FindLaw | Legal News & Information

Dumped For . . . Detroit?

This week's Ally McBeal - the season finale - starts with a young Ally playing with her dolls. Turns out the boy doll is broken, so to console Ally, her Mom (Jill Clayburgh in soft focus, so we can pretend she's younger, too) says, "I don't think they make the men as strong as the women - We'll get a new one."

Subtle, huh? But Ally doesn't get a new man this episode, despite the heavy foreshadowing.

And without a man, and a marriage, there apparently won't be a baby, either. Ally awakens from her dream of dolls only to have a dancing baby in a tuxedo begin to sing "Never going to get married" to her. Ally pleads with the baby to come towards her, but when she tries to hit it with a tennis racket, it morphs into a huge monster - with special effects worthy of Jurassic Park III.

The strange contrast between the show and Calista Flockhart's real life continues. Ally must find a man and marry before she has a baby; yet Calista has adopted a baby, apparently without a man in the picture. Recently, Calista - over-35 and gorgeous - had to play Ally worrying about losing her looks at 30.

The truth is, Ally's view of life is hopelessly retro. No wonder she spends the whole show hallucinating her deceased first love Billy - the "guy's guy" who became more and more misogynistic and chauvinistic as the show went on.

Prom Promise

At the firm's case conference, Ally even hallucinates that Fish is Billy - and then hallucinates Jackson singing to her. After that, Ally meets her ridiculous plaintiff of the week - a high school student and choirboy named Malcolm, whose date cancelled on him a week before the prom. Unfortunately, Malcolm is no hallucination: he's a subplot.

Malcolm, aided by the friendly reverend that runs his choir, seeks a court order to make the girl keep her promise. Ally points out that irreparable injury is necessary to get such an order. She forgets to mention, however, that it's also necessary not to bring a ridiculous case.

Malcolm explains he's in love with the girl, and doesn't think he could ever love anybody else; that's his "irreparable injury." Ick. Fish & Cage seems to be developing a new sub-specialty: cutesy law.

The reverend explains that Malcolm is shy, even agoraphobic, and only agreed to sing a solo at the prom when the girl agreed to be his date. The date's lawyer, of course, is Larry Paul, aka Robert Downey, Jr. - who is now Ally's ex.

Ally is hardly over Larry; indeed, a song they've sung together, playing at her favorite haunt, sends her fleeing from the bar (or was that Vonda Shepherd's singing that drove her away?) Renee - in a particularly sweet performance by Lisa Nicole Carson this week - sings another song for Ally to make her feel better. Then Ally vows to beat Larry in court. Finally, she's showing some interest in her career! Of course, her reasons are related to her love life . . . .

In the end, Larry's associate Coretta, not Larry, is the one who shows up in court to represent the promise-breaking girl. "Silly case, huh?" Coretta offers (you're telling me!), and asks Ally if she'd heard from Larry. Coretta then reveals Larry went back to Detroit, to be near his son. When you have to hear it from your boyfriend's law firm colleague, you know the relationship was bad. Poor Ally.

Prom Trauma

The arguments in the "prom promise" case are about as ridiculous as the case itself. Coretta urges that the girl should be able to choose her dates; Ally says people should "start living up to promises of the heart," and the boy will suffer irreparable injury unless the girl is forced to go with him, because "there's only one prom." Typical for this show, there are echoes between Ally's work life and her love life; Larry, too, has broken his "promises of the heart."

The judge asks to hear from the boy, who says he "cried for a few days" and says the girl is the "one fish in the sea for him," "the one person who's ever truly gotten me." The judge lectures the boy: "We all fall in love. You get my sympathy, but I can't give you a court order." Actually, the boy and Ally, as his lawyer, are lucky that they don't get sanctioned. There should be some way for viewers to sanction a frivolous TV lawsuit, too.

This prom lawsuit is a low point in the cutesy/unrealistic/lame subgenre of Ally McBeal lawsuits. It almost makes me nostalgic for the show's run of a hundred variations on sex harassment law. If only Ally could grab the kid's butt or something . . . but no such luck.

Ally seems almost as crushed as the boy to hear they've lost the case. The reverend is crushed, too.

But Ally perks up, and tells Malcolm about her bad experiences with Billy and Larry, and how she has supposedly survived them. She also affirms that she "still believes in love." Malcolm complains, "But the prom is Friday." It's pretty amazing this whiny guy ever got a date in the first place.

Boot Camp Babes

Ally then dreams of a sort of boot camp of female recruits, headed by a female sergeant, shouting "Men suck." Well, yes - sometimes. But they suck even more badly if, like Ally, you insist on having your whole life depend on them.

Despite her new radical feminist, man-hating views, Ally decides to be nice, this episode, to one particular man - Malcolm, whom she suggests should still sing at his prom, even after losing his lawsuit. Indeed, Ally volunteers to go to the prom with him herself if he will still sing. "I could use a night out," she confesses.

