Who said plus ça reste la même? Well, there were some changes tonight, some ne'er before heard of admissions and Carters, Carters everywhere. Again. And two possible cliffhangers, instead of one.
I'd at least hoped to find out who's the daddy or Dot's verdict. It was one of those episodes where something should have happened, but didn't, even though it was gearing up to one of the storylines mooted in the latest rom-com love-squared summer blaster; and that doesn't bode well for a Friday night, traditionally the weakest night of the week.
Masala Masood with a Makeover.
Shabnam Masood has a problem. She's a practicing Muslim with a dark secret (doesn't everyone have them in Walford?) in love with a secular Muslim who won't commit to marriage. What's a girl to do?
Why, she rings her Auntie Fatima to help her find a husband.
Wow. I thought Shabnam had changed since she changed heads. She'd gone from a free-spirited, pole-dancing, hard-drinking party girl - the sort who cops off in the loos at clubs - to a strait-laced, somewhat bigoted prig - a charming prig, but a prig nonetheless; but Fatima has changed a hundredfold.
When we last saw Auntie Fatima, she was the burkha-clad, silent ghost of a wife to stringent Uncle Imzamam. She said nothing and moved as if on air. For all I know, this could be the same actress, because we never saw Fatima's face. However, tonight, in breezes this smiling, forward-thinking 21st Century matchmaker, who wasn't above e-mailing or faxing Shabnam pictures of worthy prospects.
Just meet him, she trills. If he doesn't float your boat, no bother.
She's uncovered, and she's pretty; she's also cagey about Imzamam's whereabouts, particularly since Masood revealed that AJ had told him Imzamam was back in Pakistan ... without his family. (You'll recall that the last time we saw Imzamam, Mas had kicked him out of the house because Zainab told him Imzamam had been making advances toward her, as - in his opinion - she was a disgraced woman.) Fatima looked pretty shirty when Imzamam was mentioned. Maybe she cast off her burkha and he left in a huff. I seem to recall as well, she's got two kids - a boy and a girl - who would be about the same age as Tamwar.
Speaking of Tamwar, he beat a hasty retreat when Auntie Fatima asked if she knew Tamwar's girlfriend's family. I wonder what she'd have thought of Zainab attending a gay male stag night, calling herself a faghag and rubbing oil on a male stripper's body?
Shabnam loves Kush, but she fears he won't commit, and she wants to settle down with a husband and family. To achieve this, she's willing to give up Kush, who - at the eleventh hour from Amsterdam - texts her that he misses her.
Shabnam's emotional immaturity is evident tonight in the way she immediately assumed and feared that Kush, partying in Amsterdam with his football mates, just might partake of a little more than window shopping in the red light district. Mas knows better, and so does Shabnam, immediately she receives his text, just at the moment Fatima's chosen one, the delectable Asim, arrives.
By the way, I liked Fatima. I'd like to see her again.
A Barrel Full of Corn.
Dot's trial should have been the showcase of the week. Instead, it's been the pantheon of some of the corniest, most syrupy sentimental tripe, combined with predictably contrived scenes enacted by people who could have done better and written by people who should have known better.
There's Dot, the noble Christian martyr, sitting in her prison, visited by Charlie and Fatboy. (Please, please would someone buy Charlie a damned jacket that fits. The one he wears is two sizes too small and looks ridiculous). Dot bears herself with exaggerated dignity, looking suitably sad enough to make the jurors think she was the frail old woman incapable of anything but compassion, yet gathering the strength necessary to hold out in prison. It's the act of a melodramatic diva, musing about the kind-faced judge with the sad eyes.
Then there's the assembling-of-the-troops scene, back at the Blisters' house. I'm a bit lost here. Didn't Charlie tell Roxy to do one? Get lost? Leave his family alone? Yet there she is, living in the same house, looking after Charlie's child, straightening his tie. Dot knows it and disapproves. Ronnie knows it and is plotting something. Ritchie has reached her wits end with Dot as a client. Charlie wants a plea of diminished responsibility in hopes of getting the case thrown out. Ritchie is blistering. They'd have had to have done that at the trial's onset, and there was every reason to believe that Dot knew exactly what she was doing - she proved as much when she decided, against counsel's advice, to testify.
