Andrew Bloom

VIP

9

A pilot's a pilot, and it has to do some typically nigh-intrinsically clunky things: introduce the characters, introduce the setting, and provide enough exposition about the premise of the show for the audience to follow along. There's a hell of a lot of table setting that goes on here. We get little vignettes to tell us who Bullock is, who Hickock is, who Swearingen is, and a host of other roughians populating Deadwood. Most of it is either trope-filled, replete with the standard issue halting speech patterns taken from the usual Westerns and other less-than-subtle indications that we're in the world of outlaws from flicks like Unforgiven, or it's using the standard HBO playbook, with sex and murder and curse words abound with a certain gratuity that makes them feel like a come on more than part of the substance of the show.

Swearingen makes the biggest impression, possibly because he's one of the few characters able to avoid the usual Cowboy patois and speak those curse words without them sounding like a gimmick. His role as the kingpin of this ecosystem is promising and the way he manipulates the town and knows everything that everyone's doing instantly marks him as unique figure. Ian McShane is electric in the role, and he's the biggest highlight of the episode.

Otherwise, we get Bullock as a pretty standard "I uphold the law and justice, even in the midst of lawless, unjust places and people. (The opening segment where he hangs the prisoner before skipping town sees to that even before he finds the family the miscreant ambushed later in the episode and executes him.) Hicock is the usual wildcard who still has a code. (It's hard not to think of his HBO stablemate Omar.) And we get a few others stragglers like Calamity Jane and Swearingen's hatchetman and Bullock's partner Star to fill out the world. There's a lot of good texture to Deadwood, South Dakota, a good sense that we're in Cowboyland with the usual cast of characters, but little of the story or setting immediately compelled me. Plenty of room to grow though.

[7.6/10] It’s really interesting revisiting this after watching the successor Clone Wars series (the 3-D version) and three and a half seasons of Rebels. This Clone Wars series was officially wiped from canon after Disney’s takeover in 2014, and in a lot of ways it makes sense. Some of what’s depicted here directly contradicts details that get established in TCW and other later canon material.

But it’s interesting because it feels like it has a semi-canon status. Even if it’s not the official story anymore, we see how Ventress becomes Dooku’s apprentice. We see Barriss Offee getting her lightsaber and the planet where that happens. We see the first appearance of General Grievous (who seems far more badass and far less comical than he did once Ep. III hit.

And there’s even segments that feel like blueprints for settings and set pieces that The Clone Wars would try out later. The assault on Munilis feels like any number of city-wide sieges the Republic forces waged in the later series, and the Kalamari rescue feels of a piece with a similar adventure with that species in TCW. Even the clowning around with Padme and Threepio on Illum seems like the vein of comedy the successor series would employ.

Despite those canon connections, Star Wars: Clone Wars is officially in the “Legends” category now, and in some ways, that feels like the right designation for it. The Jedi were never necessarily realistic, but they seem particularly larger than life here, in a way that makes it feel like the scenes we’re witnessing are stories being retold in a cantina somewhere rather than the events as they truly happened. Obi Wan gets into a wild brawl with a taffy-based droid. Kit Fisto makes sure things go swimmingly with Kalamari in underwater splendor. Mace Windu single-handedly takes out a battle droid/superweapon convoy. It’s all beautifully stylized, but realism isn’t exactly the order of the day.

To that end, Genndy Tartakovsky’s hand is evident here. These sequences are gorgeously animated, with a sense of energy, motion, and flexibility that make the Jedi and their battles worthy of the mystical veneration they’ve received. The character designs are a bit ugly at times, but once he sets his characters in motion, the strikingness of the visuals takes over.

That’s a good thing, since this is pretty much all spectacle. There’s hints at a story here or there -- the assault on Munilis, tension between Anakin and Palpatine on one hand and Obi Wan and Yoda on the other, and other little character moments -- but for the most part this is all Tarakhovsky showing off with his magnificent set pieces.

Admittedly, with the minimal dialogue or story, my mind can occasionally wander despite the splendor, but when I focus and let the way Tartakovsky chooses to tell his stories visually, rather than with dialogue wash over me, the experience is a superb one. That’s particularly true for the conflict between Anakin and Ventress, where the amazing story being told of the back-and-forth of the fight, of Anakin feeling the rage and potential of the dark side, of lightsabers sizzling in rain and clone troopers being swung around like rag dolls and magnificent swing and sways between the extraordinary force-sensitive warriors, all done with hardly a word.

