Category: Actresses (Page 73 of 258)

Or, Weekend at Jason’s.

I’m not sure about the rest of you, but I’m pretty sure that if I’ve just escaped from the clutches of terrorists that will surely kill me if they find me, I do not hole up and call CTU to bail me out, especially if I’ve got a head start. Find a way out, get a cab, and go, man. And, if I do hole up, I don’t wait until he’s on top of me before making a break for it. This guy knifed one of his own security men in the neck just a few hours ago; he’s not lacking the killer instinct.

But if Jason Schwartzman gets captured alive, “24” becomes “12,” so die he must, sigh. In the writers’ defense, the plan Jack devised after his death is a pretty good one, certainly better than, say, having Kim Bauer pretend to be a brunette librarian. I laughed out loud at Marcos emptying his clip into Jason’s lifeless body, only to see…nothing happen. But the way they set up that scene, you just knew that Marcos would dive out the window – especially after they showed that scene in the previews last week – and you had to think that Jack considered that a possibility, too. Why, then, didn’t he aim for Marcos’ legs the second Marcos broke for the windows? This is, after all, the man that whipped a bread knife across a room and pierced a guy’s throat. Jack should be able to shoot a guy in the leg blindfolded. While getting strangled. And eaten by dogs.

“I’m helping you hide the body of your convicted felon of an ex-boyfriend, and you’re asking me about ‘us’? Neither the time nor the place, honey.”

So Princess Jasmine has run off with her secret love, and I can’t see any reason why it matters. Outside of the obvious risk of her getting taken out by the dirty bomb, this plot thread means nothing to me. She’s lovely to look at, but when she talks, all I hear is “Blah blah blah blah Ginger blah blah blah Ginger.” (Stop me before I sub-reference again. Hell, even that was a sub-reference.) She just doesn’t matter to me. Heaven help us if this subplot grows to Starbuck/redneck proportions.

Speaking of which…just when we thought we had seen the end of this thread – though I figured it would last for at least one more hour, since they were looking at returning to CTU wet, and smelling of swamp water – it appears that it’s not going away anytime soon, and for those of you who refuse to watch the scenes for the next episode, I will say no more. With regard to tonight’s actions, I don’t know; I would think that burying bodies together would be one of those bonding moments. But then again, I’ve always buried my bodies alone, so I can’t really speak from experience.

My beloved Jacqueline Bauer spent this week recovering in CTU, but her brief conversation with Jack proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that she will die before the final clock tick. I understand it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m trying to set up another interview with Annie Wersching, so I can ask her about how exhilarating it is to play Crazy Jackie. Wish me luck.

Bubba finally grew a pair and told Weiss that he wasn’t prosecuting Jackie. It was a cool moment, but it left me wondering: why is Weiss so hell-bent on sending Jackie down the river, to the point that, as the ever-astute John Paulsen pointed out, he would send someone from the Justice department to CTU at midnight in order to expedite the process? In the real world, that one can wait, for days if need be. And despite the fact that CTU had another lead in the absence of Vladimir Guerrero’s death, Weiss still seemed upset about the fact that Jackie was not going to get thrown under the bus. Do those two have a history? God help them if Weiss turns out to be some Starbuck-type baddie that Jackie wronged when undercover, and he’s out for revenge. If that happens, this blog ends with that episode.

Lastly, we must mention the face-off that Presidents Madame and Slumdog had with regard to the potential fallout, both literally and figuratively, if his countrymen’s plans to detonate a dirty bomb in the city are successful. I liked seeing that Taylor, once again, was unafraid to make the hard choice, and you could tell that Slumdog knew that Allison wasn’t fucking around. Girl power, indeed.

Which brings us to this blog’s title. For some reason that I can’t dispute, since I don’t know how to disarm a detonator by remote, Chloe just had to see the wiring of Marcos’ suicide bomb, thus forcing Red Shirt Owen to take a stand in front of the security cameras and force Marcos to give up the goods. And after a quick brainstorming session on what to name this week’s blog, my lovely, brilliant wife came up with a “Simpsons” reference before I could. I hang my head in shame. Which, for the record, is a “Simpsons” reference. Oh, the irony.