Then we had the ubiquitous fight between Fatboy and Charlie, frought with tension over Dot. Fatboy was actually quite good in those scenes, levelling out some home truths to Charlie, because a lot of what he said was pretty close to the truth. Charlie's presence inevitably brought Nick back into Dot's life, he was involved in some sort of illegal activity, and he should be in that prison instead of Dot. We also saw the first of a trio of punches administered in this episode, and Fatboy's punch was the most believeable.
The other predictable scene was Charlie offering himself up to DI Keeble (good to see her again) as the sacrificial lamb, confessing to the murder, himself, of his father. Keeble, was the star of the show, along with Ritchie, in her icy aplomb.
Well, you see, it doesn't work that way, Mr Cotton. First, you have to go inside that building there, and make a statement, telling us why you lied in your original statement. Then we'll do an investigation, where we'll probably find that you didn't kill your father. And then we'll arrest you.
The court scenes were trite and contrived, concentrating on the prosecution's and the defence's closing statements, replete with whispers from Sharon (The cow! referring to the Crown's barrister), from wheelchair-bound Roswell Ronnie (Where's Charlie?), who inevitably arrived. For some reason, this made me think of Dean's far-away trial for perverting the course of justice, where Shirley arrived late. Then we had the wait for the verdict, and the corny, homespun scene of everyone overruling Max and wanting to stay for Dot's verdict, finalised by a rousing, uplifting, pukeworthy speech by Charlie, extolling the friends and family waiting to be there for Dot, so that if she is found guilty, the last thing she sees is them, united, being strong for her.
Go out and win one for the Gipper.
(Yes, that was Ronald Reagan.)
Pretty contrived, too short and very amateurish in writing, presentation and performance.
Eeyore and Shrek Fight.
Well, Ritchie's done her homework on the mysterious Mr Hubbard. Now we learn about the ties that bind him to Walford.
First, there's Kim, his wife. Ronnie is afraid of Vincent? Ronnie and Vincent are two big wusses. Ronnie is a psychopathic bully, who is, frankly, pathetic. Keep her hanging around, and she'll be Auntie Babe in thirty years' time, banging and bullying Roxy, who's destined to become her version of Sylvie.
It's convenient for Ronnie to have Vincent believe that Phil killed Carl White, so Phil summons Vincent to his newly-acquired possession of the car lot in order to read him the riot act.
This was hilarious. Phil threatening to make the likes of Donna, Claudette and Kim "disappear" if Vincent even mentions the name of Carl White. Really, Phil? You blanche at the prospect of pulling a gun on someone. You were overwrought when a kid accidentally burned to death in a car lot fire that you started, you were undone when Ben killed Heather and ou wanted Roswell Ronnie off your premises when she offed Carl. Once again, why does Ronnie even ask Phil to kill someone, and the threat Phil made to make one of those three women "disappear" is just bullshit. Phil Mitchell couldn't kill a man, and he wouldn't kill a woman.
Then there's the revelation that Vincent used to be a snotty-nosed little kid who hung around the Mitchells as a child crying for his dad to come and pick him up. (Please, God, no ... don't introduce Vincent's father). Hello? Vincent must be in his early forties, a good ten years younger than Phil. Who's he hanging out with at the Mitchells' house? Sam?
Of course, there's the fight scene, which was ludicrous. Phil half-punched Vincent, who then retaliated and winded Phil. OK, Phil was bested, and that was realistic, considering we had a wheezing Phil Mitchell chase a frightened but fit Connor around the Arches back in 2010. It makes sense that Vincent would best Phil, but remember what happened to the last man who felled Phil?
Two words: Dennis Rickman. I rest my case.
There is no way Vincent will come out on top in this. When the equally mysterious Gavin appears, when he's cleaned himself up, shaven, been to Savile Row and stocked up on some silk suits, he, a sixty-something man, can face down Vincent, and draw out an elegant leather glove from his pocket and begin to bitch slap the cowering Vincent about the head. I can hear the dialogue now.
Come messin' wiv mah daug'her's old man, will yer? Well, 'ere, ya muppet ... Take vat ... and vat ... and 'ere's some more fer good luck. Now ... sling yer'ook!
