(This recap was originally published on June 25, 2015.)
I have to be honest with you guys: I don’t know if my words are up to the task of this episode. I wish I could deliver a recap in the form of a symphony, that builds and swells to an intensity that lifts your heart a mile in the air, and then subsides into a denouement that wafts you gently back down to earth. I wish I could make you a recap painting in vivid oils, where beauty and horror duel for your attention. I would like to give you a recap in the form of an unlooked-for kindness from a hated enemy, or a good hard kiss after a long dry spell. But if there’s one thing we’ve learned from Joan’s vengeance plans, it’s that we must work with the tools available to us.
Previously on Forty-Five Minute Heart Attack, Joan’s sanity began to crumble under the weight of Vera’s defection and Fletch’s recollection of his attack. Bea gave Will her collection of henchman DNA, while Joan used the same henchman to put a hit out on Fletch. Jess started dosing Doreen with heroin to get her paws on baby Joshua, because Jess is the perky personification of evil. And Franky Doyle, who walked a long, hard road to redemption, was one day from being released into the loving arms of her ex-therapist, the ethical implications of which we all stopped caring about a long time ago. But, we warned ourselves, it would be quintessential Wentworth to offer us a glimpse of paradise only to slam the door in our faces. Hell, that’s just quintessential television if you’re a queer viewer. So we said our prayers to our long-forgotten gods and buckled in for the finale to end all finales. And that’s precisely what we got.
When last we saw Fletch, he was barricading himself in his house with a gun, some war movies, and a bottle of scotch. Under normal circumstances, that would indicate that Fletch was spiraling into depression, but to every thing there is a season, and that includes a loaded glock. There’s a knock at the door, but it’s not the henchman (who would not, in any case, knock.). It’s Vera, come to join the resistance against the Empire.
Fletch says what we have long known: that if everyone who had been personally victimized by Joan Ferguson simply raised their hands, they’d have enough evidence to get her thrown out. And then Vera says the last thing any sane viewer of this show could possibly expect to hear: “We should really go to the board of governors about this.” It’s not some five-year plan to give Joan lead poisoning with her own pencils, it’s just a simple appeal to bureaucracy. And it’s thinking like that that makes me so glad Vera has joined the side of justice. She looks pretty much straight at the camera and says, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and I hope this makes up for some of it.” And I’m like, that’s a start, Vera, but if Franky and Bridget don’t get the kiss you stole from them, then it’s back to the worldwide grovel tour for you.
Over at the prison, it’s mere hours until Franky’s release. She offers Boomer the box filled with her personal effects, which Boomer, still in pain and denial, refuses. And then Bea, real sneaky like, tries to snatch it, probably assuming it’s full of Franky’s extensive collection of pin-ups and DIY sex toys. It’s a small moment, but there’s real humor in it, the inclusion of which has made this season so much more vital than season two.
What with one thing and another, I haven’t been able to get too invested in Sophie’s storyline (“one thing” being my all-consuming interest in Franky, and “another” being the fact that Soph has simpered and whined her way through the whole season) but she does take a big step forward this week. It’s time for Sophie to meet up with the widow of the bicyclist she killed, and since Franky has tried to give her some space since the attempted seduction, she has no choice but to bring Liz.
Liz sees her daughter floundering and steps in to take full responsibility for Sophie’s actions, like: “look, getting drunk and running over people is the only thing I ever taught my little girl. It’s just the Birdsworth way.” But Sophie, to her credit, can’t let that stand. She says that, regardless of the fact that her family crest is a bottle of vodka and a lawnmower, the decision to drive drunk was hers and hers alone. She takes responsibility for her action, and, much like Franky’s confession, it has the power to heal. Not only the poor man’s widow (although as a one-off performance, she does an excellent job), and not only Liz’s and Sophie’s relationship (although saying out loud that it’s not Liz’s fault goes a long way), but Sophie’s relationship to herself. She becomes realer, rawer, and more relatable in this scene than she has been all season. That’s the power of the truth. If there’s one lesson Wentworth keeps trying to teach us, it’s that the truth may not set you free, but it will make your sentence go a little easier.