Community S05E12: “Basic Story”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of “your ass getting appraised, insurance style!”

Now that’s more like it, Community!  This was one bonkers episode, and I loved every minute of it.  I mean, who better than Broken Lizard’s Jay Chandrasekhar to step up as director and steer the bizarre comedic sensibilities interwoven throughout?  From Dean Pelton attempting to commit suicide by vending machine to hardcore buried treasure twerking, I laughed raucously for the duration.

I consider this an even more impressive feat when considering that “Basic Story” amounted, essentially, to a set-up episode.  I mean, for crying out loud, Abed’s B-story involved him running around Greendale in a desperate attempt to manufacture some form of narrative, unaccustomed as he is to a sense of normalcy on campus.  As far as I could discern, the meta-commentary that resulted from this seemed to speak to Community‘s penchant for the wacky, to situational comedies in general that require some kind of incident to jumpstart the episode’s plot, and to “Basic Story” serving as an obvious set up.  Some great sight gags resulted from Abed’s attempt to unearth a narrative from the mundane goings-on of a “normal” day at Greendale: the pan over to a student slurping down chicken soup, a rather lengthy shot of students rifling through the library stacks, the steady cam shot tracing Abed’s frantic search for…well, for, anything.  It was all so bizarre (um, hey there, Abed with a beard, what up?), but in the world of Community, it worked.  It worked better than it should have.

Of course, Abed’s quest for some kind of story came about due to the unequivocal success of the Save Greendale Committee.  The demonologist has exorcised the gymnasium of malevolent spirits!  Vending machines are no longer death traps!  The soccer field has grass!  What else is there to do?  In other words, Annie’s bulletin board of success stories is all filled up, so all the Committee can do is savor the atypical feelings of contentment and accomplishment.

That is, until the drunk school board guys decide to try to sell Greendale off to the highest bidder.  Enter an insurance appraiser, armed with a flashy new briefcase and a rather loose definition of “dog”, and we have a story!  Unfortunately, the appraiser cannot find too many flaws with Greendale because of the Committee’s success, so Greendale actually has value!  Yay!  Unfortunately, that means it’s going to be sold to Subway for a profit and become a sandwich university!  Boo!**

**I loved that Subway would be the company to take over Greendale and not just because the library’s been renamed “Subwayary” because yes.  Subway has a unique relationship with cult NBC shows (oh hey, Chuck, how you doin’?), so it worked, again, better than it should have.

Of course, all this is back story for the true narrative we’ll get next week.  As Dean Pelton finishes crying on the floor in his tighty-whities and packing up his office (not necessarily in that order), he, Annie, and Abed find a treasure map behind the portrait of Russell Borchard, infamous maker of love to various pieces of technology and a surprising dead ringer for Chris Elliot–hey, wait a minute!  This, clearly, was the episode’s goal: put the treasure map in the hands of our beloved characters and let the hunt begin…next week.

Along the way, Jeff proposes marriage to Britta…*Dramatic tire squeal* Yeah, I know.  It’s random.  Let’s see what happens next week because, as much as I thought this episode delivered the comedic goods consistently, we sort of have to.  “Basic Story” couldn’t really stand on its own story-wise, which is fine because this is definitely one of the most entertaining (and unapologetically obvious) set-up episodes I’ve seen.

So grab your map and your Subway undershirt, and get ready!  We’ll see you next week.

 

Quotes from the Refurbished Study Room

– Shirley: “I got a problem.  I don’t like Abed’s problem with our lack of problems.”

– Hickey: “I’ve seen insurance appraisers bleed.  Their blood is different.  Darker.”

– Jeff: “This inspection is going to be the most boring thing to happen to Greendale since Britta dated Troy.”  Zing!

– Hickey: “If I have to come over there, there’s going to be two sounds: me hitting you…twice.”

– Dean Pelton [trying to pull vending machine on top of himself]: “Let me be one of the six this year!”

Parenthood S05E21: “I’m Still Here”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of “mold free living at its finest.”

I’m going to go on whatever official record there is right now and admit it, right out loud: this episode ranks amongst my all time favorite Parenthood installments.  I mean, this puppy had it all.  Fantastic character pairings!  An awkward Braverman selfie!  Sweet and sour ham balls!  What else could you want from a television episode?  Well if your answer is “quite a bit more than a recipe for sweet and sour ham balls” I don’t blame you, and “I’m Still Here” would respond in kind by providing one emotional gut-punch after another.  Seriously, Parenthood, leave my fragile heart alone.  It is not your personal punching bag.

Well, ladle yourself a bowl of Julia’s harvest stew and pull up a chair.  Let’s get to it!

 

Hank and Amber

Parenthood doesn’t have to work any harder to convince us that Hank would be an excellent addition to the Braverman clan bc it’s totes obvi already, but this week devoted a considerable amount of its time showing us  how truly indispensable he has become.  I mean, let’s just say it: the man speaks Max.  When he comes bursting into the studio with a frantic Amber chasing after him, vehemently spouting off about her sudden change to his stringent schedule, it’s clear Sarah’s eldest, for all her patience, feels overwhelmed and frustrated.  One overturned lamp later, Hank talks Max down and gets him to do his homework.  If you didn’t go “awwww” and smile, then you–sir or madam–need to see a doctor bc I fear your heart has atrophied and you may or may not be dead.  For me, this scene spelled #HeartMelting.

But Hank would prove himself even more valuable to Amber later on in the episode.  After dropping off Max for another scheduled photography session the next day, she receives a phone call and, outside of his studio, collapses onto the ground.  Rushing to her aid, Hank learns the contents of the phone call: Ryan has been in an accident and languishes in critical condition at a San Diego hospital.  Amber insists on clambering into the car and driving herself, but Hank offers to drive her, seeing she is in no condition to do so herself**.  Now, I’m no cartographer, but traveling from the Bay Area to San Diego ain’t no hop, skip, and a jump away.  Mark this #HeartMelting incident, number two, shall we?

**In the midst of trying to help Amber, Hank never lost track of Max’s needs.  I loved his insistence that Max get himself home, which spoke both to his affinity for the boy as well as his genuine affection, God help him, for all things Braverman.  Just grab your dancing shoes and join the party already, would ya Hank?  I’d love to see his moves at a Spontaneous Braverman Sibling Dance Off.  Please let the happen.

At the hospital, Hank stays with Amber until Sarah arrives.  He stands in such a beautiful contrast to Seth, functioning as a human pillow for Amber while he himself needs to urinate like a prized race horse.  I laughed so hard when Hank tries to flip a magazine up to himself with his foot so as not to wake Amber.  Classic Hank!  Man’s a saint, let’s just say it.  And, from those googly eyes Sarah tossed in Hank’s direction, I ain’t the only who thinking as much.

Despite her conversation with Adam earlier in the episode about the Spectrum standing in the way of a real relationship with Hank, Sarah clearly sees a different side to this lovable curmudgeon.  Look, I’m just saying that if this were middle school, we’d totally be singing “Hank and Sarah sitting in a tree…”

 

Joel and Crosby

Great use of Joel this week.  Back when the mold plotline began, I didn’t consider that it would serve as the catalyst for Joel’s reintegration into the Braverman clan.  I mean, we’re still not one hundred percent sure that’s where they’re going, but it seems pretty likely.

Last week, Crosby learned that the mold had spread throughout his house and floorboards needed ripping up, so Joel bops by to offer a second opinion.  It turns out Crosby not only has standing water in his crawlspace (not a euphemism) but also a bad case of “getting ripped off.”  Joel suggests Crosby make like a man and hit up the manliest of man stores, Home Depot, and just #DIY already.  Crosby tries to enlist Joel’s help, but he politely declines.

That Pete is the one to remind Joel that he is a family man felt earned and well-played.  She says there’s a reason he spurned her flirtations over the past several months, and it’s because his family means the most to him.  Thanks, Pete!  You’re still sort of the worst, but, ya know, progress!  Before you can say character revitalization, Joel grabs his tool bag, drops by Crosby’s house, and starts bandying about the pronoun “we” in terms of how to fix the floor.  Joel, you’re back!  You’re a human being again!  We’ve missed you so!

