Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 5: “How the Tess Was Won” – Part 1

LEAP INTO: August 5, 1956

Tess: If there’s a man on this ranch who can keep up with me for one week – I’ll marry him.

Sam Beckett leaps out of boxer Kid Cody in the 1970s and into “Doc” Daniel Young, a vet on a huge Texas ranch in the 1950s. He leaps into a muddy moment in a corral, where he is in the midst of wrestling with a squealing unhappy piglet.

(Had to break this one up into a two-parter! Here’s part 1! Part 2 is below this post)

EPISODE 4: HOW THE TESS WAS WON – Part 1

As with any hour-long television show (especially one such as Quantum Leap – which is not really cumulative, and each episode has its own world and story and characters) – the writing has to be really efficient. Get to it. Don’t dilly-dally. Who – what – where – why – when. GO. “How the Tess Was Won” starts, as I said, with Sam holding a squealing pig in a muddy paddock. Naturally he doesn’t know who he is, where he is … so every episode is a game of catch-up, for him (the script of this episode addresses explicitly some of the questions I’ve always had – like: how does he know where his character lives? What do you do when a character who obviously knows you, and knows you well, does not reveal his name to you? How do you get him to say it? Or someone else to say it? How do you “act like” you are this guy and you know your way around your own life?) But on a larger level, the writers of Quantum Leap, I think, were truly expert in this regard – because, in a way, we all, as viewers, were Sam – with each episode. He’s our way in. We are as baffled as he is. We look around us at the new landscape – just 2 seconds ago we were in a boxing ring in Sacramento … and now … well, this ain’t Sacramento no more. The writers waste no time in helping us out. It’s efficient – but rarely simplistic! Quantum Leap was different from other series in that every episode needed a tiny bit of exposition. We almost start from scratch, each time. There aren’t the same old characters that we can get comfortable with … no. We are introduced to a new batch of people each time.

In “How The Tess Was Won”, we become immediately aware that an argument is going on between a man and a woman on the outskirts of the muddy area Sam is in. We get their names: Tess. Chance. But then Chance says something about, “Your mother, God rest her soul … she would have raised you right …” and you realize that Chance is her father. She just calls him by his first name (which is so hysterical and perfect once you get to know Tess better. Of course she wouldn’t call him “Dad”, which would imply that, in some way, he was better than her … because HE WAS A MAN!) In this short exchange we learn everything: Tess is played by the spunky and not-quite-beautiful-but-awful-darn-cute Kari Lizer. She’s got wild blonde hair, she wears no makeup, chaps, denim shirts, and when she gets dressed up for church later, she looks like an alien in human clothing. Tess wearing a sun hat and a pretty Sunday dress? No. She’s a fierce tomboy. Perfectly cast. (She’s an interesting actress. She’s become a successful television producer as well, nominated for 4 Emmys for Will & Grace).

So in the first 30 seconds of this episode we learn that:

— Tess is the owner of Riata – a 50,000 acre ranch in Texas. Or – she’s an heiress, let’s say that. When Chance dies, it will go to her.

— Tess refuses to get married. Chance pleads with her. She is ornery. He is afraid that the ranch will be too much for her on her own. She bristles at that. She’s yelling and carrying on. Chance is patient, reasonable – in the face of her freak-out.

— Tess hates even the IDEA that she has to be married in order to be a legitimate ranch owner. It certainly wouldn’t be the case if she were a MAN. So no. She will not act “like a mare” … she will live her life as though she was a man. “I never was much for sashaying and swooning,” she declares.

— Chance says the line about Tess’ mother. Says, “She’d have made a woman out of you, and not a cowboy.” Tess fires back, “Why can’t I be both?” Chance roars, “It ain’t natural!”

— Besides – who would she marry? She waves her hands at all the staring cowhands – and by the tone of her voice, we can tell that while they may be good cowboys, they are no great shakes as potential husbands. She says to Chance, “Any man I marry has to be more of a man than I am.” She is convinced that no one on the ranch can out-ride, out-brand, out-rope, out-anything her. And you know what? She’s probably right. Then she makes her fateful statement to Chance, “If there’s one man on this ranch who can keep up with me for a week, I’ll marry him.” Uh-oh, Tess. You can’t go back on that now! A REAL man can’t take back a promise! Chance takes her up on the challenge and tells her to pick a man for the contest. Just to be ornery probably, because she doesn’t really want to get married (although, at the end, there’s a bit of a twist in our understanding of her emotional life – which is really nice, handled really well) – she points her finger at poor bewildered muddy Sam, still holding the pig, and states, “Doc.”

This causes a brou-haha. There’s one particular cowboy who seems bummed about it (he’s played by the wonderful and handsome Marshall Teague – still working constantly – he’s fantastic) – but you know, they’re all cowboys. They play their cards close to the chest.

Sam, not quite realizing yet what he has gotten himself into, remains oblivious and, well, frightened of the pigs around him. He’s NOT a vet. He doesn’t know what the hell he is supposed to be doing with these pigs. It becomes obvious that Doc is treated with bemused tolerance by the cowboys. He’s a creature of fun to them, but they aren’t mean. I’m reading the Master & Commander series now – and it reminds me a bit of the way Dr. Maturin is treated by the sailors – when he asks questions, or how he climbs the ladder into the boat – it totally reveals that he doesn’t know anything about sea life – and they laugh at him, and condescend to him, but they also have great fondness for him. They love him. It’s a similar dynamic here.

