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This week's Ally was entirely devoid of law - an episode for the connoisseur, like a particularly fine wine, particularly rich chocolate, or the Ecstasy your friend at Berkeley sent you by Airborne Express. Weird claustrophobia ensued - as the members of the cast were more or less trapped to fight it out amongst their self-involved selves, in the closed world of Fish & Cage (Lord of the Files?) without clients, judges, witnesses or adversaries to intrude.

I. Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! And Other Silly Love Songs

As the episode opens, it is revealed to Ally in a dream that John Cage -- one of the partners for whom she works -- may be her soul mate. In the interest of realism, perhaps I should point out that real-world associates' dream-epiphanies about partners tend more towards violence than romance. Any sex in those dreams, moreover, is strictly S&M, and one guess who's telling whom to bark like a little doggie.

But - ok. Let's run with it, shall we? You start reading and I'll tell you when to stop (S&M Reviewer!). At the end, I'll ask you to bark like a little attorney.

After Ally has the dream, and bolts awake in the middle of the night (as only someone on television or movies can do), she ends up in Renee's bed, recounting her dream - in yet another Ally McBeal "Let's play at being lesbians" moment. Later in the show, Ally decides she will confess her Cage-obsession to Ling (who dislikes her), not just to Renee (her friend whom she trusts). Inexplicable, yes, but at least, from the writers' point of view, useful to advance the plot.

Since Cage is still going out with Nell, Ally decides -- in dopey sitcom-style -- to shroud her confession to Ling in secrecy. Thus, Ally asks Ling, without naming names, whether she should go after a guy despite his already having a girlfriend. Ling - ever the hardliner - takes the view that she absolutely should. Later in the show, however, when Ling discovers the guy in question is Cage, and the girlfriend, Nell, Ling reverses her position, questions Ally's sexuality by rubbing her leg to turn her on, and then breathing fire at Ally, who breathes fire right back. I want this on the record: I could always tell Ally was a Magic Dragon under that anorexic exterior.

Meanwhile, in addition to making unsolicited confessions to Ling, Ally also wisely decides to confess her dream to Cage himself. In turn, Cage offers his own "name no names" story about a woman he was interested in who had a boyfriend who (of course) turns out to be …hold your breath … Ally!

Just like the man with whom Georgia flirted turned out to be….hold your breath….Ally's father! Just like Fish & Cage's adversary in the "Santa Suit" turned out to be …hold your breath….Georgia! Just like Carwash Guy turned out to be. ..hold your breath …. Ally's client's fiancé! To continue this trend, the show's producers could simply hire one actor to play all the male parts, hire another to play all the female parts, eliminate all furniture, and encourage mime.

Although Cage confesses to having a crush on Ally, and she confesses to having a crush on him, he also points out that he still has feelings for Nell. Of course he does: this show lives off triangulation. Now that Ally/Billy/Georgia has bitten the dust, why not fire up Ally/Cage/Nell? I am so totally waiting for Ally/Ling/Georgia, but I think Fox is going to drag its heels on that until Y3K. A pity.

Cage brings the time-honored "Which Associate Do I Sleep With?" question to his charming, fellow name partner, Fish. Fish, of course, doesn't ask Cage to look deep within himself about why a weird little freak like him gets to sleep with beautiful subordinates. Because then Cage might ask Fish, in turn, why a weird little freak like him gets to sleep with beautiful subordinates. Interestingly, Billy is not (yet) sleeping with his beautiful subordinate (his legal secretary), despite the fact that, in this episode, Georgia personally serves him with divorce papers. But, then, Billy's just an associate.

Instead of challenging Cage's serial-sexual-subordination, Fish instead advises Cage to sleep with both Ally and Nell and compare - so he can "have his cake and eat Ally too." (Daring Fox! To allow such obscenity.) But the bony Ally is at most only a snack; a little PowerBar of a woman; a mere aperitif. And Cage refuses the compare-and-contrast method of choosing which associate to shtup, preferring introspection over sheer lust. Unfortunately for Ally, the result of all this introspection is that Cage decides he wants Nell as his girlfriend and Ally as . . . his therapist.

I couldn't decide, watching this, whether this is a worse or better blow-off than the typical "Just Friends" speech. Friends of mine used to refer to this set of self-serving platitudes as simply The Speech - as in "I gave her/him The Speech last night." The Speech goes something like this: "I mean, it's not the right time for me. I really like you but I need to concentrate on my work because my career reviewing Ally McBeal is very important to me right now." And so on. And so on. You know The Speech. You've given The Speech. Can't we all just use some shorthand and never give The Speech again? The Speech is just a long, pretty sayonara, and it only takes one word to say goodbye.

Eventually, I decided it's worse to be told - in this variant of The Speech - that someone you've dated wants you to be his/her therapist instead of his/her friend. It means he/she wants to confess to you all his/her sexual secrets, talk while you listen, elicit your advice, and then never sleep with you. If someone is going to talk that much and take that much, I for one also want him to put some Snap! Crackle! Pop! into my morning.

Ally and Cage climax (only plot-wise) by insulting each other with every "old episode" failing in the book - from Cage's whistling nose to Ally's continuing auditory hallucinations of Al Green - but then they immediately reconcile after Ally confesses that she spoke "out of hurt." Cage then tells Nell he loves her. End of episode.

You can bark now.

II. You Put the Moan In Pheromone

In other news, Elaine decides to stop being a slut, and puts her hair up in a smooth bun and wears black like Audrey Hepburn. (Has she never seen Breakfast at Tiffany's? Doesn't she get it? There's no nice way to say this: Audrey's character clearly was a slut too).

Elaine's conversion is prompted because a guy she's dating - in another brain-damaged, self-defeating Ally McBeal confession - acknowledges that he expected to get some on a date with her because the friend who set them up got some on the first date.

Guys, a tip - the argument "You slept with him; why won't you sleep with me?" - it never works. Really. Even if you are a Siamese twin. Face it, your misplaced belief in some weird, yuppie droit de seigneur is sorely mistaken. Besides, the response you are likely to get (and deserve) is: "Because he's better-looking/sexier/didn't eat garlic for dinner/seemed to have prehensile toes. Unlike some." You don't want to hear it.

But maybe this particular guy, Elaine's date, was deranged by her decision to "marinate" her pants "in pheromones" to turn him on. Incidentally, does anyone but me think Drakkar Noir has some weird pheromonal effect? Maybe it was just the guy wearing it… .

Elaine's use of pheromones would probably be discouraged by those who currently claim - in what seems to be a hot media debate - that evolution programs men to be rapists. But I never listen to those people anyway - and neither should Elaine. Soon they'll claim evolution also causes channel-changing and failure to put the seat down. And the defense of men sounds suspiciously like "You Asked For It." Except the New, Improved version goes: "Your Cro-Magnon Forebears Asked For It." But even if my Cro-Magnon forebears wore Wooly Mammoth miniskirts, I would still have to ask the Men of America to keep it in their pants. Please.

Ally makes a similar point to Elaine in encouraging her to continue to dress and act like a slut at the end of the show. (Well, not in so many words). Essentially, Ally argues that men's misinterpretations of Elaine are their problem. Bravo, I say.

Now that this review is over, I have to give you The Speech. You didn't bark like a little doggie the way I wanted you to. (I like a high pitched little Bichon Frise bark, not that gruff howl you offered me.) We can still be reviewer/reviewee. But anything more intimate, I just can't handle right now. I hope you'll still tune in next week - unless it's a rerun of course. It's going to be great being friends. By the way, I'll be out of the country and unreachable, but only for those first few weeks while you're getting over me . . . .

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