Pop Vultures

Beverly Hills 90210, S01 E17: It’s Only a Test

Last week: Brenda left home and started a stand-up comedy career that lasted all of five minutes, while Brandon wrestled with his mammoth ego yet again after being persuaded to run for class president. This week: everyone freaks out about the SATs, and Brenda finds a lump in her breast. Um, I can’t make that last bit funny, I’m afraid.

School: establishing shots include one of someone using a laptop the size of a small car, his poor knees buckling under the strain. Steve and Brandon walk through the halls and Steve tells Brandon that Alfred B Cook guarantees to raise your scores 200 points or your money back, and that could be the difference between Princeton and Pacoima. Brandon insists you can’t study for the SATs; Steve says he’s been studying for weeks, and Brandon laughs and tells him he’s been had. Steve hands Brandon a brochure, telling him they offer this accelerator crash course (which the subtitles tell me is actually an “excelerator”). “You know what they say,” says Steve, “Alfred B Cook or you be fried.” “500 bucks!” Brandon roars in outrage, and tells him to forget it: you can’t make up for sixteen years of ignorance in one week. Steve accepts that’s true, but it’s incredible what you can do in one month.

Brandon walks into the newsroom, where Andrea’s gnawing on a pencil. Brandon tells her that he’d been wondering who’s masticating all the pencils around here, and Andrea looks up and anxiously asks why he used that word. Brandon says that every time he goes to grab a new pencil it’s covered in teeth marks. “Yeah,” says Andrea, “but you could have said chewed – masticating is the kind of word they use on the SATs, the kind of word that you learn in one of those expensive SAT prep courses.” “Like Alfred B Cook?” asks Brandon ominously, and Andrea says in distress that she knew he was taking one of those prep courses, and it puts him in an unfair advantage over those people who can’t afford those expensive courses. Brandon says that, first of all, he’s not taking one of those courses, and second of all, he doesn’t think they work: the SATs are designed to test you for stuff you already know, you can’t cram for them. “But then again maybe you can,” she wails, ”maybe there is some kind of system. I am so bad at standardised testing. The colleges look at them as if they’re gospel, I don’t know what to do!” She is working herself up into a frenzy and Brandon grabs her by the shoulders, telling her to get a grip: they’re talking about a test you can retake twice if you want to, a test that’s… ”…Going to determine whether I go to Princeton or Pacoima,” Andrea finishes. Brandon asks if she’s been talking to Steve, and she says she ran into him at her locker.

Kelly’s bedroom: Kelly, Donna and Brenda study. “Apotheosis,” says Donna, and Brenda says it means the best. “Very good,” says Donna, reading aloud: “an exalted or glorified ideal.” “Sort of like Patrick Swayze is the apotheosis of adorable,” says Kelly, who is reading a magazine. Poor Patrick Swayze. She adds that if they would put the words in sentences they could relate to the test would be a breeze. “Autodidactic,” says Donna, and Kelly asks if that’s something that Madonna did in her last video. Ha! Brenda asks if it’s something to do with cars, and Donna says it means a person who is self-taught, like them. Thought surely that would be “autodidact”?

Kelly asks them what the difference is between malignant and benign, and Brenda asks what she’s reading. Kelly explains that it’s this test for breast cancer, checking yourself for lumps; Donna claims they don’t have to worry about that stuff at their age. Kelly says, according to the article, it’s never too early to start the habit: one out of nine American women will get breast cancer, and out of those, one out of four will die. Quietly, Brenda says that her aunt died of cancer two years ago. She was her mom’s younger sister and Brenda’s favourite aunt; she died on her 35th birthday. Kelly unbuttons her shirt, and when Brenda asks what she’s doing, Kelly she’s taking the test. Which is more important? The SATs aren’t going to save your life. Donna and Brenda untuck their shirts, as Kelly instructs them from the magazine and they examine their right breasts. “All clear?” asks Kelly, and “All clear,” say Donna and Kelly. As they move onto their left breasts, Kelly tells Brenda that maybe she should tell Dylan to do this, but Brenda says chidingly that this is supposed to be serious. “All clear?” says Kelly again; “all clear,” says Donna, and Brenda looks worried. “All clear,” she says, finally and unconvincingly.

That evening, Brenda stands in front of the bathroom mirror with her shirt around her shoulders, examining her breast. At the table, Cindy calls Brenda for dinner, and says that’s the last time she’s calling her. Jim says he hopes it’s not one of those diets, and Brandon says she’s probably just recovering from all that studying she did at Kelly’s this afternoon. “Kelly studies?” asks Cindy. Brandon explains it’s for the SATs on Saturday, they’re making everybody crazy. Jim says that it’s not life or death, and Brenda naturally appears. “What’s not life or death?” she asks. Cindy says it’s nice of her to make an appearance, and Brandon says they’re talking about the SATs. Brenda says she’s so sick of hearing about those things: expect the worst, hope for the best. “That’s a cheery outlook,” says Brandon, and Brenda says she’d rather be surprised than disappointed. Brandon tells her not to worry about it, she’ll do fine, and Brenda asks him how he knows: maybe she won’t, maybe he won’t. Everyone looks at her, baffled, and Jim tells her that it’s not that big of a deal. Brenda apologises, saying that all the stuff with the SATs has got her going nuts, and Brandon says to Jim and Cindy that it’s just what he was telling them about, it’s starting to be like mass hysteria.

Jim and Cindy are in bed and Brenda knocks on the door, asking if she can talk to Cindy for a second. In Brenda’s room, Brenda explains that while they were studying, Kelly was reading this magazine article about checking their breasts for lumps, and they decided to do it, and she thought that she felt something. Cindy asks where, and Brenda indicates. Brenda says she’s sure it’s nothing, and asks anxiously if Cindy can feel it. Cindy says she feels something and asks if it hurts. Brenda says no, she didn’t really feel it or realise it was there until they did the test. She tells Cindy not to tell Jim, it’s embarrassing, and Cindy tells her it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Tomorrow morning they’ll go and see a doctor and get this thing checked out, but she’s sure it’s nothing. Brenda starts to cry, and asks if that’s what Aunt Sheila thought when she found a lump on her breast. Cindy tells her it’s not the same thing, and Brenda says she knows, but it freaked her out. They hug, and Cindy tells her it’ll be fine: there’s a good explanation for this, and tomorrow morning they’ll get it. They say goodnight, and Cindy leaves, turning the light off and leaving Brenda anxious in the darkness.

Next morning, Cindy bellows at Jim that she can’t believe they’ve been there six months and they still don’t have a family physician. Jim says he’ll ask around at work, he’ll find someone good. “Somebody great,” Cindy insists, and Jim concurs, saying it’s his first priority. Cindy is sure it’s nothing, but it just brings back so much about Sheila. She never had a good doctor, that was a problem right from the start. Jim tells her that whatever’s wrong with Brenda has nothing to do with what was wrong with Sheila. Brenda comes in, and they give her over-cheery hellos. “You told him, didn’t you,” Brenda says to Cindy, and Jim tells her it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Brenda says she knew that, but she didn’t want him to get upset over nothing. Jim says he’s not upset, and Brenda demands to know why not. Jim, baffled, says it could be a million things. “Like what?” Brenda asks. Casting about, Jim says he doesn’t know, maybe it’s…an ingrown hair. “An ingrown hair,” says Brenda, outraged, “on my left breast? I sincerely hope not.” She roars at Cindy that this is why she didn’t want her to tell him, that’s the kind of explanation Brandon would come up with, whereupon Brandon enters. “What is?” he asks, and “nothing,” everyone choruses unconvincingly. “Uh huh,” says Brandon, duly unconvinced.