Sam, who always has that dual struggle going on (how do I “act like” I’m this man – whoever he is, and also “what am I here to do so I can just DO IT and then LEAP”) – agrees to the contest, without really understanding what he is agreeing to. He’s afraid to make any big moves, or (to use improv terminology) “say No” to anything – he’s in the middle of a perpetual improv game, where he must always “say Yes” (Mick Napier notwithstanding) and then figure it out later.

Sam agrees to the ridiculous contest and then gets into the nearby jeep (how does he know it’s his??) and drives off. Now, regardless of whether or not we ask the question: How does he know which way to drive?? – I just have to point out (for the 100th time in this Quantum Leap series) – the superior quality of the production design and the cinematography. This is high-end stuff, the series looks really high-end to me – like a mini-movie every week. The cinematographer and the director had Sam get into his rickety jeep and drive off, through this spectacular pioneer wilderness – and we get a long shot of the jeep, with the dust rising behind it – and suddenly, like a miracle, a flock of birds rises, something we had not discerned before (there were birds there?) – and their launching into flight, as one, is just a beautiful effect – accidental, of course, to some degree (one cannot control a flock of birds) – and I don’t know how they “planned” that accident to happen – but however it occurred, I am truly glad it did. Because look at it. It’s just beautiful.

Moments like that is what elevated this series into something quite special. The acting of the two leads did so as well, but their work was greatly served by the specificity and beauty of the design around them. All hands on deck for a big round of applause. Television is a collaboration. Shots like that are the result.

Now comes the bit where we get, really, the first voiceover from Sam where he tells us what it is like for him, during these leaps – how does he find his way home? In this case, he has remembered his last name, and that he is a vet, and so he sees a mailbox labeled Young DVM – and he knows – Okay. I live here.

When he arrives at his house, there’s a young man, maybe 15 or 16 years old, sitting on his front porch, strumming a guitar. I have to say, he looks vaguely familiar. This is the set-up for one of the most famous “Kisses with History” that Quantum Leap had – and, for my taste, the most successful. In my experience, many of the brushes with actual historical events in Quantum Leap, take away from the actual STORY. I’m not wacky about a lot of them. They seem unnecessary. I can see how it would be hard to resist – but many times, you don’t need it. The fact that Sam has jumped in time is enough weirdness, you don’t need to add to it – by having him inadvertently cause the Watergate break-in by leaving a door unlocked (and etc. etc.) The “Kisses With History” did evolve, as the show went on – “How the Tess Was Won” was in the first season, after all, when they were still finding their way … and many of the later episodes in later seasons either have no Kisses With History – or they go right for the jugular, like having Sam leap into Lee Harvey Oswald – which is FAR more compelling, I think. I mean, how many of us haven’t thought: Man, if I ran into Mohammad Atta in a dark alley on Sept. 10, 2001, and I knew what he was going to do the next day … would I kill him?? Or: If I met a lonely Viennese painter named Adolf Hitler in the 1920s and I knew what he was going to do – would I have the courage to just stab him in his sleep? And etc. So that particular Quantum Leap episode (which is a two-parter, if I recall correctly), dives straight into those very human questions – and looks at it, struggles with it, ponders it. That, to me, was very effective. Many of the other “Kisses With History” just felt like tricks. Cheap, in a sense.

But – to make myself clear – I REALLY like the one in “How The Tess Was Won”. It’s set up as an ongoing joke through the entire episode: what the heck is the name of that boy with the coke-bottle glasses who plays guitar on my porch every day? Why doesn’t anyone tell me HIS NAME? And so the payoff at the end is fantastic. It really works.

The kid on the porch is not playing a song we recognize. He’s just messing around – and the joke is made clear from the first scene: he sings about whatever he sees at that moment. A chicken walks by, the chicken makes it into the song, etc. He’s not really writing songs yet – and again, this will pay off hugely in the last moment of the episode.

Sam gets out of the jeep, muddy, holding the little pig that he is supposed to somehow diagnose – and struggles up the steps, feeling awkward because the kid is talking to him (“I watered the animals – what’s wrong with that pig?”) – and he doesn’t know the kid’s name. The kid gets up to leave – and Sam stands there, like a dope, saying, ‘So long” – knowing it’s awkward that he wouldn’t say “So long ________ [whatever your name is, kid”]. As the kid drives off, poor Sam looks up at the sky and says, “Couldn’t you provide people with name tags?” A jokey reference to God – (or “fate, or time, or whatever” – they openly acknowledge from the first episode of this series that Sam is NOT in charge of his own leaping – that Al and Ziggy have no idea where he will go next – and that “someone else” seems to be in charge. And you’d have to have seen the entire series all the way to the last episode to get the TRUE payoff of this ongoing theme. That last episode is killer – and it’s particularly strange becuase they didn’t know it was going to be the last episode when they filmed it. But God, what a perfect perfect way to end this series! But I’ll get to that episode when I get to it. In about 2011, at the rate I’m going.)