The Continuing Carters. We're well into "Who's the Daddy" territory now, with Dean defiantly buying a blue-pawed Teddy in the market and marching resolutely to the hospital, against the advice of his father and Terrahawk. Buster is now wary of Dean, having heard Mick's version of events. You can tell by the fish-eyed look he gave Dean as Dean insisted on buying a present for "his son."
And Shirley is so arrogant to assume that she can "deal with Mick." Dealing with Mick means demanding he take a DNA test, instead of assuming the baby was his. I did like Mick's reply to Linda when he told her that had she told him that Lee, Nancy and Johnny weren't his, he'd have felt no differently than he felt now. And why?
Because he'd have done the hard work - the sleepless nights with the feeds, the first tooth, the first step, school. That's a parent. That's the difference between him and Buster, between Den and Gavin, between Alfie and Michael Moon. I'm glad they included that definition of a parent, of a father, in this episode; and quirk of quirks, when dippy but dangerous Dean showed up and demanded that he and Linda name "their baby," - lo and behold, he wants to name the child "Kevin."
Well, at least he does remember Kevin.
Dean turning up causes chaos and not just with security. The nurse attending tells Mick a sure fire way of establishing paternity without DNA testing - by Mick finding out his blood group. If he'd ever been a patient in Walford General, they'd have a record of his blood group. They already had Linda's and the baby's. (But wait ... I thought Mick grew up in Canning Town as a child and in Watford with Elaine and Linda from his teenaged years. Ne'mind, the magic of EastEnders makes it possible for Mick to have been seen at Walford General and to have his blood group.
Suddenly, Mick's gone from being all right and not worrying about the paternity of this child, to wondering if, were he not his son, he could ever love this child, if he could ever see anything but Dean in him if he were not his father. This proves a dilemma for Linda, as she's bonded with the baby, and - as she points out - the baby is part of her. Mick even said that this is how he would think of the child, as being a part of Linda, and Linda was a part of Mick.
Now we're left with Mick looking ambiguously emotional as he looks at the blood group results.
Ahhh gwan ... the baby is Mick's. I'll bet.
Another mediocre episode treading water.
I'd at least hoped to find out who's the daddy or Dot's verdict. It was one of those episodes where something should have happened, but didn't, even though it was gearing up to one of the storylines mooted in the latest rom-com love-squared summer blaster; and that doesn't bode well for a Friday night, traditionally the weakest night of the week.
Masala Masood with a Makeover.
Shabnam Masood has a problem. She's a practicing Muslim with a dark secret (doesn't everyone have them in Walford?) in love with a secular Muslim who won't commit to marriage. What's a girl to do?
Why, she rings her Auntie Fatima to help her find a husband.
Wow. I thought Shabnam had changed since she changed heads. She'd gone from a free-spirited, pole-dancing, hard-drinking party girl - the sort who cops off in the loos at clubs - to a strait-laced, somewhat bigoted prig - a charming prig, but a prig nonetheless; but Fatima has changed a hundredfold.
When we last saw Auntie Fatima, she was the burkha-clad, silent ghost of a wife to stringent Uncle Imzamam. She said nothing and moved as if on air. For all I know, this could be the same actress, because we never saw Fatima's face. However, tonight, in breezes this smiling, forward-thinking 21st Century matchmaker, who wasn't above e-mailing or faxing Shabnam pictures of worthy prospects.
Just meet him, she trills. If he doesn't float your boat, no bother.
She's uncovered, and she's pretty; she's also cagey about Imzamam's whereabouts, particularly since Masood revealed that AJ had told him Imzamam was back in Pakistan ... without his family. (You'll recall that the last time we saw Imzamam, Mas had kicked him out of the house because Zainab told him Imzamam had been making advances toward her, as - in his opinion - she was a disgraced woman.) Fatima looked pretty shirty when Imzamam was mentioned. Maybe she cast off her burkha and he left in a huff. I seem to recall as well, she's got two kids - a boy and a girl - who would be about the same age as Tamwar.
Speaking of Tamwar, he beat a hasty retreat when Auntie Fatima asked if she knew Tamwar's girlfriend's family. I wonder what she'd have thought of Zainab attending a gay male stag night, calling herself a faghag and rubbing oil on a male stripper's body?
