My Time at Temple Studios, Part 24

Show #24

Saturday, May 17: 9 pm

I'd like to start out this write-up by telling you a little bit about my friend Virna. Virna has been to see The Drowned Man rather a lot of times. So much so that she gets recognized. In fact, some of the more interactive characters (the execs, in other words) seem to enjoy calling her out on it – none more so than Kathryn McGarr's Luna. Virna has thus developed a strange sort of complex about Luna, feeling the need to hide from her whenever they share a lift.

So of course, when the lift door opened and we saw that Luna was inside, Virna attempted to hide behind me. I did not approve, and instead, pushed her in front of me – in fact, when all was said and done, she wound up face to face with Luna, who seemed, for the briefest moment, extremely amused by this – before slipping back into character and proceeding to deliver her spiel. A spiel which was targeted directly at an awkwardly squirming Virna. Mission accomplished.

Speaking of missions: my first loop for this show had basically been decided months earlier, when I first heard that Sonya Cullingford was possibly going to start playing the Drugstore Girl. That casting is so perfect, so forehead-slappingly obvious, that I had to follow her at the first possible opportunity – which turned out to be the Saturday late show, loop 1.

Sometimes when I leave the lift, I have a little bit of trouble finding my character, even though I have a pretty comprehensive understanding of most of the loops. I always work it out quickly enough, but I do sometimes wind up running around in circles for a bit first (*ahem* Andrea. *ahem* Fool. *ahem* Romola). One nice thing about the Drugstore Girl is that it's generally obvious where to find her. It's all in the name.

When I got into the Drugstore, she was in the middle – well, toward the end, anyway – of her scene with Harry (Edward Halsted). It wrapped up before I had a chance to really get a sense of how it was going, and Harry took off, leaving me alone with her. Immediately, she whipped out a couple of glasses and poured us both some lemonade. I can now check “drink lemonade from a straw while staring into the eyes of a beautiful girl” off of my list of things to do before I die. What a way to start off the show. Of course, once we were done, she completely forgot about me and started mooning over Andy's jacket. C'est la vie.

Eventually she put the jacket down and put on some lipstick, giving me her blotting napkin. The reason for the lipstick soon became apparent, as the Grocer (Monsur Ali) arrived to ask for some napkins (which would be similarly marked by her lips before she gave them up). Of the whole loop, this must be the scene I've seen the most times, but it never really played like this before. She was almost. . . well, friendly might be overstating it, but certainly leaning in that direction, especially compared to every single other Drugstore Girl I've seen do it. They all either go for aloof or even, sometimes, seem a bit taunting. Having successfully gotten ahold of the napkins, the Grocer wandered off and Drugstore Girl hopped up on the counter to put on her roller skates. I took a quick look back to confirm that yes, he does still just go over to the corner of the shop to stuff the script page into the napkins, and yes, it's still a really weird thing to do. But I do love it.

The Grocer returned the napkins and then departed for real, leaving Drugstore Girl to uncover the script page that he had planted. Again, things didn't go the way I expected – instead of laughing it off, or even just disregarding it entirely, she got kind of worked up. Which makes a lot of sense – if someone showed me a script page detailing an entire conversation that I had just had, I would be just a bit concerned as well.  I'm not really sure why I've never seen anyone be bothered by it.

After tacking the page up on the wall, Drugstore Girl replaced it with a folded up flyer for the hoedown, then skated over to the grocery with the napkin holder. Again, something different – she used to bring a drink. The switch to the napkin holder did allow for a nice lighting effect that I hadn't seen before: as she approached the store, she used it to spotlight the grocer in a reflected light. I can't say for sure, but it felt like there were a lot more things like that happening all throughout this batch of shows than usual – small moments of dramatic lighting directly manipulated by the characters. There's been talk that the show has gotten darker than it used to be, which I'm not sure I agree with, but if it's true, I wonder if it was done to make these effects possible (or at least more dramatic).

Inside the grocery, she delivered the invitation and apologized for being mean to him earlier – which is hilarious, because she totally wasn't! At least, not compared to everyone else. I guess a bit of exaggeration is allowed, though, since I'm pretty sure her true motivation for going over there was to quiz him regarding that script page, about which he was evasive and non-committal. But he did agree to come to the hoedown.