Al makes his appearance at this moment. He appears on the porch beside Sam, and instead of getting right to business – instead of talking about the leap, and where Sam is, and what Sam is here to do – Al seems more concerned with talking about Tina’s tattoo (his girlfriend) – and he has an odd, almost suspicious, air to him. He wants to know if Sam ever saw Tina’s tattoo. “But no, you wouldn’t have, would you. Because it’s on a very private part of her anatomy.” Al still seems concerned, though. His main question here is: “Sam. Did you ever see Tina’s tattoo???” Which is just so hysterical. Who CARES, Al? You’re in the middle of one of the greatest experiments that man has ever known – your friend is leaping through time – and whenever you show up, you start babbling about your personal life back in the future. It is SO funny. And, to my taste, it is THE key to the success of this series. There are many other elements that went in to making it a success – but Al’s general vibe of…. irritation at being interrupted from his complicated and eternal domestic dramas … is such a nice touch. And they kept it going, without making it too much of “a bit”. Al is not a do-gooder. Sam is way more of a do-gooder than Al is (although we will find out more about Al as the series goes on). If Al showed up as a passionate do-gooder, the series would have been insufferable. It wouldn’t have had the humor it did. And Sam’s constant frustration with his friend – like: why on earth is he grilling me about Tina’s tattoo when there are other more important issues at hand: like: WHO AM I? WHERE AM I? WHAT WAS THAT KID’S NAME? WHAT IS THIS CONTEST I’VE AGREED TO? – is so funny. The series, in its essence, is about the relationship between these two men. And thank God for it. It grounds the entire enterprise. Aren’t the two of them just so watchable together? They have a great dynamic. So back to our episode. Al stands there, as Sam gets out of his muddy pants – on the porch – and Al is acting very strange. (Or, stranger than usual). He seems to feel that Sam has somehow moved in on Tina. Which is totally retarded because Sam is trapped in the past – how on earth could he have made a move on Tina and seen her intimate tattoo? But Al is obsessed. Sam is exasperated and tells Sam that he barely remembers Tina at all – remember that whole “swiss cheese” brain thing? Al relents a bit and then confesses – and there is this funny exchange – which might not seem funny in just the lines themselves – but watch how these two actors play it!!:

Sam: Tina’s cheating on you?
Al: Can you believe it?
Sam: It boggles the mind.

Sounds pretty straightforward – but Dean Stockwell and Scott Bakula add layers upon layers to each of their lines – it’s a comedy slam-dunk. Al, as usual, is obviously not faithful to Tina (the girlfriend) – which he confesses openly. “At the Christmas party when I took Samantha into the stockroom ……. to …. exchange Christmas presents …… someone made a move on Tina …” So, you know, Al doesn’t really have a leg to stand on. (Once we know Al’s backstory, about the wife he lost, all of these romantic dramas take on a totally poignant aspect – which is rather phenomenal if you think about it. The man is a dog. A DOG. He leads with his cock. But what might be behind that behavior? What is really going on with Al? But I’m already quantum-leaping ahead of myself. All we know now, in Episode 4, is that Al is lecherous, and also kind of has a double-standard: HE can cheat … but Tina? How DARE she cheat on him?? He’s kind of a fragile personality, for all his tough cigar-chomping military-hero brou-haha. I love him. He’s totally lovable.)

Sam wanders around Doc’s house (oh, and let’s notice that there is NOT a “mirror moment” – at least not when we expect there to be one – usually Sam rushes right to a mirror to see what he looks like as this new character – this doesn’t happen in “How the Tess Was Won” – Sam is too consumed with trying to cure the pig, and trying to gear up for this cowboy contest thing that’s going to happen … When the mirror moment comes, at the very end, it packs a really nice punch – but I’ll talk about that when I get to it.)

There’s an office to the side – filled with caged animals – raccoons, bunnies, whatever – Sam goes to the desk (still holding the baby pig, let’s remember) and starts trying to diagnose the animal. Al, in his ridiculous spats-like shoes, strolls around the cages, and all of the animals can see him – it is clear, from their responses to him. So animals perceive him. We learn in later episodes that very young children can see him, too. A nice touch, a nice comment on the open-ness and accessibility of children – they don’t question it, they see a hologram and think, “Whatever. Who is that nice man with the cigar?”

A quick thing about this scene: Sam rummages around in the fridge, and takes out a baby bottle full of milk – asks Al, over his shoulder, “Do pigs like milk?” Al answers immediately, “They adore it!” Then in a couple of seconds, Sam says, “I wonder what’s the matter with him” (meaning: the pig), and Al says, browsing thru the animal cages, “That’s a girl pig, Sam.” Sam starts to peek between the pig’s legs and Al says, exasperated, “Would you please just trust me, Sam?”

