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Ally in Limbo

This week's episode of Ally McBeal opened with Robert Downey, Jr. singing - or perhaps lip-synching - Bruce Springsteen: One hip outlaw imitates another. (Luckily, the song was not "Born to Run," which might have made Downey's parole officer a little nervous.) Perhaps on next week's show, they'll have Downey doing routines by Lenny Bruce - another genius whose life was ruined by too many encounters with the Man and the Law.

Unnatur-Ally Calm

At one of the women's interminable slumber parties, Ally gets sex advice from Ling, who is appalled that Ally hasn't slept with Larry, even though they've been dating for a month. Ling suggests tactfully that Larry may indeed want sex - just not with Ally. Ally, however, defends Larry's going slowly, saying that "you become patient when you know that it's right."

Maybe it's not right, though. When Larry and Ally dance, Vonda Shepherd sings "Too Good To Be True" - prophetically? Even to an outsider, something seems terribly wrong in the relationship. Yet Ally is still confident, telling Larry: "You and me, we're going to get there, and we should just enjoy the ride."

It seems immensely out of character for neurotic Ally to be calm, patient and levelheaded, when even her friends think she should be frantic and worried. If Larry's really that important to her, it's somewhat hard to believe she'd be able to chill out so completely. (Remember her years of angst over Billy, the prior love of her life?) The Ally we know and love - when she doesn't drive us crazy - would be absolutely bouncing off the walls with anxiety.

The chemistry between the two actors seems to be suffering, as well. The problem is that they have little to do. While Downey is accomplished as an actor, and it shows in every scene, he's been left out on a limb here, for it's very unclear what moods he's supposed to be acting - he's not tormented, exactly, just vaguely troubled. We truly have no idea what the problem is, and that's not good.

And although Larry and Ally don't have sex, nevertheless the show is unable to create much sexual tension between them (a la Cybil Shepherd and Bruce Willis on "Moonlighting," for example) because they're already dating; they can have sex any time they want to, they just choose not to. Worse, we can't enjoy watching them problem-solve, or even fight, because there's no clear problem in the relationship to create friction - except that, for unknown reasons, they haven't yet had sex. Even the sense of mystery as to what, exactly, the problem might be seems somehow dampened; it isn't even keeping Ally up nights, so why should it bother viewers?

It was exciting to watch Ally flirt with Larry to see if an attraction was there, and to watch her find out that it was. Now, watching her wondering why it hasn't been consummated is only depressing.

Kimmie and Mommie and Johnnie Make Three

Meanwhile, Cage has his own relationship troubles, since Kimmie has continued taking her mother on dates. And that puts him in a horrible mood. Finally, he confronts Kimmie and tells her Mommy must go - upon which Kimmie goes and consults with . . . you guessed it, her mother.

And then there's a knock on Cage's door. It's . . . you guessed it, Kimmie's mother. She begs Cage's "continued tolerance, if not indulgence." He asks how he can possibly continue the relationship under these circumstances, and insists that from now on, he'll only meet to talk with Kimmie alone.

Kimmie confesses that her problem "borders on a disorder" - an intimacy disorder, specifically. Cage then suggests, in a somewhat accusing way, that her chaste, even prudish morality is only a guise for this disorder. Kimmie promises to reform herself.

At this point, viewers must be hoping Kimmie will follow Olivia Newton-John's lead from Grease and go slutty, but no such luck. Instead, she mildly tries to rock out at the bar everyone at the firm frequents - and even then, her mother re-appears as a poorly disguised secret chaperone, and Kimmie confesses to Cage that she invited her mother along again, after all.

Cage then breaks up with Kimmie, at least until a time when she can learn in therapy to be without her mother - and, in a nice touch, both daughter and mother kiss him goodbye. While it was fun to watch 80's cool girl Jami Gertz, whom I remember from Gen-X movies, try a new role that required her to play an uptight, prudish woman, the joke was wearing pretty thin by now - so good riddance, Kimmie. And to your mother, too.

It makes you wonder if Ally and Cage should get together, after all, since no one else seems interested in sleeping with either of them right now.

Going Once, Going Twice; Fish Goes Where He's Never Gone Before

The competitiveness between Ling and Nelle reaches an all-time high, as Nelle taunts Ling that she's short and "you bite," whereas Nelle herself - she proclaims - is tall, gorgeous, and both apparently and actually brilliant. (And modest, sweet, and self-effacing, too.) Both try to auction themselves off at a charity auction, as dream dates, to see who'll garner more money.

Before the auction, Ling is nervous and upset (and roaring like a lion again) when Richard Fish admits that when he's bought women, he's "paid more for blondes." But didn't Ling use to run an escort service? She should know her own selling price - and Nelle's too.

At the auction, Nelle goes for $6,000 to a handsome dark-haired man. Fish - also auctioning himself off - faces bids from men, his worst nightmare. And in the end, he goes for $6500 to an even more handsome dark-haired man. (It turns out later that Marc's transsexual ex, Cindi, was behind the gay men's frantic bidding for Fish at the auction; she tells him, "That's how much your homophobia bothered me.")

