Dear “Downton Abbey” (January 28)

Dear Downton Abbey,

Hey.  Sorry I didn’t get in touch with you sooner.  Yesterday was kind of crazy.  I was going to write to you when I got home from work, but life had other plans.  You know the song by The Rolling Stones called “You Got the Silver”?  It’s a great song.  It’s a really, really great song.  Keith sings it.  And he’s incredible.  And every time I hear the song, it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time.  I hear it over and over again and, somehow, I discover it over and over again.  I notice things that I didn’t previously notice.  There’s a lot going on in the song, and yet, it’s so very, very simple.  It’s simple rock and roll.  And it’s perfect.  So perfect and so comforting and so exciting that it’ll make ya tune out the world and drive right into a concrete curb.  Was it even a curb?  It didn’t really look like it was serving much of a purpose — it was a very, very short wall in the middle of a parking lot.  I didn’t see it.  And I drove right into it.  And for a moment I didn’t realize why my car was suddenly no longer moving because the whole thing happened while I was busy losing myself to “You Got the Silver.”  That’s why I didn’t contact you last night.  Sorry.

The point I’m slowly getting to, Downton, is this: I would rather listen to “You Got the Silver” on a loop for an hour than watch Sunday’s episode ever again.  It wasn’t The Worst thing I’ve ever seen, but it was among the most unremarkable things I’ve ever seen…which, when ya think about it, is worse than being The Worst.

Downton, why were you in such a hurry to get rid of Edna, the evil maid?  By the second episode of the season, you already had her do the exact thing we were afraid she’d do — screw Branson’s brains out.  Oh, Downton, we really didn’t want that to happen.  Why?  Because we, unlike you, still care about Sybil.  We care about Sybil so much that we didn’t want her lovely widowed husband to screw anyone who isn’t absolutely amazing.  He did, though.  He did screw someone who isn’t absolutely amazing.  He screwed Edna.  And almost immediately after we realized that our nightmare had come true, Edna was out of the picture.   Gone.  She’s gone.  The villain of the season — or the character we were made to believe would be the villain of the season — is a non-motherfuckin’ factor.  Yes.  Mrs. Hughes had her taken care of faster than you can say, “Take the cannoli.”

source: pbs.org

So, now that Edna is gone, what does that leave us with?  What did Sunday’s episode feature?  Let’s see what I can remember.

Thomas is walking around smirking at people and making vague little threats that never go anywhere.  Weren’t he and Edna kind of becoming friends?  Remember when they ruined Lady Grantham’s scarf (or something) and blamed it on Anna?  See, that storyline is over now, because you got rid of Edna, and Thomas isn’t really following up on it.   You can do better than that, can’t you?  Thomas used to kidnap dogs, for heaven’s sake.

The tall, freckled kid wants to be a chef but didn’t pass his test.  Big whoop.  (By the way, that scene was completely bizarre.  All of a sudden I was watching a boring episode of Top Chef.  Don’t do that again.)

There’s a new Lady’s Maid (“Baxter”) who knows how to use an electric sewing machine.  We don’t care.

Branson doesn’t feel at home at Downton (still) and is talking about moving to New York.  If this actually happens, then the series is actually over.  You know that, right?

The two boring young people who flirt in the kitchen still occasionally flirt in the kitchen.  Either have them screw or kill them off.

Speaking of screwing, Edith is pregnant, right?  And there’ll be scandal?  And she’ll move to Germany?  And become a Nazi?  And then the show will get interesting again?  Really, for whatever reason — maybe because it’s such a hackneyed, predictable, boring device — I don’t care if Edith is pregnant.  Chances are, you don’t either.  You’ll find a way to minimize the impact of an unwanted pregnancy and a few episodes from now it will be as if none of this ever happened.

Really, Downton, I feel like you’ve forgotten everything that’s happened in previous seasons.  Remember how you spent two years telling us over and over again that Mr. Bates isn’t a murderer?  Remember how Anna kept telling us over and over that Mr. Bates isn’t a murderer?  Why, then, is Anna convinced that Mr. Bates — the “innocent” victim who definitely did not kill his ex-wife — will definitely find and kill the scumbag who violated her?