But It’s also not hard to believe that many of these sequence were previously just three-minute shorts that aired as bumpers or interstitials. (I actually remember watching the originals on Cartoon Network back in the day, not to date myself.) Stitched together the pacing feels a little off, as there’s so much action and so little cool down that it can be a little exhausting. Still, all of the action is well done, and just the way Tartakovsky and his collaborators manage to visualize the Jedis as these impossibly talented fighters, weaving through danger like it’s ballet, and slicing away the competition, is outstanding.

At the end of the day, I’m glad that Star Wars: The Clone Wars Vol. 1 isn’t canon. The powers are a little too much, it clashes with a bit too much of what comes later, and feels more like a riff on the prequel era than an extension or redemption of it. But I’m also glad that exists, as a sense of tall tales told about this period, with familiar figures, dazzling sequences, and amazing scenes that thrilled far more than the cinematic efforts this series bridged could muster.

9.5/10. I have never seen Glee, so a lot of the direct parody was over my head, but this is such an enjoyable episode. Having the show's X-mas episode turn into a cross between Glee and Invasion of the Body Snatchers was an inspired choice that both makes the holiday-themed story both distinct and gives it a direction as the episode progresses.

The songs themselves were unique and each had their own shade of humor. The two stand outs in my opinion were Annie's (in a perfect parody of the weirdness of songs like "Santa Baby"), and Shirley's (which perfectly seized on her character's achilles' heel). But the episode had lots of great Community wordplay ("well-documented historical vanity" is just a hilarious phrase in and of itself), and ridiculous moments like Britta "singing her heart's song." Everyone in the cast was on point. If I have one small nit, it's that Taran Killam occasionally went a little too broad in his performance for my tastes, but he did capture the "bright-eyed psychopath" role well.

Of course, Community being the quality show that it is, still manages to ground the outsized premise in something character-based. Abed wanting to spend the holidays with his friends, and worrying about making things darker when trying to make things brighter, culminates in a heartwarming moment of the gang showing up at his apartment. Sure, it's a bit easy, but it absolutely works as a great capper to tremendously creative and amusing holiday episode.

[8.5/10] One of those episodes that does great with the pure comedy stuff. The opening list of Pawnee’s former slogans is just such a great example of how the show’s rapid-fire comic lines can work like gangbusters. On top of that, you have the “crackpot convention” of a public forum, which may be the height of the show’s absurd, Springfield-esque town hall meetings. The byzantine debates among the populace over what should go into the titular time capsule is the show at its absurd best.

But all the Twilight-related humor works very well too. Taking as absurd a premise as a guy chaining himself to a Parks Dept. pipe in order to get a Y.A. vampire novel into a time capsule, and giving an emotional undercurrent of a divorced dad trying to connect with his daughter is a deft choice. As always, Will Forte is great, combining both his everyman qualities and his vein of pure lunacy into the perfect well-meaning nutbar proselytizing bad vampire fic. The way that he, Tom, and Donna get into and start having their little book club is pitch perfect.

That leads nicely into the B-stories, with the weakest one being Tom sulking about why Lucy broke up with him. There’s some solid material there, with Tom himself relating everything to Twilight, and it shines a light on his own emotional insecurities and fixation on Ron. It’s just undercooked and not as sturdy as the rest of the episode.

But the side-story peak is the unexpectedly delightful pairing of the different flavors of high energy that are Chris and Andy. Chris’s enthusiasm for helping Andy with his Eduardo problem is a lot of fun, and the fact that Andy being nice and being in a band (as Chris wrote on the whiteboard in their brainstorming session) actually are what helped Andy to sideline his rival is a great twist. Plus, the grace note with Andy talking up Ann to Chris rather than trying to destroy their relationship, however ineffectually, a la Mark is great too.

Overall, a very good episode of the show, with plenty of laughs and the sort of Pawnee craziness that makes the show and its oddball denizens so memorable and enjoyable.