In no time, Joel assists in the removal of Crosby’s spores (not a euphemism), and the two are bonding with a beer and cell phone of family videos.  Crosby openly admits to missing Joel, and it’s clear Joel misses this too.  I mean, he asks after Julia for the first time in, like, a dog’s age.  Hurray for common human decency!  In fact, after leaving Crosby’s, Joel drops by his own home and offers to fix the broken dishwasher.  (#Symbolism) Julia took care of that already, but Joel takes the opportunity to ask how she’s feeling about the impending sale of The Braverman Homestead.

They talk like adults.  Joel doesn’t bring up Ed.  It’s a delight.  There seems to be light at the end of this narrative tunnel, and thank God.  Now I only sort of kind of want to knee Joel in the jellybeans!

 

Kristina and Gwen

With the recently obtained charter in their pockets, Adam, Kristina, Evan, and Julia congregate to look at a possible space for their school.  Talk about an awkward hug between Julia and Evan, am I right?  Very smooth, you two.  Ray Charles could see something going on between them.  Anyway, Kristina falls in love with the place, but there’s a small problem: the city owns the lease.

Evan suggests calling their school The Braverman Academy, but Adam and Kristina don’t want the name going to Max’s head (ha!) so they table that discussion for a later time.

In an episode filled with heart-crushing phone calls, this one takes the cake: Gwen’s sister calls Kristina to insist she come visit her sick friend.  The implications of that are clear; Gwen is dying.  At her bedside and with tears choking her every word, Kristina tells Gwen about the potential new facility.  Gwen’s eyes flutter open, and the two lock stares.  It’s a beautiful moment.

This also strengthens Kristina’s resolve to obtain the lease for that building, as if she’s doing this for Gwen, so she goes to Bob Little (ugh) and tells him to hand it over not because it’s a financially smart thing to do but, for once, it’s the right thing.  Again, a great scene and Monica Potter nailed it.

Later in the episode, Kristina receives another phone call: Gwen has died.  Wracked with severe survivor’s guilt, Kristina breaks down to Adam, wondering if she was alone?  Scared?  She wonders why Gwen had to die when she herself grew healthier and stronger.  It’s a devastating scene that these two pull off masterfully.

But wait.  I hope you’re not out of tears because the waterworks have no intention of stopping just yet!  Kristina later receives a posthumous package from Gwen.  Inside is a symbolic oak tree sapling and a massive endowment for Kristina’s school venture.  And just like that, the school has a name: Gwen Chambers.

Perfect.

 

Elsewhere, Drew and Natalie finally get together at some kind of Primal Scream event (oh college), Julia confesses to Sarah about sleeping with Evan***, Zeek and Camille continue packing up their home and lives, and Julia and Evan end things before they really start.

***When was the last time you confessed to boinking a PhD student amidst a chit-chat concerning the nuanced preparation of Harvest Stew and Sweet and Sour Ham Balls?  The answer is every Sunday because duh.

This episode accomplished a great deal in Parenthood’s trademark emotional manner.  A wonderful hour of television and a brilliant set-up for what will no doubt prove an excellent season finale next week.  I don’t look forward to a Braverman-less summer, but I can’t wait to see how this mostly fantastic season wraps up.

 

Conversation Around the Dinner Table

– Kristina: “I wanna say thank you. I don’t think I could have done any of this without your help.  I don’t want to let you go.  I love you.”

– Joel: “Watching you hold a saw like that offends me.”

– Crosby: “You ever want to record an album, you come see me.  It’s on the house.”

Joel: “Finally.”

– Joel: “Zeek Braverman is selling his house.”

Crosby: “Yeah.  It’s like the foreshadowing of the apocalypse.  Raining frogs or the Cubs winning the World Series.  It’s scary.”

You Can’t Go Home Again: Catching Up with Justified Part II, S05E10 through S05E12

…a series of episodes reminding us all the importance of “sitting high in the fabled catbird seat.”

Do you mind if I cut right to the quick?  Look, Justified is one of TV’s best shows (which is why, of the several dozen I watch on a weekly basis, I opted to cover it), but I think we can all agree that this season hasn’t been as tightly plotted as its earlier installments might have suggested.  A great deal transpired in the back third here, but not all of it is working.

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to tackle this recap in a slightly different way than normal.  Would that be okay with you?  That’s a rhetorical question btw bc I’m totally going to do it anyway.  Let’s wade through the four characters central to the ongoing narratives in this string of episodes: Raylan, Boyd, Darryl Crowe, and (ugh) Ava.

Well, what’re we waiting for?  Those cigarette packs aren’t going to explode themselves!  Right, Mr. Picker?

 

Raylan, or “Sad Mr. Angry Pants”

Man, this show loves putting US Deputy Marshall Raylan Givens through the proverbial ringer, doesn’t it?  And I’m not just talking about the downright cruel nicknames the flotsam and jetsam of Harlan County have been doling out behind his back: Officer Buzzkill, Pastor Raylan, and Mr. Insensitivity.  Ouch, you guys!  (#Sticks&Stones)

Seriously, though, where to begin?  Let’s start with the obvious: Allison broke up with Raylan at the end of last week’s episode, and the breakup stuck.  *Sad trombone noise* And even though she has taken herself out of Raylan’s orbit, she finds herself still very much caught within the gravitational field of Planet Crowe.  I mean, Kendall’s dropping by her house like it ain’t no thang, spouting off romanticized nonsense about running away together.  Um, gross?

But just because Raylan isn’t doing the horizontal mambo with Allison any more doesn’t mean he has stopped caring about her.  In fact, he thinks the Crowes are going to go after her because they’re, ya know, nuts and stuff, so he brings it to Art’s attention.  Mr. Mullen, if you recall, cannot move past his not-so-dormant rage toward Raylan for his involvement with Nicky Augustine’s murder, and so he dismissively agrees to take care of it himself…

…and ends up getting shot in the stomach several times in an effort to protect Allison.

If there’s one thing you should know, it’s that Raylan doesn’t deal with his emotions very well.  At his own admission, Art’s one of the people in the world he cares about, so homeboy wants to go all clandestine ninja warrior and start cracking heads.  Hm.  I must have missed that step of the grieving process.

Art–comatose but not dead–is the father Arlo never could be; Raylan would never admit that aloud, but now faced with his surrogate father’s possible mortality, it seems as clear to us as it is to him.  That clarity comes into even crisper focus during Raylan’s car ride to the hospital with Art’s wife, wherein she condemns him for his absence.  He should have been there.  Where was he? she demands.  It’s a great, deeply metaphorical conversation.  As Raylan realizes the life of his father-figure remains in dire jeopardy, Mrs. Mullen’s words illuminate a second evident truth: his palpable absence from the life of his daughter in Florida could also yield catastrophic results.  Ouch.

To compound Raylan’s grief, it seems as if Darryl sets up Kendall (the one Crowe for whom Raylan seemed to take a bit of a shine to in earlier episodes) to take the fall for Art’s shooting.  Smelling a steaming poo pie, our favorite US Deputy Marshall tries to force Darryl into a confession; with the help of Vasquez, the Marshall’s office opts to try Kendall as an adult.  Wendy, crushed, later admits to Raylan in heart-breaking fashion that she failed Kendall as a mother.  We can see this, too, hits close to home for Raylan, failing spectacularly as a parent in his own right.

Talk about an express train to Bummersville!  And what’s worse, his journey to track down Dewey Crowe lands him face-to-face with the rascaliest of rascals: Dickie Bennett.  Yes, the same Dickie Bennett who strung up Raylan and treated him like a human piñata back in season two.  It’s hard out there for a US Marshall.  Still, what an amazing scene, particularly Bennett’s hilarious monologue, which I’ve painstakingly recreated below.  You’re totes welcome, obvi.

All things told, I’m loving the Raylan angle to all of this, exposing his insecurities about familial responsibility and well-guarded vulnerability when it comes to those he cares bout.  I’m looking forward to watching Raylan Givens handle all this come the finale!