Just please don’t put Mr. Bates in jail again.  Please please please please please.  Or, if you have to, please don’t have Anna work tirelessly every single day to bust him out.  Please please please please please.

Finally, and least excitingly, there’s all the stuff about The Farm.  Nobody cares, Downton.  Really.  Nobody cares.  Well, ok, Lady Mary cares sometimes, so sometimes she says things like, “The Fahhhm. We cahhn’t affohd it.  Pa’paaaah is soo old fashioned.”

Seriously Downton, when I wasn’t rolling my eyes at Anna and Bates or yawning about Edith’s ominous uterus or falling asleep during Top Chef, I felt like I was watching The Godfather Part II.  And not the good stuff.

 

To be specific, I felt like I was watching all the exposition scenes in Cuba.  Not the good stuff that happens in Cuba…

…I’m talkin’ more along the lines of all the business stuff that doesn’t end up really mattering because what really matters is the stuff going on between Michael and Fredo…

Ya know.  That stuff.  The stuff that makes ya go, “Wait, what’s the suitcase full a money?  Who’s running for President?  Hold on, why are they in Cuba?”  Ya know why those scenes in The Godfather Part II are still more amusing than the sheep farm scenes in Sunday’s episode?  It’s because I care enough about what’s happening in Michael Corleone’s life to find out what else is gonna happen while he’s in Cuba.  I can’t really say the same for Lord and Lady Grantham and Lady Mary and Lady Edith.  What are they doing?  Do I care about their farm?  Are they good people?  Are they interesting people?  I can’t tell anymore.

The point I’m slowly getting to, Downton, is this: I would rather watch The Godfather Part Two on a loop for an entire day than watch Sunday’s episode ever again.  It wasn’t The Worst thing I’ve ever seen, but it was among the most unremarkable things I’ve ever seen…which, when ya think about it, is worse than being The Worst.

Hey.  When something works, it just works.  “You Got the Silver” works.  The Godfather Part II works.  When I saw you on Sunday night, nothin’ really worked for me.  Sorry.

I’ll still see you next week.  Same time, same place.  Do me one favor, though?  Would you please let Maggie Smith talk this time?  I’m really starting to miss her.

See ya.

Steff

P.S.

Take a lesson from The Stones.  Keep It Simple.

Dear “Downton Abbey” (January 20)

Dear Downton Abbey,

I hope you’re doing all right.  No, really, I hope you’re doing all right.  What’s going on?  You seem somewhat off.  You’re not acting like yourself.  The super HD camera is out of control!  It’s making it look like the cinematographer was replaced by someone with a few blinding lamps.  Also, you’re relying on dramatic background music 10x’s as much as you used to.  Why?

Last week, my heart broke for Anna.  What a horrible thing to watch such a wonderful person experience.  This week, however, you really ignored her.  I hardly got to see her, and when I did see her she was kind of exhausting.  She just walked around looking like she was about to collapse and every time someone asked her, “Hey, why does it look like you’re about to collapse?” she acted even more distraught.  Anna is smart — she must know she’s being obvious, right?  So then tell your husband, Anna.  Just tell him.  You can’t go on forever walking around like you’re about to collapse and expect no one to notice.  Oh, God, and you’re even moving out of your house!  C’mon.  Tell Your Husband.  He already knows something is up, and you know he knows it.

I blame you, though, Downton.  I realize Anna is a raw nerve right now, but you’re not giving her much opportunity to be complex.  People who are struggling try to act like they’re not struggling, and Anna did that all throughout the previous three seasons.  This time, she’s obvious.

Wait, wait wait wait wait!  Now, wait a second.  Listen.  I’m not saying that what happened to her last week wasn’t screwed up, because it was.  It was hideous.    It was nightmarish.  It made me cry.  But Joanne Froggatt (Anna Bates) is a great actress.  I think that she is more than capable of portraying multiple emotions.  Anna shouldn’t just be walking around with a frightened expression saying, “Leave me alone I’m fine.”  It’s just too easy. 

Thank you, though, for giving her one good scene.  When she finally breaks down to Mrs. Hughes and tells her she doesn’t want her husband to touch her because she feels dirty…that was actually good.  More of that, please.  That turmoil came across as very real.