She left the grocery and headed back out into the arcade, where she found the Barman (Ygal Jerome Tsur), and engaged in a fun, highly mobile (remember, she still has the skates on) dance, which I think didn't quite reach its full expression because all of us white masks kept getting in the way. Shame, really. Then she ditched the skates in favor of cowboy boots and went into the bar to watch Andy (TJ Lowe) dance all over it. I didn't really see much of his dance because I was watching her reaction – she is really, really into Andy. I mean, all of the Drugstore Girls are to some degree, but you don't always feel it as clearly. Sonya's Drugstore Girl, on the other hand. . . it was all over her face and her body language. When she was watching him, he was the only thing in the world.

This, more than anything else, is why I felt that Sonya was so perfect for the role – Drugstore Girl spends a lot of time hanging out and/or watching things, so it helps if she's played by someone with a very expressive face, in order to keep those moments compelling. And no one has a more expressive face than Sonya.

She was absorbed with watching him. I was absorbed with watching her. Neither of us noticed the Barman approach until he slammed his baseball bat down on the bar about six inches from my head. He chased Andy off into the other half of the room, and then it was Hoedown time. I took up a spot near the bar, which left me a bit distant from Drugstore Girl, but was close to where she would end the scene. I sort of regretted this decision when I saw the Grocer, complete with goofy hat, approach her on the other side of the room and have a brief conversation with her, which I was completely unable to hear. Even still, her expressiveness meant that I could still pick up a lot – she was actually pretty scared of him right when he showed up. Very uncomfortable. But she choked that feeling down pretty quickly and started smiling again (just not quite the way she had been before he got there), and even complimented his hat, which pleased him to no end.

This seems like an appropriate point to mention that I LOVE the upgraded relationship between Drugstore Girl and the Grocer. They don't have a lot of new interactions, but it's enough to change the way the loop feels and provides more of a narrative drive. I still miss Badlands Jack, and all things being equal I wish he was still part of the show. But I have to admit that cutting him was the best thing that ever happened to Drugstore Girl (and probably the Grocer too), since that's what created the space that allowed them to strengthen their ties.

Once the hoedown proper got going, things went about as usual. One moment of note was when Miguel (Georges Hann)'s path ran him straight toward me, and he took a moment to bend over completely backwards and howl up in my face. That shook things up a bit. At the end, he and Faye (Katie Lusby) took off before Drugstore Girl, and I saw him open a path through the crowd with a simple gesture, which I never would have expected to work. And yet, it did.

Once Drugstore Girl did head back, her path crossed Faye and Miguel's more roundabout journey at the saddlery. When she saw them carrying on through the street, she shook her head and tsked at them, but she did it warmly – somewhere in there, she was pleased to see them having fun. After taking off the boots, she headed back into the drugstore, put her original shoes back on, poured a magic red lemonade for a white mask who didn't even bother to drink it, and gave me a jelly baby. Then Andy came in, full of concern for William, and rushed back out again, dumping the postcard rack.

Most of the time, Drugstore Girls will really take their time picking up the postcards. They play it up as tragically sad, and you can't help but want to help them – which is, I think, the point. They want to draw you in. Sonya's Drugstore Girl, on the other hand, was having none of that victim nonsense. Watching the postcards scatter didn't break her. It made her mad. She rounded them all up into a pile so aggressively and quickly that none of us could have helped her even if we tried. Then she dumped the whole pile on the counter and started sorting a little more slowly and wistfully, having expended her anger.

Between this display and her attempt at investigating the script page, it's clear that Sonya's Drugstore Girl has a lot more spunk, a lot more fire than what I've seen in the past. It did a lot to endear her to me, and to make her feel like a complete person. Not to mention the fact that layering those additional emotions on to the postcard scenario made it so much more compelling. I'm not sure I can fully express just how much I was loving this loop.

Once the sorting started, it seemed reasonable to step in and help. Another white mask did the same. Then a third and fourth – who were there together - took a stack, leafed through it for a few minutes, and dropped it back in on the pile, unsorted. Jerks. At some point, Drugstore Girl took notice of one of the cards that the other white mask was holding, and retrieved a matching postcard from her shelf behind the counter – this one had been written on and mailed, and contained a message from “Johnny Guitar.” She asked the white mask if he had ever been there, but of course, he hadn't. I guess I should add that this was the second time I had seen the card – at some point earlier on, she showed it to me and read over it wistfully, but I can't for the life of me remember when that happened.

