By Ryan McGee of HitFix.com
In honor of Tuesday night's “Glee,” I contemplated making this review eight completely unrelated paragraphs. That, I felt, would be a literal and honest response to yet another schizophrenic hour of television. But somehow I feel like the powers that be might frown upon such a technique, so I’m left trying to cobble together coherent thoughts about “Sexy,” an episode that was honestly anything but.
However, the ironic title needn’t have been a bad thing. Having the title be 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife could have proved the point that was occasionally bobbling to the surface: teenagers are incredibly overstimulated yet incredibly undersexed. They are bombarded with imagery in every facet of popular culture, yet often have to make sense of them the way archaeologists try to make sense of hieroglyphics. Moreover, they talk a huge game with the real story behind their supposed sexual prowess far from Wilt Chamberlain-esque. None of these things are particularly revelatory, but fit perfectly fine into a show that started off with its theoretical hero unaware that premature ejaculation in a hot tub can’t get a girl pregnant.
But of course the show wasn’t about that, but rather a mishmash of sexual hang-ups, sex tapes, and some heartfelt confrontations about “non-traditional” sexuality. As with most episodes of “Glee,” some of this worked like gangbusters, and some of it worked as well as this year’s Oscars. There’s absolutely no telling when an episode of this show is going to work, because very often it’s a completely crapshoot if a particular scene is going to work. It’s the type of tightrope walking that the show does because it doesn’t know how to do anything else at this point.
Take a trip down tonight’s musical performance for the type of zigzagging that makes “Glee” fans reach for the Dramamine: a high-energy number featuring impossibly synched-up choreography; a literally soapy a capella performance inside the same structure where Paula Abdul once warbled about cold-hearted snakes; the first instance in the history of “Glee” in which a lavish production number made sense; a quiet acoustic number designed to express inner turmoil; and finally, an over-the-top number played for laughs at the expense of making its characters look dumb. Someone, quick: beer me.