Tender is the Heart: Episode Two

Previously on Tender is the Heart….

DR. FREEMAN:
“Sad face in the shower.”
MYSTERIOUS NAKED REDHEADED WOMAN:
“I WANT THE SEXING!”
DR. FREEMAN:
“WHAAAAAA??? Okay.”
MEANWHILE…
CHRISTY
“I play tennis and my head hurts. To the hospital!”
And now…

Okay, one thing I didn’t notice the last time I tried to sit through this movie: Dr. Freeman definitely wakes up after his sexy shower with his dead wife. So it was definitely a dream. Glad we could clear that up.

Anyway, so an unconscious Christy is rushed through the hospital on a gurney. What mysterious illness does she have, and how is Dr. Freeman going to cure her? Oh, the mysteriousness of it all! What a perfect time to cut away to some random person we don’t know. This guy is wearing a dress shirt, a tie, has a pen in his shirt pocket, and looks generally professional. And since our last frame of reference was a hospital, I guess we can conclude he’s a doctor. Or he’s a used car salesman. Yeah, he looks he could be a used car salesman. Confident in a smarmy, sleazy way. His face just ever so droopy and leathery. An ick factor of seven. So course, all the ladies in the movie are going to love him, and just one pervy glance will explode their clothes off, no problem. This is Dr. Foster (may God have mercy on us all </simpsonsquote>), and he’s on the phone arranging his next hook up session, of course. “Are you kidding, I would love to have you cook dinner for me tonight!” he says. Wow, what a charmer. Can she scrub the dishes afterwards as well, oh can she? “What should I bring?” Well, at least he won’t make her do everything. He’ll bring home the bacon and she’ll cook it. AS IT SHOULD BE, am I right, fellas? “Aheheheheheh, obviously you’ve never been to medical school [Ed note: more like nursing school, am I right, fellas?], because if you had, you’d know that that is not detachable from my body. Oh you think so? I bet we could get that published in a medical journal.”

What?! First off, gross. Secondly, I’m afraid that the editors have decided to return your submission to you because they feel that your paper would not stand up to rigorous review by our editorial board. Your study of chopping off your dick, sautéing it in butter and garlic, and then eating it does not significantly add to the knowledge of the field, and as such is not of high enough priority for the journal of Meat Science. Thank you for considering the journal and we wish you success on your future endeavors.

Thankfully, Dr. Freeman enters the room and puts an end to this painful conversation. But then this nonsense happens:

Dr. Foster: “Okay, see you tonight. Bye bye.”
Dr. Freeman: “Yeah right.”
Dr. Foster: “I happen to know that she does.”

What? What the hell are you guys talking about? Does what? I’ve watched this scene seven times now and I have no idea what they’re referencing. Dr. Freeman had only entered the room when the subject of publishing a manuscript on dick eating came up, so…..uh, yeah.

Anyhoo, so Dr. Freeman confides in his friend that he’s been having weird sexual dreams. Dreams, as in plural, even though we’ve only seen the one and he strongly implies that this is the only one where his dead wife featured. What were the other dreams about then, Dr. Freeman? Maybe something involving a weird tasting sausage? You know what, never mind. But here’s where the movie makes a lair out of me, because Dr. Freeman reveals that his dead wife was named Trisha rather than just “his dead wife.” I totally missed it the first time around. This is what happens when you don’t pay attention, kids, and winners don’t use drugs.

And then this conversation occurs:

Dr. Foster: “Did she talk to you?”
Dr. Freeman: “How do you know that?!”
Dr. Foster: “I took one of my electives in psychiatry, remember?”

One elective, huh? It’s a good thing we have you here for such expert and useful psychoanalysis. He even pulls out the classic, “What you do you think that means?” And why is Dr. Freeman so surprised that he guessed that someone talked to him in a dream, as if it’s never happened before. And why is—oh forget it. It’s like this movie is badly written and poorly edited or something. So thanks to his friend’s helpful prodding, Dr. Freeman admits that since his dead wife said that he needs to find happiness with another woman, the dream means that he should happiness with another woman. Whoa, slow down there, Dr. Freud, are you sure a dead wife is not just a dead wife? “Physician, heal thyself!” Dr. Froster clichés, “and I know just the prescription. Her name is Raquel and she’s drop dead gorgeous.” But Dr. Freeman is reluctant. “No, not one of your bimbettes.” Bimbette? Was the word bimbo not sufficient? Oh whatever. “This is no bimbette,” Dr. Foster reassures, “this is one classy lady with more style than you deserve.” So he calls her up to invite her to dinner with both of them and some woman named Becca, presumably the woman who would compete really well on Fear Factor. And then another strange line comes out of Dr. Foster’s mouth: “Aheheheheh, no, a colleague.” Now, just what the heck did she say? Was she asking if he was a client, a john, yet another loser that he’s trying to set her up with? Maybe we’ll find out, but I suspect that this intriguing little throw away line will never turn out to be important. And then Dr. Foster refers to our hero as “the best man at my last wedding.” Oh, Dr. Foster, what will you say next?

So with that phone call over and with our two geniuses having no more brilliant conversation to go through, something has to happen to move the story along. On cue, a voice suddenly echoes from sky. Is it God, finally putting this world of hedonism and power ties out of its misery? Wait no, it’s a woman’s voice so that’d be impossible, am I right, fellas? She seems to be someone’s secretary or phone operator because she tells Dr. Freeman that another doctor wants is on the line and wants to discuss a patient. Dr. Freeman looks really put out by this but yells to the ceiling to put him on. Now, at no point whatsoever does either one of these dudes press a button on an intercom or the telephone. Even Commander Riker had to tap his jewelry to communicate with the Enterprise, so either that line is always open, or it’s at the whim of the anonymous female on the other end. She probably totally listens in on Dr. Foster arranging his numerous booty calls. Anyway, disembodied doctor voice informs our hero that Christy Redford, big time tennis pro, is suffering dizziness and nausea. I swear to God, he actually says, “Christy Redford, big time tennis pro.” Thanks, helpful disembodied doctor voice! I’m totally up to speed on Christy’s backstory now. And then Dr. Foster steals one of my reoccurring jokes and says, “the Christy Redford?!” And the disembodied doctor voice provides my punchline that’s only funny to me, “Yes, the Christy Redford.” Another thing that just occurred to me: the call was for Dr. Freeman but it was directed to Dr. Foster’s office. He’d only gotten there a minute before and was about to leave, so how did the secretary know he was there? I’m just going to have to accept the fact that Tender is the Heart has a more powerful and sophisticated and hands free communication system than Star Trek. Maybe if B’Lanna rerouted auxiliary power through the main deflector array to emit a tachyon pulse….

Well I managed to finally hit the ten minute mark, and once again this piece has gone on a little long. At this rate, I should be done with the full review sometime in, oh, January.

About Tim

Tim Bennett works for a publisher of science and technology, amongst other things.
This entry was posted in Projected Pixels and Emulsion and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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