Tag Archives: Lorena

True Blood 307: A sad man in saggy pants

Bye Lorena

In the continuing bid for high drama before the credits, Sookie staked Lorena, causing a great tsunami of blood to go geysering up to the ceiling before coming down splat! on top of poor old Bill who was shackled underneath. I’ve high-fived the props department before (‘thirty vats more ketchup over here!’) but they surpassed themselves with the amazing red gloop that once was Lorena. Can’t say I was sorry to see her go. I imagine almost all that red gloop was her lipstick.

We galloped into this episode with the same thundering pace of last week: Sookie and Tara teaming up telepathically to overpower the wildly irritating Debbie, Alcide putting a silver bullet in the horrible Cooder, and everyone dragging Bill into Alcide’s van and tearing off across the manicured lawn, running over a werewolf or two en route. Blimey, I said, and not for the last time, as I steadied my nerves with a slug of Babysham. Phew, I added, as Alcide and Tara had a sensible conversation and Sookie cut her arm with a hacksaw to revive Bill, as you do. All back to normal I see. Sookie cutting herself with a hacksaw constitutes a calm interlude round these parts. But Bill went bonkers and drained Sookie dry, and when Tara opened the back of the van and saw what he gone done, she threw him into the blazing sunlight and got Sookie pronto to the hospital where she was at death’s door because she is just plain weird and doesn’t have a blood type. If I was smart this would doubtless tell me something about what Sookie is but as I’m not I’ll just stick to ‘plain weird’ as my verdict for now.

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True Blood 306: Kill Bill gories up a notch

Let me straighten your necklace, Your Maj.

Hot on the heels of the most amusing episode, this was the most tense – possibly ever, but certainly in this series. My stomach was in knots from the start, and my dreams were filled with blood and torture. Terrific stuff, chaps – keep up the good work! As well as being stressful, this episode raised as many questions than it answered. Which was no mean feat, as it answered a lot of questions an’ all. Here are my top ten questions yet to be addressed:

1. As Russell is almost 3000 years old, why is he called Russell? It’s apparently an old French name: but surely it’s not biblically old? Perhaps he changed his name because Talbot thought Methuselah didn’t go with the decor. Ok, I guess I’ve answered that one.

2. Bill seems a smart guy. So why, if he wanted to be of any use at all to the captured Sookie, did he stake a vampire guard? He knew it wouldn’t go down well. Neither did his attempt to spike Russell. Talbot was once again appalled by the mess on his carpet. Poor chap, I do feel for him. Blood is so hard to get out of soft furnishings – just ask Sookie. I wish they’d distract Talbot by having Eric flirt shamelessly with him. Oh yes, so they have.

3. Hasn’t Tara been watching True Blood? I can’t believe she thought that smashing Franklin’s head in with a silver mace would finish him off. He’s going to turn up all healed next episode, you mark my words, and he’s going to be rather miffed. A stake, cupcake, that’s what you need: a stake. Say after me: ‘I need a stake.’

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True Blood 305: Watch how fast I can type motherf***er

Thanks for the flowers, Franklin. And, uh, the rope.

Episode of the Series is hereby awarded to this week’s roller-coaster of delights. The last few episodes were slightly in danger of losing their sense of humour, so embroiled were they in action, plot and blood. But this week there were so many light – darkly light – moments to savour. Most involved my new favourite couple, Franklin and Tara. From him jealously strangling her when she received a text from Lafayette, and Tara choking out ‘He’s – my – cousin – and – he’s – gay!’, to Franklin texting him back: ‘Watch how fast I can type motherfucker,’ I love every crazy minute these two spend together. Admittedly, in Tara’s case those minutes are spent somewhat unwillingly and indeed, tied up. Franklin’s nuts about Tara, as well as being just nuts. He told Russell, ‘She’s such a fucking disaster, we could be twins’ and bust into great racking, psychotically over the top blood-stained sobs after Tara tried to escape. Their brief romance stepped up a pace when Franklin offered to take her out for a ‘last dinner,’ because he was planning to turn her into his vampire bride. Her Hammer House of Horror expression on receiving this proposal was a thing of beauty.

