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Queen B., Arrested Development

While “Queen B.” might not be the worst episode of season four, it’s certainly the most disappointing. A character like Lucille doesn’t come along very often; she’s entertaining by default. A glare or a glower is enough to get a laugh, and she has a brilliant way of delivering her lines that turns the most innocuous sentiment into a cutting insult. She’s a great character in a show full of great characters, and has always been one of my favorites.

So of course they don’t know what to do with her, and mash her into the fuckin’ Fantastic Four musical.

Did we really need three episodes about that stupid thing? I don’t think the lack of direction in this season is any clearer than when we spend 1/5 of our time circling back to this god forsaken plot thread, and the fact that we now rope Lucille — unquestionably the Bluth least likely to give a shit — into the thing just shows us once again that they have no idea who their characters are.

Of course it’s probably worth mentioning that the offensive stupidity of the Fantastic Four stuff is familiar by now, freeing us up to be more concerned with the Dragon Lady Asian Mafia Reality Show garbage that fills up the beginning of the episode.

The show veers yet again into extended racism for the sake of a laugh, with a collection of shrill, vindictive Chinese women who run the prison, initiate Lucille into their gang, which results in Lucille teaching them how to smoke indoors, and then they enter into some agreement about the wall which is something else happening this season, and then they try to stab her with some noodles and Lucille talks to the camera men.

This isn’t funny, and this isn’t good writing. When you’re writing well it doesn’t matter what happens; you can have your characters at a table, on a couch, in an elevator, anywhere, and it’s funny. That’s all we want as viewers: interaction. We want to see characters bouncing off of each other in interesting ways. That’s absorbing. That’s quotable. That’s good.

In season four we have our characters behaving like pinballs. They’re not bouncing off of other characters, they’re bouncing off of things and events. Every episode is a collection of occurrences that may or may not have anything to do with anything else, and when you start treating all of your characters in this uniform way, you end up with uniform results, which is why Lucille Bluth of all people ends up in a musical about the Fantastic Four.

The plot tries to come up with a reason to put her there — she goes to trial, then to prison, then to rehab, and can get out of rehab early if she participates, which seems like a chain of logistics long enough for someone on the writing staff to realize this might not be the most natural course for her character to take — but ultimately the idea falls flat.

She auditions for the show with a song of her own creation, something about her kids not liking her, which is clumsy and on-the-nose enough to infuriate the Robot Devil. But the worst part is that I don’t believe Lucille would write her own song for this.

Maybe if it was funny I wouldn’t care, but Lucille standing up and setting her feelings to music? No matter how clumsily she handles it, that’s not her. I might be able to picture her reprising her U.S.O. performance of “Downtown,” but I’m sorry, a woman who just wants to get out of rehab sooner isn’t going to be writing a song for a musical about the Fantastic Four. Especially not this woman.

The episode does feature the return of Gene Parmesan though, who gets one of the biggest laughs of the season just by turning up, and it really goes a long way toward highlighting just how poor the new supporting characters this season are. We’re already sick of China Garden and Marky, but we’re thrilled when Gene Parmesan shows up for twenty seconds.

It also, as one of my commenters pointed out, reinstalls Tobias as a therapist, which had been an untapped vein of comedy for the character all along.

Unfortunately, the pinball wizard approach of season four means that just gives him an excuse to work on the Fantastic Four musical as well, and the therapy vein remains almost entirely untapped.

Oh, and we find out Lucille 2 is dead, or something, because there’s blood on the staircar and she’s missing. I’ll probably talk more about that in the Buster episode, because god knows I won’t have much else to say there.

I’d have more to say, but it would probably just be me writing, “How the hell did they forget how to write for Lucille?!” over and over again. And I’ll spare you having to scroll through that.

Episode 10: “Queen B.”
Central Character: Lucille
Other Family Appearances: Buster, George Sr., Michael, GOB, Tobias
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: Dead dove, which is not to be eaten.
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Lucille and Lucille 2 bickering at the trial would have been much funnier if we could have just cut to it for a quick peek, like the argument at Klimpy’s in the original run. Instead we get a long, unbreaking look at it, and can see clearly that the actual escalation can never be as funny as we’d imagine it to be.
Best Line / Exchange:

LUCILLE: Where the hell did we go wrong with that kid?
GEORGE SR.: Probably where we went wrong with the others, I don’t know.

Smashed, Arrested Development

I’ll say this much for “Smashed”: having rewatched it, it’s not as wall-to-wall bad as I remembered it being.

Of course that’s faint praise, especially since that’s due to the fact that I forgot all about the scene with Tobias and Michael in Ron Howard’s office, which plays to the oblivious strengths of two of my favorite characters. It’s a great sequence that actually uses miscommunication in an interesting way, and the elevator ride back to the lobby serves as excellent punctuation to one of the strongest scenes in the entire season.

But then it’s over, and we’re back to where we were before this very welcome interlude: the Fantastic Four musical.

The Fantastic Four musical.

Arrested Development is devoting an entire, extra-long episode to watching one character attempt to stage a Fantastic Four musical.

I can type variations on that sentence over and over again, and it’ll never make a lick of sense to me.

I think it’s safe to say that whatever story Mitch Hurwitz intended to tell with these episodes (and I’m not playing dumb…I’ve watched the entire season and I still don’t know), 15 super-sized installments is way too much space in which to tell it. And there’s no better evidence of that than the existence of “Smashed,” which moves no story forward, says nothing about its central character, isn’t funny, and totally botches what could have been a very interesting relationship between Tobias and DeBrie.

Watching “Smashed” the first time, I felt like the Mystery Science Theater 3000 crew when they’re cut to in this episode: utterly speechless. Of course, I have no idea why they cut to those characters watching a film if the writers literally didn’t have any lines for them, but if you were to cut to me halfway through the episode, you’d have seen pretty much the same thing.

The Tobias and DeBrie pairing was problematic from the start since DeBrie seemed more like a caricature from a lame anti-drug propaganda special than a human being, but that didn’t mean the relationship was beyond redemption. After all, Tobias ultimately just wants somebody who will support him in his delusions. He’s not a bad guy…just completely unaware of who he is, and the world around him.

Likewise DeBrie is an outcast, unloved, who also wants to find someone who can understand her and treat her well. The fact that she’s got a host of personal (and medical) problems works well here: these two social dregs meet, and they might stay at the very bottom but at least they’re there to support each other.

Does that sound like the funniest pairing in the world? Admittedly, no…but it’s at least an interesting one, and it would give the writers a chance to do something new with the character. When’s the last time we saw Tobias happy with someone? Where would it go? What would it look like, and how would he act?