Shabnam loves Kush, but she fears he won't commit, and she wants to settle down with a husband and family. To achieve this, she's willing to give up Kush, who - at the eleventh hour from Amsterdam - texts her that he misses her.
Shabnam's emotional immaturity is evident tonight in the way she immediately assumed and feared that Kush, partying in Amsterdam with his football mates, just might partake of a little more than window shopping in the red light district. Mas knows better, and so does Shabnam, immediately she receives his text, just at the moment Fatima's chosen one, the delectable Asim, arrives.
By the way, I liked Fatima. I'd like to see her again.
A Barrel Full of Corn.
Dot's trial should have been the showcase of the week. Instead, it's been the pantheon of some of the corniest, most syrupy sentimental tripe, combined with predictably contrived scenes enacted by people who could have done better and written by people who should have known better.
There's Dot, the noble Christian martyr, sitting in her prison, visited by Charlie and Fatboy. (Please, please would someone buy Charlie a damned jacket that fits. The one he wears is two sizes too small and looks ridiculous). Dot bears herself with exaggerated dignity, looking suitably sad enough to make the jurors think she was the frail old woman incapable of anything but compassion, yet gathering the strength necessary to hold out in prison. It's the act of a melodramatic diva, musing about the kind-faced judge with the sad eyes.
Then there's the assembling-of-the-troops scene, back at the Blisters' house. I'm a bit lost here. Didn't Charlie tell Roxy to do one? Get lost? Leave his family alone? Yet there she is, living in the same house, looking after Charlie's child, straightening his tie. Dot knows it and disapproves. Ronnie knows it and is plotting something. Ritchie has reached her wits end with Dot as a client. Charlie wants a plea of diminished responsibility in hopes of getting the case thrown out. Ritchie is blistering. They'd have had to have done that at the trial's onset, and there was every reason to believe that Dot knew exactly what she was doing - she proved as much when she decided, against counsel's advice, to testify.
Then we had the ubiquitous fight between Fatboy and Charlie, frought with tension over Dot. Fatboy was actually quite good in those scenes, levelling out some home truths to Charlie, because a lot of what he said was pretty close to the truth. Charlie's presence inevitably brought Nick back into Dot's life, he was involved in some sort of illegal activity, and he should be in that prison instead of Dot. We also saw the first of a trio of punches administered in this episode, and Fatboy's punch was the most believeable.
The other predictable scene was Charlie offering himself up to DI Keeble (good to see her again) as the sacrificial lamb, confessing to the murder, himself, of his father. Keeble, was the star of the show, along with Ritchie, in her icy aplomb.
Well, you see, it doesn't work that way, Mr Cotton. First, you have to go inside that building there, and make a statement, telling us why you lied in your original statement. Then we'll do an investigation, where we'll probably find that you didn't kill your father. And then we'll arrest you.
The court scenes were trite and contrived, concentrating on the prosecution's and the defence's closing statements, replete with whispers from Sharon (The cow! referring to the Crown's barrister), from wheelchair-bound Roswell Ronnie (Where's Charlie?), who inevitably arrived. For some reason, this made me think of Dean's far-away trial for perverting the course of justice, where Shirley arrived late. Then we had the wait for the verdict, and the corny, homespun scene of everyone overruling Max and wanting to stay for Dot's verdict, finalised by a rousing, uplifting, pukeworthy speech by Charlie, extolling the friends and family waiting to be there for Dot, so that if she is found guilty, the last thing she sees is them, united, being strong for her.
Go out and win one for the Gipper.
(Yes, that was Ronald Reagan.)
Pretty contrived, too short and very amateurish in writing, presentation and performance.
Eeyore and Shrek Fight.
Well, Ritchie's done her homework on the mysterious Mr Hubbard. Now we learn about the ties that bind him to Walford.
First, there's Kim, his wife. Ronnie is afraid of Vincent? Ronnie and Vincent are two big wusses. Ronnie is a psychopathic bully, who is, frankly, pathetic. Keep her hanging around, and she'll be Auntie Babe in thirty years' time, banging and bullying Roxy, who's destined to become her version of Sylvie.