 

Boyd, or “The Human Exploder”

Fun fact: drug cartels aren’t the biggest fans of partners who misplace massive drug shipments!  (#TheMoreYouKnow)  But, ever the most articulate of human cockroaches, Boyd’s not going to let a little international business feud keep him down.  No way, Jose!  Plus, he’s evidently been taking night classes at the Walter White Academy because kablooie, am I right?

Mr. Picker and Mr. Duffy, whose lives are also on the line, are none too pleased with Boyd’s case of the whoopsie-daisies.  At their first of two sit-downs, Mr. Picker has a rather, shall we say, aggressive solution to their problem: decapitate Boyd and send his noggin first class express mail to the exotic climes of Meh-he-co.  Well, gosh darn it, that course of action doesn’t sit well with Mr. Crowder or Mr. Picker, whose soft spot for Boyd is well documented.

We’ve been down this road before, but it was a hoot watching Boyd weasel his way out of this jam.  In one of Justified‘s most gruesome deaths, Mr. Picker literally explodes when Boyd tosses him a rigged cigarette packet.  Owie.  Talk about a messy clean up!  Poor Mikey.  Dude’s picking up pieces of the late Mr. Picker well into the wee hours of the morn.

Boyd then decides to assist the Marshall’s office in the takedown of Darryl Crowe as a means of evading Mr. Yoon’s goons (#HilariousBandName), who continue to close in with each passing hour.  Also, they want to go all Buffalo Bill and use his skin as a coat or something, so yeah.  Things are tense right now.**  So tense, in fact, that he even agrees to wear a wire in an attempt to record Darryl confessing to Art’s attempted murder!  Aww!  Isn’t that sweet of him?

**Poor Jimmy.  Looks like his last phone call on earth will be to Boyd Crowder.  Scintillating conversationalist though Boyd is, I can understand Jimmy’s disappointment: being a Crowder underling must just suck big time.

I’m looking forward to Boyd out-stmarting Mr. Yoon’s goons in the finale, but I do admit we need to have Boyd do more than that.  He’s a richly complex character, and I’d like to see the other facets of his personality developed in next year’s final season, particularly now that he ostensibly no longer has Ava to ground him.

 

The Crowe Clan, or “Bad Luck and No Brains”

The Crowes are dropping like flies these days, aren’t they?  Kendall’s in juvie on an attempted murder charge he likely did not commit; Dewie’s*** in jail after admitting on tape (thanks Boyd!) that he not only wants heroin to sell for a profit but also that he plugged Wade Messer full of holes.  I sincerely hope someone on the inside can give him a crash course in rudimentary linguistics and explain the difference between “anus” and “onus.”  That had me hysterical.  But back to misfortune!  Danny Crowe fell on his own knife and stabbed himself in the throat!  Classic Danny!  Hell, even Chelsea the pooch kicked it.  Someone send the surviving Crowes a bountiful cheese and wine basket because families, am I right?

***The finish line for Dewey Crowe seems a far cry from where he started out the season: claiming a settlement, buying pool, and generally living it up.  His destination seemed inevitable though, what with his mush for brains. My two favorite Dewey moments were when he let his car full of heroin coast down a hill, and the old lady interrupting him siphoning her gas.  Apparently, she has a different understanding of what comprises a warm meal: shotgun shells!  Watching her chase him off his property and cursing at him had to be a highlight for us because it felt like the lowest of lows for Mr. Crowe.

And then there were two: Wendy and Darryl.

Homegirl seems like a shell of her former self now that Kendall’s seemingly taken the fall for Darryl.  Those damn Seminole Indian blood oaths really put the youngest Crowe into a bit of a pickle, wouldn’t you say?  I almost don’t want Danny to get his comeuppance yet so we can have a little bit more of him next year.  Michael Rappaport has been crushing it as Darryl this year.

Wendy finds herself in a pit of despair, having been knocked around literally by Darryl and metaphorically by her realization that she is #WorldsWorstMom.  Pop that on a coffee mug!  Alicia Witt is a fine performer, but I’m not sure the show has done enough to make me care about her plight here because Wendy is sort of the worst?  However, her last minute act of defiance–refusing to do Darryl’s dirty work of obtaining Boyd’s hidden heroin–portends possible involvement next week in bringing her brother down.  I wouldn’t mind that one little bit!

Just don’t kill off Darryl!  That’s all I ask.  He’s too amazing.

 

Ava, or “Queen Sh*t of ***k Mountain”

For me, the amount of time we’re spending on Ava’s plot line is really a problem for Justified.  Not only is it so obviously disconnected from the rest of the serialized narrative, but it also happens to be a real yawner.

Ava kills Judith.  Ava pulls a Lady MacBeth and scrubs out the blood.  Ava fills the power vacuum.  Some female inmates give her the gift of ice cream as thanks because limited resources.  Ava electioneers in the prison yard for the role of  Judith’s replacement.  Some non-ice-cream-donating prisoners dislike Ava’s style of governance and plot to take her down.  Penny gets stabbed (aw, poor Penny).  Ava wants out of prison but missed her chance to help Raylan find Danny because prison has hardened her.

Just kill her off already, please.

This show’s main asset has been its almost unparalleled ability to weave a complex, intertwined narrative with efficiency and ruthless narrative momentum.  In my estimation, Ava’s plot single-handedly undermines this strength.  I haven’t cared all season, and the longer this goes on, the less I care.  Her ascent to the apex of the prison drug trade?  Shrug.  And how cliche can we get in allowing her stint in the big house to strip away Ava’s old self?

Ugh.  Justified can do so much better than this.  I’m not angry, just disappointed.

 

I’m looking forward to the season finale, and I am enjoying it overall, but can’t we all agree that this season hasn’t been quite up to the standards of two, three, or four?  I’m sorry, but someone’s got to tell the cold, harsh truth.  But don’t worry: I still love you, Justified.

Chit Chat Around Harlan

– Raylan: “That’s a lot of confidence for a man who wears shorts with combat boots.”

– Art: “If I were to admit hitting [Raylan], could you call it child abuse and take custody of him for me?”

Allison: “I like you.”

– Duffy: “Alberto was it?  Alberto, I’m not one to niggle over management styles, but let’s say you would let me know you were coming, I could have preserved some proof for you.  A head, say.  Or a set of teeth.”

– Raylan: “I’d quit speaking in the third person.”

Dewey: “Third person?  Who?  Him?  What’re you talking about, Raylan?”

– Dickie Bennett: “Go to a Gas N Gulp or whatever and get yourself a map of Kentucky.  Follow Route 9 southbound all the way down with your finger; follow it way, way down until you’re pointing right at your asshole.  Then what you’re gonna do is take your hand and just go ahead and cram it right up inside.  You gotta make sure, Raylan, that you do it in a way so that the rest of you just keeps on following your hand right up your ass, right up inside all that shit that you’re so full of, Raylan.  And then what you’re gonna do is *whistling noise* just wink out of existence forever.”

Community S05E11: “G.I. Jeff”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of being “unable to hear when you’re covered in rocks.”

Earlier in this fifth season, Community used Troy’s impending departure to formulate the basis of its brilliant Mad Max send-up episode “Geothermal Escapism.”  Remember that one?  Abed, unable to cope with the inevitable loss of his friend, constructed an altered reality wherein the college-wide game of Hot Lava became an activity of necessity because the floor had transformed, in Abed’s head, to real lava.  That was some hefty psychoanalytical lifting for a twenty-three minute situational comedy to take on, but the results proved outstanding.  It remains one of Community‘s best episodes.

This theme of actively escaping one’s problems through meticulously rendered psychotic breaks carried over in this week’s animated ep “G.I. Jeff.”  I quite liked most of it, but–unlike “Geothermal Escapism”–the attempt to connect it to Jeff’s psyche didn’t work for me.  Apparently, Mr. Winger consumed a fifth of scotch and took some Korean anti-aging pills rather than cope with the reality of his fortieth birthday.  *Gasp!*    Say it ain’t so!  Turns out, his little bender ended up requiring a brief hospitalization, during which time he imagined life as a G.I. Joe  cartoon ostensibly in a subconscious attempt to cling to his youth.