Okay, so all of this just makes me laugh. I love how, in this series, Al knows a little bit about everything. You know, pigs like milk. Also, that’s obviously a girl pig. But it comes up again and again. Sam shows up in some unfamiliar situation, and Al begins to pontificate, “Yeah, I spent a summer with the circus … so here’s how it works …” It’s a kind of a “bit”, not completely realistic – how could one man have had so many different experiences?? – but it totally works. Don’t you know people like that? (People who AREN’T obnoxious know-it-alls, I mean – which Al definitely is not). Some people who know “a little bit about everything” like to lord it over other people, and pass themselves off as experts. I can think of some bloggers who fit into this category! But Al isn’t like that. He’s a man who’s lived a full and a diverse life – but even more than that (and this is why, I think, Al is such a sympathetic character – who we don’t just admire, but love): there is nothing on earth that Al is not curious about. NOTHING. He may have a skeptical manner, he may get easily distracted by tits and ass, he may have closed off great sections of himself because of the losses he has sustained – but he still remains curious about all of the wonderful and scary and interesting things that life has to offer. It’s an awesome quality. Reminds me of the comment Sylvia Beach made about James Joyce: “He told me he had never met a bore.” Now it takes a really open mind to look at the rest of the human race that way, to truly experience other people as real, and fascinating (even if they’re assholes. Realize that James Joyce did not say “he had never met an asshole”. No. He said “he had never met a bore”. Even ASSHOLES are interesting). One of my pet peeves in life are people who are “over it”. People who are perpetually bored – because they have “been there, done that, seen that”. I have cut such people out of my life – because I know a couple – I cannot bear that attitude. I experience it as actually toxic, or harmful to my own equilibrium. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there – I’m just expressing what it is about Al that I find so admirable, and lovable. His inability to be UN-interested in things. Even when he’s not interested in the leap in question, he’s always interested in his own personal life. He is always engaged. And that, my God, is a quality I wish I could bottle, and sell to others. Beautiful, isn’t it? Dean Stockwell embodies it perfectly.

Sam tries to get Al to focus. And you can tell that Al hasn’t even thought about the leap. He hasn’t run any numbers. He hasn’t pondered why Sam has landed in Texas, and not somewhere else. Al has shown up here basically to confide in Sam his fears about Tina’s infidelity. hahahaha So Sam, feeding the pig milk, asks, “Why am I here, Al?” Al snaps back to business, “Oh … right … uhm … let me look at the numbers …” Al says that there is a 72% chance that Sam is here to cure the pig. Sam doesn’t think that’s it. He says, “I thought I was here to marry Tess.” Al looks confused – who the heck is Tess? How can I be expected to keep all these characters straight when my own personal life is so all-consuming?? Al hasn’t even run any numbers on Tess. So he starts to do so – with his trusty hand-set thing (I love how he has to give it a good whack on the side on occasion, in order to jolt it back into commission).

Sam, sitting at the desk, comes across a huge scrapbook, and starts to look through it. He is stunned at what he finds. It’s a scrapbook devoted to Tess. Pictures, clippings, piles of memorabilia. There’s a notebook, too – a diary. Sam wrestles with himself a bit about whether or not to read it – it seems like an invasion of privacy. But Al says, “You ARE Doc, Sam … read the diary.” So it turns out that Doc Young has been pouring out his heart into his diary for years – about his love for Tess. He has loved her for years, ever since the first moment he saw her. He confides in the diary that he is “still dumbstruck by her presence”. Al, re-checking the numbers as Sam reads out loud, says that there is now a 97% chance that “someone who’s been sending her love letters will marry her”. Sam is nervous about the prospect of having a romance, you can tell – it’s too much pressure – so he says, “Well, that’s good, right? This is a diary – not love letters!” Al says, with conviction, “Sam. You are here to marry this cowboy. Boy-girl. Cowgirl. Girl.”

Now please. When you watch the episode, please just watch how Dean Stockwell manages that ridiculous line. It’s SO funny and SO real. He doesn’t know WHAT to call Tess – so he goes through every single variation – until finally just landing on “Girl”. Well done, sir. That’s not an easy line to make not only real but also funny.

So the next day, poor Sam shows up for the first day of the week-long contest between himself and Tess. He is apprehensive … and he also isn’t sure of what the outcome here should be. Should he try to win? Is that the right thing? Is Doc supposed to marry Tess? Has Doc been writing and sending her love letters? Is he “the one”? Or not? But then there’s the flat-out fact that Sam is not a cowboy, never has been a cowboy, has never roped a calf, has never ridden a bucking bronco, and has no idea what he’s doing. So the prospect of him winning is slim in any case. But Sam is still rather grim and serious when he shows up at the corral the next day. Tess is also grim, but that’s because she’s a tough mo-fo, and is not in the mood to be generous. She’s a competitor. Will Doc keep up with her or no?

The first contest is riding a notorious wild horse – whose name, portentously, is Widow-Maker. Tess is the only rider on the ranch who can handle Widow-Maker. And now Sam has to climb on and try to stay on. He can’t even get the bridle in the horse’s mouth – it’s too difficult – so Wayne, in a seemingly generous gesture, comes over and helps Sam with the bridle. A nervous voiceover commences as Sam gently gets on the horse – he is trying to recall all of the things his father had taught him about horses (remember: Sam did grow up on a farm … he probably doesn’t remember all of that himself, due to the swiss-cheesing … but some of it is coming back) … He thinks he’ll be okay if he keeps his father’s advice in his mind. Look the horse in the eye. Let the horse know who’s boss. Get on gently. Blah blah blah. Of course the second Sam settles onto the horse – the horse goes absolutely apeshit. All the cowboys have crowded around to watch, along with Tess and Chance – and they stand back, laughing hysterically, watching the horse buck and rear and fling itself about – with poor “Doc” hanging on for dear life. Finally, the inevitable happens.

