”Desperate Housewives”: Mama Solis’ last stand
Ouch! Medical care in the Wisteria Lane vicinity is not up to snuff, methinks. First, Rex’s pharmacist may be slipping him the wrong medication for his on-again, off-again cardiac condition. Now the staff of Sacred Heart Hospital (a.k.a. the Coma Ward Where Nobody Works) allows Mama Solis to take a little post-five-month-slumber tumble down the fire stairs, through which she enters the eternal slumber. Wouldn’t there be a blip on some monitor? Is there only one medical employee at Sacred Heart? Someone sponsor a fund-raiser for these people — stat!
So happy days are here again for Gabrielle, right? (”She treated me like trash. . . . God rest her soul,” Gabi says with a wicked smile.) Well, we’ll see if smoking-on-the-sly Nurse Weepypants keeps her trap shut about Mama’s incriminating last words. I’ll bet you a carton of Luckys she doesn’t — especially now that all that hospital hush money is on the table.
Mama’s funeral was a not-so-understated, not-so-quiet affair, complete with a walking processional of Housewives in mode de mourning (sweet lid, Bree), a horse-drawn carriage, and a garish mausoleum that Carlos bought for his ”queen” — and what a deal it was! His Freudian purchase sends Gabi over the edge. How will she get that ”cute apartment” she wants now? Oh, Gabi, how we love your external monologue of narcissism! Saying ”Go to hell, Carlos” and dashing across various graves (in this week’s Inappropriate Stiletto-Wearing Moment — get girlfriend some flats!) is not part of any tradition of grief that I know of either, Bree.
Ms. Van de Kamp If You’re Nasty takes a page out of the funeral-etiquette playbook and steps in to keep the affair from becoming as disastrously embarrassing as, say, her own last dinner party. ”All right, people — we’re going to follow the body, this way please. . . . ” says Bree to the assembled, distracting them from the Solis nastiness, hereby earning the title of Docent of the Month of the Museum of Obsequious Expressions of Grief. (Crown and sash forthcoming.)
Back at home, Bree is just as in control, calmly explaining to her husband their need to incarcerate their rebellious, confused son — electrified fence and all. (Did anyone notice how quickly she produced those brochures for youth detention centers? As if she had previously set aside a drawer for youth-detention-center brochures in the kitchen, right next to the ladles and the bamboo skewers?) When Andrew raises a hand to his mom, Dad comes around to the idea of a little time-out for Junior. Yeah, put him through a wall, Rexy — that kid needs a smackdown. Enter two burly thugs, who give Andrew a wake-up call of a different sort and haul his ass off to Camp Reprogramming, where, as next week’s previews indicate, future awakenings are in store.
What’s up with the repairmen of Wisteria Lane? Not a beer gut or receding hairline among them. In a plot-rebuilding week, Susan (thankfully, pratfall-free), gets a letter from Mike, which she doesn’t open, so busy is she sinking her claws into Bill, the new blue-collar fantasy man in the ‘hood. She preens her whiskers for yet another Susan-Edie catfight (meow . . . yawn), but really, who cares?
In a similarly inconsequential plot line, Lynette and Melrose Matt befriend a deaf lady (guest star Marlee Matlin) and her politically incorrect husband (Mr. ”It’s Not Like She Can Hear You”). After an uncomfortable dinner and a tennis grudge match, Marlee has lost her man, thanks to Lynette’s meddling. I’d tell you more, but my ears went numb about six minutes in.
What do you think? What does Mike’s Dear Susan letter say? Will Carlos really go to jail? Do you find Mary Alice’s narration enlightening or annoying? And are we ever going to learn what happened to Dana?
[Correction: As several readers have pointed out, the nurse who found Mama Solis was wearing headphones and thus couldn’t have heard the dying woman’s incriminating last words.]