Um…Sure?

Putting aside the problems resulting from trying to rationalize this episode,** it certainly still had its moments.  But part of me wishes there hadn’t been such a clumsy effort to connect it to the Greendale reality.  I mean, right?   Wouldn’t it have been so Community just to toss this off as an unexplained standalone episode?  Now that would’ve been something!

**I don’t believe this part of Jeff’s character for a minute.  These animated installments have been Abed’s terrain for awhile now, and–while I appreciate the desire not to lay all of these “gimmick” episodes  at Abed’s feet due to his tenuous grip on reality–Jeff just seemed like an odd choice of a character to pick up that particular mantle.

But, damn, this episode cracked me up consistently throughout.  From its faux-scratches peppering the screen as a tribute to the film quality of the 80s to the poor lip synchronization, the attention to detail (something I’ve commented on before) really shined here.  Plus, what a gallery of cartoon dopplegangers!  Wingman!  Buzzkill!  Fourth Wall!  Three Kids (all the lol @ every time Shirley cried out, “I’ve got three kids!”)! Overkill! Vice Cobra Assistant Commander!  Brilliant.

I also loved the affectionate, little nods to the G.I. Joe of yesteryear.  The credits!  That theme song!  When bullets shredded Dethstro’s parachute and plummeted him to his death, I laughed.  When the camera held on the shocked faces of fellow G.I.s, I howled.  For all the bullets that flew in the original show, they never landed, and our heroes and villains of Cobra lived to fight another day.  Cobra henchmen couldn’t grasp the nuances of a finely written eulogy here because, well, no one has ever died on the show.  Until Wingman, that is!  The running gag about the characters never killing each other just didn’t get old for me, and kudos for turning suppressive fire into a Cobra massacre.  A hilarious, macabre touch.

I suppose no review of this episode would be complete without a mention of those lovingly created live-action commercials that appeared each time Wingman had a seizure at the mention of Greendale because, again, sure. The arc for the TV advertisements was great, too.  Jeff’s increasingly active control of the toys, culminating in crashing a helicopter into the little boy’s head, served as a nice coda.***

***Speaking of codas, I had hoped for a PSA, and who better to serve it in that stinger than Buzzkill?  She Britta’ed it but good, and I mean that in the best possible way.

Look, I can completely see where you’re coming from if you thought this episode little more than an extended Robot Chicken sketch.  I’d never defend this as one of Community‘s finest half-hours (I wouldn’t put it near the top twenty-five, actually), but it was funny and entertaining enough, and at least Harmon and company went for broke with it.  But from Community, would we expect anything less?

 

Quotes from the Refurbished (and Animated!) Study Room

– Wingman: “Your outfit is three layers of racist!”

– Wingman: “I keep having these visions…about little boys.”

Three Kids: “And are these visions something we should be sharing with the authorities?”

– Abed: “Imaginary Britta is right.  And only imaginary Britta.”

– Shirley: “This is Korean.”

Chang: “What am I?”

Shirley: “You’re Chinese!”

Chang: “I swear to God, I feel Korean.”

You Should Be Watching, Vol. 1: “Nurse Jackie”

While critics herald shows like Homeland, Masters of Sex, and (inexplicably) Ray Donavan as the crown jewels in Showtime’s line-up, Nurse Jackie  has quietly established itself as the best comedy on the network and very likely one of the best shows you’re not watching.  This past Sunday, Showtime debuted the sixth season premiere of its dark comedy alongside the seventh (and final) season premiere of Californication.  Neither of these shows put up big numbers, even by Showtime’s admittedly lower ratings standards, but while the latter has been in a steady decline for awhile now, Nurse Jackie continues to improve, which in and of itself qualifies as a small miracle.

Let’s just say it.  Showtime’s track record of sustaining its comedies deep into their lives has not been the best, whether that meant beating a beloved show to death (see: Weeds), axing it before it had the chance to build a sufficient audience (see: Huff), or completely failing to capitalize on its premise and cast (see: House of Lies).  With Nurse Jackie already renewed for a seventh season and its quality seemingly untarnished, that–at least–requires more than a perfunctory mention.  Nay, ’tis a cause for celebration!  Huzzah!

I’m going to be honest: I love this show to pieces, and it’s one of those series I genuinely look forward to each spring.  The other is this little show you might have heard of called Game of Thrones.  Pretty impressive company, don’t you think?

Sunday’s opener found Jackie Peyton once again at the mercy of her drug addiction, and despite the inevitability of this, the show continues to find new ways to make her addiction compelling.  For starters, there have been–and will no doubt continue to be–real, tangible consequences to Jackie’s actions.  At the end of last season, she conceded full custody of her two daughters (Grace and  Fiona) to her husband, Kevin.  But even more alarming is Grace’s own struggle with addiction, a habit she picked up from Mommy Dearest.  I loved the cross-cutting employed in that opening sequence; as Jackie clandestinely scored drugs from her gym’s towel girl, we watched Fiona’s dalliance with powder unfold in a powerful and quietly damning way for this frustrating anti-hero.  She’s been a disarming and fascinating centerpiece to this show all along, and it seems like Nurse Jackie has found new ways to deepen her.

Jackie’s addiction has, of course, grounded this series since its inception, but it became increasingly evident over the years that drugs were the least of her worries.  Ms. Peyton’s true addiction is deception.  For much of the show’s earlier run, Jackie had to hide the truth of her usage and her infidelity, and she felt the rush of maintaing those lies.  This year, however, her manipulation of the truth comes branded as a horse of an entirely different color.

Now, she has to play the role of the recovering addict for the likes of her family and friends, so hear her roar!  Except of course, she’s still sneaking out of AA meetings to swallow handfuls of pills and hiding her stash behind the kitchen light switch plate.  The thought of Jackie now having to balance that external representation of herself as a reformed addict with her private reality of ongoing addiction will no doubt prove fascinating.  Plus, homegirl’s got a legit sponsor, played by Julie White (who you might remember as annoying the ever-loving crap out of you as Six Feet Under‘s Mitzi Dalton Huntley).  A self-professed loudmouth, something tells me Jackie’s sponsor will see right through her lying before too long.

I dug the water motif throughout the premiere as well: Jackie as a swimmer bookending the episode, while a perspective shot from a sinkful of water grounded the middle stretch.  While not original, the ablutionary symbolism of Jackie’s rebirth into a new breed of liar seems particularly relevant by the episode’s end.  When Jackie learns her drug supplier’s been fired for, ya know, supplying drugs to members, Jackie stares into the myriad reflections of herself, as if drowning in a sea of her various identities: nurse, mother, addict, liar.  The list, like those reflections, seems to stretch forever.  If that shot taught us anything, it’s this: Jackie hasn’t hit rock bottom yet.  Oh boy.

Nurse Jackie also earns big bonus points for featuring the beyond-superlative amazingness that is (#EmmyWinner) Merritt Wever’s Zoe.  Seriously, nobody on television slides across a floor in a rolly chair like Ms. Wever.  I love her so much, even though I wish they gave her more to do than flit into and out of relationships.  Still, I’ll endure that because her friendship with Jackie is one of the funniest female pairings on television.

And that’s to mention nothing of the phenomenal gallery of supporting characters: lovable goofball Dr. Cooper (whose impending fortieth birthday fills him with existential dread), uber-administrator extraordinaire Gloria Akalitus, ER chief (and Zoe’s not so secret bedroom companion) Dr. Prentiss, pill dispensary and veritable horn dog Eddie, and let’s not forget–though how could we?–the diabetic, football-loving male nurse Thor. It’s a kooky clan for sure, but All Saints Hospital, and television itself, wouldn’t be the same without them.

Even if you’ve never caught an episode of Nurse Jackie, don’t let that  stop you from jumping in now.  You’ll pick it up immediately and likely fall for it just as quickly. With its excellent characters, sharp writing, and nuanced performances, Nurse Jackie is one show you most definitely should be watching.

Community S05E10: “Advanced Advanced Dungeons & Dragons”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of “the dingleberry smash.”

