Mary Anne Saves the Day
Of course Mary Anne’s notebook is a Rifle Paper Co.-style floral. And there’s that perfect penmanship! We open with a lovely montage of Mary Anne getting ready for the day in her time capsule of a bedroom.
I’m very aware that I’m the least cool member of the BSC. Claudia’s a style icon. Kristy totally rocks the normcore look, and Stacey’s so chic she’s practically french! Meanwhile . . . yup, every day I leave the house looking like the world’s oldest toddler, or maybe its youngest senior citizen.
Honestly, though? She looks darling. Then again, my bangin’ first-day-of-seventh-grade look was a ribbed salmon pink mock turtleneck and an overall dress (both from the recently opened Old Navy I thought was the height of cool) sooooo . . .
Before heading into our first club meeting of the episode, we get a peek into the friendship between Mary Anne and Mimi. I’m really glad the show chose to include this relationship, even if it isn’t used to create friction between Mary Anne and Claudia, the way it is in the book (the real breaking point happens when Mimi calls her ‘my Mary Anne’). Here, the scene further establishes Mary Anne’s wallflower nature, and sets the stage for her to stand up for the underdog, like Mimi tells her her mom always did.
It ain’t easy being Mary Anne
When that iconic clear landline phone rings, it’s not exactly business as usual — the new client asks specifically to speak to Mary Anne. In the books, the club conflict is kicked off by ‘job-hogging’, but this adaptation handles things a bit differently.
Turns out Richard Spier has told his co-worker Francine Del Veccio what a responsible young babysitter his daughter is, and she’s very interested in hiring Mary Anne. Not the BSC, just Mary Anne.
This is against the rules, and so Mary Anne is stuck in her own personal nightmare: choosing who to let down. In Claudia’s room, her club colleagues are pulling faces at her, and in her ear is a woman she’s never met, asking her a question she can’t bring herself to say no to.
So when she hangs up (having accepted the job), she already knows she’s in for it.
“Clients aren’t supposed to pick their sitters, Mary Anne! That goes against the club’s entire mission statement!”
Of COURSE the BSC has a mission statement.
Mary Anne apologizes again and again as the girls, well, kinda gang up on her. Kristy’s transitioned from the director’s chair to the bed, making it very much a three-on-one situation. They’re offering supposedly helpful advice, but all at once, in frustrated tones. Mary Anne feels like she’s facing a firing squad.
Uh-oh, here it comes, she realizes. She bursts into tears and runs out of the room.
As a huge stan of the original book, and a huge admirer of the narrative changes the writers have made in the series so far, I find myself at a bit of a crossroads here. I get why centering the conflict on Mary Anne is good for her overall character development and an effective way to drive the narrative. But boy, I miss that big club fight!
It’s one of those moments that was dramatic but felt completely organic at the same time. As the show nicely illustrates, these are four pre-teens who are all in very different stages of development. They have really different personalities and differing levels of chemistry and comfort with each other. And so naturally there will be times when things boil over, especially when you’re trying to run a business together.
In the book there’s this beautiful intersection of insecurities and character flaws unpacked in the fight — Kristy can be bossy and careless with her words, Claudia can be flighty, Stacey can be supercilious, Mary Anne can be oversensitive. It does still center on Mary Anne to some extent; in the book, she explodes and unleashes a lot of verbal firepower before running off:
“Maybe I am shy,” I said loudly, edging toward the door. “And maybe I am quiet, but you guys cannot step all over me. You want to know what I think? I think you, Stacey, are a conceited snob; and you, Claudia, are a stuck-up job-hog; and you, Kristin Amanda Thomas, are the biggest, bossiest know-it-all in the world, and I don’t care if I never see you again!”
Unlike this adaptation, there are issues unearthed between all four of the girls; they even have to work out systems for handling club business while they’re all mad at each other. It takes a lot of care and compassion to come back together. I miss this take on the club conflict, even though it’s a tighter episode for foregoing it.
The real star of this scene is Richard’s very good apron
MARC EVAN JACKSON.
I’ve already talked about how delighted I am with this casting choice, and I’m giddy with the joy of getting to see him in action. He is wearing a full-on apron as he prepares dinner. You look great, Richard.