Now – Wayne, the cowboy I mentioned earlier, treats Doc with the requisite kindness – helps him bridle the horse, etc. – but gradually, over the first brutal day of this contest – we start to realize that something else might be going on with him. He never steps up and says, “I love Tess, you jagoff”. Maybe he has too much pride for that. Maybe he’s afraid of Tess a little bit (aren’t they all?) Maybe he thinks: “Hey, man, if she didn’t choose ME for this contest, then she can HAVE the stupid Doc if she wants him …” But at the same time, during the next challenges (roping, branding) – Wayne gives Sam some advice about roping – and it comes off as totally helpful – “Okay, so here’s what you need to do …” Off Sam goes, keeping Wayne’s words in mind – but it turns out that Wayne left a very important bit of information out of his instructions – and Sam nearly breaks his thumb. Tess starts to see which way the wind is blowing – even though she’s been laughing at Doc’s struggles all day – and she rides over to Wayne and yells at him. “Wayne – didn’t you tell him to so and so?” Wayne, sullen, says, “I guess I forgot to mention that part.” Tess is nothing if not FAIR. She wants this contest to be FAIR and she doesn’t want to have any “help” given to either side. She’s as good as a man – and she can win the contest on her own steam. That seems to be the main thing that is pissing her off about Wayne’s subtle interference – what, he doesn’t think she can win it all on her own? Because Tess is a bit of a moron (and I mean that in the most loving way) – she doesn’t see the undercurrent of what is going on with Wayne. She remains oblivious. She has no experience in matters of the heart, so she can’t pick up on the signals. (Funny thing is – by the end of the episode, you can tell that Wayne – handsome and studly though he may be – is ALSO a newbie to this whole love thing … and, for that matter, so is “Doc”. They’re all a bunch of love newbies! No wonder why they are all acting like lunatics)

Sam eventually, though, with Chance’s help – gets the idea of roping, and he successfully ropes a calf. Not only that but he “punks” Wayne – and does the whole “look at how my thumb is broken” trick – only to show that no, it’s not broken at all. All of the cowboys (except Wayne) roar with laughter – it’s great to see Doc step up to the plate like this, and everyone loves a good ball-busting joke. Tess loves it, too. It’s manly of Doc. She doesn’t want a weak man. She wants (and needs) an ALPHA, Goddammit! So it’s great to see Doc best Wayne in a moment like that. Wayne doesn’t see the humor. And Tess (because she’s such a newbie at love) doesn’t discern that Wayne is actually the alpha to end all alphas – and in his quiet relentless way, he is ALSO participating in the contest (which supposedly is only between Doc and Tess). He is quiet about it, he’s kind of a moron about his own feelings (as we will see later) – but his back is up here, boy … he can’t allow himself to seem TOTALLY mean to Doc, because true alphas aren’t mean to those who are weaker … that’s the real mark of an alpha male, by the way. They’re so alpha that they can afford to be kind and gentle and fair to those who can’t compete at that level. But Wayne is just acting on instinct here. Sam starts to see what’s going on before Tess does. And Sam, who is also alpha in his own way (even though Doc might not be) – starts to get his competitive spirit on. He will not let this dumb cowboy run him out of the race.

However. His day of roping and branding and riding has left him battered and filthy. They ride back to the corral through the gathering twilight. Here’s another shot – where you gotta give the props to the cinematographer. Bravo. You don’t see much on television that looks quite that good.

Once they return to the stable, Tess comes up to Sam – who can barely wait to get home and sink into a hot bath. She tells him that she and Chance and Wayne are heading into town for an important meeting (at a bar, of course) with a potential buyer (a bigwig) of their prize-winning bull. Sam is dismayed. Does he have to come with them before he even takes a bath? Tess is inexorable. “Yup. You have to come now.” If you want to get married to me, you better start to learn how the business is run. Sam realizes that the contest is still on, that it will be 24/7 type of contest.

At the bar in town, they sit around a table with the buyer. Now of course business is a subtle thing. You don’t get right to the point, you hold your cards close to your chest, you bargain, you bluff. So instead of talking business, they play poker, and drink.

A couple things going on in this scene: you watch how Tess handles the buyer, pouring him a shot, making him feel comfortable, but also letting him know that she is nobody’s fool (even though she’s a woman). You see that Tess not only can hold her own in ranching matters – but she can drink with the men, too. She drinks, but she doesn’t get drunk. She remains cool and clear. There’s also a sense of growing tension between Wayne and Sam. Sam doesn’t want to drink. Wayne basically tells him to “man up” and pours him the drink anyway. Sam pushes the shot glass away, like: “I said NO.” Things are heading for an impasse.

Tess deals the cards. She’s getting pissed. Pissed at Wayne and Doc for acting like children. She’s also in a scolding mood, saying to Sam, “I ain’t marrying no man who can’t beat me at poker.”

Al appears at this moment. Sam certainly could use Al’s help in regards to winning the damn poker game. But Al appears and immediately begins to ruminate nostalgically about how he met Tina “over a poker table in Vegas”. Like Sam gives a shit about any of that right now!

Now, a word about Stockwell:

Here is his line here:

“Tina and I met over a poker table in Vegas. I had a flush. She had a pair.”

