[Cue moose strutting to funky jazz music.]
Joel is driving down a forested road on a dark night, when he nearly runs over an elderly man walking alone. He brings him to his cabin to check him out (and to his credit, apologizes profusely and fully admits he should have been paying more attention to the road. Yay character development!). The old man (played by Roberts Blossom, of Home Alone fame) introduces himself as Ned Svenborg, a 108-year-old former resident of Cicely, paying his first visit there since he left in 1909. He’s come back to the “stimulating” community, the “Paris of the north,” a “cultural mecca,” to fill a void that’s been in his life since then.
No worse for wear but for a sprained ankle and his annoyance at Joel’s attitude towards Cicely, Ned begins to tell his story.
Ned describes a filthy little frontier town, with no schools, churches, or rule of law, and no apparent future. And he describes himself at the time as not being much better off. An orphan child, raised by wolves, he’s now a feral young man who rolls in the mud, howls, and dances for change to buy drinks.
Oh, by the way, most of the main characters in this story are represented by the main characters of the show. Presumably we’re seeing what Joel pictures as Ned narrates. Young Ned is, of course, Ed.
The town is run by the corrupt and evil Mace Mobley (Maurice), who has the uncomfortable young prostitute Sally (Shelly) on his arm while the kind-hearted Abe (Holling) looks on sadly. Mace is backed by a young, gun-wielding thug of a cowboy named Kit (hilariously: Chris).
The two bully the town into miserable submission, with the exception of Mary O’Keefe (Maggie) and an unnamed companion, two missionaries who try in vain to civilize the place and its people.
The town is granted a reprieve when Mace and Kit head out on some unspecified business, and a few days later, two women show up in the first automobile to ever be seen in the area. Out step Roslyn and Cicely, who are presumably roommates.
Roslyn is a real bossypants, all up in everyone’s business. But frankly, that’s exactly what this town needs. She tells Ned to stand up and have some self-respect. Then she walks into the bar, where one of the missionaries is attempting to sing “Nearer my God to Thee” to a bawdy, jeering crowd. Roslyn makes a little speech against bullies and knocks out a rowdy jerkass frontiersman. The crowd, properly put in its place, respectfully joins in on the song.
Joel asks Old Man Ned why Roslyn and Cicely would want to go to a town like this, and he explains that the two had a dream of building a utopia. “A colony of free-thinkers, of artists.” Ed brings him a glass of water, thus beginning a great running gag: Every time Ned takes a break from narrating, we see that yet another person has inexplicably shown up to Joel’s cabin and is completely invested in the story.
Roslyn works to set the stage for this utopia, encouraging the townspeople to clean up, slap a coat of paint on buildings, grow flowers, and generally display some civic pride and self-respect. Emboldened, Abe and Sally begin to talk. Abe gives Sally some animal hides to cover the tavern’s chairs with. “I’ve sewed up all the bullet holes.” Still, Sally, ashamed of her past, is too afraid to tell Abe her feelings for him.
Roslyn and Cicely celebrate the town’s transformation with a May Day performance of a pagan-themed spring dance, with Cicely in the role of Gaia. The crowd, rowdy at first, settles down as the men are mesmerized by the beauty and grace before them.
Cicely educates Ned, including teaching him how to read. This is a torturous exercise for the young man, who has fallen in love with her. He shyly, but bluntly, tells her his feelings. But while Ned is “a fine young man with a noble spirit,” Cicely’s heart “belongs to Roslyn. And it always will.” And who could blame her? Roslyn is a remarkable woman, and the strong-willed Roslyn and the sweet Cicely make a good pair.
Mary comes to Roslyn for advice. Despite constantly telling men she disapproves of their sinful ways, she can’t seem to find one that wants to be with her. Roslyn explains that men are conflicted, wanting a submissive woman but then hating them for being weak, and so on. “Fortunately,” she says, “there are alternatives.”
A harsh winter comes and goes, and the frail Cicely miraculously survives. Word having gotten out about this free-thinking cultural mecca, Franz Kafka (Joel lol) comes to visit. Kafka gets over a bout of writer’s block and (with a little help from Roslyn and Mary) finds the inspiration for The Metamorphosis. He also falls in love with Mary at first sight.
Abe brings Sally flowers. She’s touched… but confesses her shame in having had so many intimate partners. Abe is unbothered. If you have a toothache, you go to a dentist. And you wouldn’t want to go to one new to the business, would you? No, you want a dentist who’s pulled hundreds of teeth. Well he has a terrible heartache, and she’s just the person to fix it.
