Before diving into this recap, I must share an insightful observation from a friend, who, upon hearing my recent description of the show, swiftly deduced that the twins' names, Love and Forty, cleverly constitute a tennis-themed pun. Now, having encountered Love and Forty's arrogant, affluent parents, the deliberate nature of this naming convention seems even more convincing to me. Kudos to those of you who discerned this subtlety independently! In my own defense, I momentarily misheard "Forty" as "Fordy," imagining it as an abbreviation for something like Fordham, befitting their wealthy demeanor.
This episode stands out as one of the few instances where our series grants us access to information and experiences unknown to Joe. As Candace stealthily infiltrates Joe's new inner circle, her proximity to the man who kidnapped, abused, presumed her dead, and buried her without confirmation (a novice error, indeed) understandably triggers her. Emerging from her own grave, covered in grime, Candace encounters a well-meaning yet ultimately inadequate female police officer, who illustrates the legal system's flimsiness and complexities regarding intimate partner violence and the acquisition of effective restraining orders. "He thinks you're dead. Off-the-record advice? Stay that way."
It's noteworthy that we've arrived at a pop-culture juncture where the default expectation is that law enforcement is more prone to mishandling gender violence cases than addressing them with sensitivity (cf. "Unbelievable"). This perception underscores women's perception that we must seek justice on our own terms, with our own hands. This narrative resonates with other survivor-turned-vengeance tales, ranging from Lisbeth Salander to the Jennifer terrorist collective in "Dietland," the prematurely cancelled "Sweet/Vicious," and the recent Carey Mulligan film, where she feigns incoherence in bars to expose and confront potential rapists disguised as "nice" guys. While the gloomy lighting and genuine terror of Candace's backstory somewhat clash with the arch, over-the-top aesthetics of the rest of the show, I find myself intrigued nonetheless. Share your thoughts on how this blend is working for you in the comments below!
The entire ensemble gathers for Love and Forty's parents' vow renewal at an excruciatingly named event called a Wellkend, where everyone is housed in yurts. Dottie, Love's mother, flirts with Joe in the "truth yurt," practically coercing him into getting high with her. A wolf, perhaps symbolizing Joe's inner darkness, snarls at him, revealing the depths of his moral decay. Guests take turns standing in a circle to articulate their lifelong dreams, such as making an indie film or traveling to Italy, while adorned in attire that eerily straddles the line between "rich people pajamas" and "religious murder-suicide cult attire."
Love issued a dire warning to Joe, cautioning him that her family dynamics were a powder keg waiting to explode. Joe, however, remained unfazed, convinced that he could navigate the treacherous waters of Love's complex and combustible familial ties, despite having been her boyfriend for a mere twenty minutes. His attempts to mend seemingly unmendable fences—such as reconciling a father and son estranged by years of discord—proved fruitless. Compounding matters, Forty's incessant need for bailouts, like the time he couldn't make it through the weekend without begging his dad for a six-figure sum, hardly painted a picture of stability.
At an event clearly themed to exude a Goop-inspired chic, Love's wardrobe choice was stunningly out of sync. The conservative black shift dress she donned stood out like a sore thumb amidst her otherwise fashion-forward ensemble, signaling her outsider status more clearly than words ever could.
In this surreal, white-linen-clad setting, Joe discovered that Candace had replaced him as Forty's latest paramour. "Will Biddleheim, quite a moniker!" he remarked, sarcasm dripping. "It almost sounds like something conjured up in a screenwriter's fever dream." Joe shot back with his own quip, "Amy Adam, huh? Talk about untraceable on the internet!"
Candace, posing as an indie film producer, unveiled her and Forty's supposed project to the skeptical parents. Midway through Forty's pitch, his father literally turned his back and walked away, a scene straight out of the hit TV series 'Succession.'
In a moment of weakness, Candace confided in Joe about how she had tracked him down. Her openness seemed ill-advised, potentially pushing Joe over the edge by revealing his vulnerabilities. Yet, she followed the script of insecure villains, spilling the beans about her true mission: safeguarding Love's family from Joe. However, the cracks in Candace's facade began to show when she failed to recognize the name of one of the industry's most prestigious talent agencies.
