Reminding us how much we have missed its particular brand of adrenalin rush, Season Three of True Blood opened with another masterly pre-credit sequence, a heady roller-coaster of action, which culminated in Jessica tenderly kissing the roses Hoyt had left on her doorstep, before dragging in the comatose body of the trucker she’d just drained.
It’s back! And it’s twice as mad!
Picking up, as is its wont, exactly where we left it – poor Sookie looking for Bill in a French restaurant aided only by an arsey policewoman and a pissed-off waitress – we were soon immersed up to our necks in werewolves, horrible biker-type kidnappers, and Eric’s naked butt. Blimey. Once again, True Blood made me spill my cocoa, and I’m sure you can guess at which bit.
Jason had lost his mojo after shooting Eggs, and was counselled in a caring, sharing way by Andy: ‘I want to see a lot less conscience and a lot more cahones’. Jason agreed to start acting like his old self, eg sluttishly, and went lady-hunting with a useless Hoyt, who was pining for Jessica. Jason passed on the brisk lessons he’d learned from Andy, telling Hoyt, ‘There’s going to be a certain amount of pussy overflow you’re going to have to get used to dealing with’. But Jason was the one who couldn’t handle any pussy. His manhood was at the opposite extreme from when it was big and purple as an aubergine, and every time he looked at the young ladies he’d picked up, he saw imaginary bullet holes in their foreheads. Kind of off-putting.
Tara had regained some of her old spark, despite her boyfy having been shot in the head (by Jase, hence his bullet-hole guilt stuff). Her old spark consisted of lashing out at everyone in Merlottes, causing Arlene to utter the memorable line, ‘Sorry you fell in love with a serial killer, but honestly, which of us here hasn’t?’ However, Tara was not to be mollified by attending an impromptu meeting of Serial Killer Lovers Anonymous, and Lafayette was obliged to take her into his home and medicate her.
It was good to see Lafayette back on form, too, though will that boy never learn? I can hardly believe he got Lettie-Mae round to babysit Tara, but for the rest of us it was no surprise that Lettie-Mae annoyed Tara so much with her preacher men and her godly prattle that Tara locked herself in the bathroom and chucked down all the pills she could find in Lafeyette’s cabinet (eg quite a few). Give me five minutes with Lettie Mae and I too would be necking the Nembutals.
For a while, I thought TB had gone even more enjoyably off the rails than usual, when Sam invited Bill in with a sexy smile and they went all homo-erotic. But alas, it was just a blood-lust heightened dream. Sam’s, not mine, though actually later that night… no I’m getting off the point here. Sam was away on his dull-so-far quest to find his real family, but the real interest was back in Bon Temps, with Eric getting his kit on (boo!) just in time for a visit from Queen Sophie-Ann and the chilling Magister. I was mystified as to why the Queen needed the money from selling ‘V’; surely she could just flog off her absurd Essex mansion? But as ever, I was dragged from falling off the edge of the plot into a large hole by the sheer verve of the action. True Blood gets away with it, because it has a lot more cahones than other telly programmes.
So where was Bill in all this? Having escaped from his biker-van captors he got his strength back by feeding on a helpless little old lady, but in his usual gentlemanly style, he kindly glamored her afterwards and told her that her beloved son had paid a visit. Gosh, he really is nice, isn’t he? So why can’t I get Eric’s bum out of my mind, hmm? Anyway, it turned out Bill was in Mississippi, which seemed to be bad news, and sure thing, soon as he stepped outside, he was surrounded by a pack of circling werewolves. So at least we know, if nothing else is clear, exactly how next week’s episode will start.
Posted by Qwerty. See older True Blood posts here.