Meanwhile, Ned has taken to writing poetry. It’s bad, but we have to give the guy a break. He was living in a mud puddle a year earlier.
Cicely takes ill, and Roslyn suggests they move down south, to a warm little town where the air is clean. “The City of Angels,” the Spanish call it. But Cicely refuses to give up on their dream. Roslyn sinks into a depression, guilt-ridden over having brought her love here, perhaps to die, for her dream of an artists’ colony. What is art compared to a life?
Kit comes into the bar one day and demands Sally come with him back to Mace. He’s got some pretty good lines here:
– [Perplexed at the transformed bar, clean and refined] “Is this some kind of parallel universe? What the hell’s going on here?”
and
– [to Sally] “I’m going to recite the three parts of the Hegelian dialectic, and then you are coming with me one way or another.”
Sally refuses, and though Roslyn is passed out drunk, Abe and several townswomen stand up in Sally’s defense. Kit leaves, warning of trouble from Mace in the near future.
The town has a meeting to discuss what to do, with people debating whether to give in, compromise, or perhaps take a cue from the Bible and nail Mace’s head to the ground with a tent spike. A dejected Roslyn tells the townspeople to run away and save themselves. But Cicely, pale and weak, stumbles into the meeting to say no. They’d worked hard to create a place where people were free to create art, express themselves, and love how they wanted to. They shouldn’t just let someone take that away.
The next day, Mace and his posse ride into a deserted-looking town, only to quickly find themselves surrounded by weapon-wielding townspeople, who’d taken a page out of Hannibal’s Battle of Cannae playbook and encircled the invading forces.
Benefits of a classical education.
Roslyn and Cicely confront Mace. They are firm, rational, and empathetic, which puzzles the frontier bully, though it’s clear the townspeople are not backing down. One of his thugs tries to shoot Roslyn, but Cicely dives in front of her, taking the bullet herself and dying.
Moved by the young woman’s sacrifice, Kit gives up a life of crime and takes up the cloth, Mace finds his heart, and Abe and Sally take over the tavern. The town is named Cicely. Roslyn retreats within herself, disappears after a while, and is eventually rumored to have died fighting fascists in the Lincoln Brigade.
And Ned? Ned left Cicely and never came back… until now, on what would have been the only woman he would ever love’s 100th birthday.
At this point, the sun is up, and Ed, Chris, Shelly, Marilyn, Maurice, and Holling are all in Joel’s cabin, moved to silence by the story. Mr. Svenborg excuses himself to pay his respects. Joel drives him to the cemetery, where they shake hands and Ned refuses any more help. “I had no idea,” says Joel, “about the town.” The old man just nods and walks on.
Later, Joel goes to The Brick after it closes. He sits alone, contemplating the story of Cicely.
Miscellaneous notes, quotes, and anecdotes:
– Roberts Blossom was only about 72 when they filmed this episode. While not exactly young, it’s a far cry from 108.
– And Roberts Blossom is fantastic here. I’m sorry he’s mostly remembered as “Old Man” Marley. He had some real talent.
– Clearly the comparisons between Cicely and France go way back. They weren’t just invented by Maurice!
– Maurice seems to accept the story. He’d grumpily dismissed the “rumor and innuendo” of Roslyn and Cicely way back in the pilot.
– Ned matter-of-factly states that he was raised by wolves, and nobody questions it.
– Did Kit really spout that philosophical stuff, or was that Joel’s imagination taking artistic liberties?
– I like this version of Chris better than the usual one. Not only is John Corbett clearly having a good time here, but Kit actually discusses philosophy, not just vaguely philosophical college student musings. I want to hear more about the Hegelian dialectic!
– Roslyn’s psychobabble about the ease of loving women because we’re raised to love our mothers sounds very much like the kind of thing you’d hear in the 90s. I’m not even saying it’s wrong; it’s just very much a bit of writing that feels like an artifact of its time.
– I was sorry to learn that Mary O’Keefe was not the real-life partner of Franz Kafka.
– I’m embarrassed to admit it took me a couple viewings to recognize the parallel between Ned’s poetry and Ed’s filmmaking.
– Another parallel: Cicely is nursed by a quiet, nameless woman (Marilyn).
– I think this might be the best episode so far. Hell, this might be the best episode of the series. What an excellent way to end the season.
– “One person can have a profound effect on another, and two people, well two people can work miracles. They can change a whole town. They can change the world.”