Back in their makeshift home, Love consulted her tarot cards, sensing Joe's unease throughout the weekend. Her temper flared when Joe failed to instantly inform her that Forty had ordered Taco Bell—apparently a harbinger of his impending relapse into bad habits. Was this a real thing, Joe wondered, or merely a tacky product placement? In a burst of frustration, Joe blurted out that Love's obsession with her brother was unhealthy, sparking their first major argument. Their doomed romance hung by a thread, the foundations of their relationship already showing signs of wear and tear.
During the vow renewal ceremony, which Love is presiding over with solemnity, she begins her prepared speech but then, overcome with emotion, abruptly discards it and starts speaking from the depths of her heart. Joe can clearly discern that Love's words are directed at him, a man she's been dating for barely a month, rather than her parents, who are supposed to be the centerpiece of this occasion. Suddenly, Forty, under the influence of drugs, stumbles in, making a spectacle of himself. Dottie, furious, hisses in her daughter's face, reminding her that her sole responsibility was to ensure her brother's safety. Honestly, it feels like keeping Forty safe was Dottie's job too, but let's move on! "You disgust me," she spits out, to which Love retaliates by calling her mother a "fucking hypocrite." In a fit of rage, Dottie slaps Love across the face! Forty, overwhelmed by emotions, collapses in tears and buries his face in his mother's bosom. In my notes, I scribble, "Wow, the way everyone in this family interacts physically is just...not my cup of tea."
Joe confides in Love about his father's abuse. I wonder if Joe will unleash the full horror of his past onto Love, thinking she'll accept him for who he is. But he keeps the worst stories bottled up inside. Love, unable to contain herself, spills the entire tragic tale of the au pair, a 19-year-old who, when the twins were 13, abused Forty, whom she became his "first love" in his distorted perception. When the parents caught Forty with the au pair, she was promptly fired, and in a devastating turn of events, she took her own life—and Forty discovered her body. The parents hushed it up by bribing anyone who could've caused a fuss, but the incident left Forty perpetually scarred, a topic never broached again.
Then, Joe and Love engage in a conversation so cringe-worthy (to me, at least) about finding alternative ways to express their love since they're not quite ready to utter the actual words. Instead, they opt for the nauseatingly cute "I wolf you," making me want to throw up and curl up in a ball on my couch in despair.
Joe spots Candace sipping champagne and informs her that he's no longer intimidated by her because, well, he "wolfs" Love or whatever. He insists he never meant to harm her. Candace retorts that she's the one who's fearless, as all she has to do is bide her time until Joe screws up. I can't help but wonder if she'll end up in that storage locker by season's end.
Upon returning home, Joe stumbles upon a postcard from Will, sent all the way from Manila. "What the hell, Will? Stay as far away from him as possible! Cut all ties with that individual immediately!" Joe fumes. Meanwhile, Forty and Candace make a surprise visit to Anavrin to unveil their latest venture, though they assure Joe that it's not meant as a slight to the project he once helped Forty conceive – Bang Marry Kill. It's just that Candace introduced Forty to a captivating book by Guinevere Beck that sparked a newfound inspiration.
While Joe is occupied elsewhere, a drama unfolds back in L.A., involving the Polaroids, Delilah, and Ellie. But the gist of it is this: Firstly, despite possessing such crucial evidence, Delilah fails to safeguard it properly, not even bothering to take photos of the Polaroids on her phone as a precaution. Secondly, she reveals to Ellie that she was one of Hendy's victims, and Ellie, eventually swayed by her story, believes her. However, thirdly, they conclude, without consulting any of the women depicted in the photographs and presumptuously assuming they know what's best for these strangers, that the wisest course of action is to destroy the Polaroids rather than handing them over to the detective probing Hendy's death. This decision, now being treated as a potential homicide case, promises Joe nothing but more turmoil ahead.
