Guilt is Natural Guilt Is Good
Life in The Hamptons is no full inclusive vacation. In five weeks we had a wedding, a charity auction, a polo match, a fund-raiser, a mother-daughter tea, weekly luncheons and now it’s time for the Open Arms Charity Network Gala. You thought these billionnaires did nothing but frolicking with expensive escorts in jacuzzis full of caviar, projecting little black stains on their priceless Van Goghs, right? Fools! It’s a 24/7 job.
What is the OACNG, one wonders? Well its origin roots deep into Victoria’s secret (no pun intended) guilt. By opening her unlocked box of revenge hidden in the main drawer on an unlocked secretary close to her villa’s front door (someone must have been reading Poe), Emily, our blonde Terminator sent from the past to decimate the Hampton’s population, puts things into perspective. Not only the evil and corrupted Graysons framed her father for the terrorist bombing of an aircraft, but moved by a mix of Victoria’s guilt and Conrad’s marketing flair, they reached out from their unfathomable pockets to the victims’ families. So they have to be honoured for their tireless selfishness. Evil squared.
The celebration comes handy. Victoria is feeling a bit under the weather: her son fell off the wagon, perverted by poor drunken people and henceforth refuses to walk into Dad’s shoes; her daughter feels rejected since the shrink’s revelation and gets a speeding ticked while slumming with poor people; her husband just wired ten million dollars to that poor bitch Lydia, who was blackmailing him as pillow talk.
Everything is in place for someone to die at least. One knows who because the episode has started by the death of said character, followed by the always obnoxious “Two days earlier” made popular by Damages. One intrication is missing to lock Lydia’s faith, though. Ooops.
Nolan, the genius/hacker/billionnaire/stalker (remember him?) decides that in order to protect the blonde Terminator he has to spy on her and places a plastic whale (again?) on her living-room mantelpiece, an obvious choice if your plan is a cheap video device not to be noticed in a luxurious Hamptons villa. And the whale is not even white, but black. Poe, cool, Melville, crap.
Terminily has of course a cold-blooded endgame, framing Lydia for everything that spiraled downwards during the first five episodes. Everything goes wrong but for her revenge to be carried on. Since he enjoys so much being white trash, Daniel applies to be a barman. Fellow frat boy Taylor is a slime ball. Dry cleaning is crossed, since Lydia managed to fight for five minutes with a trained security guy, then fall from her penthouse without her Elie Saab to be in the slightest torn or stained by blood.
Fun fact: the truly wealthy people have “backseat glove boxes”. Take that, white trash!