I guess, in a sense, we have an answer to that question: he’d write a musical about the Fantastic Four. Because why the fuck not.

For all the potential good character work set up by “Flight of the Phoenix” and “Colony Collapse,” the rest of this season really feels content not only with not exploring its characters, but with not even understanding them. They don’t know what to do with Tobias, so he’s a pedophile making musicals of comic books. And if any of that sounds at all like the Tobias of the first three seasons to you, then I’m not sure what show you’ve been watching.

Instead of exploring their relationship, we have them reunited just so he can get to writing a musical for her to star in. There’s definitely the shadow of some character work here, as Tobias’s obliviousness keeps him from seeing that she doesn’t want to do this, but that’s something we see in its entirety within about a minute and a half, so it makes for a pretty bad crutch if that’s the only thing you do with the character for thirty-three minutes.

And that is indeed the only thing they do with the character for thirty-three minutes.

The rest of “Smashed” is given over to rehearsing for the play, which is tragically light on jokes, but heavy on DeBrie falling over and having bloody a nose.

I was reminded many times of the “Zoo Animals on Wheels” episode of Get a Life, which also shows us a terrible stage production, from rehearsals right on through opening night, but finds funny things to do with its character along the way. The joke, yes, is that the play is bad, but that’s not the only joke: the joke is that this character is in this play, and so the humor we get is filtered through a very specific lens, and it’s one that is recognizably, therefore, part of the show’s universe.

Here the joke is just that the play is bad. This musical has nothing to do with Tobias. It says nothing about him that he’s mounting it, nothing about him that he’s in it, and nothing about him that, on opening night, someone falls in the water or some shit. I don’t know…the writers don’t seem to even know what happened so I sure as hell don’t.

The play means nothing. A full episode’s worth of build-up for a play so meaningless they couldn’t even think of a way to get the finished product into the episode without playing credits over it.

And no, the fact that the narrator makes a winking comment to that effect doesn’t redeem it, any more than the same joke redeemed the pointless montage in “Making a Stand.” (Though, to be fair, “Smashed” makes “Making a Stand” look like goddamned Hamlet.)

Oddly, though, this episode does manage to achieve something: it takes two of the most go-nowhere plots in a season full of them, and combines them both to actually make them funny. That’s where the whole scene with Michael and Ron Howard comes in. The movie plot and the play plot twist together for one great scene of character interplay…right before they twist apart again, to the detriment of each.

Here’s why I find that interesting:

For all my talk in these reviews of narrative and story, the fact is…those things don’t matter. At least, they don’t matter if you’re laughing. They’re nice to have, of course, but that’s not the reason we’d watch a sitcom. They might be the reason a particular sitcom becomes a favorite, but unless you’re also laughing, you’re probably not going to stick around long.

So yes, I might complain that a plot goes nowhere or has no conclusion, but that’s because I’m not laughing. The season hasn’t given me any reason to care about Michael’s movie, and it’s given me even less of a reason to care about Tobias’s play, and so I get bored and frustrated when I’m forced as a viewer to watch these humorless stories unravel.

However in that scene, and during the painful elevator ride that follows, I do care about those plots. I like them. I enjoy them. Why? Because I’m laughing.

One feeds the other. If I laugh, I’m on your side. I want to see those plots unfold because I want to keep laughing. When I’m not laughing, it’s a chore. Sticking that scene into the middle of this episode made that distinction very clear, and I don’t think it’s any coincidence that that scene is about two great characters bouncing off of each other; the Bluths simply don’t work as well in isolation.

As much as people talk about the way this season interlocks, I don’t think it actually does.

It doesn’t interlock…it just coexists. Every so often one character will cross paths with another and it feels so much more exciting for a moment, because it feels like something might actually happen. Sometimes you even get a great joke out of it.

But overall Michael’s plot doesn’t interlock with Tobias’s, George Sr.’s doesn’t interlock with Maeby’s, Buster’s doesn’t interlock with Lucille, and so on. None of them do. They might occupy the same time-frame, but, pardon my French, they don’t have jack shit to do with one another. Which is a problem, because the season is visibly straining to make it feel like they do.

“Smashed” is terrible. And it may not even be the worst episode of the season.

Oh well. Tommy Tune as Argyle Austero is an example of a cartoonish character that works, but the fact that every character is a cartoon means he lacks this distinction, and so he just feels like another thing tossed into the stone soup. He’s funny enough, but the writers have no idea what to do with him.

Sounds like he fits in pretty well with the rest of the main cast, then, huh?

Episode 9: “Smashed”
Central Character: Tobias
Other Family Appearances: GOB, Michael, Lindsay, George Michael (voice), Lucille
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: “I just blue myself again for the first time in five years.” That’s two grammatically corrupt references to this in a row. Please don’t go for the hat trick, “Queen B.”
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Tightening implies that some editing would make the scene better, and I’m not sure that applies to any of the Fantastic Four material so who knows.
Best Line / Exchange:

MICHAEL: We’ll see each other a la carte. You know? Like the $18 baked potato you ordered that you didn’t touch.

Red Hairing, Arrested Development

We’re now more than halfway through the season so I think it’s fair to pose a question: is this bad Arrested Development, or is this bad television?

The easiest way to answer that is to strip away the title and the names of the characters. If I’m left with everything that happens here, every written line and editing choice, but it’s not attached to the name Arrested Development, do I like it?

I don’t. In fact, my fondness for the original three seasons isn’t working against this batch of aimless, meandering tales; it’s making me work harder to like it. I don’t want to admit the fact that they’re not very good, because I want Arrested Development to be above that.

Above this.

If I were to stumble on this exact season of episodes on television (or Netflix, I guess) and it had no attachment to this show, I’d probably feel like it was made by some cynical executive somewhere who wanted to cash in on the popularity of Arrested Development but didn’t have any sense of why people actually liked it. I’d probably come away from it feeling confused and embarrassed for him, and there’s no way I’d make it through fifteen episodes.

But here I am, trying, rewatching, sticking with it, searching for anything, because I want to like this.

It’s not working, though. The more time I spend with these episodes, the less charitable I feel toward them. This is bad television.

“Red Hairing” is yet another good example of why. Like “Indian Takers” before it, the second Lindsay episode is a jumble of events that go nowhere. I’d be tempted to use the sound and fury comparison but there’s not much of either of those things here. If there were sound and fury it might at least be fun. Instead it’s just…stuff. And it’s not funny, and it’s not smart, and it’s entirely too long, and it’s in serious need of editing. It’s bad television.

