The third episode of Lindsay is a creakily staged set-up for the big powerhouse confrontation: In one corner, we have the Queen of All Media, movie producer, owner of networks, life blood to publishers and the most successful woman in the history of television. In the other, cowering as she tries to pull her mini skirt down to thigh length, we have a teen starlet gone bad who spent the morning arguing with a little man about the location of her apartment keys.
Winfrey Versus Lohan: Round One
But, honestly, the outcome of a showdown between Lindsay Lohan and Oprah could never have been in question. I know I’ve been nattering on about how damn disingenuous this show is but who believed for even a second that Oprah would have trouble snapping our Linds sharply into line? Certainly not Lindsay, who’s clearly been trained that whoever holds the purse strings is the one who counts.
But first, we had to see our star flex a little muscle over her minions just for the hell of it. This started with Lindsay refusing to let the camera crew in for a second (or third or tenth) day of filming her and her five employees haul weary crap out of boxes and stand around holding it. There’s a rather sad moment where Lindsay notes that she “worked hard for all this and it’s expensive stuff” about clothing that all looks like cheap crap. Limp, out of date and uncared for, these garments possibly represent Lindsay’s feelings about herself. Other than that, it’s hard to provide a dramatic arc about unpacking. Did some rogue pillowcases appear in the wrong boxes? Did a tea cup break, thereby rendering its saucer useless? Had Lindsay forgotten to return her previous cable box to Time Warner and thereby exact grevious penalties? Er, nope. Well, then let’s have the assistant whine about quitting and complain that Lindsay doesn’t speak with him in the morning. Then there’s that argument about the keys. Apparently no one’s made a copy! Like most stupid arguments, this one isn’t really about keys but about acknowledgement and power (also, like most stupid arguments, it’s frustrating due to all the stupidity).
Then, finally, Oprah came to town. Oprah in a blue dress! Tension built as we cut between scenes of Oprah in an SUV, heading out to Long Island and told that Lindsay’s acting up, then of Lindsay at her mother’s house, looking nervous and twitchy. Back to O tut tutting as she hears that the producer feels he’s being held hostage by Lohan and O stating that she’s not interested in doing anything “half-assed.” Back to Lohan, still waiting, blathering nervously about how it’s all really the producer’s fault. She doesn’t blame Oprah. Oh no, all Oprah wants is sunshine and sausages and a long walk along the promenade. But that film crew—dammit, they’re a drag.
Play by Play
O enters, pretending to be mortal. When she walks into the house, Dina Lohan immediately starts flipping her hair nervously, like a horse who’s scented the local glue factory. The whites of Lindsay’s eyes flash back and forth as she tugs that mini skirt down as far as it will go—and before we know it, she’s promising to be a good girl. It becomes pretty clear that Oprah may be the universe’s most ingratiating and self-approving conversationalist but she doesn’t know that much about addicts. It’s safe to say that last thing an addict new to recovery needs to be told is that they should worry about nasty shit they can’t control. But Oprah blithely chirps that “the vultures are waiting to pick your bones. Pick your bones!” The poor damn girl’s been picked over often enough, I say.
Next week we’re going to see Dina get the Oprah treatment, which will surely make the glue factory scent stronger. Also: Lindsay’s sober coach doesn’t seem that certain she’s sober. Is that vultures I hear circling already?
Photo courtesy of Christopher Macsurak (Lindsay Lohan at Cynthia Rowley) [CC BY 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
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