The penultimate episode of the season is completely bonkers but a lot of fun. It vibes on the cast chemistry by upping the wildness ante all over the place. Finale next week, and I can’t wait!
Mo has assembled the usual suspects for his bachelor party, but due to recent grim events, he’s the only one in the mood to celebrate. So instead, the gang puts their heads together to figure out how to catch the killer who’s after Blair (and possibly the rest of them.) There’s scheming, a drinking game, and a creepy cabin in the woods. What more do you need?
I’ve said this before, but it’s impressive how much the quality of this show automatically goes up when all the main players are in the same room, and it was already really solid when they were in more separate plots at the start of the season. Their comedic chemistry together just crackles – I could watch these lowlifes busk master plans and insult each other for hours. This episode features a finely-coordinated “Shut the fuck up, Keith!” and Mo gleefully delivering the line, “Prejudice wins again, get the fuck outta here!” I also love the group weighing the pros and cons of a “non-sexual honeypot.”
The slant of the main plot and the isolated setting gives the show a good excuse to lean into horror tropes – Mo, Dawn, and Keith transparently pretending to one another that they aren’t scared is a hoot. And said horror tropes in turn give the characters a good excuse to break out their best Home Alone defense tactics, which are used to entertaining effect.
Elsewhere, we’re treated to some big callbacks and a surprising turn of events. These sequences, awesomely, are anchored by none other than Aaron Stanford (Cole from 12 Monkeys, my beloved Birkhoff from Nikita) as a creepy/passionate blowjob-giving doctor. You could’ve asked me to predict plotlines for this show for a hundred years, and I wouldn’t have come close to imagining Aaron Stanford speaking directly into the camera in a soft focus with a lovesick stare. So random, so weird – I love it.
Even though it feels like Blair doesn’t have as much to do here compared to some of my favorites this season, Andrew Rannells is still in rare form. He vacillates well between depressed, disgusted, terrified, and amused, and his reaction-shot game is on point. I love every moment of him side-eyeing someone or struggling to keep up with an evolving situation when he doesn’t know the background. Also, he gives a great explainer on the sex act “ski-poling,” and I love the relish with which he exclaims, “You fuckers are crafty!” Just wonderfully funny in everything he does.
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