I know what you’re thinking: Philip, you crazy man. I can’t get enough of that Herbert Love and his extended non-jokes. He’s a great addition to the cast and I’m very happy his arc reaches no conclusion whatsoever, because that just means we’ll get more of him in season five. But here’s my concern: how does his role in this show fit in with that of my beloved Marky Bark?!

Well, good news, person who will never exist: “Red Hairing” answers that question. It doesn’t do much else, but let’s give credit where credit is due.

Marky doesn’t like Herbert Love, because Marky is a hippie (in case you didn’t get that from all the times they say Marky is a hippie instead of making jokes) and Herbert Love is a politician (in case you didn’t get that from all the times they say Herbert Love is a politician instead of making jokes). With a pairing like that, the scripts just write themselves!

So Marky decides to detonate an ink bomb which will ruin Herbert Love’s suit, I guess. It’s not very clear what he hopes to accomplish and it’s even less clear what he could possibly accomplish, so let’s just assume it’s an inflated dry cleaning bill. Only the bomb goes off on Marky instead, so he can turn blue and Lindsay can repeat a joke from the show’s glory years in a way that makes no grammatical sense whatsoever, and then he goes to jail, and then he’s not in jail anymore. Man, it sure is nice to have Marky around again, huh?

“Red Hairing” does fill in some blanks from other episodes, though. For instance, it reveals that George Sr. wanted something from Michael in exchange for signing the release, which comes as a huge surprise because…no, wait. It’s not surprising at all, because it’s exactly what we already knew he wanted in “Double Crossers.”

Oh, well at least the episode also reveals that the ostrich that attacked Lucille 2 in “A New Start” wasn’t actually trying to hurt her; it was in heat so it was attempting to rape her instead and that’s much funnier.

Oh…wait. It’s actually really stupid. Oops.

When a female ostrich is trying to drive its non-existent ostrich cock into Liza Minelli for the sake of a laugh, you know the show is desperate, and nothing about “Red Hairing” disproves that. And here’s a fun little tidbit: if you’re wondering why it’s called “Red Hairing,” it’s because Lindsay wears a red wig for a little while, and then doesn’t anymore. It’s every bit as riveting as Marky’s plot.

Spending so much time with both Marky Bark and Herbert Love in the same episode goes a long way toward emphasizing how pointless the characters are. They have nothing to do, so they do nothing. In an episode that’s almost 40 minutes long. And we watch them do it. For almost 40 minutes.

We do have some nice moments here. Maeby calling her mother a whore has genuine bite to it, and Michael on the phone with George Michael is also nice, as they both lie to each other about not being able to make it to dinner.

Of course, this being Arrested Development season four, we have to reprise that latter situation later in the season to drag it out, make it less funny, eliminate all heart from the situation, and repeatedly spell out something the audience grasped long ago.

The first three seasons of this show were densely packed little puzzles, with a simple narrative playing out overtop of the cleverness and tricky structure. That’s why it was fun to watch the first time, and rewarding to watch again and again. At first you laughed. Then you went back and laughed at all the stuff you missed because you were laughing the first time. Then you went back more and more to find all the stuff you didn’t notice enough to laugh at before. And there was heart, and social satire, and brilliant character interplay.

Here, we replace all that with long humorless stretches of literally nothing, single jokes that get hammered into the ground so completely that you’re sick of them by the time the episode ends (so much for rewatching) and unintelligent “reveals” that just explain things we already knew or give us a lame punchline that was gracelessly withheld the first time around.

It wouldn’t be fair if I just compared this to the first three seasons, said it’s not as good, and dismissed it completely. Instead, though, forget stacking it up against the first three seasons…the mistakes made by this batch of episodes is just bad television period.

It would have been nice if season four could hold its own against the classic years, but even if it didn’t, it could chart a new identity for itself, and work as some kind of noble experiment at the very least. As it stands, though, I’m glad this is on Netflix, because it genuinely doesn’t deserve to be on TV.

Also, what was that Annyong thing at the end? I have to assume they shot the scene with the assumption that they’d figure out a joke for it later, then couldn’t figure one out and just slapped it in anyway.

That’s not the show I remember, and that’s not a show I’d even watch.

Episode 8: “Red Hairing”
Central Character: Lindsay
Other Family Appearances: Lucille, George Sr., Maeby, Michael, George Michael (voice)
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: “He blue himself.” There’s absolutely no reason to revisit the finish-each-other’s-sandwiches gag either, except that it happened once, and therefore we need to be reminded that yes, the writers like to quote this show too!
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Herbert Love’s date with Lindsay turns into Herbert Love showing off his rhyming skills and pickup lines for the camera, and if you can reasonably tell me why that belongs in the episode I’ll be hugely impressed.
Best Line / Exchange:

LINDSAY: Honestly, Lucillie 2, you’ve been like a mother to me. Except kind, and loving, and willing to let me eat.


“Saudade,” Love and Rockets
Seventh Dream of Teenage Heaven, 1985

Colony Collapse

I’ve noticed that this episode tends to get singled out, by both commenters here and reviewers elsewhere, as a highlight of season four. And, really, that’s no surprise. As messy as these episodes have been and will continue to be, “Colony Collapse” is downright masterful by comparison.

Of course, that’s only by comparison. Even so, it’s nice to finally see one installment of this splintered narrative that functions as a complete and moderately insightful character sketch. We get to explore an aspect of GOB’s character that had always been left unspoken, see it through a variety of external lenses, and then close on a killer punchline. (And I mean that; barring the “On the next…” sequence, GOB’s final line is brilliant punctuation to everything we just saw.)

It has its own issues, of course, and we’ll deal with those, but “Colony Collapse” serves as an illustration of what season four should have been. Its focus is tighter, its themes well chosen, and its central character handled in interesting ways that don’t work against anything we already know about him. Relatively speaking, I’m happy with this. However it’s still not that good, and as far as I’m concerned this would ideally be the least successful episode of the season, with the others managing to rise above its disappointing but funny watermark.

The plot here, as ever, is a mess, but that works because “Colony Collapse” does something with it. While it may not have much to offer in terms of narrative it at least does use its disparate, disjointed scenes to explore an interesting theme: GOB’s solitude.

With a quiet refrain of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence,” we get slow, gentle zooms on GOB’s face, as he helplessly, hopelessly considers the path his life has taken.

