MONDO EXTRAS

Dynasty: “Royal Wedding”

There's a knock at the door, and in comes a bearded, uniformed man. (When I become fabulously wealthy, I'm so going to make my staff wear uniforms.) Alexis throws back her head and spits an exasperated "YES." The guy's there to tell them that "his Majesty" expects them to greet their guests. The room they're in is white with lavender accents around the molding. They are sitting on some kind of sleigh-daybed, with a chintz cover and hanging curtains over it with little tassels. Curses that I furnished my apartment before seeing this tasteful and delightful scheme! Alexis says that they'll be there, and pointedly tells Amanda, "Won't we, darling." Amanda out-prisses her and replies, "Certainly. We have to tell all of them that the wedding is OFF." Alexis finally says that if she can't change Amanda's mind, she wants to break the news herself. You see, Alexis negotiated the marriage in the first place, since King Galen didn't want his son marrying a commoner. I believe that it involved oil deals of some variety, and also some slap and tickle, since King Galen is yet another man who cannot resist the charms of a power-hungry glamour bitch. "Please, darling, please do this for me?" Alexis does some really fine begging and head-hanging while acting put out. I was about to say that Amanda is used to this ploy and holds her own against it, but since she only recently discovered that Alexis wasn't her auntie and that she had a conveniently wealthy family in scenic Denver, she's just catching on quickly. Maybe it's her genetics that make her good at demanding her way: "If I can't say anything about breaking the engagement, then I'm not going to the reception." She's reaching Brandon Walsh levels of high and mighty here: "I don't want any part of this farce." Man, that line is absolutely brill in a British accent. Not about to let her daughter have the last word in a bitch-off, Alexis asserts, "All right. Until I can find a good enough reason, you've JUST come DOWN with the FLU." She angrily stubs out her cigarette in a china cup of coffee, as you do, and they have a fabulous bitchy glare-off.

Blake and Krystle enter the room, and words will not do this suit justice. It is lavender, with a wide-brimmed, dyed-to-match straw hat, and bunched fabric on the arms that almost looks like leaves. ["I assume you're talking about Krystle's suit, but...it was the '80s, and mistakes were made, and maybe I shouldn't assume you're not talking about Blake." -- Wing Chun] Porters bring in...six pieces of luggage. Well, sure, I think they might be there for an entire week! Blake dismisses them, and Krystle thanks him. For what, his manly show of allowing them to leave the room? No, but it is for not having them unpack for the Carringtons. Krystle seems tired and stressed, and takes off her gloves in a...well, tired and stressed manner -- and then throws them down. Nothing conveys frustration like some good glove-throwing. Blake -- perceptive, sympathetic lifemate that he is -- guesses that she's upset about something, and then hits the nail on the head that it is Sammy Jo. Backstory! Poor Sammy Jo, see, is Krystle's niece, born to a white-trash family, who then moved to Denver and paraded around in hot pants and seduced poor gay Steven, got married and then pregnant and then dumped the baby on the Carringtons but then came back to fight for him out of spite and met her real father Rock Hudson who then kissed Krystle in what became television history since no one knew at the time that he had AIDS -- in real life, not on the show -- and then he died (on the show) and he left Sammy Jo the horse ranch but unfortunately gave Krystle the pursestrings and Sammy Jo's rage knows no bounds. (Aaron Spelling, how do you keep doing what you do so well?) Krystle sighs. There's a whole lot of sighing in this episode. She is vexed by Sammy Jo's horrible reaction to the reading of the will and Krystle's being named executrix of Rock Hudson's estate. Dude, forget whatever the payout is; I just want to be able to call myself an executrix. I picture some kind of dominatrix in librarian clothes...and suddenly, I've got a mental image with Blake and Krystle that is completely unwelcome. Back to the episode. [Shudder.] Blake basically just tells Krystle to put he niece out of her mind and enjoy the weekend, because he's supportive like that. Krystle smiles and nods, and we're treated to a lot of loving gazing. I'm surprised they didn't whip out the Vaseline on the camera lens that is generally used for Krystle's scenes with Blake. (Which I suspect are to help mask her horror at needing to do love scenes with John Forsythe.)

