Rattle, Rattle THEN! Let's see: Lilith was the final seal, Our Intrepid Heroes are Angel Condoms for Lucifer and St. Michael, My Sweet Baboo ensnared Raphael in a ring of flaming Jerusalem oil just because he could, and The Trickster entered Darling Sammy and Dashing El Deano's lives for the first time nearly three years ago, though Our Dear Boys haven't seen him since Dean rather amusingly choked on a sausage. And in the end, The Trickster warned Our Dear Boys that they represented each other's greatest weakness, or something like that, but I'm afraid I'll have to tell him to shut the hell up at this point, for if he doesn't, we'll miss the...
...Rattle, Rattle NOW! The NOW! advances ominously towards the front of the television screen, as is its wont, before it vanishes into the blackness. A few moments after it's gone, the camera fades up on a suspiciously saturated establishing shot of The Sun 'N Sands Motel, and as the camera slides into an easy pan across the brilliantly lit, palm tree-lined façade, Dashing El Deano announces in a cheery voice-over, "Supernatural is filmed before a live studio audience!" I'm kind of hating this premise already. Then again, I don't think I've willingly watched a three-camera, laugh-tracked sitcom in more than a dozen years, so perhaps I'm not the best person to judge all of this. A peppy little upbeat music cue twangs onto the soundtrack as the camera ducks inside one of the motel rooms to catch Dean's hand as it shoves condiments back into the room's well-stocked refrigerator, and when Our Intrepid Hero turns to gaze lovingly at the two-foot-high Dagwood of a sandwich he's just erected, the supposed studio audience erupts with the expected applause, along with a series of WOOOOOOOs that make me positively homicidal. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth!" Dean perks. "Dirty!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, clutching at his nonexistent pearls with an appalled yet perfectly honed paw, and if you think that's bad, my scaly friend, just you wait a couple of beats. At Dean's line, the supposed studio audience unleashes a braying collective guffaw that morphs into yet another series of murder-making WOOOOOOOs when Darling Sammy slides through the room's front door. "Hey there, Sam!" Dean sings upon his brother's entrance. "What's happening?" "Oh, nothing!" Sam chirps by way of response. "Just the end of the world!" More braying guffaws and applause from the supposed studio audience until Sam eyes Dean's erection and opines, "You're gonna need a bigger mouth!" "FILTHY!" shrieks Raoul, and see? I warned you. "You did indeed!" Raoul agrees before loudly wondering, "How did this trash ever make it past the charming little Network Standards people?!" I haven't the faintest, friend of friends, but might I hurry through this scene without further interruption? The sitcom format is clog-dancing on my last gay nerve. "Oh, by all means, please do! It's positively making my teeth itch!" Sounds uncomfortable, my impressively fanged companion. "It is!" Nevertheless, you'd best stop scratching at them, lest you ruin your manicure. "Eeeep!"
Before I rush through what follows, though, I should probably take a moment to note that the design for this sequence is flawless, in that it's perfectly replicating the sorts of nightmarishly overbright and impeccably spotless settings this type of show typically features. Yes, it's eye-searing and yes, I'm on the verge of a migraine just looking at it, but it is terrifically done. In any event, as the supposed studio audience continues to react in ways both expected and entirely grating, Sitcom Sam next asks if Sitcom Dean's been working on his research. By way of response, a bikini-clad brunette emerges from the bathroom to croon, "Dean? We have some more research to do!" Sitcom Sammy prissily crosses his arms and lets loose with a sitcom bitchface while Sitcom Dean pulls a slow-burn slow turn mug towards the camera before pouting, "Son of a bitch!"
And that's the cue to launch us into a pitch-perfect sendup of old-school situation comedy opening credits sequences, complete with an aggravatingly catchy theme song and a title card font stolen directly from 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11Next