It's convenient for Ronnie to have Vincent believe that Phil killed Carl White, so Phil summons Vincent to his newly-acquired possession of the car lot in order to read him the riot act.
This was hilarious. Phil threatening to make the likes of Donna, Claudette and Kim "disappear" if Vincent even mentions the name of Carl White. Really, Phil? You blanche at the prospect of pulling a gun on someone. You were overwrought when a kid accidentally burned to death in a car lot fire that you started, you were undone when Ben killed Heather and ou wanted Roswell Ronnie off your premises when she offed Carl. Once again, why does Ronnie even ask Phil to kill someone, and the threat Phil made to make one of those three women "disappear" is just bullshit. Phil Mitchell couldn't kill a man, and he wouldn't kill a woman.
Then there's the revelation that Vincent used to be a snotty-nosed little kid who hung around the Mitchells as a child crying for his dad to come and pick him up. (Please, God, no ... don't introduce Vincent's father). Hello? Vincent must be in his early forties, a good ten years younger than Phil. Who's he hanging out with at the Mitchells' house? Sam?
Of course, there's the fight scene, which was ludicrous. Phil half-punched Vincent, who then retaliated and winded Phil. OK, Phil was bested, and that was realistic, considering we had a wheezing Phil Mitchell chase a frightened but fit Connor around the Arches back in 2010. It makes sense that Vincent would best Phil, but remember what happened to the last man who felled Phil?
Two words: Dennis Rickman. I rest my case.
There is no way Vincent will come out on top in this. When the equally mysterious Gavin appears, when he's cleaned himself up, shaven, been to Savile Row and stocked up on some silk suits, he, a sixty-something man, can face down Vincent, and draw out an elegant leather glove from his pocket and begin to bitch slap the cowering Vincent about the head. I can hear the dialogue now.
Come messin' wiv mah daug'her's old man, will yer? Well, 'ere, ya muppet ... Take vat ... and vat ... and 'ere's some more fer good luck. Now ... sling yer'ook!
The Continuing Carters. We're well into "Who's the Daddy" territory now, with Dean defiantly buying a blue-pawed Teddy in the market and marching resolutely to the hospital, against the advice of his father and Terrahawk. Buster is now wary of Dean, having heard Mick's version of events. You can tell by the fish-eyed look he gave Dean as Dean insisted on buying a present for "his son."
And Shirley is so arrogant to assume that she can "deal with Mick." Dealing with Mick means demanding he take a DNA test, instead of assuming the baby was his. I did like Mick's reply to Linda when he told her that had she told him that Lee, Nancy and Johnny weren't his, he'd have felt no differently than he felt now. And why?
Because he'd have done the hard work - the sleepless nights with the feeds, the first tooth, the first step, school. That's a parent. That's the difference between him and Buster, between Den and Gavin, between Alfie and Michael Moon. I'm glad they included that definition of a parent, of a father, in this episode; and quirk of quirks, when dippy but dangerous Dean showed up and demanded that he and Linda name "their baby," - lo and behold, he wants to name the child "Kevin."
Well, at least he does remember Kevin.
Dean turning up causes chaos and not just with security. The nurse attending tells Mick a sure fire way of establishing paternity without DNA testing - by Mick finding out his blood group. If he'd ever been a patient in Walford General, they'd have a record of his blood group. They already had Linda's and the baby's. (But wait ... I thought Mick grew up in Canning Town as a child and in Watford with Elaine and Linda from his teenaged years. Ne'mind, the magic of EastEnders makes it possible for Mick to have been seen at Walford General and to have his blood group.
Suddenly, Mick's gone from being all right and not worrying about the paternity of this child, to wondering if, were he not his son, he could ever love this child, if he could ever see anything but Dean in him if he were not his father. This proves a dilemma for Linda, as she's bonded with the baby, and - as she points out - the baby is part of her. Mick even said that this is how he would think of the child, as being a part of Linda, and Linda was a part of Mick.
Now we're left with Mick looking ambiguously emotional as he looks at the blood group results.
Ahhh gwan ... the baby is Mick's. I'll bet.
Another mediocre episode treading water.
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