Now that is such a cheap joke – and Stockwell, bless him, goes right for it. (I love cheap jokes.) He says the line in a nostalgic fond tone, as THOUGH he is quoting Rick from Casablanca: “We met in Paris. The Germans wore grey. You wore blue.” But no, he’s actually saying, “I had a flush. She had a pair.” It’s so stupid and so funny – Stockwell makes his voice go deep and guttural on ‘she had a pair’ – and he goes for that double entendre with everything he’s worth. It’s hilarious. Poor Sam, concentrating on his poker game, surrounded by tough cowboys, is pissed at the distraction – like: “Could you give me a little help here, please?” – but he can’t say it out loud because the cowboys will wonder what the hell he is babbling about. Al has figured out that Tina is cheating on him with Gushie – one of the Quantum Leap project leaders. The running joke about Gushie (which lasts throughout the entire series) is what horrendous halitosis he has. They never ever give up on the joke – and pretty much every time Gushie is mentioned, so is his breath. So Al is amazed that Tina would cheat on him – HIM – with that dude with “jock-strap breath”. Al has another funny stupid line, and it’s just a joy to watch Stockwell say it: “She took my second favorite organ and stomped on it with her four inch heels.” Dumb, yes – but Stockwell means every word. And Al is not embarrassed about any of this, which is why he’s so endearing. He is not embarrassed that he is not focusing on, you know, his JOB. He is not embarrassed that he cheats on Tina and then is hurt that she cheats on him. He’s not embarrassed by anything, and you just gotta love a guy like that.

Sam, however, is caught up in his problems. He loses it for a second, and says out loud, “Gushie??” Chance is baffled. “Gushie?” Sam catches himself and babbles, “Yeah. Gushie. That’s Navajo for … your turn.” Tess is giving Sam weird looks like, “Why are you acting like such a jackass in front of our buyer? We don’t want him to think we’re a bunch of buffoons.” And Wayne, who’s working his own thing, is laughing at it all … loving the fact that Doc is losing it, and acting a bit crazy in front of Tess. It’s perfect, as far as he is concerned! But that smile eventually is wiped off his face when Sam (on the advice of Al, who can see all the cards) accuses Wayne of cheating. Al says, “He’s got all aces and 8s.” Now. This is a moment that could have ended in a duel, Hamilton-Burr style. To accuse a man of cheating is a serious offense. You had BETTER be right, and you had BETTER back up your claim. Wayne will not let it stand. He insists he is not cheating. Chance looks on, concerned, in his Marlboro Man way. Wayne has, by this point, stood up. Furious. He puts his cards down, to show what he has – and oh shit, he DOESN’T have aces and 8s. Sam is busted. He took advice from Al – and now look what happened. Al is furious – he SWORE Wayne was cheating – he had aces and 8s, dammit – so while Sam is trying to bluff his way out of his false accusation, you can see Stockwell behind him, trying to figure out what happened – dealing the cards (or, miming it) – trying to track where those aces and 8s went … Its very funny, Stockwell’s behavior in the background – while Sam tries to get out of the mess he’s in. Finally, Tess – who has had it with both of them – stands up and drags Wayne away to have a talk with him.

She has finally caught on to the fact that Wayne is trying to sabotage Doc’s chances. (Like I mentioned, Tess might be smart about ranching – but she’s kind of slow about relationships and men). Tess is PISSED. She thinks that Wayne thinks she can’t win the contest all on her own and is trying to ‘help’ her. She doesn’t see that, duh, Wayne wants to win the damn contest, even though he wasn’t chosen to compete at all.

Meanwhile, back at the table – Al is still obsessed with how on earth he could have messed up the cards so badly – and Chance and the buyer have gone off to talk about bulls, and Al asks Sam to turn over Tess’ cards – because he thinks he’s figured it out. Sam does so – and there they are: aces and 8s. Wayne, who had been dealing the cards, dealt those cards specifically to Tess – so that she would beat Doc, no matter what. Now Sam really knows what he’s dealing with, in terms of competition for Tess. Wayne will play dirty.

Now a quick note about Scott Bakula and what he’s “working on” here as an actor, and how it all makes sense, once you know the ending of the episode:

— all along Sam has been saying that he doesn’t want to marry Tess – not that he doesn’t like her, or whatever – but that it makes the leap a whole lot more complicated if that is his task – his first comment is, “Well, if it’s someone who’s writing her love letters who will marry her – then that’s great – because Doc is only writing a Diary!” It’s like Sam doesn’t want to deal with all that messy love stuff, and would rather just focus on curing the pig. Wouldn’t it be great if a leap could be that easy? Figure out what’s wrong with the pig, and off you go to your next destination in the space/time continuum. But looks like it’s not going to be that easy. So far, Sam’s only experience of Tess has been her fierce no-nonsense inexorable competitor side. She is, quite frankly, exasperating. But … but … (and it’s not clear at this point in the episode, but it will be soon – so I figured I’d bring it up now) … he finds himself getting attached. He can’t help it. In competing for her, in trying to do his best to out-cowboy her … he starts to become attached to the result. He wants to win. Not just because then he will “leap out” but because … because he starts to want it. Her, I mean. Now Sam has not really put all of this together for himself yet – and a lot of his own behavior is baffling to him: like, why is he being a dick to Wayne? Why is he obsessing so hard on the “tally” in the contest – like: what is going on here?