We didn't get very far in the sorting before the Grocer arrived, casting a cloud over the entire room – or maybe that's just how I felt. Any time this scene approaches I get a mild sense of panic. There's such a sense of crushing inevitability to it, the way both characters push their way through actions that, clearly, neither of them want to do. And of course, I never want to see the Drugstore Girl die. Or whatever it is exactly that happens to her. Especially not this Drugstore Girl, who's so vibrant, questioning, and full of life. But of course, there's nothing to be done.

This time, the timing was spot-on. The phone rang a split second after the Grocer said “It's for you.” Soon the Drugstore Girl was down and out, and the Grocer was dragging her out into the middle of the floor like a butcher hauling a side of beef. It's such an ugly moment. Then he departed, leaving Drugstore Girl alone with a surprisingly large crowd of white masks, keeping vigil over her lifeless body.

Soon Harry arrived and woke her up, and the tension and unease that I had been holding in ever since the Grocer walked back through the door dissipated. It was a brand new day. Drugstore Girl climbed groggily to her feet and shuffled over to the table by the window, leaning on it to support her weight. Harry departed and she picked up the glass from the table, still marked with her lipstick. She frowned, rubbing her thumb over the mark. It was as if she could remember – or almost remember. . .

Then she looked up, slowly, straight at me. Her face slipped from shadow into light, an effect which nearly took my breath away. She set the glass down and walked over to me, whispering the name, “Johnny.” I think, perhaps, the struggle to work out what the glass meant had jarred loose something else in her mind. She took my hand and led me into one of the phone booths, locking us in for a 1:1 that was absolutely heartbreaking. It's somewhat reminiscent of Romola's trailer 1:1, in a way – but with wider emotional swings that make it hurt so much more. And it was all the more effective because Sonya knew not to overplay it – the pathos in the final words, “Goodbye, Johnny Guitar” was very subtle, but all the more biting for it.

There was such finality to the end of the 1:1 that I almost wasn't sure if I should continue the loop. It didn't seem quite right to go back to her after that. But there was no was I could do without seeing the rest. So I headed out and looped back through the front door of the Drugstore, returning just as Drugstore Girl emerged from the phonebooth, completely oblivious to what had just happened. I called it a brand new day when she woke up, but I think the term fits more aptly here. This is where the loop really starts.

After sorting a few more postcards, Drugstore Girl headed outside to watch Dwayne (Oliver Hornsby-Sayer) dance in front of the saddlery, and flirt with him from afar. Then Faye and Mary (Kate Jackson) arrived, and she encouraged them to join in with him – which makes me wonder if she knows what she's doing. After all, that's it right there, Mary's first contact with Dwayne. The moment that kicks off a chain of events that ends in Mary's death. Is the Drugstore Girl a pawn of the studio, working to ensure the murder? Or is it just a coincidence?

I want to say the latter. But then again, she does spend most of her time on a black and white checkered floor.

We headed back inside the drugstore for another round of postcard sorting and another magic red lemonade that yet another white mask refused to drink – instead, trying to give it away to another mask. This kept us all occupied until Andy and Miguel burst in for the creation of the gris-gris. I wasn't paying too much attention to them, preferring to watch how the Drugstore Girl was reacting to things – but I saw enough to know that Georges was just killing it. As for Drugstore Girl, she was completely entranced by what she was watching. At first, that was metaphor entrancement – she was very interested, and even appeared to be just a bit. . . well, to put it delicately, excited by what she saw. But then, as the gris-gris took shape and Miguel began to swing it around, it transitioned into a more literal entrancement.

Once Miguel disappeared into the phone booth, Drugstore Girl and Andy had a chance to spend some time together. Again, I was struck by how much more believable their relationship felt (at least coming from her direction). They moved over to the phone booths for a dance that was, to be honest, a little bit rough. Not bad, but it stood out in comparison to the way that every single other thing thus far had been firing on all cylinders. But no matter – right about that time I realized that something special was about to happen. Something called Bulldog (you may recall that I really, really love Bulldog) – but not just any old Bulldog. Bulldog featuring Sonya AND Katie. Before Sonya started playing Drugstore Girl, only one of them would ever take part at a time (as Faye). But this time, they would be performing together – and on top of that Kirsty Arnold would be playing Andrea. Sonya, Katie, Kirsty – that's the Bulldog dream team right there.

