You know those moments in controversial movies? When the first frog falls in Magnolia or the first time you don't have any effing clue what's going on in Donnie Darko? But instead of standing up and storming out of the room and burning your Netflix card, you hang on because you think the artistic achievement of the project is greater in its sum than the one thing you find to be a miscalculated, pretentious overshoot? These are called "You're In Or You're Out Moments," where you really make the commitment to put your faith in the project, rather than giving up and running like hell. You know those moments? Did you watch this episode of Six Feet Under? Well, you sure as hell know those moments now.
Okay. Nate smokes pot near a pyramid in a cemetery. Hold on. I know what you're thinking. But really, it gets better. He then takes off on a jog around said cemetery. And I go running almost every day and I can't say I've never inhaled, but I can say it's never been at the same time, idiot! Pot and Phish concerts? Go for it. Pot and standing in front of a vending machine with a mug filled with quarters giggling over which kind of Combos would best cheese your hunger away? You are probably my spiritual brother. But "you got your pot in my exercise, you got your exercise in my pot" is not a "two great tastes that taste great together" moment I ever hope to experience. But Nate. Well, he's mourning. On his first lap around, he is met by a brown dog of some kind -- no, I do not know of what kind -- who runs beside him for a moment and then stops some distance from the path and barks madly at Nate. The dog whines and stares into Nate's eyes until Nate stares back and feels compelled to stare deeply into the dog's eyes and ask, "Lisa?" Out of the way. The frogs are falling.
Celeste charity event. Keith and his tween-loving, fag-hating friend guard the door to her dressing room as a woman in a smart suit approaches the door. Keith stops her in her tracks until she identifies herself as "chairwoman of this event." Celeste comes out of the room wearing a spangly gold tank top that makes her entire generation look as if it was attacked by a Bedazzler, and her hair is pulled back behind some netting that will probably find a wig on it, unless the charity she's performing for is for really premature female baldness and it's really, really contagious. Celeste tells the woman, "We have a problem." She notes that there was a $3000 fee for her hair and makeup people in her contract, and that she won't go on stage until they're paid. The coordinator reminds her that they're "actually trying to raise money for people with anti-coagulative blood disorders." Celeste reminds her that she's there for free, and the woman tells her, "I think you're a gigantic bitch, and I will no longer allow my daughters to listen to your music." Celeste gives it right back: "I'm sorry. You're either trying to weasel out of what you agreed to or were too stupid to even read it, and I'm the bitch?" And this conversation is utterly real and would happen without question. Except it would be the publicist having that conversation for her, while the star sat in her dressing room and pretended not to hear any of it. The woman storms off and Celeste turns to Keith and asks, "You peed in my john?" He apologizes and tells her that he did, and she tells him, "I'm a little weird about my bathroom" before going back in her dressing room. Security Metaphor #2 accuses Keith of having his head up Celeste's ass, which I don't think he did, and then scoffs when two buff dancers exit the dressing room -- no doubt to go infect the audience with a case of gay -- and give Keith a second look. Because they know. Were one of them only to get really close to Keith, stare deeply into his eyes for a minute or more, and ask, "Lisa?"