Tag Archives: Sarah Newlin

True Blood 209: This is the beginning

I'm too sexy for my duvet

This episode was a real double-choc treat for fans of Mr Eric Northman, of whom there are one or two, I believe. He was on tip-top form. First, he protected Sookie from the shrapnel emanating from the spinning corpse of Jealous Luke. Then he cleverly persuaded Sookie to sook out (see what I did there?) the silver bullets lodged in his chest. This was just a ruse to get her to ingest some of his bodily fluids (‘Ugh!’ cried Sookie), thus forging an eternal connection between them. Now, Bill revealed, Eric would be able to know where she was and what she was feeling. Sookie lashed out angrily, at which Eric nodded wryly, ‘Bill, I believe you’re right. I can sense her emotions.’ I like Eric more and more.

Eric, having been born a rough tough Viking, is far less prissy than Bill, with his Victorian-era sensibilities. Bill tried to explain to Sookie the exact nature of the connection she now had with Eric. Watching him force out the word, ‘sexual’ as though it were a turd, was highly entertaining.

Sookie started having sexy dreams, in which she was lying happily in bed with a vulnerably naked and tender Eric (sending a shiver down the spine of all the Eric groupies). He turned to her and said, ‘This is the beginning’, making it clear he has no idea that we are mid-way through Season 2. In her waking life Sookie gave Eric sidelong glances of the sort that might be smouldering on someone else, but she does struggle somewhat with smouldering.

Don't worry Godric, I've got the fire extinguisher right here

Unlike Godric. After revealing that he’d been a willing hostage of the Fellowship in a bid to sacrifice himself, and thus heal the vampire/human rift, though why he thought that would work I have no idea, he took himself off to the hotel roof at dawn. Eric pleaded and cried, but Godric was determined to burn, baby, burn. Sookie, who has an astonishingly inflated sense of her own importance, hung about gracelessly in the background as Eric and Godric made their touching farewells. When Eric went inside, Sookie decided she’d stay with Godric, without even asking if he minded. Godric, however, was too zen to object. When he was burning up, and she was tearing up, he said, ‘A human with me at the end, and human tears; 2,000 years and I can still be surprised’. I swear there was a little salt-water in my own eyes at this. I was sorry to see Godric go. I liked the cut of his jib.

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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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Glee (13): Nobody, no, nobody, is gonna rain on my parade!

Reminding us why she is the star of the show, Rachel blew the competition away with her superb rendition of Don’t Rain On My Parade. It’s good she’s resisted doing Barbra till now; this was the perfect moment for her to demonstrate how well she suits that power-house, roof-raising, put-the-show-on-right-now performance that usually only Babs can get away with. It was wonderful. I had a tear in my eye, for god’s sake! Rachel explained she could do it as a last minute thing because ‘I’ve been working on it since I was four’.

The rest of the episode couldn’t live up to this. Plenty of storylines came to an end: Finn discovered the truth about Quinn’s baby; Glee Club realised Sue had leaked their set-list; Will left Terri; and Emma didn’t marry Ken. But none of this was surprising – we’d either been told or guessed. Certainly none of it had the sheer excitement of Rachel running down the central aisle of the auditorium, belting out ‘I’m gonna live and live NOW! Get what I want, I know how!’ Might have to watch it again in a sec.

Mercedes did have one belter of a song, but it wasn’t as impressive as her colleagues implied with their awe-struck expressions. The best part was before she began, tossing over her shoulder to Cool Piano Man, ‘Do I even have to tell you what song?’ He immediately started playing the opening chords of And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going, which apparently is a standard but I’d never heard it before, and wouldn’t be sorry if I never heard it again. No-one else had much chance to shine, a shame given it was the last episode.

Even Sue seemed subdued, and too easily crushed by Principal Figgins. She had one great put-down, to Will, of course: ‘I’m reasonably confident you’re going to add revenge to the long list of things you’re no good at, right next to being married, running a glee club and finding a hairstyle that doesn’t make you look like a lesbian’. Good to see her getting in one more dig about the poor man’s hair. Their chemistry is terrific; I keep hoping one of them will grab the other and deliver a great big snog, though Will saved that for Emma. His loss, I think.

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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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True Blood 204: Maybe Jesus was the first vampire

I ain't heard of no Lazarus, but Moses walked on water

Despite its heavy reliance on shlocky old horror movie staples, True Blood nonetheless scared the bejesus out of me. Twice. First, there was Jason creeping round a darkened building to the accompaniment of scary music. His room-mates lay bloodied and dead, then a clammy hand fell upon his shoulder…. Aaaaaargh! But it was just Jealous Luke, playing a practical joke with a side order of ketchup. Jason hurt his lip in the fracas, but not his pride:

Jealous Luke, sniggering: ‘How’s your lip?’ Jason: ‘Fine. How’s your nose?’ Bam! He knocked that sucker right down.

All before the opening credits. I had to make a big mug of cocoa to steady my nerves.

A little later, Tara, alone at Sookie’s house, heard a noise outside. For several panicky moments, she scouted the place, slowly opening the door, looking this way and that, everywhere in fact  – except in THAT direction, Tara! No, over THERE! My hands shook so much I spilled my cocoa. When it just turned out to be Eggs and Maryann (though saying ‘just’ Maryann is daft when she’s clearly the world’s biggest baddie), I did feel a bit cross. As did Tara.