To change the subject, Downton, I have to tell you that I’m very, very disappointed in Branson.  I thought that I’d hear him say, “I don’t remember anything that happened.  Why did I wake up with no pants on?”  Instead I heard him say, “I blush to say it, but I was very, very drunk.”  Shit, Downton.  No one in that entire damn house ever mentions Sybil except for Branson (which is messed up, to say the least), and then he goes and lets the maid with crazy eyes crawl into his bed?  And he puts it in?  Downton, you better make him atone for that.  I don’t mean kill him!  I don’t mean that.  I just mean that this should be an opportunity to have Branson sit down and think about what the hell he’s actually doing with his life.  Does he want to leave?  Then let him leave.  Does he want to find a smart, interesting, worthy partner?  Let him go find one.  Does he want to devote his life to being an incredible father?  Then include at least a few scenes now and again where he’s holding his damn daughter (and while you’re at it, maybe remind us from time to time that Lady Mary is a mother).  Oh, and Geez, whatever happened to him being a socialist revolutionary?  He used to be so exciting and interesting!  Don’t let his entire huge storyline this season be “The Time He Put It in The Maid with Crazy Eyes and Then Mrs. Hughes Saved His Ass.”  Don’t let it be as easy as having Mrs. Hughes find a copy of The Art of Douching and sending Crazy Eyes away.  Seriously.  Lord and Lady Grantham may have forgotten about their youngest daughter, but I haven’t.

Source: http://www.mirror.co.uk

Speaking of Lord and Lady Grantham’s unrivaled ability to move passed the horrific deaths of their loved ones, I absolutely hated hearing them talk about how they wanted Lady Mary to hook up with Sir Pitiful.  Okay, that’s not his name, but you must know who I mean.  The guy!  They guy who had three conversations with Lady Mary and then asked her to marry him!  Oh, God, and when she acted taken aback by the whole display and he was like, “I’ll wait a month, a year, two years — just promise me you’ll spend the rest of your life with me!”  UGH.  I cringed.  Dude.  Too pitiful.  Completely un-sexy.  Utterly creepy.  I love that Mary straight up told him she wasn’t over the death of her husband, whom she loved very, very much.  Cuz, ya know.  He died less than a year ago.  How come no one seems to remember that except Lady Mary and Cousin Isobel?  Everyone else is all, “Oh, my.  Look at Lady Mary talking to Sir Pitiful for the first time since they met that one time when they were children.  They are most definitely going to get married right now and that is absolutely normal.”  That makes me really, really mad. 

And speaking of Cousin Isobel, my hat goes off to her for that phenomenal display of inimitable politeness during a moment of profound vulnerability.  No one around her cares that Matthew is gone.  No one around her cares that it breaks her heart how much everyone wants Lady Mary to forget about Matthew and marry Lord Pitiful.  But what does cousin Isobel do?  Shakes his hand and tells him she hopes to see him again.  Her voice is weak.  She’s nervous.  And she pulls through.  BRAVO.  Ya know what was great about that moment?  The portrayal of multiple emotions.  Complexity.  Profound vulnerability combined with arduous dedication to graciousness.  Again, bravo for the only real moment. 

Downton, of course I’ll see you next week.  Just work on all this, ok?  Let these people be real people and have real emotions and react to things the way human-beings react.  Ok? 

Also, more Maggie Smith.  You’re seriously lagging on that.

See ya.

Steff

 

Dear “Downton Abbey” (January 13)

Dear Downton Abbey, 

     It was so nice to see you last week.  It had been a while.  Branson (or “Tom,” sometimes) is looking handsome as ever and it’s nice to see Lady Edith get some attention from a man who seems to actually enjoy being around her.  Plus, he’s older and emotionally unavailable, which is exactly what Lady Edith looks for in a suitor.  I suppose it makes sense that she’d be the one with the daddy issues, as she’s the middle daughter with thin lips and a flawed schnoz. Useless.

Source: http://www.vulture.com

     I was excited to see you again last night.  Even after a three-hour-long award show I was eager to see what you were up to.  That Edna!  Wow.  What a sociopath.  “Let’s corner Branson when he’s most vulnerable and bring him a massive glass of whiskey and then sneak into his room…”.