This is a great example of the kind of territory these episodes should have charted uniformly. Admitted huge mistakes aside, GOB never really confessed to the sadness that underpinned his entire existence before. It was always there, as evidenced by his tortured relationships with his brothers and his abrupt bouts of fragility that left him in tears, but a few minutes later he’d be back to his old mindlessly swaggering self, confident and secure. There were always two GOBs in parallel existence: the one who would steal from you, and the one who was on the verge of breaking down in remorse over it. “Colony Collapse” occupies that territory in between, and allows us to follow GOB through the highs and lows, one always coming right after the other, in order to get a sense of who this quietly sad bully really is.

I like that, because it demonstrates not only an understanding of the character, but it qualifies as a genuine reveal as well, deepening our understanding of him as a viewer. It’s the sort of thing they could have done with Tobias, had they not decided to toss him into the humorless, irritating pit of despair that is the Fantastic Four musical.

In fact, coincidentally, “Colony Collapse” features Tobias in a capacity that would have made for a far more interesting episode than what either “A New Start” or “Smashed” gave us: Tobias has been picking up bit parts in Christian network programming.

That’s an episode right there! Tobias, a terrible but sincere actor, prone to inadvertently homosexual phrasings and situations, lands a recurring gig on Christian television. That would be a natural way of doing something with the character, and by default it generates better jokes and funnier plots than just having him dress up as the Thing for no reason and show up on To Catch a Predator.*

The Christian detour comes from Ann, and we pick up her relationship with GOB right where it left off in season three. I have some personal issues with this, as GOB waiting an hour for her to turn 18 crosses the line, I feel, between entertainingly creepy and just creepy, but that’s minor and in the face of better writing wouldn’t have been an issue. I’m also willing to go with it if that’s what it takes to get us to his magic trick with her and the mouse bodies, which is probably the only time in a season full of flab that a joke actually does get funnier with each repetition.

Ann is a great character, and Mae Whitman is a delight to have back. However her main role in the show was as George Michael’s girlfriend, with Michael expressing dislike for her both openly and accidentally. Sticking her with GOB and separating her from those two characters means they need to give her a new dynamic to play with, and they don’t really do that. Ann is just sort of…there, and since she’s there for around half the very long episode (almost 40 minutes), that’s a problem.

More of a problem, though, is the fact that we trip over the same joke constantly during this long sequence. When Michael would refer to Ann in off-handedly cruel ways, it was funny for two major reasons: because it was unexpected, and because it said a lot about Michael. When GOB does it again and again it doesn’t feel unexpected, and it says less about him than it does about the writers, who for whatever reason felt obligated to repeat the same old gag over and over.

It worked in the original run because the joke was always on Michael. I don’t think anyone heard his casual dismissal of the girl and thought, “Ha, yeah! She does deserve to be spoken to that way!” Instead it was a great way of revealing, still slowly at the time, the fact that Michael was kind of a dick.

With GOB it feels a lot more abrasive and a lot less necessary, to the point that it circles around to the way Family Guy treats Meg. There’s no reason for it, and if you find that funny then I’m happy for you, but relentless meanness for the sake of being relentlessly mean doesn’t reflect good writing.

Similarly, we run into another problem with Ann, because now we see that everybody in the world overlooks her and forgets she exists. Again this worked when it was Michael, because the way he reacted to her defined who he was both as a person and as a father, but when priests are surprised to find her sitting right next to them it’s no longer a character detail…it’s just a lame running gag.

I touched upon this before in the context of the new characters, but it’s a problem when this kind of comedy is extended to everyone in the show’s universe. The Bluths once felt like sheltered, spoiled brats who would have been unable to function in life outside of their comfortable bubble because they simply don’t understand it, as Lucille would say, and won’t respond to it. In fact, that was more or less the entire premise of the show.

Now, however, we see everybody acting like the Bluths, and there’s no more distinction. If Michael is passively cruel to Ann, that says something about Michael. If the entire world is passively cruel to her, there’s no joke. The playing field’s been leveled, and there’s nothing to laugh at. It’s almost as though Arrested Development now wants to occupy its own Springfield, where every character can be funny and join in on the same jokes. The problem is that we’re too late in the game for that; The Simpsons built up the town as a character very early in its run, and stuck with it. Arrested Development segregated its characters from civilization by means of prisons, penthouses, and model homes in deserted areas. It doesn’t get to stitch a world together and act like that’s how it always has been…at least not without sacrificing everything that made the characters who they were to begin with.

There’s still some very good stuff in the episode though. The Steve Holt! bits were great, and tapped perfectly into the complex blend of funny and heartbreaking that has always been a part of that relationship. And DeBrie getting into the limo is another of those rare examples where the intersecting narratives works: when we first saw it happen in “A New Start,” it felt like a dark and tragic development. Now that we see it was just GOB and his young entourage, it plays more for comedy. That’s how this sort of thing should work: reveals that add to the experience of watching.

But then the bees come out and fly around so that funny music can play, even though that already happened in “Double Crossers” and it’s no funnier here. There’s really no need for the bees. They give the episode a title but they’re never very funny, and — once again — that whole plot goes nowhere. I guess we’re able to assume from Marky’s earlier comment that GOB’s bees eventually killed Johnny Bark, though, which is great character work because everybody’s favorite thing about GOB is how he runs around accidentally killing people.

When the episode ends we leave GOB with a mountain of new experience behind him, and yet he’s no wiser for the journey. He wants to fit in, but we see it illustrated explicitly that he will never allow himself to do so; once he’s accepted, he doesn’t want it anymore. That might even go a long way toward explaining why he’s still a magician: he’s not good at it. If he were, he’d have to move on.

It’s a great place to leave the character. Unfortunately we still have another GOB episode down the line, and that’s where they’ll make up for all the accidental good they did here.

Oh, and…why the fuck does he still have the limo?

Episode 7: “Colony Collapse”
Central Character: GOB
Other Family Appearances: Tobias, George Michael, Michael
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: GOB’s nervous stuttering has retroactively made its first occurrence a lot less funny. “Way to plant, Ann,” is also a totally unnecessary callback.
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: All of the Ann stuff. All of it. Absolutely every second of it. It might be even flabbier than the Roofie Circle…which was pretty effin’ flabby.
Best Line / Exchange: The magazine spread advertising Tony Wonder’s new gay magic act sweeps this one, reading “I’m here, I’m queer, now I’m over here!”

—–
* And why was the show there ready to pounce on him when he hadn’t actually set up any kind of rendezvous in advance? Let alone an illegal one? UGH THAT FUCKING EPISODE.

