to man, the way the prison system loves best.” Ha! An economical put-down – at once clever and snarky – why is that just so damned attractive in a woman, Helen in particular?
Helen asks Fenner what his problem is with her, “My age, my background, the fact that I’m a woman? Tell me to my face when you’ve got a problem with me.” Fenner takes the hit and smoothly responds, “I did tell you what I thought of your decision, and I still haven’t heard you admit that you made a mistake. Maybe we could meet and discuss it over a drink sometime.” He walks out on Helen. Trumped her.
“Bastard,” she mutters. That round goes to Fenner.
Touching scene with the two Julies. Julie J is upset over Carol’s miscarriage, and missing her children. She’s in tears, Julie S comforting her:
Julie S: You promised me you’d stay hopeful. You don’t have to say “I” anymore. Why? Julie J: Because we’re the Two Julies
Julie S: And who can come between us?
Julie J: Nobody, nothing, never.
Only two women as “nutty” as the Two Julies could get away with this. I love it.
They cheer themselves up by tearing up a sheet, filling it with sweets for Nikki, and swinging out the window to the next cell.
Fenner comes in and tell them their strike plan will only cause them to loose their privileges and get put on report. He expertly takes the wind right out of their strike solidarity sails. Fenner clearly has a gift – he missed his calling as a Republican House Whip.
We see Nikki in segregation, wrapped in a blanket. Shell, delivering dinner, taunts Nikki that the fashion show will be back on, that she’ll be wearing her dress while Nikki goes naked. She leaves without giving Nikki any food, but the prisoner assisting Shell slips Nikki the bag of goodies from the Two Julies.
Helen at home, fresh from her shower, drying her hair. In walks a floppy-haired, tall man – think of a soggy, pale version of Hugh Grant. “Hiya, baby,” she says with a smile. Ewww. I hate that! Baby! In one second flat I know I’m going to hate this relationship. I can already feel my lip starting to curl.
She walks into his arms, kisses him, looks into his eyes, and says, “let’s get pissed tonight.” A romantic, that Helen. I also like that in a woman. Pulling out a bottle of Stoli, she expects Sean to join her while she moans about work, but he says he brought home some work to finish. She’s annoyed. “What’s the point of being freelance if you can’t set your own hours,” she says as she begins to laugh. It’s an odd scene – it looks as though it should have been outtake. Why the heck is she laughing – shouldn’t Sean only be that ludicrous to me? “You sulky bitch,” he teases, “you need a damn good thrashing.” “Mmmm,” she smiles. Ewww again. These two are just – wrong.
Sean rubs her feet while Helen sips on red wine. She says “Oh well, it’s only a sodding job, who cares,” envying him for his job satisfaction, lack of stress, and autonomy – working with plants, not people. She’s obviously working very hard to pretend she doesn’t care. She’s just as obviously unsuccessful at setting aside her day, despite the puppy dog lapping at her feet.
Sean tells Helen a customer of his asked him what she does for a living, and responded “How very sexy” to his answer. Has she met
Myra Hindley, the customer wants to know. “You ignorant tosser, is that all you think women’s prisons are about,” Sean rather improbably describes his response. Sean, Sean, Sean, this is not about what a sensitive guy you are. Please, put her foot down, back away, and consider what it would be like to treat her like an actual grown-up woman. Sheesh.
He kisses her big toe then moves on top of her. “Fancy a shag?” “No,” she says with a smile. I am not smiling. Just put him out in the back yard where he belongs, Helen. I’m sure there’s a doghouse out there somewhere.
Next we see Fenner and Shell snogging in Fenner’s office (see, I’m really getting into this – snogging!). She says, “Wait to see what I give out when I’m in my dress.” OK, so that’s how it is. It’s all depressingly, crystal clear.
Sean and Helen arguing the car the next morning. “So you think I made a mistake also,” she baits Sean regarding the fashion show. She looks pinched and stressed – not like a woman recently pleasantly engaged in drinking and shagging. Something – perhaps lots of things – just aren’t working for Helen Stewart.
Fenner lures Rachel into making a clumsy pass at him, then showily backs away. “Just calm down” he sooths her, with a predatory look in his eye that we see and she does not. His performance his masterful; Rachel is either so dense or so congenitally damaged that it’s mostly wasted on her. He had her from hello.
[A commercial for Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice has just popped up: all chiseled jaws, blowing hair, fireworks. “You have bewitched me, body and soul.” Have even the English gone Disneyland now? Is there nothing sacred? Well, what can you expect from an actress named Keira Knightley.]
Nikki in her empty cell, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. She seems as implacable as the Buddha. Helen enters, and turns back enraged to the guard, shouting, “What the hell is she doing in strips!” The poor little guard looks abashed. “Well, go get her clothes here immediately.’ I love that – it sounds like immeGEEately – so authoritative.
