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666 Park Avenue: Declare Yourself an Unsafe Building

Payback's a bitch. I punted to Abby so many times on Falling Skies I knew it would come back to haunt me (no pun intended). And so it did, as I swoop in to recap the eighth episode of a canceled TV show I've never watched.

I don't know if 666 Park Avenue would've found its audience eventually or not. From my limited viewing, it wasn't scary enough, and if you're going to make such over Satan references in your show's title, I'm gonna need more than Locke from Lost chuckling at a priest in a confessional (he's the devil! In a church! Terrifying!). Failing that, they could've gone the balls-out freaky weird route a la American Horror Story, but the show's creators settled for the slow burn, and it cost them.

What I gathered from the preview is that Jane (Rachael Taylor) did some sort of Hellraiser puzzle thing on the mosaic floor in the hotel basement and then disappeared into the nether regions. This probably won't sit well with that dude who was planning on proposing to her. Oh, and some guy enjoys watching a girl in pink underwear take off her clothes. Who can blame him?

We open with fiance boy (AKA Jane's co-manager Henry) handing out "Missing" flyers for Jane. How delightfully archaic. If only there was - I don't know - some higher tech way to inform the populace about missing persons. To top it off, Henry feels guilty because Jane had Bad Feelings about staying at the hotel.

Gavin Doran (Terry O'Quinn), the building's owner, and wife Olivia (Vanessa Williams) appear to eager to aid the search, but we already know from past experience with TV devils that bald=evil, so really, how much can you trust him?

Just when all hope for finding Jane is lost (not really, she's been gone like a day and a half), she reappears in a deserted Times Square -- guess everyone's at The Book of Mormon. A phantom old woman tells her she "shouldn't have come here," and then BAM, rude New Yorkers are bumping into her again. Jane is understandably distraught. Then again, she should be thrilled: she just found the perfect way to beat Manhattan traffic on New Year's Eve.

Doran gets the good news about Jane's reappearance just in time to oversee the interrogation of Mr. Shaw (Nick Chinlund), who's responsible for stealing a box of his. I kept waiting for a David Mills'-esque "What's in the box?" But alas. Doran merely reveals he knows Shaw's real name, while Shaw claims to know Doran's daughter Sasha - previously thought dead in a car accident, actually killed herself when she found out what her dad "really was." I'm drawing a blank here: a Mets fan? A Juggalo?

New York's creepiest doctor tells Henry they're keeping Jane in the hospital for observation because she's had a "dissociative episode." Henry, selectively forgetting her desire to get out of 999 Park Avenue, wants to take her home. Jane agrees ("I don't want to stay here!"). Jesus, make up your mind, lady. But then a routine blood pressure check triggers some candle-heavy flashback scene. She was either subjected to Satanic torture or she's remembering being on set while the Police were filming their video for "Wrapped Around Your Finger."

[Has no one pointed out this building is the same as the one in Single White Female? No *wonder* it's haunted.]

Hey, Louise (Mercedes Masohn) is back from rehab -- something involving painkillers and an elevator accident and sculpted eyebrows -- and husband Brian (Robert Buckley) is eager to "start fresh." Unfortunately, he says "no secrets" exactly like a man with something to hide. Was it that you were planning on leaving her, Brian? Hmmmm? And then Alexis (Helena Mattsson) comes over to commiserate with Louise about her romantic troubles with a married man. This wouldn't be related to her kissing Brian, would it? Hmmmm?

Hint: yes, it's totally related to that.

Stil-hospitalized Jane overhears the nurses talking about a patient named Julian Waters who came to the hospital in a "similar condition" to hers (bad dye job?). That night, Jane takes her thorazine (or whatever) and then heads to D-Wing, where Waters is currently residing. After stumbling through one of the sets from Shutter Island, she finds Waters only to find out he came up the spiral staircase. From hell? The boiler room? The root cellar?

Doran takes Shaw's assertions about Sasha to his wife, and she confirms that their daughter thought he was history's greatest monster, or something. Then he impersonates Shaw's dead father -- using some 1996 era special effects -- to suss out the location of The Box. It's in a church, and Doran strolls on in accompanied by an unpleasant cover of "Sympathy for the Devil." Whoa whoa whoa, this guy is *evil*? I never would've guessed.

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Brian doesn't find Alexis' stalking amusing, and goes to her room to tell her so (oh, so *she's* the pink brassiere lady). She's convinced her lovin' had something to do with his recent productivity. And it seems she's right: he can neither type nor write any new material after dumping her. The solution? Shtupping Alexis again, of course. Let's see if I have this right: the only way Brian can keep writing award-winning plays is by repeatedly banging his hot blond neighbor? As curses go, it's not quite "The Monkey's Paw," is it?

Jane returns to Julian's room (that's some great hospital security) to find the weirdo has hanged himself, but not before scrawling arcane symbols in his own blood on the walls. He also tells her she "shouldn't have come here," just like creepy abandoned Times Square lady. Could they be connected? Are the writers of this phoning it in or not? Luckily, Det. Cooper comes to, wait for it, "spirit" her away from the hospital.

Recapping quickly here before the whiskey takes hold: Shaw has a proposition for Olivia: set me free and I'll take you to your daughter, who's STILL ALIVE! Alexis is having second thoughts about boning Brian, but is grateful to Doran for "what he did for her." Finally, Jane returns home. Henry's happy. And Nona's happy (have we talked about Nona? No? Oops), and she wants to introduce Jane to someone who might help.

Next week: And that person ... is Whoopi Goldberg. I sure hope she tells Jane Patrick Swayze is still alive.

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