'The Event' recap: This 'World' Is Not Enough

When you stop to think about it, there’s never really a convenient time to kill anyone--especially your mother. Some circumstances are better than others, however, and one that ranks pretty low on the list would be while trying to steal the key to your rocket ship from a box of liquid energy hidden in the basement of a government nuclear facility. But Thomas, the Warren Buffet wannabe leader of the Whatchamacallum sleepers, either has a different opinion on the matter, or his judgment was ridiculously impaired by a double-whammy of womanly whippedness. He’s got an emasculating mother who doesn’t believe in him -- How about Sophia's reminiscence of unsuccessfully trying to toughen up her wimpy rain-spooked son by dragging him outside during a downpour? Who taught her parenting class? -- and he’s got a smoking hot lover jonesing to be his Lady Macbeth/Angela Lansbury in The Manchurian Candidate. Meet Isabel, who over the course of 66 years of secret sleeper living, has developed a taste for Earthbound luxury by becoming a successful (i.e., cold, ruthless, bullying) corporate attorney representing soulless monolithic companies. (A previous relationship with Patty Hewes didn’t work out—she had too much class (action) for him.)

His balls squeezed by one vicious Freudian vise, Thomas decided to alleviate his manly suffering as he and mom were making a play for The Key, a phallus-shaped thingamajigger with glowing circumscribed ridges which, when inserted into the proper contraption, will help open a “corridor” that will take the Whatchamacallums home. After Sophia pulled the magic light saber from the magic box like a very small sword out of a very weird stone, Thomas pulled a gun and ordered his mother to turn around so he could shoot her in the back of the head. Chicken! Sophia was, like, whatever. Shoot me in the face or knock it off already, you wussy little brat. Thomas trembled and crumpled, his rebellious gumption shriveling into raisins. Coup d’etat? More like coup d'tater tot.

The plan was that, after wresting control of the Whatchamacallum party from Mother, Thomas was supposed to meet with Isabel at their favorite spot by the Potomac, the one with the lovely view of the Capitol Building. But it was Sophia who showed up instead, looking shaken but smugly victorious from her cloakroom brawl with her son. Or like Nancy Pelosi. Whatever works for you. She emerged from the mist like Banquo’s ghost; Isabel, shocked, crapped her gray power suit. Strangeness ensued. Sophia wouldn’t or couldn’t kill this traitor, the hussy that tried to manipulate her sadsack rain-chicken son into aspiring to a station beyond his capacity or character. Instead, she put a gun in her hand and gave her a choice: Isabel could shoot her, or she could prove her loyalty by swearing off any further contact with Thomas and shooting herself... in the leg. I thought: “What, do Whatchamacallums keep their brains in their knees?” But apparently, and mysteriously, there are fates worse than death for these (alleged) aliens--like busted limbs. “You’re forcing me to maim myself?” Isabel asked, appalled. Ummmm… Yep, pretty much. And so she did. Sophia walked to the car and told her son “I know this isn’t easy for you.” And they drove off into the night, Isabel wailed for her new lameness, and I wailed at The Event for one seriously lame episode-closing scene.

NEXT: Brace yourselves, Event-defenders. I've got a few more gripes!

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