Venture Libre, The Venture Bros.

If The Venture Bros. isn’t the best show on television right now, I’d love to know what is.

That isn’t to say that it doesn’t stumble, or broadcast episodes that disappoint, but it is to say that through four seasons and change I have yet to feel like the show has done anything overtly wrong. Even my favorite shows tend to go through patches that seem to suggest a fundamental misunderstanding of who their characters are, or they lose track of their own “voice” and start to write episodes that might still be good, but just don’t feel right.

The Venture Bros. hasn’t had that issue. Any unwelcome detour has remained true to its characters, and at least felt like part of a sustained vision. “Venture Libre” might never be the episode that I point to when I want to convince somebody that the show is great, but it would be an example of why the show is great: this far along, in the fifth season, we’re still watching our main characters grow.

This is especially impressive when it’s handled against the backdrop of the Venture clan mixing it up with animal people in the jungle, but we’ll get back to that.

When the show began, way back in season one, it was probably safe to say that Dr. Venture was the most interesting character. After all, he seemed to be our protagonist, and the more we passively learned about his backstory, the more we felt for him. The domineering and distant father, whose accomplishments by the time of Rusty’s adolescence already eclipsed anything the young boy would ever accomplish. The lack of a mother figure. The failed inventions, the financial difficulties, the pill-popping. The death of the space-age dream in evidence all around him.

And yet Rusty has proven to be the most static character. This isn’t meant a criticism…it’s simply who he is. Dr. Venture is locked into a cycle from which he can’t escape, and may not entirely want to. He’s comfortable in his misery, something sold expertly by the voice work of James Urbaniak, who makes Venture’s sustained bitchiness sound like he’s tapping into his last well of joy.

Around him, however, all throughout Venture’s circles, other characters evolve. The Monarch and Dr. Girlfriend split up, explored who they were, and started a new life together. Brock became fed up with almost being killed on a weekly basis for the sake of nannying his boss around, and rediscovered a sense of professional fulfillment with SPHINX. Even Billy and Pete found separate moments of clarity in season four’s sorely underrated “The Silent Partners.”

The world grows up around Dr. Venture, but at the end of the day — to paraphrase his vanity musical project — he’s Rusty. He’s not going anywhere, and while we undoubtedly get glimpses of humanity within, he refuses to evolve. Meanwhile, everybody else — and I do mean everybody — leaves him behind.

“Venture Libre” sees this happening again. We’ve seen quite a bit of Dean growing up this season, from burning his learning bed to finding out that he’s a clone, and his evolution as a character is fast becoming one of the highlights of the entire show. What we haven’t seen as much of is a similar growth from Hank, but through some brilliant sleight of hand we get that now. Both Venture boys are already inching their way out from behind their father’s shadow…and that’s something Rusty himself was never able to do. His own sons have outgrown him.

Hank’s character work taps back (though not explicitly) into the glorious sequence in season four that showed him trying out for SPHINX…and proving himself to be shockingly capable. We’ve seen Hank demonstrate competence before, but it’s never been sustained quite as long or quite as satisfyingly as it is in “Venture Libre.”

Pairing this episode up with “Love-Bheits,” which is the last time Hank adopted his persona of The Bat, we see just how far he’s come. And even though his development in this capacity never got much screen time, it feels right. We’ve seen just enough of it to understand that, ultimately, Hank can do this. It might take him being wired on coffee beans to unlock his potential, but once it is unlocked, he’s more of an asset to the team than his father ever gave him credit for, and seeing him rescue his pop and Hatred with genuine cleverness and aplomb feels like both a satisfying payoff and a twist of the knife in Venture’s back. As much as the old man likes to keep his sons down and hold them back, they are starting to show us that they’ve managed to grow after all.

Our other big character development comes from Sgt. Hatred, and allow me to get on my soap box here for a moment: I love Sgt. Hatred. I don’t know why so many vocal fans and other reviewers seem to dislike him; I think he’s an extraordinarily rich character who is perfectly at home within the show.

I’ve seen it said that people don’t like him because his only joke is that he’s a pedophile. However I disagree entirely; that’s not his joke…that’s his tragedy.

His joke is that he’s a good person, at heart, or wants to be one. He wants to be loved and accepted. The pedophilia is what holds him back, and will always keep him in a very specific place in the world, no matter how hard he wishes he could overcome it.

The fact that he’s trying to be a good person doesn’t overshadow his dark past…rather his dark past prevents him from ever being seen as a good person. That’s tragedy in the thickest Venture tradition, and I absolutely love the way it’s been handled with his character. Jackson and Doc don’t want us to laugh at his sexual improprieties…they want us to laugh at his situation because of them. That’s a very different thing.

Now, in “Venture Libre,” we get a window into his subconscious. It’s a dream that seems to relay his backstory, as he’s injected with something and then attacks a little boy. It’s not played for laughs. At all. It’s dark. And because this is a character who earlier in the episode sacrificed himself to save his boss — and still bears the scars to prove it — that’s sad.

In fact, it shakes him up so much that he decides to stay behind on this island of abominations. He’s a monster, he says…and he just wants to be somewhere, for once, that he can be accepted.

Is that a joke? It’s certainly not played as one.

No, the joke is when he realizes he’s in danger and says, “Let’s get the **** out of here.” The tragedy is in the speech that leads up to the punchline. The joke isn’t, and never was, that he has inappropriate thoughts about children…that’s his flaw as a human being, and it’s a guilt he’ll never escape.

Even HELPeR gets a short moment of sadness, when he admits to Dean that he wants his old body back. Yes, even the bumbling old Venture robot outgrows Rusty.

“Venture Libre” isn’t about any of this character development, and that’s okay. The Venture Bros. is a show that can afford to let its characters grow in the background, so that one day they might drop down from the trees in a makeshift Batman outfit and surprise us. What’s impressive is that after so many episodes, we are still being surprised, and we’re being surprised during plots that wouldn’t seem to support it.

It’s not a great episode, but is evidence that The Venture Bros. is a great show.

Well, except for that Congresswoman stuff. That was garbage.

Arrested Development, Double Crossers

Disappointed by season four so far? Don’t worry Arrested Development fans! This show knows exactly how to get you back on board: a series of interlocking episodes focused around the political aspirations of a minor character we’ve never heard of before!

I’ll probably have more to say about this when we get to the final episode, but the most puzzling thing about this season is how much importance it gives to certain events and characters that have literally no impact on anything and that go absolutely nowhere. Here we meet Herbert Love, but we don’t learn anything about him except that he’s not a good character and not particularly funny.

