Lisa Nova is having a really, really bad week. Honestly, saying "bad week" is a massive understatement when you're vomiting up literal kittens and dealing with a hole in your stomach that acts as a portal for supernatural entities. We need to talk about brand new cherry flavor episode 4, titled "Tadpole Smoothies," because it’s the exact moment where this limited series stops being a weird Hollywood satire and fully commits to being a fever dream of body horror and occult madness.
It’s gross. It’s sticky.
If you’ve watched it, you know the feeling of wanting to look away but being physically unable to. Nick Antosca and Lenore Zion didn't hold back here. By the time the credits roll on this specific chapter, the power dynamics between Lisa, Boro, and Lou Burke have shifted into something much more dangerous and permanent.
The Body Horror of the Tadpole Smoothie
The title isn't a metaphor. It’s literal. One of the most jarring things about brand new cherry flavor episode 4 is how it handles the physical price of magic. Magic in this world isn't about waving a wand or saying a catchy incantation. It’s biological. It’s visceral.
Boro, played with a terrifying, ethereal calmness by Catherine Keener, prepares a "smoothie" for Lisa. It’s not a green juice from a high-end L.A. café. It contains living tadpoles. Watching Rosa Salazar’s Lisa consume this—while we, the audience, are fully aware of the parasitic nature of Boro’s "help"—creates a level of discomfort that most horror shows never quite reach.
Why does this matter for the story? Because it cements the idea that Lisa is no longer in control of her own body. She thought she was hiring a hitman to ruin Lou Burke’s life. Instead, she’s become a vessel. The show uses this episode to explore the loss of bodily autonomy in a way that mirrors the exploitative nature of the film industry itself. Lou stole her movie; Boro is stealing her biology. It’s a double-edged sword of exploitation.
Lou Burke and the Slow Decay of Success
While Lisa is dealing with kittens and tadpoles, Lou Burke (Eric Lange) is falling apart in a much more mundane, yet equally pathetic, way. Lange’s performance is a masterclass in playing a man who is losing his grip on a reality he thought he owned.
In this episode, the curse is clearly taking root. It’s not just about bad luck. It’s about the erosion of his sanity and his social standing. We see the cracks in his "big shot" persona. The glamour of 1990s Los Angeles is peeling off like old wallpaper, revealing something rotting underneath.
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What’s interesting about the writing here is how it avoids making Lou a cartoon villain. He's terrible, sure. He's a predator. But in brand new cherry flavor episode 4, we see his fear. It makes the horror more effective because we see that even the "powerful" people in this town are terrified of the forces Lisa has unleashed. They are all swimming in the same shark tank, and the water is getting bloodier by the minute.
The Role of Mary Gray
We can't ignore Mary. Her presence in the series adds a layer of tragic mystery. In this episode, her connection to the larger occult puzzle starts to feel more urgent. She isn't just a victim; she's a warning. The way the show weaves her history with the current timeline suggests that Lisa isn't the first person to go down this path, and she definitely won't be the last.
Setting the Scene: 90s LA as a Character
The atmosphere of this episode is thick. You can almost smell the cigarette smoke, the cheap gin, and the salty ocean air mixed with something metallic. The cinematography in brand new cherry flavor episode 4 uses a lot of sickly greens and deep, bruised purples. It’s beautiful but nauseating.
Most shows set in Los Angeles focus on the bright lights. This show focuses on the shadows behind the palm trees. It captures that specific 90s grunge-meets-Hollywood-glam aesthetic perfectly. It’s the L.A. of David Lynch, but with more bile.
If you look closely at the set design in Boro's "apartment" or lair, it’s cluttered with artifacts that look both ancient and discarded. It reflects Boro herself—an entity that has existed for a long time but inhabits the junk of the modern world. This juxtaposition is what makes the show feel so unique. It’s folk horror in a concrete jungle.
Why the "Kitten Vomiting" Isn't Just for Shock Value
People talk about the kittens a lot. It’s the "water cooler" moment of the series. But by episode 4, we start to see the thematic weight behind it. Lisa is "giving birth" to her trauma and her revenge.
Every time she produces a kitten for Boro, she is physically weakened. It’s a literal extraction of her essence. The show asks a very difficult question: How much of yourself are you willing to give up to get what you want? Lisa wants justice. She wants her movie back. But the cost is her very humanity.