Mary Anne glumly thinks to herself that she wishes he was the kind of dad she could talk to, but he’s “more the kind of dad that has to write things like ‘leisure time at 4pm’ on the calendar.” Suddenly that meme about accepting that you are not in fact, a Kristy or Claudia but in fact a Richard feels . . . deeply personal. Leave Richard and me and our to-do lists alone!
Richard is excited to share fun facts about the Jerusalem artichoke with Mary Anne, but her somber mood makes it clear now is not the time. (Don’t worry about it, he will reschedule ‘share artichoke facts’ in his day planner.) He cautiously, maybe even fearfully, asks if something is wrong.
“The whole club thinks I’m a pathetic crybaby!” Mary Anne bursts out, all big feelings (as I call it with my three year old) and no background. Poor Richard can’t quite figure out the angle, and goes with bullying — which, idk, isn’t too far a jump for a parent to make based on what little info he has.
Stuffy and strict Richard in the books feels a lot more hapless here. You can tell he really wants to help, but he doesn’t know how to do so without heavy-handed intervention. Which, of course you want to do on behalf of your kid. No one wants to see their daughter completely dejected, telling you that her friends “treat [her] like the kid her parents told her to hang out with.”
And it’s gotta feel extra foreign to Richard as a dad. He was never an adolescent girl and doesn’t understand the complicated dynamics (though I bet he tries his best, reading Reviving Ophelia, listening to Slate parenting podcasts, etc.) and is probably really missing his late wife in these situations.
Forgive the Richard Spier character study. I’m just grooving on his vibe here. Back to the actual on-screen action — Richard gets too protective and talks about calling parents (I am dying for the backstory behind “I have told Ms. Thomas once and I will tell her again”) and it’s the wrong way to go. Mary Anne, misunderstood again, storms off for the second time that day.
I know that at least a couple BSC-aged kids are reading these recaps, and I just want to let you know that most likely, your parents — like Richard — are trying the best they can. We just don’t know what’s what sometimes.
Battlefield Lunchroom & The L.A. New Girl
As we move from Mary Anne’s disappointing evening into her (about to be even more stressful) school day, she thinks to herself “I read somewhere that women want to express emotions and men want to find solutions for them.” And, oh god, I AM a Richard. This is quite the personal journey I’m going on in this recap. Thank you for your support.
Carrying her pink thermal lunch bag, Mary Anne approaches Stacey and Claudia, who are ice cold. They ask if she wants to sit with bullies like them. Mary Anne knows immediately what’s happened.
Oh dad, what have you done?
The girls are both grounded, and pissed about it. Mary Anne attempts to explain she didn’t try to get them in trouble, but Claudia tells her they need space. She has gone full clueless, in those classic yellow plaid pants we’ve seen previously, now paired with a matching suit jacket. It’s such a look.
(Also, four episodes in, it’s really clear that costume designer Cynthia Summers had realism in mind. Yes, Claudia has a huge wardrobe, but we also see her remixing favorite items over and over. All the girls do, and this is a small slice of reality that holds a great message at the same time. There’s so much consumerism that’s promoted at this age. I definitely remember middle school being a time where I worried about wearing the same thing too many times, etc. Seeing really cool and smart and capable characters bringing out their splashy red pants (Claudia), retro puffer jacket (Mary Anne), or just their favorite maroon ball cap (Kristy) over and over is awesome. I really love it.)
Rejected by two out of her three friends, Mary Anne continues through the cafeteria. Kristy is sitting with the Schilliber twins, and overplaying what a great time she’s having to let Mary Anne know how unbothered she is (and how unwelcome Mary Anne is).
Which leaves Mary Anne alone, at an empty table with only her pink lunchbox for company. She’s just staring into space, trying to compose herself, when she is interrupted by, like, a chill ‘90s throwback skatepark queen? Our first look at Dawn is all double buns, layered tees, plaid, and a silver letter D necklace. She is, naturally, carrying a glass bottle filled with green juice and a stainless steel bento box. Welcome, Xochitl Gomez. We are so happy to see you.
Our California girl is friendly, immediately asking Mary Anne her name, introducing herself, and poking gentle fun at the cliche of her own lunch. When Mary Anne doesn’t respond, she continues “you don’t say much, do you?” Over at the Schilliber’s table, Mary Anne’s new lunch companion has captured Kristy’s attention. Or, perhaps more accurate, activated her insecurity.
