Dollhouse

Finale Watch: Dollhouse, Mistresses and Chris

Give it to Dollhouse: This bizarre series ended its first (could it be only?) season with the mother of all identity crises, as rogue doll Alpha—an “unfortunate technological anomaly,” as the boss lady describes him—absconds with Echo, taking along all of her past imprints as well as the “wedge” containing her original self Caroline, and all metaphysical hell breaks loose. The mind boggles as Alpha puts Caroline’s imprint into another kidnap victim, then introduces Echo to her real self. “The wrongness of this is so large,” indeed. Or as Alpha says: “Her is the old you. Try and keep up.” Hey, we’re doing our best.

We also discover (maybe not really a surprise) that dear Dr. Saunders is a doll, too, and that once upon a pre-Echo time she was the Dollhouse’s “No. 1 active,” the in-demand Whiskey, and we’re talking top-shelf call-brand liquor here. (Amy Acker plays the heck out of these flashbacks, as you knew she could.) Whiskey’s popularity so unnerves the unstable Alpha, who’s smitten by the newly arrived Echo, that his original personality (a “nascent Ted Bundy”) comes to the surface, resulting in the bloody slashing spree that left Whiskey a scarred mess. (Cue the chilling scene when Saunders deflates the newly disfigured Victor, telling him he’ll never be his best again and not to look to her for pity.) And just to remind us what a nasty screw-up Alpha is, we watch him gouge out his handler’s eyes (unnecessarily graphic) during the wipe-gone-wrong that turns Alpha into a fearsome “composite event,” which is the gift he plans to bestow now upon Echo.

Alpha, it seems, managed to destroy his original self, and he’s going to do the same for Echo, telling her that Caroline deserves it because she abandoned and betrayed her by letting her become a doll. He puts Echo in his own creepy chair and implants all of her past imprints in her head, a mind-frak intended to turn her into a superior creature but which instead awakens her to a mega-migraine of an existential dilemma. “We’re not new. We’re not anything. We’re not anybody, because we’re everybody.” And in the strangest of all moments, indicating that the dolls somehow keep current with the outside world, she gives a shout-out to Obama: “I have 38 brains. Not one of them thinks you can sign a contract to be a slave—especially now that we have a black president.”

Back to the carnage. The new-and-improved Echo turns on her Dr. Frankenstein/Alpha and they have one wicked fight, ending with the rather silly image of Alpha training a gun on the “wedge” containing Caroline’s profile: “Do what I say or I will blow your (electronic) brain out,” he sneers. By this time, Boyd and Ballard (still bearing bruises from their fight last week) have tracked them to Alpha’s lair, but not before Alpha shoots the poor Caroline clone in the throat and wounds Echo with a bullet in the shoulder. In the chase that follows, Alpha drops the Caroline “wedge,” but Ballard is there to catch it and bring her/it/whatever home safely. Alpha escapes, and it’s back to the house for everyone else—including Ballard, who signs on as a new “contractor” under one condition, and it’s not what you think. He has Mellie/November/Madeleine released, while it’s back to the pod for Echo. Although as she turns in for the night, she whispers the name “Caroline.” Curtain on one of the weirdest, most surreal hours I’ve witnessed all season (thanks to writer/director Tim Minear for delivering the goods).

Is it curtains for Dollhouse as well? We should find out in about a week if not sooner (Fox’s upfront is May 18). A renewal would be a giant leap of faith on Fox’s part that this provocative but wildly uneven show has room to grow beyond the mild (if vocal) cult that attends anything Joss Whedon creates. I tended to run hot and cold on this show during its 12-episode run, intrigued by the implications of the soul-sucking technology and the tonal shifts from episode to episode but less convinced than usual by the viability of the premise and, more to the point, less compelled by the human mysteries at the story’s core. Still, if this Dollhouse is the arena Whedon chooses to play in until his Next Big Thing, I hope he gets another chance to refine it. (At the very least, I hope we get to see the so-far-unscheduled “Epitaph One” 13th episode, directed by Whedon, which goes way outside the box to imagine the apocalyptic implications of what the Dollhouse has wrought.)

On a much lighter note, a tip of the cap to BBC America’s great guilty pleasure Mistresses, which concluded its run Friday night as well. This saucy melodrama, about four best friends to whom scandal clings like lint, compacted so much juicy story into 12 episodes (representing two seasons—love the economy of British storytelling!) it puts to shame such lead-footed American duds as Lipstick Jungle and Cashmere Mafia, both thankfully receding into dim memory. I’ll not soon forget the antics of the women entangled in Mistresses’ addictive web: Katie (Sarah Parish), the alluring doctor whose attempts to rebuild her career and reputation are thwarted by a messy new romantic triangle; Siobhan (Orla Brady), the promiscuous lawyer trying to cling on to her own career while salvaging a loveless marriage; Trudi (Sharon Small), the flighty hausfrau who keeps discovering unpleasant secrets about the charming single dad she’s let into her life and home; and the irrepressible Jessica (Shelley Conn), party girl turned trophy wife, who’s surprised how appealing domestic bliss can be, if only she hadn’t agreed to an open marriage.

Unlike most soaps, Mistresses moves with such breathless and entertaining intensity that even when you see the twists coming (and they come fast and furious), they’re hard to resist, much like the characters. As Katie notes toward the end of Friday’s finale: “It’s amazing the way we humans behave, the capacity we have to bring disaster to our lives.” The final hour ricocheted through pain and regret to reconciliation and mostly happy endings for each of these ladies. No word yet if a third season of Mistresses is in the cards. Where British shows are concerned, I’ve learned it doesn’t pay to be greedy. And these 12 episodes felt just about perfect to me.

Finally, a salute to Everybody Hates Chris, an unfortunate victim of the CW’s complete disinterest in comedy (except for the inadvertent laughs generated by its ridiculous teen soaps). Chris Rock’s lovably biting childhood memoir, languishing for far too long on Fridays, faded out with a fourth-year “season finale” that should have been billed as a “series finale,” given that there’s apparently no room for half-hour comedies in this network’s future game plan.

The show’s final scene was an homage to The Sopranos’ infamous swan song, as the family gathered one by one in a diner to munch on fried appetizers and sing along to the jukebox (this one playing Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer), as Chris peered anxiously at various customers while Julius parked his newspaper delivery truck outside. Dad comes in bearing the results of Chris’ GED test (he dropped out after being forced to repeat the 10th grade). “What’s it say?” Chris asks his mom (who’d earlier mocked Chris: “You want to be a comedian? Ha! Very funny”). But before she can answer, as Bon Jovi blares “Hold on,” the screen goes dark. For good. I imagine some fans were booing like the audience at Amateur Night at the Apollo, but for those who got the joke, it was probably as good a way as any for this unjustly neglected show to seek a little attention on the way out.