Throughout its run, the brilliance of Community has stemmed from its fearless originality.  No niche, it seemed, was too esoteric; Dan Harmon and company mined comedic gold from whichever flight of fancy they desired.  So, when a show with such boundless creativity opts to revisit an earlier conceit, it had better bring it.  Look, it might not be fair, but was there ever a point when you weren’t actively comparing this installment against the vastly superior entry from the mind-bogglingly outstanding second season?  What can I say?  It’s the nature of Human Beings.

And, in light of that inevitable comparison, I couldn’t shake the fact that this episode was just…unnecessary?  In fact, it managed to encapsulate my initial reticence upon the announcement of Harmon’s return.  Would he, to quote the Boss, relish in the glory days as a way to prove to his audience what a mess the much-maligned fourth season truly was?  Clearly, after this episode, the answer seems a categorical yes.

Now, just wait a tick.  Before you start mailing me the desiccated corpses of sky spiders in utter outrage, hear me out.  Trust me, it’s Community, so I laughed.  I laughed a whole lot.  But let’s just pause for a second and place this episode within the show’s broader context.  If this had aired last year, wouldn’t most of us have slammed it for trying too hard to recapture the comedic heights of yesteryear?  Don’t try to dodge the question because the answer is obviously yes.  We would have.  But weren’t you, deep down, trying to convince yourself you liked it more than you did?  After all, it’s Dan Harmon!

I appreciated the fact that this go-around of “D&D” centered around Buzz Hickey and applaud the desire to deepen his character’s relationship with his other son, Hank,** and Hank’s son, Sebastian.  Jonathan Banks is amazing (always has been and always will be), and I’ve enjoyed what he’s brought to this character, but the emotional core this time didn’t resound as potently here as it did in season two when playing the game meant saving Neil’s life.   We dealt with the dad issue with Jeff last season–fairly well, I thought, despite the naysaying of detractors–so what we’re left with is a recycled idea with a recycled undercurrent.  Hence my unshakeable feeling of it being unnecessary.  Plus, I’ll just say it: is Hickey worthy of our sympathy?  The guy’s funny with his insistence on punching people and hobgoblins (but no ladies bc duh) in the heart, but is he really a good dad?  I’m not so sure.

**Not the gay one.  Him he gets.  Love it.

Of course, David Cross playing Buzz’s son Hank earned this episode a few extra points because the man can do no wrong; only he could sell that sepia-toned, artistically out of focus musical number that felt like something pulled out of a cut scene from The Hobbit.  So, again, at least the episode brought the funny.  After all, with Hector the Well-Endowed reprising his role and Annie spraying down enemies with his massively imaginary ding dong, how bad can the episode really be?

As with most episodes of Community, recounting the plot machinations saps the joy out of it, so you won’t find me doing that here.  But a special shout out needs to go out to Dean Pelton.  My stomach hurt from laughing at the site of him rubbing the hilt of his sword to a picture of Jeff propped up on the windowsill.  Typing this, I’m laughing again.  And how about his positively phallic death when he forces himself on Jeff’s drawn sword?  Amazing.  That Pelton’s character is also Jeff’s character’s son only adds to the awkward Oedipal hilarity of it all.

Abed is a cruel Dungeon Master and his tightly orchestrated quest finds the gang (Crouton, Dingleberry, and Fibrosis amongst them) making their way to the Black Tower (#StephenKingReference) to defeat the dreaded Necromancer.  Along the way, Abed peppers the journey with symbolic intent: most notably, Hank literally burns a bridge that plunges the group into a river current.  The dude’s got control issues.  But rest assured, Hickey uses his own brand of acumen to get his team back on track.***  Just to reinforce the Abed’s penchant for the symbolic, both Hank and Buzz arrive at the Black Tower but their bickering provides the Necromancer with an opportunity to escape down a rear hatch.  The intention is clear: father and son are willfully blocking one another from being able to come together.  As Abed said, if they could just get their crap together, Buzz and Hank might be able to do something about their dysfunctional relationship.

***I’m going on official record to decree it the single best hobgoblin interrogation/waterboarding scene of all time.  Danny Pudi’s dual Gollum-esque performance only added to it.  Funniest scene of the episode for me, hands down.

In the end, this episode didn’t tickle my fancy to the extent that last week’s brilliant installment did.  It had its moment, but there seemed a fundamental miscalculation here; we love Community because it continues to push the envelope and surprise us.  While the mention of a “D&D” revisit sounded initially appealing, its inconsistent delivery only reinforced that aforementioned strength.  But, hey, sometimes we need to be reminded about the things right in front of our faces.  Even when those things include the massive members of Hector the Well-Endowed.

 

Quotes from the Refurbished Study Room 

-Chang: “Too cool for street insurance?  Excuse me…”

– Pelton: “Okay, it’s short notice, but I think it’ll be good for me.”

– Pelton [gasping for air]: “FATHER!”

– Jeff: “Go find a name that’s not just another creature’s name plus hob!”

– Hickey: “I’ve punched about a thousand hearts in my life.  I never, never missed.”

Abed: “Have you ever been a three foot tall halfling running through two foot vines trying to punch a seven foot monster?”

– Hank: “You know where he was on most of my birthdays?  I little place that rhymes with not there.”

Chang: “Times Square?”

Parenthood S05E20: “Cold Feet”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of “being lower on the cool-o’meter.”

One of the many qualities I admire about Parenthood is that, although its storytelling is highly serialized, each season contains a definitive beginning, middle, and end.  That’s not to say significant events from previous seasons do not have lingering effects in future years (Kristina’s grueling battle with cancer in the show’s outstanding fourth season continues to motivate her character in interesting ways, for instance), but this show avoids the temptation to leave us with a cliffhanger.  So, with this mostly stellar fifth season drawing to a close and the end standing clearly in sight, we saw Parenthood take meaningful steps toward providing resolution to its myriad narratives this week.

Before we get to the particular developments of the episode, I wanted to pause and share an observation I found this week.  As we hopped from one plot to the next, one phrase continued to recur: “it’s a _________ thing.”  Various characters filled in that blank in different ways.  Ed said his friendship with Julia was a “good” thing; Evan Knight said that Julia dropping by his house (more on that later) was “a Braverman” thing; Hank chalked up his social awkwardness to “an Aspergers” thing.  The repetition of such phraseology does not seem random.  Rather, the many characters, whether of the Braverman dynasty or simply caught in its orbit, are in the midst of challenging their previous senses of self.  The times, they are a’ changing, and Parenthood being Parenthood, that means the Bravermans reside at the epicenter of it all.

Anyhow, enough of this high-falutin’ analytical nonsense.  Let’s get to it!

 

Zeek and Camille

It seems like Zeek Braverman was not fooling around when he told Millie last week (after his deeply symbolic Oregon-bound quest with Crosby to obtain a rare grille for his car) that he wanted to accept the buyer’s offer for The Braverman Homestead.  Whoa!  This is really happening, and Camille and Zeek sat down and signed the relevant paperwork to prove it.  That must have been an emotional decision for them.  Boy can I relate because once I bought a flat screen television from Best Buy and did not want to say goodbye to my old one.  But it was so worth it in the end (all those pixels!), and I have a sneaking suspicion that our Braverman patriarch and matriarch will find that out soon enough!

We’ve grown accustomed, over the course of the season, to Zeek’s reticence toward the move, so it felt extra meaningful this week when Camille interrupted Zeek boxing up family valuables** and paused to reflect on the various trinkets acquired over the years.  The sentimentality and ensuing uncertainty that spilled out of Camille felt honest, real, and raw.  I loved how Zeek had to become the one to remind Millie of the soundness of their decision.  What a great reversal.

**Excellent system there.  Um, why were the first things designated to the trash box the sweetly sentimental artifacts given to and created by his children?  No house means the systematic murder of pleasant family memories apparently.  Ha!  Classic Zeek!

Okay, I know I’m not the only one who felt like Zeek’s walk-through of the potential new house was more for my personal benefit than Millie’s.  Right?  With each new space, I found myself nodding.  I could see a spontaneous Braverman dance party breaking out in the living room.  And plenty of heartfelt conversations could take place on the back deck overlooking that breath-taking scenic expanse.  It’s a keeper, Millie!  Plus, that scene between the two of them weaving through the house?  The small character moment that Parenthood nails every single time.

