¡Gracias a Dios! The second season of Ugly Betty is picking up!
Let’s start with Amanda, shall we? Well, it turns out that Bradford’s not her father. (Thank the LORD! It would be hard to imagine that the fatally stiff Bradford could spawn such a fabulous creature. I mean they have GOT to do something with his character. He is merely a bland metal pinball bounced between the crazy women in his life. Okay, I don’t know what metal had to do with that metaphor, but stay with me anyway). For the annual Mode black and white ball Marc convinces her to come in red as her mother used to, hauling her hairless little dog. When this fails to get the press’s attention, Marc steps on her dress, leaving her naked on the red carpet (except for the pooch, blond wig and sunglasses) and the next day every paper in town features a photo of Fey’s illegitimate, nude daughter. But Amanda is still unfulfilled: it is then she plants the seed that she has to search for her real father to understand who she is.
We pick up Ignacio where we left him last week, in Mexico with a gun in his face, facing down his rival, Ramiro Vasquez Ramiro — significantly less dead that previously thought — who forces Ignacio to make his special flan at gunpoint, because sometimes he misses his wife, and sometimes he misses Ignacio’s flan. After consuming the custard he orders his son to shoot Ignacio anyway and leaves (classic mistake in these kind of plots… you’d think after watching telenovelas Ramiro would be smarter than that). Gentle Ignacio manages to talk the son down by reminding him of his father’s abuse, and when Ramiro returns to see why he hasn’t done it yet, we cut to an outside shot of the house and hear a gunshot. No need to guess what happened there.
It seems Bradford and Wilhelmina’s nuptials are back on. And Wilhelmina had to announce it in front of poor Claire Meade — who sneaked into the party with her literal partner in crime, Yoga — could the poor woman be shoved any farther down? I know, I know, she killed Fey Sommers, but I feel bad for her anyway. Perhaps she and Yoga can find happiness together in the Hamptons on a more permanent basis?
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