This, naturally, will come up again and again and again in the series as a while: Sam getting involved – despite himself. Despite his desire to just get out of the project altogether and go home to his “real life” … he still can’t help but get involved. It’s Sam’s greatest blessing and his greatest curse. He might be a happier man if he didn’t allow himself to get personally involved in strangers’ lives. But then, of course, if he didn’t get involved – he wouldn’t be Sam Becket. And if you watched the series to the end, you know his final leap, you know what happens. And it makes total sense. Of course. Of course Sam would make such a choice. That’s the kind of man he is. That’s the kind of character he is.

But that final episode would not have the “oomph” that it did if Scott Bakula hadn’t been playing that tormented in-out either-or struggle – throughout the series, from the very beginning. Sam wants to leap OUT, but … something … something … what is it?? … keeps him here, keeps him leaping … and why? But maybe ours is not to reason why. Sam, of course, can’t help but asking why … it’s his most human quality…. and here, in Episode 4, so early on … they weren’t sure if Quantum Leap would last a year, let alone 5 – but here Bakula is, playing that struggle, that struggle that will be so essential to our understanding of the entire series. Sam resists committing to the leap, because he knows it will take a lot out of him. What will it do to a man to let himself fall in love with Tess – with whoever … KNOWING that he will have to leave her eventually? How do you let yourself “go there” when it is understood that none of it will last? What will that do to a man, in a cumulative sense? But isn’t that how life is, for all of us? Quantum leap or no? Isn’t it about leaping, regardless of the outcome? Love, courage, commitment … all of it must be experienced without being attached to the result. I have not learned that lesson, and I know very few people who have learned that lesson – but if you watch Quantum Leap in that light, and watch Sam’s eternal struggle, in episode after episode – to not get attached – and then fail and get attached anyway … you see a character directly engaging in that fight, over and over. I love Bakula for understanding, instinctively, that part of the character of Sam. It’s what makes actors great story-tellers – not just great ciphers of stories … Scott Bakula, in his innate story-telling talent, understood what the real story was here, what the real point was. And whether or not Quantum Leap got picked up again for another season … is irrelevant. What matters is the moment … and you go back and watch that first season, and you can see Scott Bakula setting us up for the last episode of the entire series – which hasn’t even been written or thought of yet. That’s talent.

In our next scene, Tess and Sam, are out in a hot hilly field driving posts into the ground. Sam has his shirt off. He is a hunk and a half, let me tell you. Stud. It’s not too much, either – it’s not so sculpted that it looks like a coin would bounce off his abs. It’s a human body, albeit a great body – the body of an athlete, your basic jock in his 30s. You can tell by her behavior that Tess is starting to fade. Maybe it’s too hot. Maybe she won’t take a break. Who knows. But something is going on with her in this scene. She’s pounding at the posts, and shoveling dirt – drenched in sweat – and Sam, his doctor self coming through his swiss-cheesed brain – starts to tell her to slow down, or at least drink some water, or have some salt tablets. She’s getting heat stroke. She’s dehydrated.

Tess is ornery, though. She thinks Doc is condescending to her. Like she thinks he thinks she’s somehow weaker than a man or something. She shouts down the hill at him, “I don’t need no help!” Sam, trudging up the hill towards her with the canteen, groans, “Oh, man, women’s lib is gonna love you.” Tess, hacking at the dirt with her shovel, swaying on her feet – says, “What’s that?” Sam doesn’t even get into it. Just hands her the canteen. She brushes him off. Sam is starting to get angry. What is her problem? He says, “Look, there are some things that a man is better at – that’s all. It doesn’t mean men are better than women, though. There are plenty of things women are better at – like having babies.” His comment, obviously, does not go over well. But Sam is speaking more as a doctor here, he is truly concerned about her condition. Tess fights him all the way, until eventually she straightens up too quickly, and immediately collapses in a faint. This has been coming all along, from the beginning of the scene – she probably was dizzy throughout.

Sam scoops her up in his arms and races down the hill with her to take her back to his house. It’s an urgent matter – dehydration is nothing to sneeze at. As Sam peels off across the meadow, the camera pulls back – and we see that someone has been watching from a nearby hilltop … a horse stands there, with a rider. And we just know, somehow, that it is Wayne.

A storm is gathering on the horizon, a big one – lightning forks from the sky, clouds are gathering. Sam races the jeep back to Doc’s house, trying to beat the storm – knowing that he has to cool Tess off, or there might be some serious repercussions. It’s an emergency. He arrives back at his house, and – naturally – the kid is there, on the porch, playing his guitar. Sam, too involved with Tess (who is still in a faint), doesn’t have time to worry about the fact that he still doesn’t know the kid’s name. The kid stands up, alarmed – as Sam races into the house, carrying Tess over his shoulders. Sam gives orders – go get some water, put some salt in it.

NOW … Scott Bakula is marvelous in this next scene. Just watch him – watch how he is doing 20 things at once, not just physical things – but emotional things as well. He’s in an emergency situation – so he puts Tess on the couch and immediately starts pulling off her clothes. He’s calling out to the kid his instructions – telling him to hurry – “fetch me some water …” then Sam catches himself, mutters, “Fetch? I’m talking like them now …” but it’s just a quick aside – he’s still busy with Tess … It’s just a wonderful example of an actor doing his thing, playing the scene – everything that needs to be played.

