FlashForward

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What a Feeling
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The episode opens on a truly striking composition: glass that appears to have fallen up, a few oranges rolling out of an opaque blue haze and along the asphalt ceiling. Then we hear a few faint screams, see a man lying on his side with a baffled expression, and we realize we're sharing his disoriented perspective.

The guy crawls out of his overturned car, discovering the hard way that hot mufflers do not make the best leverage points for pulling oneself out, and once he's out in the open, he sees what can only be described as complete pandemonium: thousands of cars that have plowed into one another, a truck crushing some poor guy in a convertible, lots of bleeding and stunned people, someone running by whilst on fire. Or, as those of us who used to take the 405 in Los Angeles like to call it, "The morning commute."

We then hurtle back in time four hours to seven a.m. Dawn's rosy fingers are just creeping over the mountains outside of what looks like Castaic (i.e. a far-flung burb on the very edge of what might technically be called the greater Los Angeles area) but is probably meant to be a much closer Valley-based shire. We see a neighborhood of Aughties-style McMansions, then zoom in to where the guy in question from the last scene is opening up his gun safe to find a note reading, "You're a crappy husband. I hate you." I'm not sure I'd leave that kind of note near a firearm, but I have an overdeveloped sense of self-preservation. Anyway, we learn that our man (AKA Joseph Fiennes, who has mercifully matured out of the stunned Bambi-in-tights look he was sporting through Shakespeare in Love) is an FBI agent and this insult to his spousal appropriateness is an inside joke. Also, we learn that the garage door is acting up.

He then heads downstairs to make breakfast for his small, blonde daughter, then to do combat with the garage door. The babysitter, Nicole, pulls in and we establish that Joseph Fiennes is married to Olivia (who works at the hospital) and is father to Charlie. Then we quick-cut to a nightie-clad Olivia calling someone named Bryce to ask why he wasn't at rounds the prior day. "You better have a damn good reason why," she adds.

We cut to Bryce, whose damn good reason is, "I'm on a pier overlooking the Pacific and about to harsh a lot of surfers' mellows by committing suicide before breakfast." Before he even tries (he's planning to shoot himself), we get another stunning visual composition: the pier stretching to the horizon, as white-capped waves roll into shore and cirrus clouds soften the blue sky.

FlashForward