Evidently he’s prone to gaffes and saying inappropriate things, but none of this is presented in a funny enough way to make it worth having in a sitcom, nor is it clever enough to serve as political commentary. He’s just a guy in a suit and some glasses, and that’s apparently what passes for character development at this stage in the game.

“Double Crossers” spends a lot of time talking about Herbert Love and whether or not he’s going to support the wall George Sr. wants to build between the United States and Mexico, in order to stick it to Sitwell and pocket some sweet government dough. So I hope you like lots of humorless scheming about political bribery, government support for construction projects, and fund juggling, because otherwise there’s not going to be much for you here.

The focus on Love is a bizarre one, even moreso than the focus on Marky Bark, DeBrie or Rebel Alley. In those cases yes the characters stink, but at least they’re portrayed as being important to the characters we do care about. Here he’s just a politician that people talk about sometimes, and though their paths do independently cross his own, he ultimately has no impact on anything that happens this season. Maybe he would have if we had gotten any kind of resolution for the 15 episodes’ worth of tail-chasing, but as it stands he just shows up, dominates a few scenes without ever making it clear why he should be important to us, and then vanishes completely with an implied middle finger raised to the audience who might have expected him to do something.

When fans asked for more Arrested Development, it was pretty clearly because they felt there was more mileage in these characters. We didn’t just want Michael and Maeby and Lucille back because we liked staring blankly at them…we wanted them back because we knew there was so much more they could do, more stories to tell, more twisted interaction to be enjoyed. So it’s a bit frustrating that when the show did come back it felt a lot more like The Continuing Adventures of Congressman Nobody, with special guests the Bluths.

Even worse is that once again the writers don’t know what to do with a character in his own spotlight episode. Hot on the heels of Tobias reprising his classic pedophile cosplay routine, we have George Sr. driving in circles and cross-dressing while Oscar fucks his wife. In other words, nothing happens.

Well, that’s not quite true. He signs Michael’s release for the film, gives some money to the Love campaign, and gets chased around by some bees so that the whole sweat hut story from “Borderline Personalities” can be stopped abruptly (we wouldn’t want to accidentally see something through this season, would we?). It’s terrible plotting, and I’m genuinely shocked that an episode in which so much doesn’t happen still has a mountain of filler.

The one potentially interesting thing about this episode is that George Sr. and Oscar begin to change places in a whole other way: George Sr. feels more sensitive and remorseful, while Oscar becomes more sure of himself and aggressive. But while the idea is raised by the episode it never becomes explicit and — say it with me now — it goes absolutely nowhere, so I’m not even sure how much of that is deliberate. Further muddying the water is the fact that George Sr.’s personality change is down to low levels of testosterone, just to prevent you from concluding that it might have something to do with good writing.

I’ve heard it said that these episodes improve upon rewatching, but without exception I’m enjoying them even less the more I see them. I think people are a bit too impressed by the fact that certain scenes in one episode continue through another, but that’s not enough for me. Cheap editing tricks and shuffled timelines are no substitute for cleverness, and the way it’s handled here isn’t as rewarding as it should be.

Earlier in the season I mentioned a scene that pulls out to reveal Buster screeching, then is reprised later with a second pull out to reveal GOB groaning. That’s the way this should work…layered jokes that add to or expand upon the joke each time we see them. But that’s the exception for Arrested Development season four, and instead what we usually get is a scene trimmed abruptly so that later on we hear some more dialogue or have a pointless little detail explained retroactively. It tries to put on a good show, but its really nothing more than a deliberate muddle that doesn’t actually enrich the final product.

A good example of that would be Tobias and Lindsay meeting with the Realtor in “Indian Takers.” Tobias motions toward his license plate, the Realtor looks and reacts. Our view of the license plate is deliberately obscured. Then, in “A New Start,” we see the same scene again, but we can read the license plate, which says ANUSTART. Ho ho ho.

That doesn’t work, because there is no joke the first time. We don’t get a single joke that plays in multiple ways…we get a single joke that we’re not allowed to see until later. Obscuring the license plate isn’t clever…it just eats up time in an episode when we’re going to see the scene play out properly in another episode, effectively doubling the amount of wasted time in a season already too aimless. That’s not an impressively structured reveal; it’s just gets off on being withholding.

Something similar happens here. We hear a crowd chanting “Put up the wall!” on Cinco de Cuatro, and later we find out it’s Lindsay leading that chant. Does it matter? Not really, because it just feels like an out-of-nowhere development in an episode that desperately needed an ending, and the fact that we later learn it’s Lindsay doesn’t change that, or add to it, in any way.

Oh well. Why am I talking about other episodes and general problems? Because I might as well. Nothing of any merit even happens in “Double Crossers.” Even the title suggests a better episode than what we actually have. Oscar sleeps with Lucille, yes, but that’s happened before…and it’s been handled far more interestingly than it is here. (And, again, it goes literally nowhere.) And George Sr. first wants Love to support the wall, then he wants him against it…but I don’t think that qualifies as a double cross, and it’s certainly nothing we should care about. Herbert Love is a non-character with fictional political opinions running in a race that doesn’t even play out during the course of the season, and I can’t think of anything more inconsequential than that.

We do get a pretty nice scene with GOB and Michael though, which just might remind you of the kind of thing the show does when it has some sense of what it’s doing. (GOB breaking the countertop also feels like a lost moment from the classic years.) And since the next episode is GOB’s…well, that can only be a good thing. Right?

Right?

Hello…?

Episode 6: “Double Crossers”
Central Character: George Sr.
Other Family Appearances: Lucille, GOB, Lindsay, Michael, Buster
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: “No, I mean it’s good to be out of that sweaty old hot-box at the compound.” George Sr. singing “All You Need Is Smiles” comes close, since that happens only because it’s a song that was once in another episode and there was nowhere else to put it, or the protracted “Bees?!” reprise.
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Everything with the pointless Herbert Love should have been tightened right out of the season. Dr. Norman’s “here’s my character’s only joke again and again” spotlight scene isn’t much better. Then there’s GOB and Michael having their right-of-way argument. Boy, you’d almost think rigid timeslots weren’t such a bad thing…
Best Line / Exchange:

GEORGE SR.: I cry at the drop of a hat. And I hate the way I look. I actually had one cute hat, and it blew off in the CVS parking lot and this whole car full of black kids ran over it. For no reason!

