You guys, I got my shit together this week. I’ve made dinner three days in a row, I actually made my bed, and I’m doing this recap on Wednesday instead of Friday. Aren’t you proud of me? I am.
We open with a music video: “Fan Kill”, by Rebecca. So we all know where this is going, right? We cut to a young, dead-eyed Jimmy Kimmel watching the video from a satin-sheeted bed. What is it with this show and the satin sheets?
So Rebecca’s pulling out a knife in the video, and whoever Kimmel-MacFarlane is in bed with – someone blonde we only see from the back – pulls the same knife from under a pillow and destroys all our late-night comedy and Cosmos dreams.
Rebecca’s late to rehearsal, but Schenke’s early to the precinct because a bunch of Stonetree’s men are on double shifts to cover Rebecca’s security. The video is kind of a problem, apparently, but Schenke hasn’t seen it because he doesn’t get a chance to watch “The Rock Channel”. Oh, Canada. You’re so adorable.
Her fans aren’t very pleased that she wants to kill them, and old ladies think she’s a hussy. Schenke thinks Stonetree is overreacting, that Rebecca’s just doing it for publicity. Which, they’re both right. She is doing it for publicity, but that doesn’t mean that the 16 church groups who want to shut her down or the unruly fans are going away. This is kind of the police’s job – although not Homicide’s job, so why Stonetree is pulling the night detectives in early, I have no idea.
Meanwhile, in a weird time-warp ’50s diner where some guy is eating french fries with a fork, a waitress in heels serves a bunch of weirdos and an obligatory fat family who falls on their food like vultures (thanks, FK. I was really missing the omnipresent fat-shaming of later television shows.) before dropping some fries off at Nick and Nat’s table. Nick is trying to eat, apparently. That’s going to go well. Even Nat thinks he’s going too fast. He pours ketchup on his fries, but he hallucinates that it’s blood, and then that everyone else in the diner is drinking/covered in blood. Also, the waitress is southern, just before she turns into Janette.
Nick. Just say no to hallucinogens, okay?
Of course it’s all a dream, and he’s awakened by Schenke on his answering machine telling him to get his ass to work.
Rebecca’s finally awake, staring at her empty vodka bottles and bad decisions as she gets up and tries to get moving. Kimmel-MacFarlane is in her bed, and she tells him to get out without ever noticing he’s dead, despite the pool of blood underneath him on her side of the bed. This is all intercut with Nick getting up and going straight for the blood, just as Rebecca goes straight for the liquor. We get it. Vampirism is an addiction. Nick just needs a good, nocturnal 12-step group.
Nick muffles himself up in about 25 layers to get in the car and get to work early. He makes Schenke drive to the hotel to check out K-McF, and he can take off his sun gear to wander around inside, so that’s good. The hotel manager seems more disgusted about Rebecca bringing a dude to bed than the fact that she apparently killed him. Nick’s all confused about Rebecca signing in under a fake name, and then we get to hear more of her delightful song as she opens fire on the crowd. Fake gun, obvies, and she’s so into murder that I can’t believe anyone’s going to buy this isn’t a frame-up.
Schenke and Nick head over to the concert. Schenke tries to hit on young fans, which is just gross, but not as gross as Rebecca’s manager offering them a backup singer. Or he would, but now that gets them all slapped with harassment charges, so he won’t.
Rebecca’s doing her best Madonna impression on stage. She adds her own personal touch by telling the audience she’s drunk off her ass, and also by having no talent. She sings some crappy ballad about being “on the dark side” and “alone on the edge” and Nick’s suddenly a 14-year-old who finds banal lyrics to be really, really meaningful. I kind of want to use that gif again.
We’re treated to the whole crappy song. I mean, I get that it must be difficult with a shitty budget to find someone who can write something that’s anymore than technically competent, but you could just leave the music out. We’d all be happier.
Rebecca comes on to Nick – of course – and they tell her KMacF is dead. She makes some terrible joke about how she didn’t “crescendo”, then cottons to the fact that they’re serious. So serious, they bring her down to the station. Her lawyer doesn’t want her to say anything, but she volunteers that her prints are all over the murder weapon because it’s a stage prop. Also, her lawyer is the love child of Nick Gillespie and Bill Nye.
