[7.7/10] God, I just don’t know what to do with this show. Three quarters of it is this achingly raw human drama about people finally unclenching after literal decades of family-wide repression and slowly but surely accepting one another and themselves. And the last quarter of it is a Lifetime movie mixed with a Saw film. The former is lovely and poignant, and the latter is jaw-droppingly bad and borderline offensive.
Let’s start with the bad here. I have cared for people with mental disorders, including those that Billy has supposedly been diagnosed with. I will not sugarcoat. There were some scary times. But none of them amounted to the Buffalo Bill-style madness that Billy devolves into when he’s trying to scare and possibly harm Nate. The whole tableau is just beyond the pale, exaggerated to shock the audience in a theatrical way that detracts from the real life difficulties, hardships, and yes fears involved in grappling with and caring for people who suffer from mental illness. It bugs me on a level beyond the story because it feels like exploitation for cheap thrills and really made me have a problem with this episode.
Then, on a story level, everyone acts like an idiot. With Brenda, that can be somewhat excused since (a.) she clearly has a soft spot for her brother and would have a difficult time facing the reality of the type of help he needs and (b.) she’s been pretty unreasonable this entire show, so it’s nothing new. There’s an interesting story to be told about someone caring for their sibling, having to deal with that sibling acting out when jealous about the attention a new romantic partner receives, and having to make the decision whether to let themselves have a life outside of their family member or give into that type of behavior. But this isn’t it. This is a cheap horror movie or tawdry soap opera version of the idea.
Plus, Nate is a total moron. Why he doesn’t walk out of that building and call the police the second he sees those creepy photos his beyond me. Why he doesn’t do it once he sees the horror movie tableau Billy has constructed is an even bigger head-scratcher. And why, at the very least, he doesn’t call the police after Billy nearly went after him with a boxcutter is just ludicrous. At best, you can say he’s trying not to scuttle his relationship with Brenda, but that’s a stretch, and the real answer to these questions is because the plot needs him to avoid doing these things.
So we get some scary scenes with Billy, ones that fantastisize his illness rather than deal with the way these things genuinely manifest themselves. But at the very least, after a terror-inducing episode where Billy tries to mutilate the tattoo off Brenda’s back the same way he did to himself convinces her to have him committed, and maybe it at least means the end of this insipid, distasteful storyline and the two cent drama the show tried to generate with it.
And yet, somehow, the other parts of the episode are nothing short of brilliant, in a way that makes me wonder if, despite the script credits, they were written by an entirely different person. There’s some incredibly strong writing in Claire’s storyline, which is mostly monologues rather than character choices, and yet works from the confessional, introspective vibe about the whole thing.
There’s a lot of generic “I’m not like other teenagers” verbiage to her counselor at first, but eventually, Claire opens up. She talks about how everyone in her house was so careful, so worried about saying the wrong thing at a time of need with death hanging in the air, that everyone was basically invisible. It’s a form of self-repression that infected all of the Fishers except for Nate.
Claire is just now starting to break out of it, admitting that she uses her “whatever” attitude to “talk shit” instead of being open. It’s some startling honesty, and as leery as I am about where things will end with her and Gabe, I like the two of them being open with one another too, about their fears and hopes, in a way that shows Claire breaking out of the cycle, if only a little.
Once again, though, Ruth may take the crown for my favorite story in the episode. For one thing, I just love her interactions with Robbie, who may have stealthily become my new favorite secondary character on the show. The dynamic between them is both hilarious and endearingly real. Ruth is the button down conservative woman who is uncomfortable with things outside her immediate experience and the bounds of propriety, but who also wants to be able to connect with her son. And Robbie is a man who just had his flower-arranger job stolen out from under him by a woman whom the boss has a crush on, who’s not about to spill the intimate details of his personal life to her and is justifiably incensed at her questioning him about it.
But when they too open up to one another, it’s sweet and sad, in the best way. Ruth trying to open the door by telling embarrassing tales from her own personal life is...well...wholesome and funny and unbearably sweet while also being pitiable in how repressed she’s been. The story of not knowing how to pleasure herself is a sort of vulnerability that helps bridge things with Robbie while also adding a really telling character note. At the same time, Robbie’s anti-confession, that he never told his parents about his sexual orientation because he didn’t want to be disowned or disappoint them, is just as telling as a parable and warning to Ruth. His statement that “Children know what their parents expect them to be” is profound and sets up the climactic scene of the episode beautifully.