Arrested Development, A New Start

This first Tobias episode, “A New Start,” pulls double duty in season four: it’s the most explicit illustration yet of why this string of episodes doesn’t work, and it’s a pretty solid promise that it won’t get any better.

It’s a shame, because Tobias is one of the most interesting characters the show has at its disposal. He’s also one of the most reliable in terms of generating comedy. Think about it; he’s funny when he’s unemployed, and he’s funny when he gets a job. He’s funny when he doesn’t land a part, and he’s funny when he does and gets to show off just how bad an actor he is. He’s funny when he’s overconfident, and he’s funny when he’s depressed. He’s funny when he detaches from his family, and he’s funny when he tries to forcibly insert himself. (DOES THAT SOUND GAY IT’S KIND OF A RUNNING JOKE.)

He’s a never-nude, a failed actor, a failed doctor, a failed husband, a failed father, a potentially latent homosexual, and he’s prone to unintentional wordplay, dressing up in silly costumes and breaking into characters of his own creation at a moment’s notice.

So why — why — does this season struggle so much to find something to do with him? You can do anything with Tobias. As Maeby would say, this was a freebie.

Or it should have been anyway. Instead we get another episode, like Lindsay’s “Indian Takers” before it, that has no idea of how to get from point A to point B, so instead we just get meandering glimpses of points D, H, T, M and X in the hopes that we’ll be too baffled to notice. None of it adds up to anything that feels connected in any way, let alone a coherent story. No, some recurring wordplay about rocks and invisibility don’t count…those should be neat verbal flourishes as a reward for paying attention, not a substitute for an even superficial understanding of how an episode of television needs to work.

Things (haha, I said “thing,” and Tobias is dressed as The Thing, so I guess I just wrote an episode too!) start off poorly, and only get worse from there, with Tobias appearing on some local version of To Catch a Predator. Remember all those funny things about Tobias that I listed above? How silly of me not to mention the pedophilia he’s so well known for.

What’s that? This has never been something associated with the character before? Silly me, assuming they’d want to write a full episode about who Tobias is, rather than as a build up to some nonsensical gag that has nothing to do with anything we know about him. I’m a boob.

I’m not saying the Predator scene isn’t funny…I’m a sucker for stupid sex jokes. But why are we suddenly mining pedophilia for a reason to laugh at Tobias?

Early in the episode, Lindsay clumsily (from a writing standpoint) says that Tobias being gay is sort of a running joke in the family. Setting that up, there are two obvious things the episode can do: it can have Tobias struggle to be more careful with his word choices so that he doesn’t appear gay, or it can embrace that and have him disregard Lindsay’s advice entirely and just blurt out all manner of unintentional dick jokes. In short, the episode said something that’s never been spoken quite so clearly before…why then, if that’s the “running joke” obnoxiously spelled out for us, do we abandon that entirely and end up structuring a climax around something entirely different?

Perhaps if Tobias were coming to see George Michael instead of Maeby it would have fit a little better. After all, not only is Tobias not a pedophile, but he’s also not supposed to be interested in women. Having him come over to ostensibly diddle a little girl is about as far from the Tobias we know as it’s possible to get…and now that I’ve spelled that out I’m kind of convinced that any laughter I gave that scene was far too generous.

But that’s just the start…it really only gets worse from there. Quite how anyone could watch these episodes and not see an enormous step down in quality of writing is beyond me, especially in the face of the first act of “A New Start,” which is literally non-stop narration for around nine minutes.

That’s exhausting, and that’s extremely sloppy. It feels very much like footage was shot with little or no mind paid to how it would eventually be worked into the show, so we end up with long stretches like this wherein the narrator just has to tell us about everything they didn’t think to shoot…which turns out to be a lot.

In this case it’s Tobias going to India with Lindsay, though neither of them realize it. That’s the long and short of it, and nine minutes’ worth of narration isn’t going to convince me that it’s any more clever than that single sentence made it sound.

While in India Tobias breaks his skull a few times, inspiring him (again) to become an actor since he has a gift for making people laugh. Nevermind the fact that rolling off a hospital bed is about the least funny bit of physical comedy we’ve ever gotten from Tobias…we’re not supposed to pay attention to that.

So he comes home and we get more of the other half of “Indian Takers,” which would be great if it filled in the gaps that this earlier episode needed in order to feel like a story, but instead we just splinter it further with stream-of-consciousness plotting that leads to Tobias and DeBrie standing on street corners dressed like two members of The Fantastic Four.

That’s another thing we love about Tobias, right? The way he dresses up like comic book characters and spends entire episodes writing musicals about them?

No?

Well, tough, because that happens anyway. Can’t wait.

I do want to talk a bit about DeBrie, though, because with Maria Bamford behind her I really did expect this to go somewhere. It never did, and that confused and disappointed me, but I think I figured out why.

I Googled her to find out how to spell the character’s name, and found some casting reports for Arrested Development season four, in which Bamford mentions she’s in the show, but doesn’t say much about who she plays, because it’s “a small part.”

That says a lot, I think. If she believed she was playing a small part, of course she’d let her character remain a cartoon. She probably only expected to be cut to now and again as a sort of punchline in itself.

In reality, though, she’s a major character this season…and that’s probably something Bamford didn’t expect. And which also suggests footage was shot in advance of knowing where any of it would go, or what it would actually be. Season four feels like it was born in the edit, and not in a “lightning in a bottle” sense. It feels dead and disjointed, with stitches of narration trying, and failing, to hold all the disparate pieces together.

Tobias was never a one-joke character, but he was definitely a series of easy jokes. That’s okay. In the third series of The League of Gentlemen, the sketch comedy troupe took a handful of broad characters and gave them each deeper, episode-length stories that stripped away the general gags they were known for and explored who they were as people. It can be done, and The League of Gentlemen had the writing and acting chops to take silly characters that we knew from two- and three-minute skits and give them humanity…without ever being less funny while doing so.

What’s more, that third series consisted of episodes that focused on one character apiece, and by the end of the series managed to come together and tell a greater story as well.

Arrested Development‘s fourth season could have learned a lot from that, because the more time we spend with these characters the less recognizably human they get, and the bigger the story it tries to tell, the more it gets mired in go-nowhere nonsense.

The comedy in this show always seemed so natural and effortless. Please, stop trying so hard.

Episode 5: “A New Start”
Central Character: Tobias
Other Family Appearances: Lindsay, GOB, Maeby
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: Tobias saying “Hothothot” in India was the only specific callback I noticed, but it was the lest terrible thing about that sequence.
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Tobias wearing his sheet in various silly ways in the bathroom, which I believe was a scene cut from a Warden Gentles episode of Rocko’s Modern Life.
Best Line / Exchange:

TOBIAS: All you need to do is tell people what a terrific actor I am, because I can’t do it believably.