What a great new chapter for these two, not to mention an excellent potential plot for season six.  Yes please!

 

Julia and Evan

Remember when you threw up in your mouth a little bit at the end of last week’s episode watching Julia met up with Ed for a drink?  Oh, that was just me?   My bad.  Anyway, at the beginning of the episode, Julia seemed interested in perhaps pursuing her dalliance with Ed a tad further and sought out Kristina for a bit of friendly advice vis a vis the horizontal mambo.***  Kristina not only reminds her not to do something that Julia might later regret but also asks her to look over some of the charter school paperwork.

***Turns out Kristina has a slight case of straight up horndogging on strangers.  Girl, you bad!

Donning her lawyer hat once again, Julia finds herself energized, eager to immerse herself in that world, even briefly, again–and nothing gives Julia the glow like reams of paperwork.  But you know what?  It really turns Ed’s crank, who compliments her newfound vibrancy.  But, sorry, Ed.  You can replicate Food Network recipes  for molten lava cake all you want.  Julia’s not ready for a relationship, and your awkward across-the-table hand fondling didn’t help the situation!  Julia flat-out bounces with her belly full of home cooking and a parting thanks for helping out with a spreadsheet.  Hurray Julia!

But amidst all this, Mr. Evan Knight and Julia are introduced because of the ongoing Braverman High School project.  Taking the bull by the proverbial horns, Julia schedules a meeting with the local school board to present the charter proposal.  She thinks their case would be stronger if Evan stepped forward as official headmaster, though the PhD candidate and teaching wunderkind seems unsure.  And then, as is a bizarre pattern of behavior with Bravermans, she drops by his house and tries to pressure him further.

There was then the single most EXPLOSIVE Board of Education meeting montage in the history of television.  I mean, it got real.  Really real.  Fade ins, fade outs, passionate declarations, and Evan stepping forward as headmaster.  Needless to say, the Bravermans received their charter because duh.  They then began to chant “Yes we can.”  So, just to catch you up: after it got real, it got real weird.

But before you could say round of lemon drops at an Ashes of Rome record release party, Julia and Evan are bumping uglies.  ALL.  NIGHT.  LONG.  Sorry Ed!  It’s not that Julia didn’t want to be with you; it’s just that she chose to be with someone not like you.  You see the diff, right?  (#ItsNotMeItsYou)

Side bar.  What is this pattern of behavior of Braverman siblings sleeping with people central to Kristina’s and Adam’s lives?  I think we need to start some kind of group.  Seriously, Julia.  You crazy, girl!  If you eff up Braverman High School, my beans will be steamed.  Steamed, I say!

 

Hank and Sarah

We knew things with Sarah weren’t going well when she dropped by Amber’s apartment with a Cuisanart as a means of coping with Mark’s recent engagement.****

****Though thanks for basically kicking Drew in the rump and forcing him to return to campus.  Dude was straight up peeing his mom’s money away due to his recent bout of what doctors call Emo Bullsh*t.  Seriously, Drew.  Quit being such a dingleberry.

But Sarah’s plot this week had little to do with Mark, which was refreshing.  Instead, it focused mostly on Hank, who continues to visit Dr. Pelican as therapist.  Dr. Pelican tries to explain to Hank how Aspbergers affects long-term relationships after Hank fails to recognize (at first) how his decision to follow his daughter to Minnesota at the end of last season might have hurt Sarah.

How much did you love Hank’s confession to Sarah in her apartment about his propensity for pushing people away.  He doesn’t want to push Sarah away, and he tells her as much.  Now that’s growth!  You can, Hank!

If these two end up back together (and they should because yes) by the end of the season, I will fully endorse that.  How Sarah and Hank have found themselves back to each other has felt true.  Somebody call Captain Ahab because I’m shipping these two hard!

Elsewhere, Crosby’s mold situation has resulted in torn-up floorboards throughout his house, Oliver Rome gets wooed by boy band 4D (lol because obvi parallel) as an opening act, Drew and Roberto (#LaxBro) bury the hatchet following a botched attempt to heal over cashew butter thanks to an entertaining pastime known as Truth Telling and Beer Chugging, and Adam mentions Haddie which is EXCELLENT news because I had considered sending out a search party out of fear that the earth had swallowed her up.

The end’s in sight for this season of this great show.  I can’t wait to see how it all shakes out, but I have trust in Jason Katims and company that the ending–in whatever form it takes–will be incredibly satisfying.

 

Conversation Around the Dinner Table

– Sarah: “Mark Cyr got engaged.  I’ve been buying some appliances.  Don’t judge.”

– Crosby: “Oliver likes appletinis.  He’s a lady.”

– Julia: “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

Evan: “No, it’s okay.  Your brother did this to me already.  I’m starting to think it’s a Braverman thing.”

– Drew: “You have terrible taste in music!  My mom makes better CDs than you!”

– Hank: “I don’t want to push you away.  I like being around you too much.”

 

Parenthood S05E19: “Fraud Alert”

…an episode reminding us all the importance of “not living in limbo.”

I have not been shy about extolling the virtues of this fifth season of Parenthood.  Even when it’s been inconsistent (ahem Joel) or implausible (ahem Mayor Kristina), Parenthood never fails to deliver the proverbial goods on the character-based minutia that truly forms the backbone of this series.  I’m not going to address the Joel and Julia stuff this week because frankly I’m tired of it.

All I will mention is the way that this episode opened: a series of Bravermans being interrupted in the midst of bedroom activities: Max interrupting an impending sojourn to “Funky Town” for Adam and Kristina with a declaration never to return to Cedar Knolls again, Zeek’s awkward coitus-interruptus between Jasmine and Crosby to announce his finding of a grille for his car project, and a braying phone awakening Julia about a $468 charge to her credit card (insert sad trombone noise).  She’s alone, it sucks, Joel sucks.  But let’s move on with life here, shall we?  Julia doesn’t want to be stuck in limbo and the way this plotline has been dragged out, I second that motion.  Preach!

Onward and upward, friends.  Let’s dive in and explore what this episode did very well: pairing off characters.

 

Crosby and Zeek

In the midst of the seventy-two hour timeline the realtor granted Camille and Zeek to accept or decline last week’s offer on the Braverman homestead, Zeek opts to get out of dodge (#CarPuns) with Crosby to acquire what he termed the Golden Fleece of grilles.  Much like the yarns of Greek mythology, this journey ends in the mystical land of Eugene, Oregon in the den of one colorful gentleman named Bernie because yes.

Along the way, it’s all chili dogs and glass-shattering opera (seriously, Zeek, spare us) until Crosby brings up the looming decision about what to do with the house.  However, Zeek, adept at avoidance at all costs, has an acute bout of ATV ADD and adds an unexpected detour.  It was around this time in the episode that I began to get a SNEAKING suspicion that this impromptu road trip might be about more than a grille?  Kidding.  Of course I knew all along because, like you, I am not an idiot.

By the time our road-weary travelers reach Bernie’s garage, things do not go well.  Patience has never been a particularly noteworthy attribute of Zeek’s, and he really lets the Oregonian have it when he feels as if he’s being taken for a ride (#CarPuns2).**

**I don’t know about you, but this might have been a subtle commentary on the state of diplomacy in the world, or perhaps Zeek just struggles in the find art of GTFO of his own way.  Either way.

But then, the surprise of the episode: Zeek confesses that this road trip was not really about the trip at all!  I know, I gasped and clutched my pearls like the proper Southern belle I am, too!  Say it ain’t so!  Seriously, though, he’s feeling old and selling the house is just another step in that inevitable process, so he’s wary of it.  Makes sense.  Thankfully, Crosby knows what to do: piss off his wife by buying a motorcycle to make sure his dad gets the grille at the heretofore agreed upon $450.  Classic Crosby!

