Last time: Doesn’t anybody in this movie know how to flirt properly? The closest we’ve come is the Kurgan and Candy the prostitute. (And Connor and Heather, I suppose, but I really hate it when she says he’s “all muck and muscle.” Ew.)
22. Like pulling teeth, these are the dates of our lives. (Part 1—who knew?)
I find myself in a bit of a quandary here, as I sat down to do the usual recap-sprinkled-with-speculation thing I do and realized that I have no idea what Connor is hoping to get out of this date.
As a viewer I know, of course—he’s trying to figure out what Brenda knows, he doesn’t want mortals getting hurt in the course of his business, and he’s fighting an attraction to her. But one of my guiding principles, the reason I even bother suggesting things like Kurgan vs. Loch Ness Monster or spend hours trying to figure out who won the 1536 battle, is that I like the things that happen in movies/TV/books to have an in-world explanation. It doesn’t have to be a good one, mind you, but I assume it’s there. So what is Connor consciously trying to do?
Connor’s already aware that Brenda doesn’t know much about either immortals or the sword, and that the only way she’d learn more is if he told her. I doubt he can intimidate her into leaving him alone: if the Kurgan turning up didn’t put her off the scent, Connor can’t do it. And if he’s going to tell her a bunch of lies, setting up a confrontation the way he does seems like a bad way to open.
All of which may well leave us with “He didn’t want to drink alone,” with associated subconscious subtext. Okay, then. Let’s go with that.
Brenda is preparing for her date with a loaded gun and a tape recorder, which is the thing to do if you think your date may have beheaded someone. Her apartment is amazing: it’s just possible the NYPD has no money for a camera because she’s been embezzling it all to buy scimitars and Persian rugs.
Connor shows up and hangs around the doorway like Dracula until she specifically invites him in. He even says “Good evening.” While Brenda goes off to put on her enormous ’80s earrings, Connor spots a painting of a kilted highlander on the wall and waggles his eyebrows. It’s really cute.
Showing more forethought than we’ve seen out of him…ever, he immediately catches on about the gun and the tape recorder, and spots something even Brenda didn’t know about: the cops are watching her apartment. When asked, she lies about her job, claiming she’s in museum work. I wouldn’t admit to Moran as a colleague either.
Connor pours drinks from the bottle he brought, and they stand together. “Brandy,” he says, “bottled in 1783…” and goes on to mention a few broad historical facts. Which is understandable, since he doesn’t want to blow his cover, but you kind of want him to say “…bottled in 1783, the year I—I mean, my ancestor— lost all that money at poker and had to wash dishes in a castle in Luxembourg for a summer.” For the sake of the movie, something more obscure than “England recognized the independence of the United States” would have been nice, but it seems to be hitting home with Brenda, who for the first time looks as if she may really be interested in more than Connor’s weapon.
Next time: A small chance of Hitchcock—the big guy, not Robyn.
Next time on TCBOM!: It’s all downhill from here, except for the big geek-out.
More bonus goofery: I found some music that goes well with the Kurgan/Ramirez duel, and the official video is even a little Highlanderesque! Enjoy.