Every time I watch The Room there's something different. This time it was going to a screening with Tommy Wiseau there in person! I even got to (kind of) introduce him, which was a thrill! He did a Q&A before the movie that was pretty anodyne. To be frank, he seemed a little disinterested, which hey, I understand if you've done this a million times. He gave one-line answers to most questions from the audience (noting that his favorite James Dean movie is Giant) but did toss footballs with a few folks in the crowd, which was fun.

I did get some animation out of him with a question though. I asked him how his perspective on women has changed since he made The Room, and got a solid, somewhat charged, semi-nonsensical response about how people give the movie a bad rap for its treatment of women, but that it's actually "very respectful" toward them. To be honest, I couldn't quite understand his argument for why this was the case, but I think he was trying to make the point that anybody can be deceitful, regardless of gender and that the movie reflects that somehow. He seemed to take some offense to the question and brought it up unbidden in response to a later one. But hey, it was the most engaged he seemed during the chat with the audience, which is worth something!

As for the movie itself, there's an odd richness to it, to where even having seen this dumb flick a dozen times, there's something new that stands out on each watch. This time it was, ironically enough, the incoherence of Lisa's character. Say what you will about this movie and its lack of cohesiveness, but you can at least trace the basic motivations and personalities of Johnny, Mark, Claudette, and even Denny over the course of the movie.

But Lisa seems to, at different points in the movie, genuinely love Johnny, genuinely love Mark, genuinely hate both of them, genuinely not care about either of them one way or another, or have some other agenda that somehow drives her from scene-to-scene. In a weird way, it's hard to tell what Wiseau is going for with Lisa beyond an odd jumble of "manipulative woman" tropes that don't really track from one scene to the next. It's not the biggest problem in the film at all, but interesting as a flaw that stands out beyond the other nuts and bolts cruddiness of the writing/directing/acting in the film.

Overall though, this was still a fun experience. The midnight showing I attended had a great Rocky Horror-style talkback going, and the gags the crowd came up with were as fun as the movie itself. The Room, in all its forms, is the gift that keeps on giving.

Got to see this one again with live commentary from Greg Sestero himself. It was a great time, and here were my favorite tidbits from his commentary:
- He confirmed my longstanding theory that when Mark sort of wrinkles his nose after saying "Maybe I already do" in the rooftop scene, it was Greg reacting to the crappiness of the dialogue rather than a character reaction.
- He noted that the actor who played Peter had a concussion, which is why he's feeling his way around the set in some scenes.
- He recounted that Mark's second sex scene with Lisa was inserted so that Tommy could punish Greg for taking other work.

Most interestingly, someone in the audience asked why Greg stuck with and by Tommy through so much crap, and Greg gave a very interesting and satisfying answer. He said that despite the fact that he and Tommy have gone through stretches where they weren't on the best terms, he met Tommy at a time when Tommy was not only his best self -- fearless, friendly, and generous -- he also met Tommy at a time when Greg was taking a big risk, putting himself "on an island" and so needed the support of someone like that who believed in him. There was a sense that even though Greg clearly loved his family and vice versa, there was a great deal of skepticism about his Hollywood Dream, while Tommy was a cheerleader and believer who, despite his seemingly intolerable behavior, seemed to be there for Greg and truly thought he could succeed, something Greg needed at that point in his life, which created a connection between them that's hard to sever.

Overall, I've been really lucky in that each time I've watched The Room, I've seen it with different people or in different ways that make it a new experience every time, and having Greg Sestero himself there to shine a light on the production was the peak of that sort of recontextualizing that gives this rough but, in its own demented way, transcendent film new life yet again.

[9/5/10] Leslie Knope is a problem solver. She has thoroughly demonstrated that with her boundless energy, her wits, and her persistence, she can tackle anything – anything, that is, sans the slippery, insane logic of April and Andy. And that’s why I love this episode.

I’m not sure if I agree with Ron’s message at the end of the episode – that you find someone you like and roll the dice, at least to the point of marrying somebody after dating them for a month (man, could that have led me to some trouble or misery) – but I definitely love his point that it wasn’t a problem Leslie would be able to solve. April and Andy are who they are, and were going to do what they were going to do, all she could do was stand by and try to appreciate it.