To that end, David’s story here is haunting and layered and meaningful. I love the depiction of the tug of war within him. On the one hand, he wants to give in to what he wants, to not be chastised or punished or anything but accepted for who he is, to be able to live his life as a gay man without any unfair disapprobation, let alone mortal threats. But on the other hand, he can’t silence the voice in his head, born of both familial repression and religious myopia, that tells him he’s an abomination and makes him not want to be what he is, a voice represented by the corpse of the gay man who was bludgeoned to death for his homosexuality David takes special care in working on.
There’s such fascinating honesty to that. David is angry and heartbroken about someone like him suffering this sort of discrimination. He stands up to Fredercio when he demeans the “homos” gathered for the funeral (and the fact that kind and decent Frederico is homophobic is an interesting, complicating character note for him). He punches a “protestor” at the funeral in the face for debasing the man who died. He apologizes to Keith for the way he tried to hide their relationship and acted uncomfortable with any form of openness about it. (And Keith continues to be too good for this world.) He comes out to his mom, in the spirit of the openness that they rarely enjoyed in the Fisher household.
But at the same time, he hears the voice of that corpse even after the man is buried telling him that he’s going to hell and most of the world hates him. He admits to Keith that he doesn’t want to be what he is, that he wishes he could be a straight guy with a baby bouncing on his knee, that some part of him believes the vicious epithets. And the last scene of the episode sees him begging God to take away his pain and replace it with loneliness. So much of this first season, David’s storyline especially, has been about gradual self-acceptance. But it’s not an easy road. Years of repression are not magically washed away in a matter of weeks or months. Acknowledging the hardship and internal contradictions of that is stellar storytelling and character work.
It all culminates in David coming out to his mother, which is again, sweet but sad. They both, in their own way, acknowledge that growing up in that house wasn’t always the most easy or open environment to come of age in, and that they’re both, just now, feeling more comfortable with themselves and one another. It’s a messy scene, as it should be, but one where mother and child come together, both a little raw, and walk away understanding each other a little better.
How that brilliant, psychologically complex storytelling can come in the same episode where a person suffering from mental illness is treated as one step away from being a cartoonish serial killer escapes me. All I can say is that Billy’s box cutter would have been better used to excise those sections of this episode.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2021-03-01T02:39:53Z
[7.7/10] God, I just don’t know what to do with this show. Three quarters of it is this achingly raw human drama about people finally unclenching after literal decades of family-wide repression and slowly but surely accepting one another and themselves. And the last quarter of it is a Lifetime movie mixed with a Saw film. The former is lovely and poignant, and the latter is jaw-droppingly bad and borderline offensive.
Let’s start with the bad here. I have cared for people with mental disorders, including those that Billy has supposedly been diagnosed with. I will not sugarcoat. There were some scary times. But none of them amounted to the Buffalo Bill-style madness that Billy devolves into when he’s trying to scare and possibly harm Nate. The whole tableau is just beyond the pale, exaggerated to shock the audience in a theatrical way that detracts from the real life difficulties, hardships, and yes fears involved in grappling with and caring for people who suffer from mental illness. It bugs me on a level beyond the story because it feels like exploitation for cheap thrills and really made me have a problem with this episode.
Then, on a story level, everyone acts like an idiot. With Brenda, that can be somewhat excused since (a.) she clearly has a soft spot for her brother and would have a difficult time facing the reality of the type of help he needs and (b.) she’s been pretty unreasonable this entire show, so it’s nothing new. There’s an interesting story to be told about someone caring for their sibling, having to deal with that sibling acting out when jealous about the attention a new romantic partner receives, and having to make the decision whether to let themselves have a life outside of their family member or give into that type of behavior. But this isn’t it. This is a cheap horror movie or tawdry soap opera version of the idea.
Plus, Nate is a total moron. Why he doesn’t walk out of that building and call the police the second he sees those creepy photos his beyond me. Why he doesn’t do it once he sees the horror movie tableau Billy has constructed is an even bigger head-scratcher. And why, at the very least, he doesn’t call the police after Billy nearly went after him with a boxcutter is just ludicrous. At best, you can say he’s trying not to scuttle his relationship with Brenda, but that’s a stretch, and the real answer to these questions is because the plot needs him to avoid doing these things.
So we get some scary scenes with Billy, ones that fantastisize his illness rather than deal with the way these things genuinely manifest themselves. But at the very least, after a terror-inducing episode where Billy tries to mutilate the tattoo off Brenda’s back the same way he did to himself convinces her to have him committed, and maybe it at least means the end of this insipid, distasteful storyline and the two cent drama the show tried to generate with it.
