I just got back from seeing the extremely dark and depressing movie Requiem For A Dream in which Jennifer Connelly plays a heroin addict. One of the last images of the film is a naked The Rocke-who doing things with another woman and a large black rubber device. Makes The $treet seem tasteful and understated. Go figure.
Previously on The $treet. Alex, upon telling TES that she needs underwear, is told that the two of them need to spend some time apart. Giancarlo tells the company that their jobs are all in danger. Ironically, after that shot, Fox came in and told the cast their jobs are all in danger. Rickman asks Timmy-Fell-Down-A-Well what he's "packing." The Rocke-who warns TES that she's going to fire Rickman, who is next seen chanting "It's Willy Time" to Timmy in the bathroom. Nicky NotKatt overacts that he's lost "seven-million bucks" on Alden. TES tells Alex to hold onto the engagement ring, which in the real world, would have been sold days ago and converted through Upper East Side alchemy into several Prada outfits, dinner at Nobu, and a nine-piece carved, inlaid, Louis XV design dining-room suite with marble-top sideboard.
Busy trading room. Extras run around as if their eighty bucks and lunch depended on it. The Rocke-who is ignored by Rickman as a fat trader, eating a hot dog to indicate and accentuate his out-of-shapeness and fatitude, yells that he needs "a million of CitiComp at twenty by 4:00!" We see that he has mere seconds to go. He stands on the desk and yells and sweats and yells. No one pays attention -- and I'm not just talking about Nielsen families. TES tries to help him because...well, he's TES and that's his fucking M.O., people. Helping people, it's what he does. The trader sweats and eats. TES waits for the person on the other end of the mic who is actually doing the work to come through. The seconds tick down. Trader sweats and shakes his jowls and eats. The closing bell sounds. Jack got the million shares. BigTrader yells in joy...and clutches his chest, falling to the floor. Opening credits. We see that the "Created By..." credit reads Jeff Rake before Darren Star. Presumably Star will be moving his name farther and farther down the credits in embarrassment as the weeks go on. By December he'll be below the grip department. Ah! Bridgette Wilson is now Bridgette Wilson-Sampras! (No, the "!" is mine -- she's not quite that weird.) Wow. I'd forgotten she married ol' Pete. It's too bad Brooke broke up with Agassi because then the two of them could have sat in the stands together at tournaments and had eyebrow-sculpting contests. Because, you know, it's not like they could have traded tips on picking good television projects.