And then it happened. Drugstore Girl and Andy took off for Studio 5, cavorting along the way in a manner that seems almost like a skewed mirror of Faye and Miguel – tender and fun, rather than aggressive and rough. Incidentally, I really love heading to Bulldog with Drugstore Girl and Andy. Bursting through the doors of the studio just as “I Love Marie” moves into the sax break, hearing it grow louder and louder as we approach – it's a fantastic lead in.

Bulldog itself was everything I hoped it would be. The crowds were thickening up quite a bit, but I was able to find a spot that gave me a good view of both the kitchen and locker room sets, at the expense of the bedroom. But two out of three is better than you can usually count on, so I'm not complaining. I really enjoyed the faces Drugstore Girl was pulling throughout it as well. She's not nearly as impressed with all of this moviemaking studio business as Faye is, which came through loud and clear in the wry (but still good-natured) expressions she slipped in whenever possible. A touch unprofessional, perhaps, but it felt right for her.

After Bulldog, Drugstore Girl returned to the Drugstore to find Harry leaning dejectedly on the counter. Just as with the postcards, she took a more indirect, but also more interesting path to getting Harry to drink with her. Where other Drugstore Girls have tried to cajole him, she skipped right over that and just decided to pour herself a drink, knowing that once that happened, he'd be unable to resist.

After a couple more minutes with Harry, we reached the point where I came in, and it was time for me to move on. This was, without a doubt, the best Drugstore loop I've done, and my favorite Drugstore Girl. Suddenly, her story was full of the emotional peaks and valleys that typify the most interesting characters in the show, rather than the plateau of pleasantness followed by a precipitous cliff dive just before reset that I was used to. Some of that is due to the post-Badlands Jack rewrites, but a lot of credit for that goes to Sonya – she performed the hell out of the role, filling it with new details and subtleties.  But perhaps more importantly, she made some distinctive choices (I cannot overstress the importance of the way she handled the postcards) that really brought the character to life in a way that I haven't seen before.

On leaving the drugstore, I made a beeline for the desert, looking to track down Miguel. This was not at all what I expected to be doing at this point in the night – originally, I figured on heading into the studios for a loop with Omar Gordon's Claude. But those bits I'd seen of Georges' Miguel during my Drugstore Girl loop had really impressed me, enough so to change my plans. I'd done two previous Miguel loops, with two different performers, and in both cases, I would up walking away thinking “that was okay.” He's not a character who has ever really excited me – yet I have friends who swear by him. So I planned to give him one more try. . . .eventually. But probably not even anytime during this batch of shows.

So much for plans. You know how it goes. Up in the desert, I found Miguel sitting in the desert, alone. Eventually Dwayne showed up and they had a big, manly fight, which I've seen twice before, but which I always forget about. Typically I come to the desert in the company of Faye, and it always feels like Dwayne and Miguel have just been up there, sitting on boxes and drinking tequila, for the entire night, just waiting for her.

Soon enough we got to that point, though – first the drinking, then Faye. When she ran off after the fight, Miguel picked up her shoes and called after her, one of only two words I heard him speak in the entire loop. He looked tremendously sad at how things had turned out, but not just sad. Confused, as well. Almost like a child. I've always been partial to the idea that Miguel is some sort of resurrected spirit, or possibly more like a golem. Either way, not entirely a full person. This moment went a long way toward validating that idea. He looks like a grown man, but I don't think he thinks like one.

I followed him down to my second hoedown of the night and took up a spot directly opposite where I watched the first one. This time, I was much closer to Drugstore Girl and the Grocer when they had their brief dialogue, but sadly, this did nothing to aid my ability to hear them. The hoedown itself proceeded as usual, with me bobbing along to the music even though no one around me was doing so. I just can't help myself when Burnin' Hell kicks in. I wonder if that looks weird from the outside.