     There’s a word for that.  Maybe.  I don’t know.  I guess I’ll find out what exactly happened when I see you next week.  I have to admit, though, I’m not too concerned for Branson (or “Tom,” sometimes) at the moment.  The person I’m really concerned for — the person who I’ve been very, very concerned for ever since you and I first met — is Anna.

     Anna is one of the strongest people in the entire house.  She’s indestructible.  She risked her professional and social life when she fell in love with a married man.  She put up with that married man’s vengeful wife.  When she finally married that man he was immediately arrested, so she spent an entire year (or longer — it’s hard to tell with you) working tirelessly to bust him out of prison.  Oh, and she helped hide a body.  And she never said shit.

Source: http://downtonabbeyonline.com/downton-abbey-characters/

     Why did you have to punish Anna again?  In such a terrifying, brutal way?  Is it because she and Mr. Bates were finally in the same place at the same time being a married couple?  Is it because you got tired of merely killing people?  

     I didn’t cry when you took Sybil away.  I nearly broke my parents’ television, though.  I was sick that day.  Horribly sick.  I was somewhat stoned on Theraflu and couldn’t really breathe all that well.  When the episode ended I sat up and looked around and contemplated how much trouble I’d get in if I actually hurled my mug of hot tea at the screen.  Ultimately I decided not to do it.  There was no point.  It wouldn’t bring Sybil back.

     I cried last night, though.  What you did to Anna made me cry.  I cried because she was hurt and I cried because she was scared and I cried because all she could say to Mrs. Hughes was that she didn’t want her husband to know what happened.  She is a victim, and she is afraid of what will happen if she tells the truth.  

    Downton, please don’t have Mr. Bates tell Anna that she was asking for it.  It’s too upsetting for me to imagine that happening.  It’s also upsetting that I even find myself saying this to you, because the likelihood that something like that will happen is all too, like, likely.  The fact is, for all the ways in which the world has changed when it comes to this sort of thing, the idea that people still suggest that anyone ever asks for this sort of thing…

     When I hear the words, “The kinda girls who are asking for it,” I can physically feel my blood pressure rising.  I find myself wishing I was more practiced at meditation.  I forget all the essays I read in college and I forget all the court cases that have been in the news and I forget how to talk like a halfway intelligent person and all I can muster is a simple, pointed, “What do you mean ‘asking for it‘?”  Then again, there’s really no other response.  Why should there be?  Why should I waste my eloquence on such profound bullshit? Wouldn’t a kick in the balls be much more efficient?  

     I’m interested to see what you do next, Downton.  Please, though — I’m begging you — please don’t just brush this aside.  Please don’t mention this once or twice and then never address it again (as in the way people occasionally kind of almost vaguely refer to Sybil’s violent final moments).  If Mr. Bates does break Anna’s heart, let that be dealt with in a realistic fashion.  Please try to teach us something instead of just showing us something upsetting for the sake of showing us something upsetting.  Let the characters evolve.  Let Anna’s suffering make her stronger.  If Anna tells Lady Mary or Lady Grantham what happened, please have them be supportive.  They owe her.  They really, really owe her.

And please, give The Dowager Countess more screen time.  She’s still your best feature.

Sincerely, 

Steff

 

 

 

   

Lady Sybil. Lord Farrell. Good Lord.

She’s gorgeous.  And talented.  And English.  And 24 years old.

He’s gorgeous.  And talented.  And Irish.   And 37 years old.

And they’re gonna get it on in Winter’s Tale.

Source: http://www.impawards.com/2014/winters_tale_ver4.html

Yes.  Lady Sybil (Jessica Brown Findlay) and Colin Farrell are gonna get it on.  Naked.  Presumably.  That’s what it looks like in the trailer, anyway, which I will include at the end of this post.

So, ok.  Miss Findlay proved to us on Downton Abbey that’s she’s good at acting wise beyond her years.  I mean, Sybil’s the youngest daughter and yet she’s the most mature person in the whole damn house — at least of all the people who live upstairs.  She wants to wear fierce pants suits and get a job and help people and she respectfully asks Mrs. Patmore for cooking lessons and she doesn’t get nasty when the kitchen maids tease her for not knowing how to boil an egg.  Everyone loves Sybil.  Everyone.  Even Thomas loves Sybil, and Thomas loves no one.   

