beginning | blinding torment | boils | lies | making me bitter | evil compounds evil | blah blah bity blah
















 

 

 

Angel 1.1: City Of


Dude, we totally got schooled. Apparently somewhere we vowed to update this site on a weekly basis, and someone's attempting to hold us to it. I'm not really clear which one of us typed that, but clearly she was drunk. We're sorry Kelly! We didn't think anyone would take us seriously!

 

Right. Okay, clearly we can't do Buffy because we haven't watched any recently and our memories of Season Four are buried beneath a ton of issues and pain and repression courtesy of Season Seven…there are a few icons I made to torture purple smurfette way back when I recapped Amends, but that's not really an update…oh! We did watch some season one Angel on the plane the other day, with SP's fanfuckingtastic noise canceling earphones. My god, those are fabulous. They have absolutely nothing to do at all with Angel, but still. Fantastic. There was this screaming infant on board, and the only reason I know that is because they made me take them off to land. Heaven. If you ever have the jones to spend ludicrous amounts of money on headphones, I highly recommend it. Seriously.

 

[I would first like to point out that I not only took a Xanax before the flight, but I also had two of those cute little bottles of wine on the plane. So, I don't really recall much from watching this episode. Everything seemed pretty and fluffy and wonderful. - SP]

 

So! Angel! City of!

 

To recap, Dumbass [er, Angel, for those of your having a hard time keeping up with ST's nicknames of love], tired of not getting any with the future Mrs. Blondie Bear [uh, that would be Buffy] on account of him turning evil when he achieves "happiness", decided to leave Sunnydale rather than, say, exercising self control and keeping it in his pants. There he roams the streets and dive bars of LA in his black trenchcoat that just happens to look fabulous in slow motion as it swishes dramatically in the breeze. When not photogenically swooshing his coat around (if Angel's hair was long enough and less gelled, he'd totally be a snotty hair tosser.) or moping in his gloomy office building basement living quarters, he seems to spend his time at the aforementioned dive bars pretending to be an intoxicated, annoying Dumbass rather than just an annoying, mopey, sober Dumbass. He does this to cleverly disarm his fellow vampires' suspicions of the creepy souled vampire eyeing them moodily at the bar as they mack on the mortal ladies. And since Angel's not getting any nobody's getting' any, Dumbass totally harshes on their game by staking them in the alleyway behind the dive bar and sending away the grateful honeys, for there is blood in the air and the alcoholism metaphors are strong with this one, grasshopper. The kill joy.

 

Later, whilst moping in the office building/swank basement bachelor pad his poor, undead, nonworking ass has somehow secured for himself, he meets a rakish young lad named Doyle. Doyle, who has presumably entered the premises illegally, quickly gets any new viewers up to speed by telling Angel his own story. Presumably you all know the story, and if you don't, find a site that cares [but, we care! We care deeply! I mean, we drink a lot of tequila. I guess that's not exactly the same thing]. Doyle, besides being the official recapper of TPTB, was sent by those mysterious, useless voyeurs to get visions and tell Dumbass what those visions are. Why TPTB don't just send Angel a telegram or an email rather than a possibly alcoholic half-demon with a gambling problem and a tendency to get splitting headaches is anybody's guess [And why didn't he send a vision-buddy before? All he got was cryptic Whistler.].

 

 

I've never really put much stock in TPTB's mental prowess or motivation, you know? They send a potentially volatile Dumbass a seer and the frickin' Slayer gets saddled with a bunch of stodgy old British guys who think locking a young girl in a room with a masochistic psycho is character building? Whatever. I guess our little bloodaholic needs a little extra help from a higher power to get his ass out of bed. If they were going to be this blatant about the whole 12-step parallel, shouldn't Angel have gotten around to the apologizing step? I mean, come on. Those could have been good times.

 

So Doyle gets a headache and gives Angel the info to find a little blonde actress who's being stalked by a former boyfriend who just happens to be a crazy ass vampire who likes it rough. She apparently doesn't know he's a crazy ass vampire, which I find odd. But, you know, she is supposed to be a bit of a fallen goody two shoes, eaten up and spit out by the evil machine that is Hollywood, so maybe she was a virgin and never questioned the, oh, lack of heat. Or maybe she never even had to sleep with him and I'm just a perv who jumps to conclusions. Anyway, she just wants to go home. Unfortunately, she doesn't just buy a Greyhound ticket and get the hell out of Dodge, so much as loiter around and look distressed, so she doesn't go home so much as end up dead. This makes Angel feel really bad, because he sort of promised her that she'd be safe. So he beats up some goons (and seriously, who has a serious career as a heavy if their parents named him Stacey?), gets an address and goes to the big vampire's mansion just in time to conveniently save Cordelia.

 

Funny. I like that. I like the whole thing. Call me. This isn't a come-on. I'm in a very serious relationship with a landscape architect.

 

Cordelia, by the way, moved to LA to become an actress. Since her parents are now presumably in jail, she lives in a rat-infested apartment and feeds herself by stealing fancy sandwiches from glamorous parties. At one of these parties she not only runs into Angel for the first time but also catches the eye of the crazy ass vampire. Usually the crazy ass vampire likes to play with his mouse toy a little longer, but he decides Cordy's only good enough for a light snack. Which is a total burn. Ha! He invites her over, she notices his thick curtains and lack of mirrors and rather amusingly outs him as a vampire.

 

I finally get invited to a nice place - with no mirrors, - and lots of curtains… hey, you're a vampire! Hey, I'm from Sunnydale. We had our own Hellmouth! I think I know a vampire when I'm - alone with him… - in his fortress-like home. And you know, I think I'm just feeling a little light headed from hunger. I'm just wacky. And kidding! Ha, ha.

 

She then takes off screaming, which is where Angel comes back into our recap. There's a bit of a fight, the vampires show off their respective dumbass fu-s, and then they hop into the car Doyle has patiently been waiting in and take off.

 

Angel, realizing his precious Cordelia will never live to see her days as his newest one true love or a floaty head or a horribly pregnant, cradle robbing villain if he doesn't do something, visits the crazy ass vampire in the middle of a meeting with his lawyer, Lindsey, at Wolfram and Hart. A Wolfram and Hart without its vampire sensor, one might nit pick. But I suppose that the vampire detector can only sense vampire and not the number of vampires or they installed them later because Angel was such a badass threat. Whatever. The important thing here is that Lindsey is not yet a goober. He's still short, but he's got much better hair and an almost menacing air about him. Though he's still fairly ineffectual, as Angel just trots into the middle of the meeting, kicks his client, the crazy ass, out of a 30-story window into the sun, and then just sort of walks out of the building.

 

Cordy, overjoyed at this turn of events, repays Angel by becoming his secretary. He totally deserves it.