When Ling appears onstage later, we discover she's decided to compete in a costume she might even have been ashamed to wear in Charlie's Angels, with pictures of little kissing lips on it and a missing midriff. Unsurprisingly, Ling triggers a bidding frenzy. So much for Fish's theory that blondes have more market power.

Nelle's Heart: No Longer Three Sizes Too Small

Nelle's charity date with the man who purchased her, Greg, is initially a disaster, since Nelle is still sulking that Ling attracted more money than she did. Nelle is very unpleasant, and Greg responds by telling her she has an "intimacy disorder" (clearly, this is a theme of the show, since they're hitting us over the head with it every two seconds); Nelle insists she doesn't.

Of course, Greg's gambit is transparent. He tricks Nelle into kissing him to prove she has no such disorder, and then - when he insists intimacy is "receiving as well as giving," he tricks her into insisting he kiss her, too. The result, though, is to reveal a genuine attraction between them - leaving even the super-self-assured Nelle quite breathless. Since she's been portrayed as such an unremitting, work-obsessed, narcissistic bitch in recent episodes, the effect is similar to that of the Grinch's heart suddenly growing to a normal size.

So Greg and Nelle are smitten with each other, and she confesses "This is very unusual for me - to blow off work, have feelings - primal feelings." Again, he tricks her - this time, into going somewhat further sexually than she'd planned - by asking her to envision what they would do "if there were no tomorrow." Ling is a fan of the relationship because "he's a doctor; he's rich," but Nelle remains suspicious, though still entranced

It turns out that this time, it's no trick; for Greg, there really is "no tomorrow." On a later date, Greg tells Nelle that indeed, she'll never see him again. He'll go away "forever" - for the next day, he is to begin serving a life term for euthanizing one of his patients. He tells her he doesn't even want her to visit him in prison.

The day he's sentenced, Nelle is, uncharacteristically, in tears. The judge confesses an admiration for him, having watched him at trial, but says she must still, by statute, sentence him to a life term. I'm hoping next week's show has Nelle bringing an appeal that frees him - for the humanized Nelle is much more interesting, and potentially a richer character, that the cookie-cutter cold bitch she's recently been portrayed as.

Don't Call Me Peanut or I'll Sue

Meanwhile, an extremely short and resentful former clerk at Fish & Cage, Daniel, sues the firm for sexual harassment - and Elaine fesses up that indeed, something may have gone on. Elaine admits she offered Daniel edible cherry-flavored underwear (though it was a product she was selling), jokingly pushed him to have sex, asked him to try on a face-bra and a vibrating "Vi-Bra" (two more of her products), and called him Peanut - a nickname he'd endured all his life. Cruel and unusual punishment, certainly.

Deciding the case is a troubling one, Fish fires Ling, and decides the firm needs outside counsel - specifically, Ally's boyfriend, Larry Paul. This might be the first smart legal move the firm has made yet this season. Outside counsel can inject needed sanity into decisions as to when to settle, and when to litigate - even in the less-than-sane world of Ally McBeal.

When Elaine demonstrates the Vi-Bra - which makes her breasts shimmy, roll, and move independently of one other, as well as grow huge and vary their nipple projection, Marc and Larry stare. So does David E. Kelley, metaphorically; he seems breast-obsessed lately, with his "braless students" plot on Boston Public and now this. Plots like these are particularly annoying, because they allow men to stare at women's breasts and claim they are merely watching T.V. - and indeed, T.V. their girlfriends like and approve of. It's as if Kelley has given new life to the cliché "I read Playboy for the articles."

Later, Marc informs Elaine that he's no fan of the Vi-Bra or the cherry-flavored underwear, for though he likes promiscuity, he doesn't like it "from the girl I'm dating." It's shocking that given this Cro-Magnon attitude (he even calls her a "girl"), Marc was even willing to consider continuing to date Cindi the transsexual earlier this season - let alone still be smitten with her. But indeed, he is still smitten, as we learn later in the show, when Elaine breaks up with Marc, because she can tell he's still "on the rebound." (You have to feel sorry for Elaine when her relationships barely outlast a single one-hour show).

Moving from the woman with a penis to the man called Peanut, we watch Larry skillfully depose Daniel in an attempt to pressure Daniel to settle. At Larry's prompting - he's got great instincts - Daniel confesses that he's hurt because "everybody's your type, Elaine, but me. It hurts." He confesses that he was offended by her offers of sex precisely because they were only joking. Since Daniel has conceded away his sexual harassment case - Elaine's conduct wasn't unwelcome, as is required for sexual harassment; it was more welcome than she knew - a settlement ensues.

The show ends with a montage set to the Bob Dylan song "Just Like a Woman" - unfortunately, it is not sung by Dylan. The montage shows all the show's traumatized women: Nelle (she's the one who "breaks just like a little girl", of course), Ally, Elaine, and, in a clever twist, Cindy. I guess Ling, the only happy one, is on her dream date somewhere, chuckling at the high price she commanded.

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