Dawn is delightfully new-age-y, just like we’d want her to be. She’s wise beyond her years about the inevitability of her parents divorce: “they both always knew [that her dad was gay] on some level, but were trapped in such a cycle of codependency, you know?”
Modern-day Dawn 100% listens to the Goop podcast.
She goes on to tell her that her mom “grew up here and felt a spiritual pull to reconnect with her roots during the healing process.” Okay, but where’s Jeff. Did he stay behind in California? Has he been erased?
Dawn asks if Mary Anne is new, and Mary Anne responds “no, all my friends are dead.” She’s got jokes, you guys.
“You’re funny. Dark, but funny.” Mary Anne follows up by telling her a terrible joke straight from a popsicle stick, and then (wow moment ahead for our wallflower) asks if Dawn wants to come over.
I couldn’t believe how fast Dawn said yes to hanging out with me. She must’ve really been lonely. Poor Mary Anne and her low self-esteem — they have such great friend chemistry and she doesn’t even realize it! The process of her making a friend not through Kristy (or Claudia, when it comes to Stacey) is so important for her process of coming into her own self.
We pull back for one more shot of Kristy, looking sad and hurt. Turns out maybe Dawn’s parents aren’t the only ones trapped in a cycle of codependency.
Tea Parties, Uno, & Frosty Meetings
We get our first glimpse of Mary Anne as a babysitter, indulging in cutesy tea party stuff with Bailey. Mary Anne is an adorable, roll-with-it babysitter, calling a spill “perfect” as it creates the opportunity for a costume change. Which brings us to Bailey’s bedroom, and a closet full of clothes that don’t match Bailey’s heavily pink/princess aesthetic.
While Mary Anne is a bit bemused by the traditionally ‘boyish’ wardrobe, she continues to roll with it, putting her hands on her hips and proclaiming “well, these won’t do. Where are your clothes, Princess Bailey?” Bailey explains that those are her old clothes, and opens a bureau exploding in pink and purple: “over here are my new clothes!”
As Francine stops in to check on how Mary Anne and Bailey are getting along, Mary Anne works through this in her mind. That’s when I understood. Bailey was a little girl, and her new clothes helped people see that.
She continues to process later that evening, over a game of Uno with her enlightened new friend. In blocking that well-suits their personalities, Dawn is sprawled across Mary Anne’s bed, looking more comfortable in it than Mary Anne does. She helps frame Bailey’s gender expression through a handedness metaphor — “we all want to have our outsides match our insides, right?” It’s such a light, deft touch, really effectively done, educational without feeling like an after-school special.
Mary Anne realizes she’s never made a new friend without Kristy before — and just in time, as the climate in Claudia’s room makes her wonder if she’s lost her old friends for good. Stacey’s giggling over her phone, Claudia’s silently sketching at her desk, and Kristy is pouring over a notebook. Not exactly the warmest of welcomes. Kristy glares at Mary Anne before snatching up the phone when it rings.
It’s Francine Del Veccio again. Despite Kristy’s schmoozing, Francine insists on hiring Mary Anne. When Kristy hangs up, Claudia asks if special requests for Mary Anne are standard now, and Kristy reminds her, very pointedly, that they aren’t allowed to leave the house except for club meetings.
Mary Anne remains silent, enduring the club meeting more than participating in it.
(Mostly) unbothered by a little light neo-shamanism
The all-club silent treatment gives Mary Anne plenty of time to better get to know Dawn, who she has to “work on sounding less obsessed” with. It’s really cute to see her enthusiasm over this new friendship! Dawn has invited Mary Anne to an all-female cookout. She looks cool as hell in what to me will always be the Jess Mariano shearling collar jean jacket and widelegged cropped jeans. Sharon is delightfully welcoming and characteristically daft (Dawn has to remember the sage).
Upon arrival, Mary Anne is shocked to realize she knows Dawn’s Aunt Esme.
“Your aunt is Morbidda Destiny? That’s what the little girl next door calls her.”
“Esme wishes that was her witch name,” Sharon interjects. HA. This is such a good character connection, I am just about tickled pink over it.
“So she is a witch.”
“Yes.” Sharon is a troll.
“More like a spiritual healer,” Dawn corrects. Mary Anne is wide-eyed with wonder.
The gathering begins, and it’s exactly what you think it might be -- crunchy women sitting cross-legged, a vaguely pagan leader, a talking stick. “Join hands, moon sisters,” Esme begins, filling them in about the new moon in scorpio and warning of the upheaval they may feel this week.