And yet, somehow, the other parts of the episode are nothing short of brilliant, in a way that makes me wonder if, despite the script credits, they were written by an entirely different person. There’s some incredibly strong writing in Claire’s storyline, which is mostly monologues rather than character choices, and yet works from the confessional, introspective vibe about the whole thing.
There’s a lot of generic “I’m not like other teenagers” verbiage to her counselor at first, but eventually, Claire opens up. She talks about how everyone in her house was so careful, so worried about saying the wrong thing at a time of need with death hanging in the air, that everyone was basically invisible. It’s a form of self-repression that infected all of the Fishers except for Nate.
Claire is just now starting to break out of it, admitting that she uses her “whatever” attitude to “talk shit” instead of being open. It’s some startling honesty, and as leery as I am about where things will end with her and Gabe, I like the two of them being open with one another too, about their fears and hopes, in a way that shows Claire breaking out of the cycle, if only a little.
Once again, though, Ruth may take the crown for my favorite story in the episode. For one thing, I just love her interactions with Robbie, who may have stealthily become my new favorite secondary character on the show. The dynamic between them is both hilarious and endearingly real. Ruth is the button down conservative woman who is uncomfortable with things outside her immediate experience and the bounds of propriety, but who also wants to be able to connect with her son. And Robbie is a man who just had his flower-arranger job stolen out from under him by a woman whom the boss has a crush on, who’s not about to spill the intimate details of his personal life to her and is justifiably incensed at her questioning him about it.
But when they too open up to one another, it’s sweet and sad, in the best way. Ruth trying to open the door by telling embarrassing tales from her own personal life is...well...wholesome and funny and unbearably sweet while also being pitiable in how repressed she’s been. The story of not knowing how to pleasure herself is a sort of vulnerability that helps bridge things with Robbie while also adding a really telling character note. At the same time, Robbie’s anti-confession, that he never told his parents about his sexual orientation because he didn’t want to be disowned or disappoint them, is just as telling as a parable and warning to Ruth. His statement that “Children know what their parents expect them to be” is profound and sets up the climactic scene of the episode beautifully.
To that end, David’s story here is haunting and layered and meaningful. I love the depiction of the tug of war within him. On the one hand, he wants to give in to what he wants, to not be chastised or punished or anything but accepted for who he is, to be able to live his life as a gay man without any unfair disapprobation, let alone mortal threats. But on the other hand, he can’t silence the voice in his head, born of both familial repression and religious myopia, that tells him he’s an abomination and makes him not want to be what he is, a voice represented by the corpse of the gay man who was bludgeoned to death for his homosexuality David takes special care in working on.
There’s such fascinating honesty to that. David is angry and heartbroken about someone like him suffering this sort of discrimination. He stands up to Fredercio when he demeans the “homos” gathered for the funeral (and the fact that kind and decent Frederico is homophobic is an interesting, complicating character note for him). He punches a “protestor” at the funeral in the face for debasing the man who died. He apologizes to Keith for the way he tried to hide their relationship and acted uncomfortable with any form of openness about it. (And Keith continues to be too good for this world.) He comes out to his mom, in the spirit of the openness that they rarely enjoyed in the Fisher household.
But at the same time, he hears the voice of that corpse even after the man is buried telling him that he’s going to hell and most of the world hates him. He admits to Keith that he doesn’t want to be what he is, that he wishes he could be a straight guy with a baby bouncing on his knee, that some part of him believes the vicious epithets. And the last scene of the episode sees him begging God to take away his pain and replace it with loneliness. So much of this first season, David’s storyline especially, has been about gradual self-acceptance. But it’s not an easy road. Years of repression are not magically washed away in a matter of weeks or months. Acknowledging the hardship and internal contradictions of that is stellar storytelling and character work.
It all culminates in David coming out to his mother, which is again, sweet but sad. They both, in their own way, acknowledge that growing up in that house wasn’t always the most easy or open environment to come of age in, and that they’re both, just now, feeling more comfortable with themselves and one another. It’s a messy scene, as it should be, but one where mother and child come together, both a little raw, and walk away understanding each other a little better.
How that brilliant, psychologically complex storytelling can come in the same episode where a person suffering from mental illness is treated as one step away from being a cartoonish serial killer escapes me. All I can say is that Billy’s box cutter would have been better used to excise those sections of this episode.