Oh yeah, and tells Camille upon his return that he wants to sell the house.  Aren’t healing road trips to find long lost, symbolic car parts just the best?  You don’t have to answer that because obviously yes they are.

 

Drew, Victor, and Sydney

This week, we took a break from “The Continuing Journey of Drew, the Pothead Balladeer,” which allowed us to remember that he is actually a delightful and interesting character when not ensnared in a love triangle with an emotionally-wrought ex and a manipulative hell beast.  So hurray!

This really proved a fascinating tangent to pursue in terms of fall out over Julia’s separation from Joel.  Drew has handful of babysitting gigs (that are the #MostDepressingWaysToEarnFortyBucksEver), pairing him off with Sydney and Victor***, his two cousins that he claims hate him.  Maybe they’re listening to his original songs?  Sorry, but probably they were.

***Leave it to Sydney to turn a run-of-the-mill sibling spat over a turn at a video game into an indictment of Victor’s difficulties in school.  Seriously, if ever a character were a hemorrhoid on the underside of Satan’s hindquarters, it’s Sydney.  I don’t care for her ‘tude.  No way, no how.

Until this episode, I never considered how Drew and Amber are very much reflections of Sydney and Victor.  What a perfect opportunity to bond over the crowd-pleasing topic of broken homes!  I’m glad to know roller rinks are still able to bring people together.  I guess clumsily navigating around a slick circle for hours on end will just never get old.

Seriously, this was great stuff, maybe my favorite off-shoot of an overall very drawn out and inconsistent plot.  Not only did it rehabilitate Drew’s character but it also provided us with an insight into the way separation and divorce can both split apart and unite those affected by it.  An excellent paradox handled with subtlety and compassion.  More like this please!  (And a WHOLE lot less of Julia dating Ed because ugh).

 

Sarah and Mark Cyr (HUH?!?!?!?)

Okay, okay.  I buried the lead a bit here.  Yes, Jason Ritter returned this week as English teacher/former fiancee of Sarah Braverman/sporter of unfortunate facial hair Mark Cyr.  It all (re)begins with an incredibly awkward–but perfectly performed–stop-and-chat between him and Amber.  After muddling through the ideal chitchat and pleasantries expected, Mark asks after Sarah and leaves.

In a nice contrast, the scene cuts to Sarah and Hank hanging up a framed copy of the Surf Sport photo that seems to have launched Sarah’s photo career in earnest, now that she and Hank have a follow up gig for some organic skin cream.  The juxtaposition of this editing is clear: Sarah seems perpetually caught between the two men she left.  A deft touch.

But let’s not forget the true victims of Sarah’s artistic success: her neglected tenants, who have been living in LITERAL darkness, adrift in a sea of discarded catalogue.  Who was that lady and why do I want to smack her with one or possibly all of the catalogues?

Amber arrives with news of her run-in with Mark, visibly affecting Hank, who had recently opened up to Sarah about enjoying their time together.****  Before long, Mark calls up, asking to meet face to face for the purpose of relaying big news.

Anyhow, it turns out Mark’s publication in a literary magazine with a circulation of 37 WHOLE PEOPLE wasn’t the sole reason for their meeting.  Also, he’s engaged.  So, there’s that.  What I found amazing is that, after this truth bomb, the two pick up their menus and actually–it seems–have dinner together?  (#BigBowlofAwkward)

****I’m absolutely loving Hank’s continued therapy sessions with Dr. Pelican.  It gives Ray Romano additional chances to shine and more screen time for the best character on the show (imo), so that’s win-win from my perspective!

Great stuff, but nothing worked as well as that sly smile during the photo shoot when Sarah tells Hank about the engagement.  Drop that anchor ’cause I’m shipping these two hard!

 

Elsewhere, Kristina and Adam disprove of the school’s handling of Max’s field trip incident, Max takes up (deeply symbolic) surfing because #CedarKnollsSucks, Joel has no interest in fixing his marriage, as he feels Julia disrespected him in their marriage (seriously, wtf and get a grip), and…oh hi, Jabbar!  Glad you’re still around.  Where you been, boy?

Another solid episode of Parenthood, but that’s a foregone conclusion.  If we can just wrap up the Julia-Joel saga one way or the other and keep Drew out of Natalie’s orbit, then this last string of episodes will just improve on what’s come before.

 

Conversation Around the Dinner Table

– Amber: “Common interests?  It’s not E Harmony.  It’s babysitting.”

– Sarah [to Hank]: “Really, you had a negative outlook on something?  Shocker.”

– Crosby: “I’m going to write a bad review on Yelp about this!”

–

How “The Following” Has Displayed Alarming Irresponsibility

I’m no prude, okay?  If what you’re presenting on film or television (or, of course, in print) has purpose to it, then I’ll consume and likely love what I’m reading or seeing.  I love action movies with teeth-rattling explosions and Liam Neeson kicking ass on planes or in Eastern Europe or wherever there might be a congregation of bad guys in need of an honest-to-goodness whooping.  I relish the subversive delights of a quality horror film (and, in the process of searching for one, I’ll also wade through the many, many, many terrible ones).  I guess my point is that violence does not, per se, offend my delicate sensibilities as I don’t really have any.

So why then am I finding myself so put off by the second season of Fox’s serial killer thriller The Following?

In many ways, this show should be my proverbial jam.  I dig this sub- genre, and my predisposed affection in and of itself carried me through an inaugural season of head-spinningly inconsistent quality.  But something’s changed this year for the worse, and it has to do with the show’s increasingly cavalier depiction of violence.  On the one hand, if you’re watching a series like The Following, you sort of know what you’re getting yourself into and more or less what to expect.  After all, violence has been part of this show’s DNA since its debut; the opening minutes of the pilot episode find Joe Carroll having murdered five guards and escaping prison.  And let’s not forget he’d been locked up in the first place for eviscerating fourteen college girls.  So yeah, The Following established itself and its grisly tone early on.

The grisliness of the violence, however, is not my concern.  The shift in the sophomore season’s public acts of violence is what gives me pause.  Part of Joe Carroll’s villainy has been about dismantling the complacency of the masses; the dude’s sort of messed up in the head, what with this obsession with Poe an all, and he believes in saving the less enlightened, meaning you and I ostensibly.  What makes him such a chilling villain (in the beginning at least) is that he could orchestrate acts of violence anywhere at anytime.  In the pilot, a woman walks into a public building, disrobes, and gouges her eyes out.  Joe Carroll’s minions set up violent tableaus of victims throughout New York City, posed in frequented spaces and venues for the sole purpose of rattling the general public.  So, in some ways, the idea that any given time or place could become the stage for a violent act is not foreign to the show.

This thread continued into the second season.  In the premiere episode, a group of assailants, donning Joe Carroll masks, overwhelm the No. 6 train and slaughter multiple passengers.  Immediately, that didn’t sit well with me; in my mind, there’s a considerable difference between one woman walking into a building and gouging her own eyes out and a trio of people butchering unsuspecting commuters.  Narratively speaking, it’s upping the stakes and the ante, so I get it.  But that doesn’t mean I like it.

This disturbing trend has continued throughout the episodes that followed: a massacre in a book shop, where a masked group cut a bloody swath through the crowd, stabbing and slicing with abandon and–just last week–a shoot out in the hospital where doctors and patients were mowed down as simply matter of course.  As I watched two men (dispatched by Lily Grey to obtain her convalescing son) produce automatic weapons from a tote bag, I cringed.  I knew where this was headed, and I didn’t like it.  Not one little bit.

Because at a certain point, despite something or other benefitting your show from a narrative standpoint, there has to be a sense of moral responsibility, doesn’t there?  We’re living in a time where actual acts of horrifyingly random violence plague us: bombings at marathons, shootings at movie theaters, massacres on school grounds.  This is a reality with which we must all live, and does The Following  have the right to exploit it for the purposes of making a B-grade television show?

On the other hand, you might think it the purpose of the horror genre to hold up a mirror to our fears.  Universally, I would agree with that statement.  Quality works of horror, after all, have taken our societal anxieties and subverted them into a form of subtle commentary.  That is, in my estimation at least, the true purpose of an excellent horror film: to provide us with an artificial and safe experience wherein we can process and purge some of these emotions.  But the key word in this paragraph is subtle.  There’s nothing subtle about what The Following does; it simply recreates random acts of public violence just to get under our skin.