When Ally tries to pick out a dress, the dress lady mocks her for her age, and Ally scopes out wedding dresses. Eventually the wedding dress mannequins come to life, and (what else?) sing to her about (who else?) Larry and her break-up.

Ally's dad then shows up and offers to punch Larry out (he's just as retro as his daughter), but Ally protests that "Larry didn't really do anything wrong. He was in a lot of pain." Her dad points out, "He just got up and walked away." Somewhere, Robert Downey Jr.'s relatives are probably having a similar argument.

Then Ally and her dad do their usual dream regression (she turns into a little girl; his hair darkens but the creases in his forehead remain), as they sing "Dulcinea." Sorry, but it's getting old. I have only so many tears that can come to my eyes before I get really sick of "Dulcinea."

Freezing Firm

Meanwhile, Richard Fish introduces the firm to his new assistant, Jane - who happens to be the little cookie - um, young actress - Fish picked up in L.A. That leads to a subplot in which Ling is seriously jealous. (When she gets to date Jackson? Puh-lease.)

Jane - who seems only a marginally competent assistant - wears some seriously flashy clothes and complains the firm is "cold" though Fish and Cage are "kind" to her.

Fish, meanwhile, falls into a deep funk, and begins to wear a "Go Away, I'm Sad" sign, upset that the firm is "a cold place." He complains, "We all used to be friends. This isn't the kind of firm we planned to have."

Cage agrees that "Most of the people here, they don't live emotionally." Living emotionally basically is tantamount, it seems, to getting broken up with; Cage and Ally, it turns out, live emotionally. Seems like you shouldn't wish "living emotionally" on your worst enemy.

Prom Pleasures

Ally ends up with a beautiful, shimmery gold dress - one that sets off her waifish beauty while not making her look too, too anorexic - and Fish and Jane decide to accompany her and Malcolm to the prom. (Don't these lawyers ever work?)

Before Ally leaves for the prom, though, Billy appears to her, saying he's "just checking in." He says he's "sharing a little classified information: There's a very happy life ahead of you." I hope it's only one season ahead. This season has been a terrible downer.

Just as Billy fades out, Malcolm walks in - or pratfalls in, is more like it. Ally lets her hair down, and she and Malcolm rock out at the prom. When a girl asks Ally if she's Malcolm's mother, she shoots back "I'm his mistress."

Meanwhile, Fish teaches the crowd the hustle. The idea that an aging lawyer would hold court at anyone's prom is quite bizarre, to say the least. More likely would be his trying to start a line dance and being booed and forced to leave. Instead, the high school kids line dance like practiced Electric Boogie regulars. Next they'll be getting on a mechanical bull.

Malcolm, unsurprisingly, freaks about singing his solo. But Ally "woo-woos" him on. Of course, he sings beautifully and commands everyone's attention. Of course, Ally hallucinates again - she is alone in the ballroom, and watching . . . Malcolm?

I would have thought she'd see Larry, or maybe Billy. But maybe the former couldn't get permission to travel from the parole board, and the latter couldn't get permission to travel from God.

Ally confesses to Malcolm, "You helped me. You have no idea." She tells him they'll both meet someone, someday. Then she walks home in her prom dress - could it get any more pathetic?

Well, maybe. I guess she could be walking home in her wedding dress, jilted at the altar, chased by the raptor baby. Now that would have been an excellent season finale - the logical extension of too much obsession with marriage and childbearing in the first place.

Ally, In Retrospect

Looking back over this season, the show did receive a few injections of life from new talent: Taye Diggs is superb, and Robert Downey, Jr. was excellent, though his bowing out early definitely harmed this finale. Some cast members also seemed to stretch their talents; Ling was more moving and convincing, and Fish was funnier, his comic delivery sharper than ever before. Renee's character deepened, too, though her screen time was limited.

Cage and Ally, however, seemed stuck in the ruts of their characters - with little real change or movement occurring. Their performances (except when Ally was playing off Larry, and some real sparks flew) contributed to the show's static, repetitious feeling. And the show's weak, ludicrous-but-not-funny legal subplots also made the season feel frozen and repetitious.

Other Reviews  Law & Order  The Practice  West Wing  Ed

For next season, the show would be well-served to decide to either move towards convincing drama - allowing the excellent cast to really shine, showing even more of the talents already displayed - or hire some better comedy writers to reduce the cutesy quotient, and introduce some truly funny, nastier material, not just in the form of asides, but in the legal cases, too.

Fish has the potential to do really fine, sharp comedy, as does Ally herself. And Ling and Jackson have the chemistry to carry through a relationship that is more than the usual diversion - one that feels more real. Let's hope that next season, too, feels a bit more real than this one.

Past Reviews | Message Boards