4x08 How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

[8.0/10] This is a season finale without much finality. That’s not the worst thing in the world, but considering we went years between seasons before, the number of dangling threads here and sense of not settling down much of anything the show kicked up this season is a tad disappointing.

But what we do get is good! Midge’s set about women being in charge only nobody’s told them! And the ensuing chaos of the raid! And Abe’s obituary for Moishe! And Lenny reading Midge the riot act! It’s all excellent and in some cases, downright moving.

It’s that last bit though that’s my favorite. Candidly, I don’t like Lenny and Midge sleeping together. In my humble opinion, the show went about as far as it should have in blending real life and fiction with Midge and Lenny’s quasi-date in “It’s Comedy or Cabbage” from last season. Pushing it this far, especially after Lenny’s jerkery earlier, seems unnecessary.

But I like him being the one to talk some sense into Midge. Susie is just freaking done and, given how her phone is ringing off the hook, doesn’t seem to need Midge in order for Susie Myerson and Associates to do some serious business. She’s understandably pissed that Midge gave up the Tony Bennett gig in the name of only headlining, but just sucks it up until she says, not in so many words, that she’s tired of having to listen to Midge’s B.S. about this. And hey, good for her.

Lenny, on the other hand, comes from a place of experience. He’s the one Midge aspires to be like, to be able to speak her mind and still have an audience like he does. And he basically tells her that being controversial is a curse as much as it’s a blessing. He demands that she take him off a pedestal and recognize him for the fuck-up that he is (drug problem notwithstanding). Most of all, he insists that she see this as work, that she give up on the “my way or the highway” bullshit and play ball to get where she wants to be.

It’s the kind of speech you don’t hear very often on television. (The “just do the work” speech to Don in Mad Men comes to mind as the rare comparator.) It’s not inspiring exactly, but it’s motivating. It’s learning to compromise, to put in the work to get you where you need to go, and have the humility to recognize that your path to get there may involve a few less glamorous stops along the road. It comes from a place of love. Lenny sees that Midge is on the cusp of her big shot and doesn’t want her to miss it. And it’s exactly what she needs to hear.

The rest of this one is good too. I’m sorry to say that I recently had an experience of a loved one being in the hospital in dire condition, and “Carnegie Hall” manages to capture both the humor and heartbreak of it. Imogene patting everyone on the arm, Joel looking up medical textbooks, Mei posing as a hospital-provided mahjong player, Abe fearing his keys are a death rattle, it’s all funny in that dark but rib-tickling sort of way.

It comes with a heap of touching moments though. The one that catches you off guard is the conversation between Abe and Shirley. It’s funny too, with detours about services for burial plots and trips to Turkey based on Turkish plumbers. But the heartfelt conversation about “dying with all your teeth” and whether god is cruel for allowing people to know that they’re going to die is profound in a way you don’t necessarily expect from what is mostly a joke character. The coup de grace comes when Shirley reassures Abe, even as she’s hurting, that if Rose passes first, she’ll be there to help him. It’s just unbearably sweet.

The same goes for Abe’s spoken obituary about a thankfully living Moishe. Amy Sherman-Palladino doesn’t lay on the schmaltz. Abe discusses the origins of Moishe’s fabrics shop and mentions the thirteen Jews and even gets philosophical and academic in that trademark Abe Weissman way. And yet, he ends on a note of sincerity. As much as the elder Maisels are characters who exist mainly for humor and to be pests, their actions speak to their true, generous character. Abe’s right. The way they took Abe and Rose in without asking for anything in return, the way Moishe’s looked after Midge when it wasn’t his responsibility, is a mitzvah and the sign of a good man. The speech tugs at the heartstrings and Kevin Pollak does excellent work with Moishe’s plainly touched reaction.

The episode’s a good excuse for Sherman-Palladino to show off her skills as a director. The “Personality” sequence at the burlesque house has oodles of visual panache, and it’s matched with the mad dash to get everyone out the door once the raid starts. We get some good indications of struggle as Midge trudges through a freak snowstorm. And in the big scene with Lenny, she manages to make two people arguing on a big stage in an empty theater visually interesting with the way she blocks the performers and keeps the camera active with them.

That just leaves Midge’s set. As always in these confessional moments, Midge (and by extension, Sherman-Palladino) seize on both the truth and the humor. Her recognition of how women are expected to soldier on in these situations where men are societally permitted to be out of sorts is well-observed. Her note of how doctors are gods but nurses are, as Lenny will say, doing the work, and holding you as you cry, sets up a strong call and response and vindicates hard-working medical professionals. And she closes without a joke, just a wry but piercing observation of who might really be in charge and a wish that a kind man not leave this veil of tears just yet. It’s her best set of the season, and there have been some doozies.

Of course, there’s also the sweetness of Abe and Rose, with him being moved enough by Shirley’s comments to affirm her and her match-making, and give her the wherewithal (and kiss) to spur her to go to war with the Matchmaking Mafia. It’s a nice grace note for the couple.

There’s still a lot up in the air. Shirley still doesn’t know about Mei. Moishe accepts her and her pregnancy, but insists she convert. Midge’s career trajectory is still a big question mark. Susie’s rocket to the top and what the mob’s “taste” will look like lingers out there. How Rose’s war will turn out, what will become of Alfie and James and Dinah, and a million other questions still linger. This is more of a set of ellipses than a period, or even a semicolon.

But it’s good stuff -- touching, funny, and appropriately chastening of its title character at a time when she needs to hear it. I can’t ask for more than that.