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True Blood 304: Itching for another Inquisition

Honey, isn't this an easier way to not see my face?

In rather shocking fashion – not that I should be shocked by True Blood anymore – Bill broke up with Sookie over the phone. An’ ah thought he wuz a gen’leman! He told her the gory details about his shag with Lorena, though omitted the goriest detail: that he turned Lorena’s head 180 degrees in mid-congress. I guess some things must remain between lovers. While Sookie was comforted by hunky werewolf-minder Alcide, Lorena clicked her jaw back into place and purred, ‘That was the best sex I’ve had in decades.’ Bill’s response was to hurl her across the room. Romantic, I thought.

Being dumped typically made Sookie more determined than ever to find Bill. He sure does attract the persistent type. Like all scorned women – though we don’t all go quite so goth – Sookie changed her hairdo. I couldn’t understand why she thought temporary tattoos and a leather skirt made her look kick-ass. She looked wimpy as ever, except with dark hair.

She instantly got into a contretemps at the werewolf bar with Debbie, Alcide’s trashy girlfriend, who was being initiated into the pack. There was some stuff with Russell and blood and branding, but I was more entertained by Sookie’s attempts to be a tough girl by swearing primly and downing three shots. The booze had no discernable impact on her faculties, maybe because her faculties are usually rather dull. This scene ended somewhat predictably, with everyone turning into wolves. Alcide (struggling against the urge to wolfify): Run, Sookie!’ Sookie hesitating because now she was wearing a wig she was a dumb brunette instead of a dumb blonde. ‘RUN I SAID!’ And finally she legged it, like Daphne in Scooby Doo.

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True Blood 303: Another rug ruined

Ok, you might be taller than me, and VERY cute, but... my damn rug!

Even before the credits, Eric violently savaged a werewolf in Sookie’s house. What IS it with that house? Makes Amityville look like a retirement home for gentlefolk. Sookie ought to just redecorate in red, it’d save so much on Mr Muscle. Eric was unrepentant that he’d added to the mess. ‘I got your rug all wet,’ he growled, through a faceful of werewolf blood.

The credits provided brief respite before we were plunged into the King of Louisiana’s palace, silver-lined doors and burning ex-girlfriends a speciality. Talbot was most displeased that a valuable tapestry was used to put Lorena out, but the King dismissed him with a camply-arched eyebrow, and settled down to give Bill a little homily on love and humans, leaving the usually opinionated Bill quite speechless.

We got quite a bit more Bill back-story: how he tried to return to his wife after becoming a vampire (doh! Bad idea, Bill), and how Lorena came after him with her infuriating belief that there’s no such thing as too much make-up. It shows how evil Lorena is that I was amazed she merely glamoured Bill’s wife, rather than biting a hole in her neck and ruining yet another perfectly good rug. Poor old Bill just cannot shake off Lorena; she is the thick-skinned sort who considers mere stalking a tame way to court love. Her cunning plan was that Bill would turn down the King and thus get Sookie killed, but Bill thwartingly renounced his allegiance to Louisiana. Then he started shagging Lorena violently – and when I say violently, I mean he twisted her head all the way round to the opposite side of her neck so he wouldn’t have to look at her – with all of us yelling, ‘No, Bill! NO!’ It was the most disturbing sex scene in TB by far, and that includes all those other ones that you can think of.

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True Blood 302: Thicker than Blood Bisque

To say the plot is thickening scarcely hints at the extent of it. Nazis! Werewolves! Nazi Werewolves! Camp drawling kings with takeover plans! Mothers in loony bins! Whole new families of shape-shifters!

The plot was thicker than porridge, thicker than mud, go on then, even thicker than blood. It became officially too complicated to follow. But it didn’t matter really, because it was so enjoyable. I’ll try and relay what I saw, but rather like a dream in which everyone changes identity and you can’t cross the road because your legs are made of custard, it mightn’t make any sense.