Then, by god, Leslie actually takes something from the behavior of Andy and April. Ever hesitant about her growing attraction to Ben, she tells him to stay in Pawnee and take the job Chris offered him, after waffling early and ending with a handshake. It’s an arc for Leslie – learning to be a bit more willing to go after what she wants in her personal life the same way she is in her professional life – and it lands with a great deal of force.

Plus, you know, April and Andy get married! A surprise wedding is so absolutely them, and it’s done in such a ramshackle, “never give up, never think things through” spirit that it’s absolutely adorable. Chris Pratt has become a superstar now, and it’s not hard to see his talents as an actor beyond the big goofy puppy he plays. When he looks at April, there is such love and joy in his eyes that it absolutely sells the moment. (That and Paul Simon’s song.) For her part, Aubrey Plaza shows the joy and affection that pierces through her typical sullen demeanor. It is as affecting as it is ridiculous.

What’s more, there are so many wonderful little touches and details at the margins. Orin is done perfectly (as his conversation with Chris). April’s gay boyfriends throw flower petals. Andy gives a completely Andy speech about defending April and April gives a completely April speech about hating most things but not him. Jerry has a “party shirt”! Chris does a wacky dance! Some guy can’t remember that April just got married and asks Ben if she’s available! It’s all just so hilarious and well-crafted.

The piece de resistance is April telling Leslie that she admires and respects her. It’s a touching moment, and Leslie’s simple “oh” in response is perfect. Amy Poehler is an amazing actress here, and the way she goes from frustration to acceptance to downright melting with all of this stuff is wonderful.

Even the C-stories are great. Tom asking to be a best man and then feeling stymied as the position gets more and more watered down, only to get a shout out and endorsement at the end is slight but amusing. And even Ann’s love life, which hasn’t been my favorite part of this season, is made fun and amusing with Donna to lead the charge and coach her up.

Overall, it’s one of Parks and Rec’s finest episodes, that is true to the characters and their lunacy, but which shows enough growth and sweetness to make it stand out.

[9.5/10] Back into top form! Louis C.K.’s Dave was and is such a great part of this show. He has just the right combination of stilted awkwardness that makes him entirely believable as a big square, but also this inherent, innocent sweetness that also makes him a big teddy bear. Lesser shows than Parks and Rec would draw this out as some sort of love triangle, but the situation between he, Leslie, and Ben just turns into one great font of comedy.

I also love how it dovetails so perfectly with Ben’s pre-established fear of cops. Again, I love how P&R zigs where other shows would zag. Rather than be intimidated by Dave, Ben bonds with him then stands up to him. Rather than be tempted by her old beau, Leslie gently but immediately shuts down Dave’s advances and responds the way a mature woman would. And it never ceases to be funny!
Dave’s cringe-y attempts to navigate this social situation and woo Leslie are as adorable as they are misguided. Ben’s patient but insistent resistance (and the continuing gags about his uncomfortableness around cops, especially his “just tell me what you want me to do!” line) is superb. And Leslie is in top form with her reactions to everything. Just well-written scene after well-written scene that never devolves into sitcom tropes.

The B-story is another all-time great one too. I can’t tell you how many times Mrs. Bloom and I will break into the cheesy tones of “Catch Your Dreams.” There’s so many laughs at the recording studio. April being put on the case to distract from all the Duke Silver merch leads to some excellent stuff (I particularly enjoy the smashed coffee cup). Chris giving a terrible rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” was hilarious. And the bewildered reactions of Mouserat are worth a chuckle too.

On top of that, there’s heart to the story. Ron’s little arc is pretty typical for him, but it still works to see the guy who is so reserved and private offering a hidden away piece of himself to help his erstwhile young ward. There are so many great lines, but Ron saying “I never thought I’d say this, son, but you may be overthinking is” is a truly fantastic one.