The kid comes rushing back in, and stops – horrified and embarrassed at the sight of Tess lying on the couch in her bra and panties. (I love, too, that her underwear is not sexy … it’s time-and-place appropriate: a big white bra, and old-fashioned white “drawers”, basically … I love that they didn’t make her into a sexpot underneath her clothes. Of course she wouldn’t be. Tess is too practical for that). Sam grabs the water from the kid – wets a cloth and starts to cool Tess down – tells the kid to go get a fan – quick. The kid runs off.

Sam starts to force Tess to drink, even though she’s groggy and out of it – she winces at the taste of the salt water. Sam doesn’t care. Drink. She drinks … and starts to revive … and then discerns that, OH MY GOD I’M NAKED … and she sits up and punches Sam in the face. A sharp hook to the jaw – and he flips back and off the couch, spilling the water all over him.

Again, Scott Bakula is just great in this scene. He’s feeling tenderness towards Tess, but it’s pretty hard to feel tender towards a woman who punches you in the face when you’re trying to help her. He’s in an internal struggle. Tess hurries to cover herself up with the afghan, and Sam says, defeated, “Great. You have heat stroke and you cover yourself up with a blanket.” He shakes his head and walks away. By now the storm has broken – rain pounds against the windows. The kid, still awkward because of the whole “I just saw a woman in her bra” thing, says he’s going home before he gets caught in the storm. There’s yet another moment where it seems like Tess is going to say the kid’s name … and Sam gets all excited, and anticipatory – but nope. She stops before the name comes out. Sam is disgusted. Glances up at God/Fate/Time: “Can’t you give me a little help here?”

(But again … that’s the whole essence of the series. What it “means”, if you will. And I don’t mean to over-think this – and make Quantum Leap seem ponderous or overly serious. It’s not. But without that deeper level … of Sam struggling to find his way, struggling to find what God wants him to do … and then also realizing that no, there is no help … you have to help yourself in this world, no matter your era or place or time … the series would not be half as effective. It would just be an everlasting gimmick – and I don’t think it would have lasted as long if it didn’t have that deeper level.)

As the storm rages, Sam goes into the office – where the piglet still lies in a drawer of the desk, still sick – and Sam sits and reads a medical book, while Tess recovers in the other room. Eventually, Tess appears at the doorway, wearing what is obviously Doc’s clothes. She has a different energy now. Softer. Still. Maybe troubled. Curious. Not so certain. And definitely not ornery. She’s looking in at Sam at his desk, with an expression on her face that shows maybe she’s grateful to him, maybe she’s aware that she’s been behaving horribly. Also, any time there’s a crash of thunder, she winces. Tess? Afraid of thunder? Well, yes.

There’s a very very nice scene now – between Tess and Sam. The lights are low, the rain is falling hard – and they talk. Sam asks her if she wants to dance. She says she doesn’t know how to dance. He says that’s fine. He turns on the radio on his desk (shout-out to the production design: all of the interiors in this series could not be better – the details – I mean, look at what’s on the walls, on the shelves, the things on the desk, the horse-calendar on the wall … it’s all so specific and real. It doesn’t look like a set. It looks like: Yes, of course. That is where Doc lives.) Tess and Sam dance. They don’t speak. She stares up at him, wonderingly. Is this what it feels like to be in love? She’s not sure.

She’s not used to allowing any softness in her personality. Of course not – she runs a ranch. She will not be respected if she’s seen as “just a girl”. It’s not pleasant to allow softness when you are not used to it. (Yeah, whatever, I speak from experience.)

Sam then makes the mistake (but he can’t help it … he’s not trying to “leap out” now, he’s starting to accept his own reality – he’s not “acting” … he’s succumbing) of trying to kiss Tess. Tess goes apeshit. Pushes him away. Shouting, “I ain’t gonna lose in here what I won out there!” Sam has finally had it. Says, “Can’t you ever give it a rest?”

Tess, in her desperate moment, goes right back into the contest – saying that she is obviously winning – and Sam can’t let it slide. He’s competitive too. He tallies it up: “I won in this … and I won in this …” and (my favorite moment, I think in the episode) is how he says, “Don’t forget poker. I’m thinkin’ I beat you at poker”, giving her a stern look. Tess, in her tally, thinks that Doc lost. Sam, in his tally, sees that it’s a tie – so he demands a tie-breaker. Tess considers this, and says, in a fearfully quiet voice, almost mournful because she knows Doc will lose this one: “You want to marry me, Doc? All right then. Ride Widowmaker tomorrow.” Sam, remembering his first try at Widow-maker, hesitates, and Tess shakes her head sadly, and says, “That’s what I thought,” and walks out, leaving Sam alone with Piggy.

Something’s up with Sam. He sits down, stroking the baby pig in the drawer, which squeals and squirms around with pleasure. Sam says, in a quiet voice (and it’s real hard to make a “talking to yourself” moment seem real and true – but that’s exactly what Bakula does here), “I like you too, Piggy. Funny thing is, until we danced, I didn’t realize how much I liked her.”

Well played.

Quantum Leap recaps
Quantum Leap recaps
Overview
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis – part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis – part 2 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis – part 3 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 3: Star-Crossed – part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 3: Star-Crossed – part 2 of re-cap
“How the Tess Was Won” – part 2