We began with Bill chewing up a bunch of werewolves in a scene so gory that I pushed aside my chicken dinner with a little moan. Then in galloped an anachronistic figure, a riding-jacketed toff on a horse. Turned out he was Vampire King of Mississippi – but of course – and he it was who had got the werewolves to kidnap Bill, in a cockamamie plan to win the hand in marriage of Queen Sophie-Ann. Don’t worry if you’re not following; that makes two of us.

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True Blood 208: They say I sodomised a pine tree

Honest, I'm really into the church. The blood on my mouth? Uh, just cut my lip.

Poor old Eric was a bit rubbish this week. When he wasn’t being ordered around by Godric, he was being totally hopeless at busting himself and Sookie out of the Church. Even the pea-for-brains nitwits of the Fellowship could see he was a vampire and not a leather jacketed Cliff Richard type. Then he allowed himself to be tied up without so much as a whimper of protest. Big fail, Eric. Nonetheless, Sookie seemed to warm to him a bit.

It was left to the unholy trinity of Bill, Jason and Godric to save the day. Bill managed to escape Lorena’s clutches by whacking her with a plasma telly. As she later told Sookie, ‘Everyone says they’re so thin and light, but when wielded properly, they’re quite a weapon’.

Jason found that a woman scorned will go ape-crazy with a paintball gun. Sarah screamed, ‘You’re worse than Judas’, and Jason’s puzzled reply, ‘Why, what did he do to you?’ made her realise, at long last, that Jase, bless him, was not one of nature’s cleverclogs. ‘Why can’t you grown a brain cell?’ she yelled, but I do think that’s asking a bit much. Despite his daffiness, Jason managed to disarm Sarah, and arrived back at Fellowship HQ just in time to shoot Steve in the forehead. Only with the paintball gun, unfortunately, though it did dent Steve’s pride, and leave a rather fetching green splodge.

Pretty cute for such an old guy

Godric was so peace-loving he made his near contemporary, Jesus, look like Genghis Khan. Thanks to Godric, there was no bloodshed at the Fellowship headquarters, other than when he snapped Gabe’s neck (that was a fairly clean break though).

Back in Bon Temps, Sam was arrested on suspicion of having de-hearted Daphne. And just down the road, Maryann was gruesomely cooking the evidence into Hunters Pie, reminding me of an episode of Tales of the Unexpected from the 1970s. Maryann’s bacchanal dancing style is strangely similar to that of the silhouetted woman who danced  in the credits of that show. True Blood has so many plot twists that unrelated links from other cultural phenomena are slowly being sucked into its vortex.

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True Blood 207: It’s all Greek to me

Yes, Sure does keep me dry, right through the whole bacchanal

My deodorant keeps on working, right through the entire bacchanal

So Maryann’s a maenad. Course she is. Knew it all along. Um. Some kind of Greek devil handmaiden, apparently. We, and Sam, found this out from Daphne, who didn’t seem as remorseful as someone who’d tried to get their boyfriend killed ought to be. Instead of apologies, Daphne couldn’t stop banging on about her love for the god-like Maryann. This love was clearly a one-way street as Maryann gave Daphne was a brisk, ‘thank you for your service’, like Meryl in The Devil Wears Prada, then had her stabbed through the heart by a blank-eyed Eggs. Even Meryl didn’t do that. More shocking still was Daphne smiling gratefully at her through a mouthful of blood. As if there weren’t enough gore-soaked scenes with the vampires. Props! More ketchup over here, please.

You might have thought Daphne, being a shape-shifter, not to mention a waitress, might have still had her uses, but clearly Maryann was pissed off with her as the sacrificial Sam had gone walkies, just moments before he was about to be dispatched to the great dog kennel in the sky. This wasn’t Daphne’s fault so much as Andy’s, who bumbled into the orgy looking like a prawn cocktail at a bris, and broke the spell that Maryann had quivered so hard to produce. It’s a sad day when Andy’s the only one who’s noticed that something’s wrong in Bon Temps, bless his bewildered little face.