Back to the States -- New York City. Sammy Jo, in a shortie red and white robe, is grinning to herself and rewinding a tape. I love when people on TV do this, because you can always hear the tape rewinding as generally never happens in the real world. A hayseed who looks oh-so-remarkably like Krystle (almost as if Linda Evans herself were playing a dual role!) walks out of the bedroom with a huuuuuge rumpled red wig -- I mean, with an extremely natural-looking red mane -- tying her own robe. It might look more realistic if the robe hadn't already been tacked shut by the wardrobe department. She drawls, "It's the middle of the naaaaaaaght. What's so important that it couldn't wait?" Sammy Jo tells her that she wants Rita (it's too much to wait until her name is actually used) to hear her aunt's voice, which is on the answering machine. Rita is understandably surprised and disappointed that this is why she was awakened, and slumps onto the couch. Sammy Jo prattles, and then realizes that Rita is dozing off and snaps at her. We hear Krystle's concerned voice saying that she really needs to speak to Sammy Jo before she leaves for Moldavia. Rita doesn't get it. Sammy Jo then patiently explains, "Well, you told me you got that commercial you were up for because they bought that phony voice you were using." HA HA HA HA HA. (excuse me a moment) HA HA HA HA. Linda Evans's accent is about as realistic as her red hair. Sammy Jo asks, "Now, do you think you can sound like her?" Rita drawls, "Shooooore, if I practice. Whay?" Sammy Jo just says, "Well, for now, Rita let's just say it's something I'd appreciate you doing for me. No questions asked, all right?" All right. I don't know about you, but I'd totally do something given those parameters. Thank God Rita is as trusting and sweet a person as I am. Sammy Jo screechily rewinds the tape and listens to it once again, for good measure.

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Dynasty: “Royal Wedding”

There's a knock at the door, and in comes a bearded, uniformed man. (When I become fabulously wealthy, I'm so going to make my staff wear uniforms.) Alexis throws back her head and spits an exasperated "YES." The guy's there to tell them that "his Majesty" expects them to greet their guests. The room they're in is white with lavender accents around the molding. They are sitting on some kind of sleigh-daybed, with a chintz cover and hanging curtains over it with little tassels. Curses that I furnished my apartment before seeing this tasteful and delightful scheme! Alexis says that they'll be there, and pointedly tells Amanda, "Won't we, darling." Amanda out-prisses her and replies, "Certainly. We have to tell all of them that the wedding is OFF." Alexis finally says that if she can't change Amanda's mind, she wants to break the news herself. You see, Alexis negotiated the marriage in the first place, since King Galen didn't want his son marrying a commoner. I believe that it involved oil deals of some variety, and also some slap and tickle, since King Galen is yet another man who cannot resist the charms of a power-hungry glamour bitch. "Please, darling, please do this for me?" Alexis does some really fine begging and head-hanging while acting put out. I was about to say that Amanda is used to this ploy and holds her own against it, but since she only recently discovered that Alexis wasn't her auntie and that she had a conveniently wealthy family in scenic Denver, she's just catching on quickly. Maybe it's her genetics that make her good at demanding her way: "If I can't say anything about breaking the engagement, then I'm not going to the reception." She's reaching Brandon Walsh levels of high and mighty here: "I don't want any part of this farce." Man, that line is absolutely brill in a British accent. Not about to let her daughter have the last word in a bitch-off, Alexis asserts, "All right. Until I can find a good enough reason, you've JUST come DOWN with the FLU." She angrily stubs out her cigarette in a china cup of coffee, as you do, and they have a fabulous bitchy glare-off.