Ya know who else loves Sybil?  Tom Branson, the Social chauffeur.  Allen Leech, the actor who plays The Chauffeur, is eight years Miss Findlay’s senior.   I may be alone in thinking this, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that an eight year age difference between on-screen lovers isn’t remarkable, particularly, perhaps, in this case.  Both of the actors were both born in the 1980’s.  Both of the actors look about 19.  Nothing creepy.   

A 13 year age difference, though?  I’m kinda rollin’ my eyes over here.  I applaud Miss Findlay for landing a lead role in a movie that also stars Colin Farrell, Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connelly, and Will Smith (Mr. Smith being the only lead actor not featured in the move trailer…but that’s a whole other rant), but do we immediately have to pair her with a guy who’s almost 40?  Shouldn’t she be gettin’ it on with Zac Efron?  Or, couldn’t Hollywood find a gorgeous, talented, English actress who’s pushin’ the ripe ol’ age of 30?  And have her get it on with Colin Farrell? 

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  “Whoever’s right for the part should get the part.”  I get it.  I got it.  I agree.  I agree so much that I’m nervous that “right for the part” translates to “young enough,” and, let’s face it, it’s the women in Hollywood who are expected to never age.  

I understand this happens all the time.  All.  The.  Time.  Lady Sybil kissing The Guy Who’s Stuck in the Phone Booth probably isn’t even the grossest on-screen age difference I could mention.  Remember when Keira Knightley kissed Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest?  She is 22 years younger than J-Depp.  And yes, while the kiss pumped up the cliffhanger, did anyone else notice that the kiss was hardly mentioned in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End?  And has anyone else watched the commentary for Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl?  During the commentary, J-Depp actually says that when he filmed the scene where he and Keira Knightley are stuck on the island, he felt, “like Methuselah” when he had to put his arm around her.  “Like Methuselah.”  Why make him kiss her, then?  Of course, perhaps everything I’ve just said it total bullshit, because now J-Depp is dating a woman who’s a year younger than Keira Knightley.  Ugh.

I admit without shame that the reason this whole Sybil/Farrell thing caught my eye in the first place is solely because I’ve been watching a lot of Downton Abbey lately.  A lot.  Still, when I watched the trailer for Winter’s Tale, I couldn’t help but notice that the age difference is, well, noticeable.  While Mr. Farell is a total fox, he’s not a fresh-faced fox.  That’s not meant to be an insult — just an observation.

Check it out for yourself.

No Exorcise.

I know all three of you have been holding your breath in anticipation of my imminent Exorcist post…But I had a shitty fucking day, so I bought myself a massage.  It only cost me $48 for an hour of complete and total restorative bliss.  Oh LORD.  Talk about bein’ confined to a bed while a professional drives out all your demons.

WAIT A SECOND.

All right.  I’m half awake and everything I’m writing sounds sexual.  And I hate sexual things very much.  EW.  So I’m gonna go to sleeZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……..

Exorcise It.

Screw today, yesterday, and the fact that I haven’t posted anything on this blog in several weeks.  Screw diets.  Screw exercise.

Well, no, okay, not screw diets.  A few weeks ago I drowned my sorrows in fast food one night, and then it kinda turned into, well, a nightly thing.  Ya know what wasn’t a nightly thing that week?  Pooping.  And not pooping is not fun.

And not writing is not fun!

That’s why tonight I am armed with Pop Chips, Ben & Jerry’s FroYo, and a mission: I’m going to watch The Exorcist for the first time.  Start to finish.  Oh, I’ve attempted to watch this movie twice in my life: first in high school, then again last week.  The same thing happened both times…that is, I got bored, then I got grossed out.

Now, I’ve never been a huge fan of scary movies.  They scare me.  Sometimes, late at night, I hear Vincent Price’s opening monologue from the original House on Haunted Hill in my head…and I get really freaked out.  But a little girl shouting obscenities because she’s “possessed” by a “demon”?  Sounds like religious propaganda to me.

“She’s so amusing.”  Thanks, Vincent!