And even Andy, who is at his most outsized here (with his terrific “awful” to “funny” word salad), but also his sad and sweetest. I love the idea that he’s especially driven here because he knows he’s not the smartest guy in the world, and so he thinks this is the only or at least most effective way to contribute to Leslie’s campaign. It adds character to an otherwise silly story, and helps the episode as a whole.
The only part of the episode that I didn’t quite love was, you guessed it, the Ann and Tom story. Ann’s love life has just never been as interesting an avenue of storytelling as Parks and Rec thinks it is, and it’s in no way improved by Tom not only pestering and hectoring and creeping on her throughout the episode, but it actually working. I generally like Tom as an ingredient in P&R’s character stew, but more than anyone else on the show, he has the capacity to get grating and annoying. Some of that was assuredly intentional here, but it doesn’t make him or this story any more pleasant in this episode.

Still, it’s a small part of what is otherwise an outstanding episode of Parks and Recreation. The Leslie-Ben-Dave triumvirate are a great combination of comedy and smart writing, and the songwriting portion of the episode is more purely comedic, but has a nice character focus as well. One of my favorite bits from the campaign arc.

[9.1/10] Such a great episode. I’ll admit, at first I bristled a bit at Leslie’s behavior here. At times (like in the prior Model U.N. episode) Leslie hews too closely to her Michael Scott-esque origins. Don’t get me wrong, I love Michael Scott as a character, but since Leslie is a capable if occasionally overcommitted civil servant and Michael is a well-meaning but generally incompetent if lovable dope, his style of social ineptitude and selfishness isn’t always a good fit for her character.

But what I like is that rather than just completely going with Leslie taking Ben’s admonition that they shouldn’t work together after the “Littlest Park” project is done as an invitation to draw out the project as long as possible for wacky sitcom hijinks, P&R uses it as an opportunity to have people call Leslie out for this behavior.

It’s great that it comes from Ann, who is a confidant and someone who loves Leslie wholeheartedly despite her occasional steamrolling nature. (Their exchange about the Harry Potter movies is great.) And it sells a genuine frustration for Ben that isn’t some made up conflict but which speaks to Leslie’s good intentioned and understandable, but occasionally overzealous ways. It’s hard to shine a spotlight on the way your main character can be inconsiderate or even dismissive of other people’s feelings, but using it as a learning moment and a chance for growth is what elevate Parks and Rec over similar shows.

It leads to such a great, all-timer of a moment with Ben and Leslie in that little park. It’s moment like these that show what a strong performer Amy Poehler is. She is such a flawless comedian, with crackerjack timing and the ability to pull off any number of gags. But she is also 100% up to these big emotional moments, selling Leslie’s earnestness and hurt at the thought of not getting to see Ben anymore, at her contrition for not taking his wishes into account, and the magnitude of her being willing to risk the fallout in both her job and her dream of public office it means getting to be together. Their kiss is one of those great, heartwarming, fist-pump moments on Parks and Rec, and the episode earns every minute of it.

And I haven’t even mentioned the B-story! Andy trying to figure out which class to take at community college is just and endless font of comedy. April and Ron pushing and pulling him as to what to take creates all sorts of great moments, and so many situations for Chris Pratt to react to in character. (His lines about “women’s lasers” and “one ticket to women” are especially funny idiot-isms.) There’s something heartening about him ending up in a women’s studies course, and especially heartening about Ron paying for it. Ron is the ultimate father figure to a lot of these characters, and seeing him open his heart and his wallet shows one of those parental, sweet dimensions beneath his grump and facial hair.

The least of them is probably Tom’s story about picking a new font for the Parks Dept. logo. That said, I like the bit about him using Jerry’s 70s ID as inspiration, and the subtext that even if he stays a longtime government employee, he’ll always find ways to inject his own individual flair into his work

Overall, it’s a stellar episode that hits on all three stories, and finds interesting depths and challenges for its characters along the way.

[8.8/10] This is one of those Parks and Rec episodes that gets a little goofy, but which grounds that goofiness in character and relationships and solid comedy apart from it that makes it more than just the sum of its wacky gags. The idea of a big painting of Leslie as a topless centaur (replete with Tom as a pudgy cherub) is pretty silly stuff, but couching it in the fact that Leslie feels powerless with the Department’s no dating rule, and that goofy or not, this painting empowers her, gives the story a little more juice.