She closes the door behind her. “I’m sorry, that should not have happened,” she says with serious concern and sincerity. The scene is nicely shot, over Helen’s shoulder from above, looking down on a vulnerable Nikki, who seems anything but.
Nikki is unbending. “Happens all the time, didn’t you know.” “Well, it won’t in the future.” “Why, you going to let us lot out and lock up your screws instead?”
Helen approaches Nikki, and sits on the bed, very near to Nikki on the floor. “Look, I intend to make a lot of changes here, but I need your cooperation.” “Co-op-eration,” Nikki sneers. “You’re right, I can’t run things here without your help,” Helen responds in earnest.
Nikki: I don’t even know how people like you sleep at night if you believe in a system that locks up pregnant women.
Helen: Well, you’re just going to have to trust me. I don’t.
Nikki gives Helen a very searching look.
Trust? So soon? Helen is asking for a great deal. Another quality I love in a woman.
Shell is practicing her spastic dance moves in front of a very appreciative Denny, who leans her against the wall and says “I’d love to see you in that dress again, Shell.” The whole thing has a sordid feel about it, as if Shell really wanted to be in a production of Sweeny Todd, and Denny will soon be on the menu.
Nikki’s cell, where she’s finishing dressing. Helen is still alone with her, her back turned as she faces the window, giving Nikki a bit of privacy. The scene is beautifully framed, Helen in the far corner, her face bathed in light, and in the foreground, Nikki listening and intent in her corner.
Helen speaks. “It’s up to you. Either we both climb down together and make something positive out of this, or we all lose out to the old boy’s network.”
They turn to look at one another. Nikki looks unsure, and uncomfortable for the first time.
Helen’s got her cards on the table, but Nikki has no way of knowing if Helen is playing her. What will Nikki do? OK, really, is there any doubt? There’s angst, and then there’s being recruited by Helen Stewart. If Nikki resists her, then God doesn’t make little green apples. Temptations indeed.
Later, we see Nikki return with Carol to dining hall, Stewart behind them. “What she doing out of seg already,” Fenner mutters. The women are excited to see Carol again, who is looking remarkably recovered.
Nikki takes the floor in the center of the dining hall and asks for the women’s attention for an important announcement. Helen is watching her, quiet and tense, from the corner of the room. She begins to pace a little.
Nikki, hands insouciantly in her pockets, says the fashion show is back on. “Seeings as how I helped get it cancelled, I personally guaranteed to Miss Stewart,” giving Helen a quick glance, “that if they let us back in, G Wing would give it our best.” Fenner gives Helen a baleful shake of the head and cruel little smile. Match point and game goes to Stewart. “So if that’s OK with you babes, go out and strut your stuff!” The women cheer, showing their support for Nikki and relief that the standoff is over. Helen quietly slips out as Fenner mutters, “canny bitch.”
Denny to Shell, “it’ll be you they clap for tomorrow night, Shell.”
Cut to fashion show, where they are indeed clapping for Shell who is rather inelegantly strutting her stuff, tasseled bra and fringed mini shaking like a Jell-O salad. Stebberfield, sitting next to Helen, looks pleased, but Helen is remote, until she gives a ironic half-smile to the onstage antics. As Stebberfield escorts his easily-impressed VIP guests out, Helen quickly catches up to Nikki, who is returning to the wing. Nikki looks like a million bucks, again in her perfectly tailored red shirt and matching red lipstick. It’s too much for my taste, and I still hate her haircut, probably because it’s how I imagine my haircut looks on a bad hair day. But these are quibbles. Nikki is all that.
Helen, hair flying, actually skips ahead to catch Nikki, who turns around when she hears Helen say “Nikki,” in a softer, gentler tone than we’ve heard her use the entire episode, “I just wanted to say, thanks again for helping me out.” Nikki’s not having it. “Don’t think I did anything for you, Miss,” she retorts cheekily, and continues on her way. Helen looks slightly abashed.
Lockup. We hear Shell threatening little Rachel – “deep down I’ve got a great big soft spot for you … and I can’t wait to gob it in your face.” Shell, you’re so amusing, in that schoolyard bully sort of way. Maybe you could watch South Park for insult inspiration.
The camera pans to Rachel in the next cell, whose hair is being pulled aside by sinister hands, her next exposed to a vampire-like approach. You guessed it, Fenner. Dum dum dum…
The camera moves outside the prison, looking at the windows, from which we hear the women’s goodnights to one another. It’s a wonderfully ironic and obscene homage to The Waltons. The women hurl expression of love through the bars, “I bloody love you,” “Carol, you’re gorgeous;” some exchange menacing threats for the following day. Nighty-night, you bad girls, you. See you next week.