I followed Faye and Miguel out into the street (I swear, I've probably stayed to watch the fight maybe once for every ten hoedowns I've seen, at best), where they cavorted down to the motel. This was one of the scenes that really kind of turned me off to Georges when I first saw him back in March – he just seemed too overpowering and aggressive. It was completely different this time – Faye was clearly in the driver's seat. When we got closer to the motel, I realized it was even more than that. He stopped when he saw the Buchanan house, uttering the second word, “Mary,” his eyes again full of sadness and confusion. I saw the way he held on to those emotions, letting a hint of fear join them, as Faye pulled him to her and then into the motel room. It's not that he's being led on by her, it's more that he's buffeted in that direction by the force of nature. A piece of flotsam, blown into her harbor. I realize this seems contrary to his somewhat domineering way of moving through the crowd after the hoedown, as noted during my Drugstore Girl loop, but even that could probably be explained as an almost involuntary, instinctive choice. At any rate, for the first time, I kind of felt like I understood his flight from the motel room – growing more and more lost, more and more trapped by the moment, escape was the only rational option.

Which doesn't mean I didn't feel absolutely fucking terrible leaving Faye alone at her most vulnerable. I could understand how he felt, enough to forgive him, anyway. No such grounds for forgiving myself. Which I realize sounds absolutely ridiculous, but. . . ah, poor Faye. This will probably be my last Miguel loop ever, just because I don't think I'll be able to make myself walk out of that room again.

Outside, we found Mary and he put her to sleep in the house and then left, taking her clothes with him. This is another moment that I have found difficult to reconcile, but which makes more sense in light of how I was reading Georges' Miguel. Those friends I mentioned before, the Miguel fans – they say that he is actively trying to save Mary, to stop the murder, and is ultimately crushed by his failure. But if that's the case, this sequence of events makes no sense. He deliberately abandons her at her most vulnerable, leaving her easy prey for William's madness. But if you think of Miguel as more damaged, acting on an almost animal instinct, then it all makes perfect sense. He's drawn to her because he has a vague understanding that he has a part to play in her story – but because that story is one of murder, he's likewise repelled, and retreats just as he did from the motel, heading to the closest thing he has to a home – the desert.

But enough theorizing for now, back to what I actually witnessed. Miguel's escape to the desert took him to a back office, where he quickly started changing into his scarecrow costume. He grabbed the scarecrow mask and then stopped, looking slowly around the room at the nine or ten people present. His gaze rested briefly on a few of them, then moved on – and finally it fell on me, and stayed there. He handed me his mask and escorted the others from the room, locking the door.

I won't say much about the 1:1 that followed, except that it was incredibly intense, bordering on frightening, and all without the use of blindfolds, vast cavernous spaces, or handfuls of blood. Just a performer and a couple of simple props. It included one memorable image that chilled me more than anything else in the show that I can think of at the moment (for those who have had it, your one-word hint is “sweater”). Then we emerged, and Miguel took his place within the scarecrow funeral, entreating me with a gesture to keep his secret just before he slipped the mask over his head. It seems that, over the course of the 1:1, he found a measure of peace and direction that had been lacking.

For a moment, all was calm and quiet - then Andy showed up, followed by throngs of white masks. When Miguel carried him off, I realized I was standing on the wrong side of the funeral, and wouldn't wind up even remotely close enough to see the next bit in the tent. As I followed the crowd, trailing far behind, I saw Mary heading for the shrine, all alone. I really didn't want to deal with the crowd, so I decided that I could probably consider my Miguel loop complete – after all, I had reached the end of the story, I was just missing the beginning. Plus, Mary would lead me to the Dust Witch, and I had been meaning to spend some more time with her. So I followed Mary back to the shrine and watched her for a moment until the Dust Witch (Katherine Cowie) showed up. . . accompanied by throngs of masks. So much for that plan. I watched them play out their scene, then wandered off as she headed for her 1:1 room. By that time, Miguel had already disappeared backstage, and I reverted to my previous plan of finishing out his loop. I had forgotten that he would disappear and then reappear in a different spot, which meant that that gigantic crowd would not carry over past the reset.

Indeed, the desert was very sparsely populated by the time Miguel emerged from the sand, pulled to his feet by Lila (Laure Bachelot). This lead to a gorgeous dance across the desert, as they skipped between pools of light, twirling around each other and spraying sand like water. Returning to Miguel was clearly the right decision – it would be worthwhile even if this was all that came of it.