Ok.  I’m having an imaginary conversation with Vincent Price.  That’s actually not the weirdest thing to happen to me today, but still, it’s time we move on.

I just cracked open some Oatmeal Stout.  The Pop Chips are gone.  Wait, no, really, THE POP CHIPS ARE GONE.  HOW DID I EAT AN ENTIRE BAG OF POP CHIPS ALREADY?

S’all good.  Gots me some emergency Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles.  BAKED RUFFLES.

“SMALL SEASONED CURLIES!”

I’m starting to sound like Peter O’Toole in The Ruling Class.  Oh, you wanna talk about great movies about Catholicism…ok, Steff, back to The Exorcist.

Let’s get this Catholic party started.

I’m going to press “play” now.

I shall write tomorrow.

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.  I mean, c’mon, though — we’re all pretty much born knowing the plot of this movie.  Kinda like how we’re born knowing that planting a severed horse head in someone’s bed is the kinda thing only the baddest of bad motherfuckers do.

Come at me, Satan.

Basil, Stuart, and Faulty Characters

I know, I know, I’ve already written about Hello Ladies. 

I know, I know, I need to move on from writing about Ricky Gervais and/or Stephen Merchant.

I know, I know, I’m starting to sound like a know-it-all blogger-complainer who has nothing interesting to say.

Well.  Here’s my attempt at bringing you something halfway entertaining (unlike the average episode of Hello Ladies).

I went ahead and watched the third episode of Hello Ladies last night.  I had spent all weekend re-watching the original UK version of The Office, so not only was I unamused by Hello Ladies because it’s just not good, I was extra annoyed because I had just cried over Tim and Dawn at the Christmas party.  A lot of things look pale after that scene.

This week, Stuart (Stephen Merchant’s character…whose name never stuck in my brain until just now, when I looked it up on imdb) scores a date with a cute girl who works at the smoothie stand of a yoga studio.  They meet up for dinner at a fancy restaurant, and Stuart is distressed by how expensive all the menu items are.  After his date orders an $80 bottle of wine, Stuart excuses himself to the bathroom.  He secretly follows the waiter to the kitchen and tells him to return to the table and say that the restaurant has run out of the wine his date ordered.  The waiter does as he’s told.  Stuart theatrically reprimands the waiter for being uninformed.  Stuart’s date then orders a different bottle of wine that costs $70.  The cycle starts over again.

Stuart and the girl go on a second date.  This time, she spends most of the date texting back and forth with someone.  While she’s in the bathroom, Stuart looks at her phone and sees that she has been chatting with someone named Alex.  At the end of the date, the girl asks Stuart to drop her off at a friend’s house.  Stuart hangs around, and then gets out of his car and peaks through the window of the house.  His cell phone goes off.  Physical comedy ensues.  Turns out, the girl he’s been seeing is inside with a good female friend of hers.  They catch Stuart trying to run away.  There’s a shouting match.  Stuart begs to take her out again.  She says yes.  Stuart then finds out that the female friend’s name is not Alex.  Stuart yells at his date again.  Turns out Alex is her brother.  And he was recently diagnosed with Leukemia.

Blah blah blah blah blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahty blah.

I don’t really remember the B plot.  Well, ok, Stuart’s female friend has an audition for a Tampax commercial and Stuart’s recently separated friend hatches a pathetic plan that involves texting Stuart every two hours.

So.  What the hell is it that bores me to death about Hello Ladies?  Why does Stephen Merchant’s character bore me so much?  I guess I can answer both of those questions the same way: Stuart does nothing for me.  I don’t root for him.  I don’t root against him.  I don’t feel sorry for him.  I don’t hate him.  I’m completely unamused by him.

Stuart is desperate to meet a woman.  However, it hasn’t been made clear why he’s so damn desperate.  Was he dumped recently by the love of his life and now he’s just lookin’ for some cheap thrills?  Has he just moved to America from England and he’s excited to spend the night with an American girl?  Is he a virgin?  Why am I supposed to care if he hooks up or not?