Humans, eh? So untrusting.

Talking of wrong, I was proved so about everything I’d guessed re the Sookie/Hugo infiltration of the Fellowship of the Sun. I’m never right about plots, to be honest. I’ve read hundreds of Agatha Christies and am always astonished when the murderer is revealed. So it turned out that  Eric wasn’t a great big double-crosser after all, which was a relief, because while I like Eric being bad, I don’t want him to be really bad. The turn-coat was Hugo, who foolishly imagined that a church that goes in for weapons bunkers and burning vampires at dawn would overlook his fang-banging.

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True Blood 206: Not much fun left in feeding on the willing

Official antidote to True Blood anxiety

This episode was so stressful that as soon as it finished, I had to watch an old DVD of Everybody Loves Raymond to calm my heart-rate. If it wasn’t Bill being menaced by his old girlfriend (and I mean old), it was Sookie being dragged screaming into the basement of Steve Newlin’s dodgy church. And if it wasn’t Lafayette having post-traumatic flashbacks, it was Sam about to be sacrificed at a mad Maryann bacchanal. It was just one darn thing after another.

Though I knew it was coming, I was still gutted when Daphne betrayed Sam. I wanted Sam to finally have a bit of romantic luck. Yes, Daphne turned into a deer. But so what? As they say in Some Like it Hot, nobody’s perfect. Then she turned into a pig instead, and we knew she was Maryann’s bitch. All right, sow. Even Andy chasing her into the undergrowth, calling, ‘Pig? Pig?’, couldn’t dispel the sense of doom.

Brief aside to deliver a high-five to the special effects people who invented the blank dark orgy eyes thing. Very clever – simple, yet scarily effective.

Once again, Sookie's pathetic telepathy failed to help

Sookie hooked up with Isabel’s human, Hugo, a Tom Hanks lookie-likey, to infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun.  They didn’t make a very good job of it, being almost instantly rumbled by crazy man Steve, who alienated his wife by being not just vicious, but by using inappropriate cuss words. Sarah worked through this in her religious way, by prayer and soul-searching. Oh no she didn’t, she worked through it by having sex with Jason right there in the church, insisting God definitely wanted them to do it. Just guessing, but I wonder if the TB writers aren’t too fussed about organised religion? We keep getting these little hints. Before they got captured, Hugo expressed incredulity that Sookie hadn’t thought of asking Bill to ‘turn’ her. We’ve been kind of incredulous about this too, but then Sookie is famously not the sharpest fang in the mouth.

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True Blood 205: I pray Jesus isn’t watching this crap today

I'm channelling this Gran thing real good. Damn, I could use a strawberry.

Had Maryann ever been creepier than when Tara found her in Sookie’s kitchen, piling the table with supersize-me fruit salad? Tara’s social embarrassment – far more painful than a life-threatening three-clawed gouge – was palpable when Maryann revealed her intention to stay. Tara suddenly found she was dealing with a pair of infuriating hippies. Eggs sat there unconcernedly strumming his guitar and mumbling the Deep South equivalent of ‘what gives, man?’ He explained they were always moving around. Tara stared, agog. ‘What are you? Nomads?’ she cried. ‘Fucking Bedouins?’ No Tara, they’re freeloading dropouts with a side-order of evil destruction.

In fact, Maryann managed to raise the creepiness bar to eleven. When Tara returned from an unsettling evening at Merlottes, reeling from everyone having been mysteriously so mean, Maryann was sitting at the fruit-free kitchen table, wearing a prim smock, hair in a loose bun. Having realised the Greek/excess/orgy vibe wasn’t doing it for Tara, Maryann had cleverly decided to model herself on Gran instead. This tactic worked. Tara, like an eejit, agreed that Maryann and Eggs could move in, saying, ‘Sookie won’t mind’. Oh yes she will, Tara.

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