7x04 Leslie and Ron

[10/10] You don’t get many perfect episodes of television. There are outstanding, tremendous, fantastic, episodes of television, but almost all of them has some non-de minimis thing you might change, or you might liked to have seen done differently, or just didn’t reach as high as it might have.

But I can’t think of anything I would change about “Leslie and Ron.” (Maybe the lock-in scheme is a hair contrived, but it’s so vital to the core of the episode that I can find no fault in it.) It is twenty-two minutes of pure gold, of two great actors, and an excellent writers’ room, not only taking a big risk by devoting an extended episode with just a pair of characters having a conversation more or less, but nailing some of the show’s key themes and relationships in the process.

Let’s start with that -- the boldness of what Parks did here. It wasn’t the first show to put two characters in a room together to hash things out, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it’s still a high wire act to keep the audience entertained and compelled the whole way through. Managing to not only pull that off, but to resolve the simmering feud between Leslie and Ron and explore and reaffirm what makes them work as friends and their personal journeys is an achievement.

Then there’s the reveals. We finally learn what Morningstar is, and with it, why Leslie is so upset. The episode does a nice job at setting up that reveal, establishing the timeline of how Leslie and Ron’s relationship soured, without necessarily giving us all the detail. We learn about Ron leaving the Parks department, about him starting his own building and contracting company (without saying anything to Leslie) and then what did it.

After Leslie and Ron had already drifted apart, Ron agreed to service a project that would not only block the views of Pawnee Commons, but which would tear down Ann’s old house, without saying anything. It becomes understandable why Leslie was and is so hurt and angry. The Pawnee Commons is Leslie’s signature achievement and one of the touchstones of the show, and Ann is not only tied to that, but her house has sentimental value to Leslie as the site of so many important events. Of course Leslie would be wounded and upset by that, in a way that could even rattle the seemingly rock solid friendship between her and Ron.

The episode does well to let that hang in the air for a while, with only a cryptic “there’s more to the story” to tease the audience a bit. It then gives us some traditional Ron and Leslie hijinks, involving post-it notes, sprinklers, gag claymores, and most importantly, horrible singalongs to “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” It’s a great reminder that for as powerful an episode as this is, it’s still really damn funny, with some gags (like the claymore) that pay off longstanding bits on the show, some like Leslie’s pestering and Ron’s stoicism that feel deeply rooted in the characters, and some like them palling around afterward that are just silly fun.

It’s in this interpersonal mayhem that Leslie digs out her original application for the Parks Dept. job and Ron’s evaluation of her, and the show offers an explication of what makes these two people, who are otherwise always butting heads, work so well together. Ron instantly sized-up Leslie, identifying her as someone with views on government that were anathema to him, an attitude that was sharply contrasted from his own, and demeanor that meant she would always be a thorn in his side. But he said “hire her” anyway, even after she gave him a vociferous lecture on the value of government at her interview, because he respected that. He may disagree with Leslie but she was tough, and challenging, and stood up for what she believed in, and that made her admirable and worthwhile regardless of what she believed.

That’s why the two of them work. They may not always see eye-to-eye, and their views may be different, but their values are the same. They appreciate each other’s commitment; they see one another’s kindness and decency, and even when they’re not on the same page, they can understand and respect why each of them does what they do.

That just leaves one piece of the mystery -- why is Ron upset? The answer is a surprising but, in retrospect, completely natural one. Ron doesn’t like change. As he’s said time and again, he wants to keep things the way they are as much as possible. So when Leslie left for the third floor, taking April and Jerry with her, when Tom and Donna left to pursue their businesses, he suddenly looked up and didn’t know anyone anymore. He won’t say it -- but Leslie will -- he missed his friends.

And there is no greater sign, no truer proof of that, than the fact that he went to ask Leslie for a job. Against all the times he professed not to care about his “work proximity associates,” all the times he protested their presence and annoying ways, when they were taken away from him, he would stomach working for (gulp) the federal government just to be with them again. It is a testament to the lengths Ron was willing to go, a personal sacrifice in a sense, that he was ready to make in the name of something he would barely acknowledge.

When he tried to do that, Leslie was too busy for it. It wasn’t intentional; it wasn’t malicious; it was just a product of the hectic life Leslie Knope was leading. But it hurt, and it made Ron feel even more isolated from his old friends, and willing to take on jobs that he knew would hurt them too.

Suddenly, Leslie and Ron understand each other once more. They both apologize, both acknowledge how they’ve wounded the other, and proceed to have the most touching “let’s clean this crap up and set things back to the way they were” montage you’ve ever seen, set to Ron’s favorite Willie Nelson tune.

When the pair are freed, he offers one last gesture of friendship -- a picture of the two of them together, contained in a frame Ron made out of Ann’s old front door. It’s a sign of contrition from Mr. Swanson, and also of the fact that even when he and Leslie were on the outs, there was a part of him that knew this would mean something to his dearest friend, and preserved this in a way that only he could. The two walk off to eat together, delighting in their shared love of breakfast food, with a side hug that could melt permafrost. It is a finish that is touching, earned, and true to who these two people are and have been for seven seasons.

In the end, the friendship between Leslie and Ron is the show’s most foundational relationship. Leslie’s friendship with Ann may have started the show, and her marriage to Ben is a source of great comedy and heart, but through it all, there has been Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson, proving that you can be almost polar opposite in terms of your politics, perspective, and demeanor, but that if you share the same principles (and affinity for breakfast food) you can still be vital, endearing friends in one another’s lives.

That idea -- the notion of mutual respect, reasonable minds differing, and friendship cutting through even the most entrenched personal and partisan ideas, is Parks and Rec’s legacy, and “Leslie and Ron” is the perfect encapsulation of it and a perfect episode of television.