Stuart is really freaking rude.  He’s rude to the women he tries to pick up on.  He’s rude to his friends.  He’s rude to waiters and limo drivers and…everyone.  Strange thing is, no one is really that rude to Stuart.  People don’t seem to go out of their way to ruin Stuart’s day, so why does he have to bring everyone else down?

Stuart’s awkward.  He keeps falling down and knocking things over and falling into bushes and yelling at waiters and creeping on yoga hotties.  He’s not awkward in an endearing way, though.  To be honest, it’s kind of phony.  His awkwardness isn’t exaggerated enough to be funny in a slapsticky way, nor is it realistic enough to be funny in a heartbreaking way.  We’re left with this sort of semi-formed character who kind of acts strange for the sake of kind of acting strange.

Remember David Brent from The Office?  Dear God, that man is awkward.  He’s a pudgy Englishman who works in an office and goes around saying things like, “I provide the comedy.”  He tries to take credit for jokes that have been around for decades.  He’s always saying ignorant things about black people and women when he thinks that he’s being super progressive.  He’s extremely competitive…

But have we not all met someone like David Brent?  Someone so horribly insecure that you don’t know whether you’d rather give him a hug or smack him in the head?

Stuart just isn’t very lovable.  He’s not lovable for who he is, nor is he lovable in spite of who he is.  It doesn’t look like he learns from his mistakes.  It doesn’t look like he experiences any remorse when he hurts people’s feelings.  He doesn’t have anything nice to say about anyone.

And yet, at the end of each episode, Stuart is shown driving down Hollywood Boulevard sighing by himself, or making a pathetic dinner for one in his giant kitchen.  Sad music plays.  Stuart frowns.  The tone completely changes…

We’re supposed to feel something during these scenes, aren’t we?

But Steff, not every television character has to be lovable. 

Well, hang on.  I’m coming to a point.

Stuart is rude.  Stuart is awkward.  Stuart is unlovable.  Stuart is tall and gangly.

Rude, awkward, unlovable, tall, gangly…like someone else we know.

For the sake of argument, let’s say that Stephen Merchant isn’t going for an Office vibe at all.  Let’s say that he purposely created a character who possesses no good qualities for no good reason.  Let’s say it doesn’t matter why Stuart is looking for love, and it doesn’t matter why Stuart is mean to everyone.  Let’s say that we’re supposed to just watch and laugh as he repeatedly finds himself in horrible situations.

Well, I kinda just described Fawlty Towers, one of the most famous British sitcoms of all time.  John Cleese plays Basil Fawlty, an inept hotel owner who can’t get through a single day without humiliating himself and alienating his guests.  He’s always angry.  He’s always paranoid.  He’s always fuckin’ hilarious.

What does Basil Fawlty have that Stuart doesn’t?  Well, for one thing, Fawlty Towers never tries to be something it isn’t.  None of the episodes of Fawlty Towers end with Basil wandering through the hotel pondering his life decisions and wondering how he came to be such a bitter man.  It just wouldn’t fit.  We, the viewers, want to watch Basil Fawlty, asshole-extraordinaire, run around his crappy hotel all day terrorizing his guests and physically abusing Manuel, the Spanish bellhop.  We don’t need to learn anything from watching Fawlty Towers besides how to write an awesomely-paced sitcom.

Likewise, we are never made to feel sorry for Basil.  He’s a train wreck, and that’s okay, dammit.  Because he’s fine with it.  Stuart, on the other hand, seems to kind of oscillate between “I give no fucks” and “I hate myself.”  It’s impossible to tell if he’s content in his nightmarish behavior, or if he wishes he were someone else.  There’s nothing wrong with either of these choices.  However, for the sake of comedy, a choice does need to be made.  You’re either Basil Fawlty or David Brent.  Ya can’t really be both.

So yes.  It is perfectly possible to create a comedy that centers around a character who is, generally speaking, a rather unlovable kind of person.  However, if the show is well-made, then viewers will end up loving those generally unlovable people.  Why?  Because they haven’t just made us uncomfortable.  They’ve also made us — yes! — laugh.

“Hello Ladies.” ::Sigh::

Last Tuesday.  Oy, last Tuesday.