After sending Lila away, Miguel retrieved a package from the shed next to the scarecrow funeral. This was a change, as he used to get it from the trees outside of town. I'm not really sure why they bothered restaging it, though, since I never actually saw him deliver it to anyone. He slipped it into his pocket and that was that. Later in the night, I saw the Gatekeeper emerge from his office with the package, further suggesting that the chain of custody has not been re-established in the post-Jack world. So like I said: why have Miguel pick up the package at all?

I didn't have too much time to think about it – soon we were down in the town, and it was chase time. Miguel took off through the motel and I foolishly followed him, forgetting what was to come. At the last second I realized that Andy was about to run right through me and I slipped aside, holding the door open for him – which appeared to actually throw him for just a second. Then I followed him into town, where we saw no sign of Miguel. During the pursuit that followed, I frequently found myself put in Andy's position, turning a corner and looking around desperately for Miguel. Georges proved to be the most elusive Miguel I've followed, despite the fact that I had already been through this chase two or three times. He took us back to my old stomping grounds, the Drugstore, and this time I was able to focus more on what Miguel was doing, rather than the Drugstore Girl (although it took a bit of effort). There's a lot of raw power in his actions – he has a heft to him. But there is a surprising speed and even grace as well. There was something a little off about it, like it shouldn't be possible for someone with Georges' build to move so fast.

As he headed for the phone booth, I headed for the door, and picked him back up as he exited the Seamstress's shop. We then proceeded to Romola's trailer (with a brief stop off by the car, which made him think of Mary and call out her name, a split second before she appeared), where he laid down for a nap, and I got to see the new Romola/Miguel scene for a second time – with the same cast, no less, as Romola was played by Sarah Sweeney. Getting there from Miguel's perspective, I'm less satisfied with it in relation to the scenes that used to be there. It doesn't really add anything to his story – after all, he doesn't actually do anything until the very end. It takes away his role in the journey of the package. It just kind of disrupts things in general. Which is too bad, because it's a pretty nice scene for Romola, especially for those who have not had the pleasure of experiencing the trailer 1:1.

After giving Romola her purse, Miguel slipped into despair and returned to the desert, where he was cleansed. . . or something, anyway, by the Dust Witch. This is a key turning point in Miguel's story.  It seems to me that he is almost like two different people during his loop. From the time he emerges from the sand until this ritual, he's driven, dominant, and on a mission. This was particularly true before the new Romola scene. Everything he does is in service of moving necessary pieces into place – he directs Lila to the Buchanan house. He sets the package on its way to the Studio. He creates the gris-gris. All throughout this, he's very focused – doesn't seem troubled or distracted until he has his breakdown which leads him to the desert. Or, arguably, until he sees Mary, which may have started the wheels turning that eventually lead to the breakdown. After the ritual with the Dust Witch, he seems much more scattered and confused, and driven by more human urges. He seeks comfort with a white mask, who cleans him. He fools around with Dwayne and Faye. He goes to a dance. He fools around with just Faye. At no point during this portion of the loop does he really feel in control. The best way I've found to explain this is that the Dust Witch takes away his memory. For the first half of the loop, he's a servant, almost an automaton. Then, when it gets to be too much for him, the Dust Witch either rewards him or tidies up loose ends by removing or obscuring that history from him, allowing him to finally be a real boy, however fragmentary. It's quite tragic, in this light – he's forced to be a pawn, and is eventually freed from it – but in the end, he can't escape the memories and guilt that slowly return to him, culminating in that 1:1, which felt more like penance or self-flagellation than anything else. Only after going through that is he able to move on, eventually disappearing into the darkness.

This may not actually bear any relation to the story of Miguel as it was intended to be – unlike many other characters, I feel like I'm having to provide a lot more of the pieces myself in order to complete the puzzle. But it fits what I've seen (particularly this time around, with Georges), and it explains the emotional journey that the loop took me on. It's a bit ironic that it was Georges' performance as Miguel that finally clicked with me, since I kind of hated it when I saw a little bit back in March. Has he improved or was I just completely wrong? At any rate, whatever the reason, whether legitimate, official, or not, I finally “get” Miguel.

But I'll still never leave Faye's bedroom with him again.