This is what we learned this week:

  1. Maryann turns into that scary three-clawed minotaur creature which attacked Sookie and Daphne, and killed Miss Jeanette.
  2. If vampires have to take day flights, airlines provide ‘travel coffins’ – like large travel cots, I guess.
  3. At the smart vampire hotel in Dallas – beds optional – you, or rather, a giggling Jessica, can order young B Negative men from room service.
  4. Maryann simply cannot stop eating fruit. She’s soon going to need some Imodium, the rate she knocks back the strawberries.
  5. Lafayette calls his cousin Tara a hooker and a bitch in casual conversation.

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True Blood 203: I’d die of embarrassment if I wasn’t already dead

Here you go honey: another gratuitous reason for me to get real close

‘Sarah doesn’t whip her pudding out for just anybody’, said Steve Newlin, grinning cheesily at Jason.

Too right, buster! We could tell from the lascivious look on Sarah’s face last week, when Jason went for her with his wood (a stake, I mean), that she’d soon be angling for a little more one-to-one time. During their sickly sharing session at Christian Camp, Jason admitted he quite liked some vampires, and Sarah used this apostasy as a chance for a cry/confess/pray session of the sort that doubtless helped her snag Steve. She looks as if she wishes she had waited now – True Lust Waits – and is sublimating by whipping out her puddings and giving Jason the full force of her perfect teeth.

With Bill and Sookie occupied elsewhere, my favourite character Jessica sneaked out to Merlottes, looking wholesome as a Dairy Queen. It was inevitable her gaze should fall upon the virginal Hoyt, his blood pulsing attractively in his jugular vein. When he offered her a drink and she whisperingly asked for a bottle of Tru Blood, Hoyt was impressed. ‘Really? Cool! You’re really a vamp?’

Don't worry, it happens to everyone

The most charming scene then took place when they started kissing, and Jessica’s fangs popped out unbidden. Mortified, she covered her mouth with her hands and wailed, as have teenagers since before Eric was a lad, ‘I’m so embarrassed!’ I was worried that Hoyt was going to be bitten real good, but as Bill and Sookie discovered on their return, the main thing Jessica hadn’t been able to wait for any longer was adolescent love-biting of the more conventional kind.

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True Blood 202: I’ll be your bad-ass vampire

Ooh, the stress, my dear! Even Jason, who usually provides light relief, set my nerves a-jangling. At first it was fun watching him bounce around Christian Leadership camp with other blond chirpy Walton types, all in their silver anti-vamp rings and sunshine yellow t-shirts. Or sunshine yellow pecs in Jason’s case. That boy can’t keep his top on for more than five minutes. But he freaked during role play with Sarah when she popped plastic fangs into her mouth (only slightly less convincing than the ones the real vampires wear). Flashing back to the horror of  Amy killing Eddie, Jason damn near staked Sarah with the American flag. From the way Sarah flushed and licked her over-heated lips, it seemed she’d be purty glad to be staked by him any time.

You could, uh, fry an Egg on that

It was Pecs On Parade this week, as Eggs also swanned about shirtless. He has a perfect washboard stomach, but for some reason Tara was less interested in that than in interrogating him about his past. Though the poor boy wiggled his manly chest at her, she kept her eyes resolutely above neck-level and insisted on knowing what he’d served time for. Who cares, Tara? So it was armed robbery. Never mind that, look at his six-pack!

Maryann was stressing me out too. If she wasn’t eating her way through Merlotte’s entire menu (‘what’s going on at table four?’), she was somehow persuading the entire bar to dance and rut in bacchanal fashion. And turning Sam into a dog when he gave her a hard time about it. When Sookie listened in to Maryann’s thoughts, all she got was a lot of what could be ancient Greek. Or Latin. Who knows? It’s all Greek to me.

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True Blood 201: Bedtime at four a.m. and not a minute later

It’s back! And by crikey, it don’t mess around. Wonderfully, we arrive at the exact moment we left: with the discovery of a leg dangling lifelessly from Detective Andy Bellefleur’s car.

It's not Lafayette. He'd never have painted his toe-nails that tacky red

It's not Lafayette. He'd never wear such tacky red toe-nail polish

The first thirty seconds – before the credits roll – are a masterclass in Hammer House excitement. The chaos, the black humour, the fear: Tara panicking the body might be Lafayette’s; Andy, focusing as ever on the wrong thing (‘someone moved my car!’); Sookie gasping, ‘Check for a pulse’; Andy drily telling her there’s no need, there’s a massive gaping hole where the heart oughta be; Sam yelling, ‘It’s not Lafeyette’; Sookie sobbing, ‘Who is it?’; and Tara realising it’s Miss Jeanette and letting out the mother of all screams. My word, I had to have a lie-down after that and the programme hadn’t even properly started.

I’ve been trying to fill the True Blood gap ever since, like Andy Pandy, it waved goodbye last year.  Glee has helped, but as we tumbled once more into the looking-glass world of Bon Temps, I realised that, lovely as it is, Glee is just a methadone substitute. Nothing can compete with TB for sheer high-octane, suck-you-in-and-spit-you-out enjoyment.

So for starters, we had Miss Jeanette , mouth rigor-mortised into a terrorised silent howl. As Sookie said in her dopey way, ‘Someone just wanted to see her suffer.’ Well, yes, Sookie. Good to see you firing on all cylinders.

Believe me, your hair will need a little freshening when you've been around for a thousand years

We had Lafayette, alive thank the good lord, but chained to other prisoners in a dank dungeon, awaiting some horrible unknown fate. Pretty soon Eric appeared, wearing highlighting foil, making it clear what the fate was likely to be. And I don’t mean dark roots. I’m not worried about Lafayette, though. Worst-case scenario, he’ll be made into a vampire: a laid-back, jive-talking vamp with a penchant for gold lamé. That’s a happy bonus of this show. When your favourite characters get killed off, they’re likely to return, good as new, except with sharper teeth.

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