Last Tuesday, I went to Carney’s on Ventura Boulevard and ordered a chili cheeseburger and chili cheese fries to go.  I came home, sat down on my bedroom floor, and halfway through eating the chili cheeseburger, I just plain didn’t want it anymore.  There was nothing horribly offensive about it — no uncooked patty, no cockroaches — but I was just plain bored.  I was bored by the chili cheeseburger.  I put the uneaten portion down and ate a few chili cheese fries.  Same thing happened — after a few bites, I was over it.  I was stuffed to the gills with chili-flavored ennui.

I went to the kitchen and tossed the remaining sludge in the trash.  When I got back to my room, I turned on Hello Ladies, the new Stephen Merchant joint.

As I mentioned in the blog I wrote that night, I had originally planned on watching an episode of Hello Ladies, followed by an episode of Derek, created by Ricky Gervais.  My plan was to compare the two.  Well, as you may have read, my evening went in an entirely different direction.  Derek ended up dominating my every thought for the next several days.  I even tried tweeting at Ricky Gervais.  Why?  I dunno.  People do that, right?

Tonight, having no more Derek to watch, I decided to watch the second episode of Hello Ladies.  Was it better than the first episode?  No.  Was it worse than the first episode?  No.  Much like that Carney’s chili cheese dinner, It was just the same bland mess.

I find Stephen Merchant adorable.  I don’t find him adorable in Hello Ladies.  I have a difficult time feeling any sympathy for his character, because I know absolutely nothing about him.  Was he picked on as a kid?  Is it just tough being a lanky Englishman in Los Angeles?  Is he a 38-year-old virgin?  It’s a mystery.  From what I’ve seen so far, he’s just kind of a goofy guy who keeps ending up in pathetic situations.  Ya know how Ben Stiller is always ending up in awkward situations in his movies?  It’s kind of like that.  Just…inexplicable relentless awkwardness.

Now, it has been proven that Stephen Merchant knows how to write hilarious, heartfelt television shows that are often awkward and always true to life.  Hello Ladies has all the, “Oh no…” moments, but none of the, “Oh yay!” or “Awwww!” moments to balance everything out.

At this point, I guess I should delve into the details of the episode a little bit, but I’m at a loss for words.  I don’t hate the show enough to give examples of how bad it is.  In fact, the mere idea of writing an in depth play-by-play of this week’s episode bores me.

I will give the show one more chance.  One more.  Maybe the third episode will be good.  However, since I still don’t care enough about what I’ve seen to know any of the characters’s names, it doesn’t really look like the odds are very good.  Oh well.

Perhaps this will be the end of my recent Stephen Merchant/Ricky Gervais binge.  In fact, maybe now is a good time to re-watch an episode or two of the original version of The Office.

Gaaah, TV.  Please get better.  Rare gems, please be less rare.

Hmm. Yes.

I promise the Ricky Gervais posts will end after this.  I just found this video, and I think it’s a great way to cap off my Derek posts.

As someone who writes/tries to write about real life, I appreciated this.  Quite a lot.

Now What?

I just finished Derek.  Last night I made sure to take my mascara off before I started watching.  I forgot to do that tonight.  I’m sure there are mascara tracks all over my face.

Ricky Gervais.  In the past, you have made me smile.  You have made me laugh.  You have made me cringe.  You have made me feel very, very nervous.  You have made my palms sweat.  You have made my stomach hurt.  You have made me make, “What the HELL just happened?” faces.  I gotta say, I never thought you’d make me convulse in violent sobs.  But thank you.  Because the tears weren’t tears of sadness.  They were more like tears of joy.  The kind of joy that’s characterized by a sort of melancholy understanding.  Derek makes me cry because I know these characters.  I understand them.  I’ve met them.  And watching them go about their uneventful, little lives has been absolutely fantastic.  And familiar.

I’m not going to summarize the last episode.   By now, you should know that you need to set all your other television priorities aside and watch Derek.

I’m so thankful I decided to stick with this show.  I smiled.  I shrieked with laughter.  I gasped in surprise.  I convulsed in violent sobs…

Just watch it.  Just watch Derek.  Right now.

I, myself, am off to finish the last few episodes of Extras.  I’ve never seen them.  And I know they are not going to make me cry.  So.  That’ll be a nice break.

But first, I better deal with this mascara.