While this week's episode did include an off-key, drunken rendition of Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" and an apparently un-self-conscious tribute to Marie Atoinette (hey, it was a very pretty movie), it was kind of a yawner, wasn't it? Nick again felt constrained by the Darling family (but at least started doing something about it.) Tripp and Letitia let the tension simmer. (And we still don't know who the half-bastard Darling is.) Brian left his wife under fairly not-so-dramatic circumstances. (Yeah, she kicked him out, but shouldn't she have been devastated and not just a little pissed?) And Mrs. Nick bought a painting. Hey, at least she did something.
Most of the good moments came from the twins. In fact, it's start to feel like most of the good moments are going to come from the twins. Everyone else does their part. Natalie Zea, for instance, finds the right balance of bitchy and needy as Karen. As Brian, Glenn Fitzgerald is good at breaking down without breaking his jerky priest character. But nobody but Seth Gabel gets to misuse the term "economies of scale" and then brush it off by saying, "You know what I think I mean and that's what matters." And nobody but Samaire Armstrong gets to pause just the right amount of time before delivering her, "Let them eat cake" line. They're weird, fascinating characters, strangely innocent for all the worldliness of their lifestyle. (Though Juliet would have you believe that worldliness stops at her bedroom door.)
Now on to the big picture plot: Is anyone (besides Nick, apparently) buying what Simon Elder (Blair Underwood) is selling? He's presenting himself as the anti-Tripp, a man who's baffled about what to do with all that goshdarn money and in need of some help making sure it goes to the right place. Could a show this filled with hypocritical characters have found an honest man? I'm thinking not. But I wish it were the type of show where I would be left in a little bit more suspense.
Grade: B-
Stray observations:
– I don't think Elder is supposed to be half coming onto Nick but Underwood keeps playing this like a seduction. Slash fic people, fire up your pens.
– "Hit it, Pillowhead." Yes, that would have to be the name of Jeremy's DJ friend, wouldn't it?
– Robert Russell–I think I heard that name right–is the name of a real artist who, the best I can tell from his website has never done paintings of ants. Disturbing little ballerinas, yes. Ants, no.