What’s worse, its characters display an alarming indifference.  After the bookstore murder, Ryan Hardy doesn’t even react when an on-duty officer reports five people were murdered.  If Ryan, the protagonist of the series, has such a nonplussed demeanor about this violence, it speaks to the series’ perspective as well.  This is where The Following could, if it wanted to explore this violence in a meditative way rather than exploit it, establish itself as a social commentary.  But Ryan shrugs off the death count, suggesting the way the show itself dismisses the implications of what it’s depicting.

And what it’s depicting isn’t allowing us to confront our very real fears.  The Following just wants to create a world where someone can get stabbed in broad daylight because he reminds a deranged cult member of a high school tormentor.  I’m not naive; I know such random acts of violence occur.  But do we need a television show to remind us of that fact?  Or, at a certain point, doesn’t a show (or film or book) that dwells in this genre take on a responsibility  to do more than just push our buttons?

If The Following wanted to pursue its narrative down this path, I don’t mind.  Go for it.  But do it mindfully because, if this is how you choose to tell your story, it needs to mean more than just a weekly body count that results from that decision.  It requires a nuanced approach, a light touch, even a hopefulness.  We need to know Joe Carroll (and now, I suppose, copycat in the making Lily Grey) are aberrations.  We need to know their violence has an expiration date.  We need to know these lunatics cannot hold us hostage with threats of violence, that the hate and death that populates newspapers and news cycles is not forever.  That‘s the message we need from The Following if it wants to depict its violence in the manner it has because then it becomes a show with something to say.  Look, there was no more disturbing show than True Detective, but each narrative wrinkle came imbued with ideas for us to ruminate on; its darkness held purpose.  The Following depicts public violence because it knows it will make us cringe.  It has no interest, it seems, in doing more.

But until it does that, it will remain irresponsible.  With only a handful of episodes left, I will stick with it in the hopes that there is some redeeming subtext to pull from it in the end. And after what it’s put me through, there had better be.

Reacting to the “How I Met Your Mother” Series Finale

How I Met Your Mother accomplished a great deal over the course of its nine season run.  It honestly depicted the ebbs and flows of friendship, the painful process of adapting to new stages of life, and the generally turbulent time of your late-twenties and early-thirties.  It was never perfect, but it did set incredibly ambitious parameters for a traditional comedy series, unafraid of the dramatic detours that this story yielded.  It assembled a phenomenal gallery of characters and allowed its talented cast to imbue them with a wonderful complexity.  In short, it did a considerable amount right.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure that its final episode is one of those things.  Look, let’s be clear right off the bat: I didn’t hate it.  It’s not going to taint my affection for this show.  In fact, moment to moment, I quite liked parts of it.  I laughed.  I choked up.  I reminisced.  In other words, How I Met Your Mother hit the broader notes of any serviceable finale, and I think–truly and deeply–that Thomas and Bays believe they put together a finale they thought their audience wanted to see.  Their intentions were admirable, and that’s got to count for something.

But here’s the thing.  The How I Met Your Mother that debuted in 2005 was not the same How I Met Your Mother that signed off for good on Sunday night.  Like its characters, the damn thing changed.  It evolved.  So, yes, Ted and Robin seemed destined for one another back in the day; but, just last week, Ted admitted that he didn’t love Robin as he once did.  And I bought it.  Ted bought it.  So why did Bays and Thomas force the issue of Robin and Ted together in the end?  Why jam a round peg into a square hole?  The series came full circle when a salt-and-pepper haired Ted raised that blue French horn aloft as Robin peered down from her window, but I’m not sure it should have.

On the one hand, I understand the impulse to address the lingering intimacy between Ted and Robin after all these years.  However, I found myself far more satisfied with Ted’s realization last week that he no longer reciprocated her feelings.  That felt like growth, an acceptance of the fact that he loved and would always love Robin, just not in a romantic sense.  I liked that.  But the implication that he would end up with Robin?  I’m up in the air.  I certainly don’t love it but nor do I vehemently hate it.  Mostly, it feels like Thomas and Bays forcing the issue, hung up on the How I Met Your Mother of old when many of us, including Ted, had moved on.  And who could blame him?  The version of Robin he ostensibly ends up with is very much a self-involved mess.

Unlike some, I’m not angry that the Mother died.  Most of us suspected as much at this point, and her sickness and death did not in any way blunt the connection she shared with Ted.  In a way, it spoke very powerfully on the idea that love can be both all-consuming and terribly brief.  It reminded us how important it is to immerse ourselves in love when we encounter it because, like Tracy, we never know its lifespan.  Cristin Milioti was wonderfully charming, and I wish we’d grown to know her better than we did–there was a sad richness to her character that I feel we only had the opportunity to explore partially–but having her die at least provided a logical framework to the overarching narrative.  Plus, it gave their story a sense of beautiful tragedy.

At this point, you could classify my reaction to the finale as staunchly ambivalent.  However, one thing I strongly disliked (despite its inevitability): the dissolution of Barney’s and Robin’s marriage after a paltry three years.  Look, it makes sense–I suppose–that their relationship could not and would not endure.  We expect as much of the older versions of these two characters.  But, dammit, we had more bizarre character retconning!  This season (this sometimes drawn-out season) worked overtime to convince us again and again that Barney was a changed man.  In fact, more than half of this season’s installments concluded with the sole purpose of reinforcing that idea.  So what the hell, show?  Not only did you undermine your own character development** because you just had to have Robin and Ted end up together, but you also rendered the last season’s containment at the Farhampton Inn virtually moot.  Yeah, yeah.  Ted met Tracy at their wedding.  But if the goal was to split Robin and Barney up anyway, why spend SO LONG on the weekend of their doomed marriage?  Ugh.

**After the wonderfully touching way Barney disposed of the Playbook last year, he makes a second one after his divorce?  That, most of all, felt less like a callback than a slap in the face, a final slap bet of sorts.

Fortunately, Barney’s send-off felt appropriate.  After convincing the gang that he was not the kind of guy to fall in love with a girl and devote his life to her, it felt perfect that he instantly did just that with his newborn daughter.  Sure, he might have wound up an unwitting father after impregnating the thirty-first woman in as many days, but ending Barney Stinson’s womanizing in this way worked very well.  Of course fatherhood would have him reevaluate his treatment of women as mere objects. Plus, the scene of him holding his daughter and vowing his love to her was some of Neil Patrick Harris’s finest work on the show and served to remind how effortless he made it look taking a character that should have been a caricature and transforming him into a lovable goof.  That, at least, the finale did very very right.

That leaves Marshall and Lily.  Over the years, flashforwards provided us with considerable clues about their future lives, and their story very simply filled in those blanks.  So yes, Marshall becomes Judge Fudge and eventually Fudge Supreme.  They have three kids.  Lily sports an unfortunate bangs situation.  Marshall will never relinquish his love for puns and/or Sasquatch.  As the series’ most stable characters, Marshall and Lily neither shocked nor surprised us with where they ended up in the finale.  I’d like to imagine them high-fiving without looking well into their golden years.

I say let’s chalk it up to a mixed bag.  Wrapping up long-running comedy shows is difficult, and Thomas and Bays had their hearts in the right place.  Unfortunately, that also led them to reroute the narrative of How I Met Your Mother rather than to follow it to its more organic conclusion.  And I’ll conclude with this: Ted ending up with Robin is not my favorite, but it does posit an interesting growth for Teddy Westside.  As the man who romanticized love to unattainable heights, it’s sort of neat to see a different Ted by the end, a man who has experienced true, honest love and all of its unromantic and painful facets.  He loved Tracy deeply, and nothing can take away from that; however, he also loves Robin.  There isn’t truly a “one” for Ted as he insisted all along.  In loving both women, the journey of Ted Mosby, Architect proved more grounded, realistic, and–ultimately–sad: love cannot save a life, but it can create a new one.

You know what?  I’ll buy that.