When I left Miguel, there was about half of a loop remaining – not enough time to really get into a new loop. But perhaps I wouldn't need to – as I ran through possibilities in my head, I remembered that the Drugstore Girl's third loop alternate ending involved Badlands Jack – or at least, it used to. Whatever it had become since then, it would be something entirely new to me. I had to find out what it was – so I resolved to finish the night by returning to Drugstore Girl. But I wasn't about to head back there right away – considering the loop I had already done with her, as well as my Studio 3 loop at the early show, I had spent quite a lot of time that night following Sonya around. Best to give her a bit of a break from me – I could rejoin the loop after the hoedown.

So a busied myself with a bit of this and that. I stopped by the Gatekeeper (Christian From), which is when I saw him with the package. I headed briefly into the Studios and watched the Doctor (Anwar Russell) for a bit. I watched Mary and Dwayne on the car (not in that order). Eventually I decided to wait out the rest of the loop with the Barman, who I actually found in the saddlery, but as soon as I picked him up, he headed out to dance with the Drugstore Girl. Right about that time, however, I heard the distinctive strains of “24 Hours” coming from the bar and settled in just in time to watch Andy's pre-hoedown dance. It was really, really good – but very different from what I've seen before. When I followed Tomislav English's Andy, he spent a much of the dance hanging and swinging from the rafters – probably more time than he spent on the bar. TJ, on the other hand, hardly touched them – just one quick swing when he went to greet Drugstore Girl. His dance was much more subtle – smaller movements, less showing off – but no less impressive.

Soon everyone flooded into the room for the third hoedown of the show. . I was prepared for this, and had watched Andy's dance from the raised stage at the end of the room, so I was already in position. I was honestly a bit tired of it by this point, since it was my third hoedown in three hours (and my fourth of the night). I don't think I've ever done that before. Even still, I couldn't help bobbing along to the music, just a bit.

I followed Drugstore Girl out from the hoedown and was treated to another new scene – she stopped to talk to Tuttle (Ben Whybrow). This did not occur during the first loop, since Tuttle doesn't even exist at that point. Sadly, and to my immense frustration, the entire conversation has somehow disappeared from my memory.

Once we got back to the Drugstore, it was only a few moments before Andy came in and knocked over the postcards again. Drugstore Girl knelt down and gathered them, just as quickly and aggressively as before. She brought them back to the counter and. . . . cue alternate ending.

She didn't start to sort them. She just stared at the pile. Then she took off her apron.

“I quit,” she said. “That's it. I quit.”

The moment was a triumph of understatement. The words were quiet, almost spoken only to herself. There was a hint in her eyes that she was about to cry, but so faint I almost worry that I imagined it. Then the Grocer arrived – but this time, he wasn't sullen or sad. There was no sense of doomed fatalism. He strode quickly to the counter, a man with a mission. In his hand – a rose, wrapped in script pages.

“What is that?” Drugstore Girl asked. He laid it out on the counter and showed her the last line of the script.

“If you want to know how it really ends, come with me,” he responded. I was elated. There was an excitement, a charge to those words that was almost electric – and of course, the thrill was all the greater for the way that it quite literally invaded her moment of bleak despair. Peaks and valleys, it's always darkest before the blah, blah. . . you get the idea. It was the perfect alternate ending, and again, the link between Drugstore Girl and the Grocer was strengthened. This is the way it always should have ended. The way it really ends, you might say.

He grabbed the rose in one hand and a white mask in the other. She took another rose from behind the counter and grabbed a white mask of her own. I followed them closely on the way down, but they didn't have any additional dialogue on the journey.  It was my only real disappointment - I wanted to revel in their escape the way I do with Faye and Harry, but the moment was gone before we even got down to the murder.  

As the finale drew to a close and the lights came back up, I saw Miguel heading in my direction. I thought for a second he might be coming for me, in light of the loop we had shared, but he veered off to the left. I took one last look across the stage, then started to stand up – but suddenly there was a hand in front of my face. Miguel had moved down to the level of the audience, and was reaching for me from the side, across the person next to me. Sneaky.

He lead me off to the side of Studio 3 for an incredibly simple, yet very cool and in-character unmasking. He pushed me up against the wall and lifted my mask, looking as if he was about to speak – but then, as soon as my face was revealed, he turned away as if in shame and disappeared, bringing my night to a close on a slightly enigmatic note.