The Dork.C.

I watched the season finale of the O.C. on tape. Because it was a well-used VHS tape, the sound cut out intermittently—this is just a disclaimer that I was not exposed to the full wit of the writers; I was still able to figure out what was going down. But could anything have saved such hackneyed, melodramatic fare?

I can’t critique Kirsten’s intervention because I missed most of the dialogue there. Jump in if you have an opinion.

They lost me when Ryan said, upon learning that his brother had attempted to sexually assault his girlfriend Marissa, “You know, man, I’ve been trying to be someone else all year. I can’t do it anymore.” (paraphrase.) Meaning: “I have assiduously avoided handing out beat-downs throughout Season 2, rendering my character rather boring.* The writers are now attempting to dump several ounces of cayenne pepper into this script by giving me an opportunity to get all Incredible Hulk on Trey’s ass.” Beat-downs can make for great TV, and hence such a declaration should be cause for celebration for the viewer. But it was so cheesy (and his hair is so bad) that my reaction was “oh puke.”

Then! At the apex of the knock-down dragout fight between Trey and Ryan, when Trey was about to bash in Ryan’s head with a phone (a phone?!), Marissa let fly with Trey’s gat, retrieved from the floor. Trey is hit with a bullet in slow motion, his lips bloodied instantaneously, and he slumps to the floor while giving Marissa the big ol' stink eye, or maybe an eye that said “What, you?! Assault victim?! Whoda thunk--”

So then we arrive at the point where I truly threw up my hands. Trey is shot and lying on the floor. Ryan stumbles over to the doorway, where Shooter Cooper (Marissa) and newly arrived Seth and Summer are now huddled. And what happens as the camera pans back and fades away on Season 2? Do they check him for a pulse? Do they summon medical help via 911? No, these self-possessed teenagers, one of whom plans school dances like a professional event coordinator and one of whom is a partner in his own business venture, aka graphic novel, stand there like idiots and watch Trey bleed. Sheesh, last week Julie Cooper dove into the pool to drag out Caleb’s cardiac-arresting ass--and she’s been shown to be a conniving, shallow, and sometimes stupid BYOTCH who an hour before was plotting to slip him an overdose of sleeping pills!!!! You’d think four upstanding young people would have amongst them the collective crisis management skills to summon medical aid, even if he did assault Marissa. I was disgusted.

I’m just glad it was the finale so I can have a cooling-off period before next season. They’re lucky there’s not another episode next week. Because I wouldn’t watch. And I bet that would really hurt everybody involved with the “O.C.” Deeply. I’m totally going to quit buying the Neutrogena products Mischa Barton hawks on the commercial breaks.

*Props to Wm. Steven Humphrey over at The Stranger for pointing this out!