Esme invites the women to share, and Dawn wants to go first. Maybe I’ve just got Gilmore Girls on the brain because of the aforementioned Jess Mariano jacket, but there’s something incredibly Amy Sherman Palladino about Barb cutting in on Dawn’s sharing, and Esme shutting her down (“it’s not about you right now, Barb.”) It’s such a Stars Hollow moment.
Dawn’s looking to celebrate her new friendship with Mary Anne, but unfortunately it’s so new that she doesn’t realize being pulled into the spotlight is a true worst-case scenario for Mary Anne. The camera swoops in for a close up so we can really contemplate the terror in her eyes.
Oh no. Public speaking. Another recurring nightmare.
Mary Anne tries, but she can’t possibly get over her shyness and runs off (we’re at abrupt departure #3 for the episode), Dawn following and calling after her. Esme gets in one more scene-stealing aside, hand on hip: “now that is a Scorpio if I ever saw one.” GOODBYE. I LOVE HER.
In a heavy-handed but adorable visual metaphor, Dawn stops Mary Anne on a footbridge. To, you know, build a footbridge of friendship. Mary Anne tries to get in front of every criticism that’s still ringing in her ears from her fellow club members: “I’m sorry I’m so shy! I’m sorry I’m not cool and funny, and I’m sorry I’m so scared of everyone and everything! I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I can’t even stop saying I’m sorry.”
Dawn takes this all in, smiles a little, and says “okay.”
Mary Anne: “okay?”
Dawn: “yeah. I mean, a new moon shareamony is not everyone’s cup of tea.”
Mary Anne can’t believe she hasn’t embarrassed Dawn, that Dawn doesn’t think she’s a ‘pathetic crybaby.’ Dawn, unfazed, points out that it doesn’t matter what she thinks, but how Mary Anne sees herself.
So wise. All that goop podcast listening time is really paying off for our California Girl.
Saving the day
Back at the Del Veccio’s, nothing in the Kid Kit appeals to Bailey. Even the idea of acting out the royal wedding (five times!) doesn’t entice. Mary Anne checks Bailey’s forehead and realizes she’s got a high fever.
Unable to get in touch with Francine or her dad, Mary Anne screws up her courage and calls 911. Next thing we know, they’re in a hospital room, where Mary Anne tries to cheer up Bailey with funny faces. But Bailey’s smiles disappear when the medical team enters the room and doesn’t even bother addressing the person in the room, instead focusing on the information in the medical file and misgendering her left and right. Bailey tries to advocate for herself the best way she can by saying she doesn’t want a blue hospital gown, but they’re not listening.
Mary Anne asks to speak to the doctor and nurse outside, and sets them straight that they’re not looking at the patient and recognizing her for who she is. She even has the chutzpah to ask for a non-blue gown!
And finally, Richard arrives at the hospital, just in time to hear Mary Anne asserting herself on behalf of Bailey. He’s quiet as they head back to their car. Mary Anne takes this as disappointment and/or anger — saying as much — but Richard’s proud.
“You think I’m upset with you? I’m overwhelmed by you. Hearing you talk to those doctors that way — you reminded me so much of your mother.” E-mo-tion!
Just like in the book, Richard admits he finds it hard to raise Mary Anne by himself. “Most of the time, I feel as though I have no idea what I’m doing.” Loving the vulnerability and the location. Some of one’s best parenting happens in the car, ya know?
And then comes my favorite moment of probably the whole episode, a wonderful deviation from the book. Mary Anne screws up her courage to ask “can I change my hair?” Richard seems baffled by the question. Mary Anne presses on.
“I want to feel more confident. More grown up. But it’s hard when I look like such a baby.”
“Mary Anne, you can do whatever you want to your hair.”
Mary Anne is SHOCKED. It’s a complete does-not-compute moment, as Richard confesses “I always put your hair in braids because it’s the only thing your mother taught me how to do.” He gives a little embarrassed laugh at this.
This is so good. It’s like, good on so many levels.
It’s such a good lesson, that what was holding back Mary Anne (at least in this particular case) was herself and her perception of what her dad wanted from her, rather than reality. It’s such a sad moment, because Alma/Abigail died so young and this is one of those moments that really showcases her absence in both of their lives.