“Brilliant Blues,” Pete Townshend
White City, 1985

Arrested Development, The B. Team

It might have taken four seasons to get us there, but “The B. Team” at long last makes good on Michael’s life-long dream to get into the motion picture industry.

No, wait, let me rephrase that: For no reason whatsoever, we get an episode that crams Michael into the motion picture industry.

There’s a lot that’s strange about this episode, but perhaps the most glaring is that if Arrested Development wanted to make jokes about Imagine Entertainment and Jerry Bruckheimer, they already had someone working in the business: Maeby. For no particular narrative reason that I can fathom, this episode fires her and subs Michael in instead.

This is disappointing in a few ways, one of which is that Maeby’s entire character arc gets derailed abruptly, and another is that this probably would have been much funnier if it had been Maeby helming the project rather than Ron Howard (season three ended with her working on this exact project anyway) and Michael taking his role in the process much too seriously.

He still could have been tasked with collecting signatures, he still could bump into Rebel Alley, and he still could assemble his team and give the “already built” speech. A silly story could have flowed naturally from everything we’ve already seen, and give another family member something to do. Instead, we take a moment to dismantle everything so we can start fresh with the silliness, and that feels like a big step backward.

I mentioned earlier that I avoided spoilers while watching these episodes. I finished the season a few days ago, however, and I can say this conclusively: it’s impossible to spoil anything, because nothing actually happens.

Oh, sure, you could spoil a joke here or there. Or you can reveal the identity of someone off camera. But as far as narrative: there isn’t one. We’ll get into this much more in later reviews, but it applies here too; for all the hubbub and importance surrounding narrative developments this season, none of them actually go anywhere.

Which is why, I guess, we have an episode about Michael Bluth assembling a team…which does nothing and not one member of which we’ll see again. It’s probably also why Michael gets a job (which with uncharacteristic and evasive vagueness is never revealed) with Google, so he can drive a funny car and the narrator can make jokes about how they can’t mention the name Google. It’s all very funny if you’ve never seen Arrested Development before this season and therefore have no idea how much better these concepts can be handled.

This season is playing out like an imitator of itself. It’s like seeing one of those trailers for an indie film made by somebody who knows Wes Anderson is popular but doesn’t seem to know why, so he ends up packing his film with the funny costumes and the deadpan delivery and the quirky soundtrack but never quite gets around to writing a good script, piecing together a memorable story or understanding the artistry behind why a great filmmaker makes those decisions in the first place.

The difference is that Arrested Development is still made by the same people, which is what’s confusing. It’s almost like Hurwitz and crew turned to the first three seasons for inspiration, but just latched onto the superficial things (left-field sight gags, jokey narration, guest stars) and never managed to get at anything that made their own show great.

That’s about 700 words of one thing before I get around to revealing another, though: I kind of like “The B. Team.” In fact, this is the last episode through which I was able to retain the illusion that season four might have promise. It was all down hill from here.

It’s not a great episode of television, or even a good one. As I mentioned, none of this goes anywhere. Not within the context of the episode, and at no time later. It upends one character’s arc so another can take her place, when it really would have been smoother and more logical to keep her there. And, strangest of all, the story doesn’t spring forth from anything we know about Michael at all.

Taken in conjunction with “Flight of the Phoenix,” this latter point is especially glaring. That episode was about both his relationship with his son and his failure with Sudden Valley…two very important things to Michael, and the two areas in which failure would feel most cutting to him. In short, it allows him to be a character.

Then we got George Sr., whose episode was about his relationship with Oscar, a scam business, and defrauding the U.S. Government. Again, very George Sr.

Lindsay’s episode was a mess, but then again so was her plastic surgery. Oops! I mean, so was her character. She’s flightly and impulsive, and even if the episode was a trainwreck it was at least true to aspects of her character.

Now Michael is a film producer. And soon Tobias will create a musical about The Fantastic Four. And Lucille will guest star with some shrill Asian women on a reality show. Arrested Development season four will remind us over and over again that any handle it initially seemed to have on its characters was purely coincidental.

So why do I like “The B. Team?” Because it at least has some good gags, and if you forget (or don’t know) that none of this goes anywhere and we might as well watch Michael on a treadmill for 30 minutes, it at least feels like it’s giving the season some direction.

But most of all, here’s what I like: Kitty Sanchez. Carl Weathers. Warden Gentles. Andy Richter. In one fell swoop the show brings back characters that are characters, and it’s such a refreshing taste after China Garden and Marky Bark. Perhaps — it even seems to suggest — those boobish cartoons can one day be remembered as fondly as these old hands. You know that smile you got on your face when Carl Weathers helped himself to a Grinch doll? Maybe one day you’ll be just as happy to see your old pal China Garden!

Yeah, not likely. The reason it’s so nice to see these characters again isn’t just because they were great enough characters that we missed them, but because it means there isn’t any room for the lesser creations of season four to intrude on our fun.

We do get to meet one other new face, though: Rebel Alley. It’s not glaring here in her first appearance, but with the benefit of hindsight I can say I’m disappointed that she also doesn’t have much character. Compared to past season-long romances like Marta or Rita, there’s nothing going on with this character, and no particular reason that Michael would fall for her particularly, any more than he’d fall for any attractive woman.

Sure, he says she reminds him of his dead wife (real artful way of bringing that back, too) but that’s never been why Michael’s chased girls in the past. I would have preferred there to be something more to it than the fact that Michael gets a boner when he sees redheads.

Oh well. It may not get us anywhere, but Warden Gentles failing to get the hang of his iPad is worth the half hour in itself. It’s a little frustrating that the most serialized season of the show refuses to actually go anywhere, but as long as we can keep having fun along the way, I’m happy.

Spoiler: We don’t keep having fun along the way.

Episode 4: “The B. Team”
Central Character: Michael
Other Family Appearances: Maeby, George Sr., Tobias
Most Clumsy Reference to Original Run: “She’s British so she doesn’t seem…nobody can ever tell that she’s disabled.”
Scene That Most Needed Tightening: Pretty much any exchange with Ron Howard could do to be tightened up.
Best Line / Exchange:

ANDY: Help me remember. What did we do together?
MICHAEL: You came over for a chicken and hamwater dinner that my family threw to raise some funds for itself.
ANDY: And they’re finally getting around to making a movie about that, huh?

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