He’s kind of a pitbull, though – as far as lawyers on this show are – so good for her. She’s not helping herself by making jokes and failing to remember where she was the night before because of her persistent alcoholic stupor. She goes out in disguise, too, so even if she could give them places to look, no one would remember seeing her.
Frame-up. But Schenke thinks she’s guilty, and somehow Stonetree gets her to confess, even with her lawyer in the room.
Press are swarming the precinct, and on his way in the next night, a bald guy gives Nick an envelope full of polaroids of a girl obviously in a wig at a club. Guys. It’s Rebecca. I don’t know why you can’t figure that out.
Nick keeps having hallucinations instead of flashbacks, which would be fine – there’s more Lacroix – except that they’re full of bad rock music. Someone obviously read The Queen of the Damned right before/during the work for this episode. Anyway, one of his little hallucinations leads him to Rebecca’s hotel room and the outfit on the girl in the polaroids. Because DUH.
Nick goes down to holding to – I don’t know. He ends up just sort of flirting with Rebecca and getting her to give us a bunch of exposition, so I guess that was the point? Poor little famous girl isn’t happy with her life, which you’ve already shown us, writers. No one gets blackout drunk every night when they’re psychologically healthy. Forensics has analyzed the photos, and determined that they were taken the night before, so Rebecca’s released. She’s not pleased about this. Well, I assume it’s the release. Her misogynist dickbag manager is touching her, though, so maybe it’s that. $100 says there’s a rape victim in every city he breezes through. Why get consent when it’s so much more fun to be an absolute waste-of-space sleazeball?
Lacroix in uniform comes down to the cell to tell Nick he’s free and then laugh about it, because of course Nick isn’t free. Vampirism isn’t reversible. And this is another hallucination. Nick. Who did you eat? Do you maybe have ergot poisoning?
For Rebecca, it’s another night, another limo, another crowd of screaming fans. And who’s watching her on television, menacingly loading a gun? The guy who gave Nick the photos.
Nick and Stonetree are bellyaching about their job when the Canadian veejay says they’ve received a letter saying that someone’s going to vindicate all Rebecca’s fans. It was addressed – just as the envelope with the photos was – to “Whoever’s In Charge”.
Nick hustles over to the concert venue, where Schenke’s all excited to be backstage, and runs past him saying “Rebecca’s in danger!” Then he just stands in the wings. Like, wouldn’t they shut the place down? Is this a credible threat? Why aren’t there any metal detectors at the entrance to the stadium?
So Baldy opens fire from the crowd, but Nick’s seen him and remembered him from the photo incident, so he jumps into the crowd and takes him down. But not before someone on stage has died. We’re supposed to believe it’s Rebecca, I’m sure, but I’m not convinced. Nick asks Nat to string out the autopsy for an extra day or two, and I have to say, I’m impressed with the speed of autopsies in Toronto.
And now it’s time for my favorite FK device, which is the stupid “sit around and think about stuff that’s happened this episode”. No. Don’t. Please stop. Getting in the car and adding stock footage of Toronto doesn’t help, either.
Nick ends up back at the venue, trompsing all over the crime scene and listening for heartbeats. Someone’s tied up Rebecca and stuffed her in a cabinet. Turns out one of her backup singers died, after taking Rebecca’s place. She also killed KMacF, trying to frame Rebecca so she could take her place.
Nick doesn’t take Rebecca back to the station or anything, and we see her getting out of a car in the middle of the country in a flowered dress, carrying a guitar. She’s starting over, away from the skintight black costumes and all that booze.
Rebecca’s team devises a way to keep making money off her image while in an interrogation room – like you do – and then Nick thinks about how she got away and how happy she’ll be. And then this happens:
I really wish I knew how to make a gif, because he does this little spin, too, and then the fist in the air, and – I don’t know. Long Live Rock-n-Roll? Or something? That’s the end of the episode. Just Nick, fist-pumping his way to human mediocrity as fast as he can.
Next week: Nick was blacklisted by McCarthy! Also, in this episode, Nick reminisced about Woodstock. Was there a cultural touchstone you didn’t attend, Nick? Or are you one of those vampires, who has to claim he was at every big everything since the day he died? I hate those guys.
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