Blake and Krystle enter the room, and words will not do this suit justice. It is lavender, with a wide-brimmed, dyed-to-match straw hat, and bunched fabric on the arms that almost looks like leaves. ["I assume you're talking about Krystle's suit, but...it was the '80s, and mistakes were made, and maybe I shouldn't assume you're not talking about Blake." -- Wing Chun] Porters bring in...six pieces of luggage. Well, sure, I think they might be there for an entire week! Blake dismisses them, and Krystle thanks him. For what, his manly show of allowing them to leave the room? No, but it is for not having them unpack for the Carringtons. Krystle seems tired and stressed, and takes off her gloves in a...well, tired and stressed manner -- and then throws them down. Nothing conveys frustration like some good glove-throwing. Blake -- perceptive, sympathetic lifemate that he is -- guesses that she's upset about something, and then hits the nail on the head that it is Sammy Jo. Backstory! Poor Sammy Jo, see, is Krystle's niece, born to a white-trash family, who then moved to Denver and paraded around in hot pants and seduced poor gay Steven, got married and then pregnant and then dumped the baby on the Carringtons but then came back to fight for him out of spite and met her real father Rock Hudson who then kissed Krystle in what became television history since no one knew at the time that he had AIDS -- in real life, not on the show -- and then he died (on the show) and he left Sammy Jo the horse ranch but unfortunately gave Krystle the pursestrings and Sammy Jo's rage knows no bounds. (Aaron Spelling, how do you keep doing what you do so well?) Krystle sighs. There's a whole lot of sighing in this episode. She is vexed by Sammy Jo's horrible reaction to the reading of the will and Krystle's being named executrix of Rock Hudson's estate. Dude, forget whatever the payout is; I just want to be able to call myself an executrix. I picture some kind of dominatrix in librarian clothes...and suddenly, I've got a mental image with Blake and Krystle that is completely unwelcome. Back to the episode. [Shudder.] Blake basically just tells Krystle to put he niece out of her mind and enjoy the weekend, because he's supportive like that. Krystle smiles and nods, and we're treated to a lot of loving gazing. I'm surprised they didn't whip out the Vaseline on the camera lens that is generally used for Krystle's scenes with Blake. (Which I suspect are to help mask her horror at needing to do love scenes with John Forsythe.)

Back to the States -- New York City. Sammy Jo, in a shortie red and white robe, is grinning to herself and rewinding a tape. I love when people on TV do this, because you can always hear the tape rewinding as generally never happens in the real world. A hayseed who looks oh-so-remarkably like Krystle (almost as if Linda Evans herself were playing a dual role!) walks out of the bedroom with a huuuuuge rumpled red wig -- I mean, with an extremely natural-looking red mane -- tying her own robe. It might look more realistic if the robe hadn't already been tacked shut by the wardrobe department. She drawls, "It's the middle of the naaaaaaaght. What's so important that it couldn't wait?" Sammy Jo tells her that she wants Rita (it's too much to wait until her name is actually used) to hear her aunt's voice, which is on the answering machine. Rita is understandably surprised and disappointed that this is why she was awakened, and slumps onto the couch. Sammy Jo prattles, and then realizes that Rita is dozing off and snaps at her. We hear Krystle's concerned voice saying that she really needs to speak to Sammy Jo before she leaves for Moldavia. Rita doesn't get it. Sammy Jo then patiently explains, "Well, you told me you got that commercial you were up for because they bought that phony voice you were using." HA HA HA HA HA. (excuse me a moment) HA HA HA HA. Linda Evans's accent is about as realistic as her red hair. Sammy Jo asks, "Now, do you think you can sound like her?" Rita drawls, "Shooooore, if I practice. Whay?" Sammy Jo just says, "Well, for now, Rita let's just say it's something I'd appreciate you doing for me. No questions asked, all right?" All right. I don't know about you, but I'd totally do something given those parameters. Thank God Rita is as trusting and sweet a person as I am. Sammy Jo screechily rewinds the tape and listens to it once again, for good measure.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13Next

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