Season 1 Episode 1 recap.


It is not for nothing that we fantasize about New England and its Ivy-covered halls.    There is some serious academic fantasizing going on here, not least because we all think if we just could have applied ourselves, we’d be intimidating law professors in an excellent jacket. Except maybe Sasha who knows that it would be a thankless life. But the way it looks here, the racing each other to be the brainiest, the smartest, the possibility of your own mind being your best friend…

Okay. So How To Get Away With Murder is nigh-on ridiculous, not least because Professor Keating is so self-possessed she doesn’t so much as make a sound when caught getting some potentially very fun oral sex.     

But COME ON. Did you read “One L”? Did you fantasize about having the right answer in the Socratic method questions in the classroom? Did you figure that you would have the skills to put together the right study group? The KILLER study group? Sorry, but come on. Sexy brains competing is sexy. And I’m so glad that everyone has acknowledged that you can see through the crack in the public-bathroom door.

It could be you. It could be anyone. Middleton University. Middle of the road. Fit for you. Fit for just about anyone to walk in the door and become a star. Even a kid who just got off the wait list two days ago and knows more secrets than he should by a longshot.

We’re on the precipice of having too many people to care about though, because no matter how cute Seth (“Wes!”) is, all I care about, really, is AnnaLise. I want to know what makes her this way and makes her able to have that kind of a stare. That is a chilly, cold stare. In fact, I’d like to learn to give it.  

But she’s a cipher, isn’t she? “My husband and I have been about having a baby for a long time now.” Are we meant not to think about how she’s touching and crying and touching Wes? No. Not for a second. Look at her standing in front of that mirror.   You think she doesn’t know what she does and who she’s manipulating? You know she does. (Bonus – go back and freeze-frame that rock.)

Oh and then. And then! Bonnie is Liza Weil, lately of Scandal, never not, in some way, of Paris Gellar. Look at that haircut and those suits! Come on. You know how much you love her. Why did she kiss Keating’s husband’s cheek? Who does that? Why are she and Frank a weird duo? Why does he look like the picture on the front of “Guy in your MFA” that I’ve been loving this week?

Everything about this is a calculated lure, and you bite each and every bite. Why does Wes have toothmarks in his headboard? Rough sex? Or something worse?  How come they don’t have any more classes? As I was writing this paragraph, Lainey wrote to me “these kids are fighting dirty” – and doesn’t that feel delicious?  Don’t you want more of that? Except for Wes, of course. Except for innocent Wes.  

Oh and what’s up with the missing girl? Annalise’s husband’s student? Who are Griffin and Rebecca to us and why do we know them, except to wonder who they’re covering up for? How many yards is Professor Keating’s stare, anyway?

The only thing is, I don’t care about the murder. I mean, sure I do, of course, I guess, but there’s enough going on in week one. They don’t have to lure me in. I don’t need to know. I don’t care why they’re starting a bonfire, losing the evidence. OF KEATING’S HUSBAND. I’m fine to let this unfold the way it’s supposed to. I’m fine to watch Annalise Keating hang herself out to dry, biting the insides of her cheeks as she does. I’m fine to wait to see which student really undermines himself first. I’m happy to hear about the competition and how dirty and unfair it really is. Should Wes be there? Of course not.  

But she’s smart. She knows why people pursue this is in the first place. She knows that these are people who, whatever their other failings, need to feel intelligent. Will do anything to be ahead of the game. Are hungry to feel like they’re ahead, for once.   To feel like nobody can get ahead of them, ever catch them again, because they’re so quick.

It’s impossible, of course. I want to watch them fail.