(Now, could Richard have gotten onto youtube and learned about curly hair types and taught himself how to care for Mary Anne’s hair? Yes, definitely. But honestly I am so tickled by the nuances of his character -- and again, this portrayal by Marc! Evan! Jackson! -- that I just feel so happy for them both in this moment)
Bolstered by the idea that she’s got more freedom than she realized, Mary Anne asks about her clothes. Richard doesn’t understand what’s wrong with them, but again is more than happy for her to make some changes.
He is, however, not in favor of her trading in her wheelie backpack. Thank you writers for this very Richard Spier moment: “stop right there. A wheeled bag is orthopedically sound.”
Mary Anne laughs at this, and even Richard is smiling at his own doofy dad-ness. “If you want to condemn yourself to a lifetime of chronic middle-back pain, be my guest.” They both laugh a little.
And then hug.
And then go get ice cream.
At this point, I’m that gif of Emma Stone from the SNL skit about Someone Like You, just crying and eating ice cream (still very pregnant over here) and leaning into my very powerful feelings.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne, Mary Anne, Mary Anne
Entering Claudia’s room, Mary Anne’s prepared herself for another terrible meeting . . . but she’s instead greeted by a gushing Stacey and Claudia. Richard’s dad called their parents and told them everything and praised their friendship as a good influence (smooth recovery, Richard), and the girls are now un-grounded and dying for all the details on Mary Anne’s exciting babysitting adventure.
Claudia and Stacey continue to beg Mary Anne for details and praise her calm head under duress, while Kristy stands off to the side, arms crossed. Claudia turns to pull her into the conversation, pointing out that Mary Anne made them all look good.
Claudia pulls open the arm of her fuschia chair (this is a real WOW moment, you guys, once again my slowest and most reverent claps for the set designers) and brings out two choices of candy to celebrate, while Stacey apologizes for freezing her out and shows her the custom Mary Anne playlist she built to make it up to her.
And then the most important, and toughest, reconciliation occurs. Mary Anne approaches Kristy and asks if they can be friends again. Kristy shows off just how young (and vulnerable!) she is by retorting, in what we all recognize is only half a joke: “as long as your new best friend doesn’t mind.”
“Oh Kristy, don’t be such a baby,” Mary Anne teases her.
And now all is right again with the club -- we get a lovely shot seen in the promo materials of the four girls together on a candy raid, while Mary Anne muses about Esme’s moon of the scorpio and all the changes that have happened this month.
The Turkey Day Parent Trap
And speaking of changes . . .
As we transition into her bedroom, a brand new Mary Anne greets us. Still conservative, still sweet, but much more tween in her blue skirt and striped sweater. Her hair is loose but pulled back on top (this look will forever be ‘the [Sweet Valley Twins era] Elizabeth Wakefield’ to me) and it looks amazing. She even applies a little bit of clear lip gloss, practically glowing with pride.
Her dad, my BFF Richie Spier, tells her that she looks terrific as she comes downstairs to welcome the Schafers for a Thanksgiving celebration. Mary Anne’s not the only one who’s evolving, as she reflects on the fact that Richard was open to inviting new guests “without asking for their social security numbers.”
Dawn appears first (looking vaguely spice girls-y with her baby pigtails and plaid, I LOVE the styling on Dawn so much!), and is appropriately effusive about Mary Anne’s new look. They do a complicated and silly handshake, and Dawn introduces herself to a bemused Richard . . . who is then struck completely dumb by the arrival of Sharon.
They both kinda freeze with near-literal heart eyes, and Dawn, noticing the weirdness, asks if they know each other. Both Richard and Sharon stumble over explanations at the same time, still awed by the coincidence of their reunion, and then my pagan queen Aunt Esme shows up to steal the damn show again.
Two bottles of wine in the crook of her arm, she stops in the doorway to put it plainly: “they dated. In a big way.” Moving on, she sweeps into the house, proclaiming “hope you’re not the kind of family who doesn’t do stuffing.”
With that, she crosses out of the scene (A STAR) and we’re left with the two parents and two daughters. As the girls close the door and head towards the dining room behind their sheepish parents, they share delighted looks, giggles, and a mutual (and very deserved) oh. my. gosh.
And so the journey to stepsisterhood begins.
KISHI STYLE FILES
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Images copyright Netflix Family/Walden Media; collages by me