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The kittens are small, white, and seemingly innocent, which makes the act of vomiting them up even more grotesque. It’s the corruption of innocence. Lisa started this journey as a victim of a powerful man, but by brand new cherry flavor episode 4, she is becoming something far more dangerous than Lou Burke could ever dream of being.
The Turning Point for Lisa Nova
This is the episode where Lisa stops being reactive. In the first three episodes, things were happening to her. She was stumbling through the dark.
In "Tadpole Smoothies," she begins to lean into the weirdness. There’s a scene where she looks in the mirror, and you can see a flicker of something new in her eyes. It’s not just fear anymore. It’s a realization of power. It’s a dark, messy, and disgusting power, but it’s hers. Or at least, she thinks it is.
This is where the tragedy lies. Lisa thinks she is using Boro to get revenge on Lou. In reality, Boro is using Lisa to enter a new phase of existence. The power dynamic is a triangle, and Lisa is caught in the middle, being squeezed from both sides.
Breaking Down the Visual Metaphors
- The Tadpoles: Growth, but in a parasitic sense. They represent the seeds of a curse that cannot be taken back once swallowed.
- The Hole: Vulnerability. A physical manifestation of the "void" Lou left in Lisa's life when he stole her work.
- The Smoothies: The "Hollywood" way of masking something revolting with a trendy packaging.
What Most People Get Wrong About This Series
A lot of viewers go into this expecting a straightforward "revenge thriller." They want to see Lisa get one over on Lou in a clever, John Wick kind of way. But that's not what this is.
Brand new cherry flavor episode 4 proves that this is a story about the cost of ambition. It’s a cautionary tale. It’s not about winning; it’s about surviving the things you’ve done to win. If you’re looking for a hero to root for, you’re in the wrong show. Lisa is a protagonist, but she’s becoming an anti-hero—or perhaps something even more alien.
The pacing of this episode is also something people complain about, but it's intentional. It’s slow. It’s hallucinatory. It feels like you’re trapped in a room with a high fever. That "drag" is part of the experience. It forces you to sit with the discomfort of Lisa’s situation.
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Practical Insights for Horror Fans
If you're watching this for the first time or revisiting it to catch the details you missed, keep an eye on the background characters. The people surrounding Lou and Lisa are often more important than they seem.
- Watch the shadows. The lighting in this episode specifically hides things in the corners of the frame that reward a second look.
- Listen to the sound design. There are wet, squelching noises throughout the episode that are mixed higher than the dialogue at times. It’s meant to trigger a visceral physical response.
- Note the wardrobe. Lisa’s clothes become progressively more "rough" as the episodes go on. She’s losing the Hollywood polish she tried to maintain at the start.
The Actionable Takeaway
What can we actually learn from the chaos of brand new cherry flavor episode 4? Beyond the supernatural elements, it’s a stark look at the "sunk cost fallacy" in professional and personal relationships. Lisa has already given up so much that she feels she must keep going, even when the path ahead is clearly poisonous.
If you find yourself in a situation where you're "vomiting kittens"—metaphorically speaking—it might be time to stop and realize that the revenge isn't worth the soul you're losing to get it.
What to do next
If the body horror in this episode fascinated you, your next step should be checking out the source material. The series is based on the novel by Todd Grimson. Reading the book provides a lot more context for the "white jaguar" mythology and the specifics of the curse that the show hints at but doesn't always explain in detail.
Also, look into the filmography of David Cronenberg. If you enjoyed the "hole in the body" and "biological magic" aspects of this episode, movies like Videodrome or eXistenZ are the spiritual ancestors of what Antosca and Zion are doing here.
Understanding the "Long 90s" aesthetic can also deepen your appreciation for the show. This was a time of massive transition in film, moving from practical effects to the early, often clunky, days of CGI. The show’s reliance on practical-looking, "goopy" effects is a direct homage to that era of filmmaking.
Stop looking for a clean resolution. This episode is the middle of a bridge that is currently on fire. The only way out is through, and it’s only going to get weirder from here. Trace the movement of the kittens. Note who touches them and where they go. They are the currency of this world, and the debt is coming due.