Of course, the uber-conservative person who wants it burned is a little broad (and she recurs, unless I’m conflating her with someone else) but Leslie’s defense of the painting comes from who she is and why she admired it. Little touches like her adopting the hairstyle from the painting or Chris’s very proper, positive anger, or her being further empowered by a pep talk from Jerry of all people are nice too. And her solution, while a little improbable on short notice, is a well-done subtle jab at the double standard about shirtlessness.
Plus, it gives us some nice Ben/Leslie flirtation moments. Ben looking at the painting is kind of adorable.

That leads us to the B-story, where Ben moves in with April and Andy, and the odd couple business is taken to an extreme. Ben makes for such a great exasperated straight man, and his bewilderment (a.) how April and Andy live, (b.) their complete inability to act like adults, and (c.) how far into the pit of non-adulthood they’ve fallen, is an endless font of comedy here.

But it’s also grounded in character. April worrying that they’ll become to adult-y and boring, and Andy reassuring her to the contrary is sweet but very much who they are. And getting dishes in addition to a marshmallow gun (whose use is a comedic highlight) shows the way that they’re still the goofy kids they were before, but the bowl and spoon (instead of a Frisbee and a singular fork) is a sign of progress.

Overall, it’s a fun episode that takes out there or sitcommy situations and elevates them due to connecting them to the well-sketched characters on the show.

(Plus, Ron’s speech at the art thing is awesome!)

[7.3/10] One of the great pleasures of life is returning to something you love with new eyes. I grew up with Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was my entree into the world of the Federation as a child, and in that sense, it will always be my Star Trek no matter how much I’ve enjoyed its successors and predecessors.

But coming back to it after so many years, and after finally sitting down to watch The Original Series, puts its pilot episode in a new context, a new light that exposes some of its flaws, but also exposes the seeds of what would become one of the foundational science fiction shows on television, and for your humble reviewer.

The first thing that stands out on rewatch is how many tropes from The Original Series are deployed here. With a script penned by Gene Roddenberry himself and star scribe D.C. Fontana, “Encounter at Farpoint Station” hits some of Gene’s absolute favorite beats. There’s the godlike being judging humanity for its barbarism, there’s the mysterious object in space that appears out of nowhere, and there’s even the society that seems nice enough on the surface but is clearly hiding some terrible secret.

It’s clear that Roddenberry and Fontana wanted to evince a sense of continuity of storytelling with the old series, and if you excise the various character introduction scenes, it’s not hard to imagine Kirk, Spock, and Bones plopped into this same sort of adventure and getting similar results.

But there’s also some DNA from Star Trek: The Motion Picture built in as well. Despite the fig leaf of the tactical reason for separating the saucer section of the Enterprise-D -- something The Original Series occasionally teased but never put into action -- the event is mostly an excuse to show off some fancy models and graphics work, while the music swells and the camera cuts to any number of reaction shots from the crew on the battle bridge. (The battle bridge, incidentally, seems to exist to create more visual continuity with the bridge of the original Enterprise in contrast to the Holiday Inn Lobby setup of the main bridge.)

The same goes for Riker manually reconnecting the saucer section. While it ties into the plot thread of Picard testing his first officer, it seems to mostly exist to inject a bit of spectacle into what is otherwise an episode that promises excitement to come, but is mostly still establishing its premise and world. The first part of “Encounter” doesn’t skimp on those space-faring moments that seem designed to say “look what we can do!”

But reckoning with the series history also shows the differences between TNG and its forbear, chief among them the acting talents of its lead. What a difference centering the show around a classically-trained actor like Patrick Stewart makes. I don’t mean to slag William Shatner -- he came to prominence in a different era and his style serves the 1960s series’ ends -- but Stewart is the biggest boon to the nascent sequel show.

He has the inherent gravitas to make the more outlandish technobabble sound convincing. He has the chops to take the silly, sweeping commentary on what humanity is or was and make it sound convincing. He has the talent to convey the layers in a Captain who puts on air of detachment when evaluating his second in command, softens once the test is passed, and reveals his own insecurity about dealing with families aboard his starship.

If there’s one thing that makes The Next Generation easier to swallow despite still shaking off the rust of its predecessor and figuring out how to chart a new course, it’s the steady hand of Stewart, there to imbue the new captain of the Enterprise with the strength and level of performance to sell him as a real, compelling figure in this fantastical world.

Coming back to the show as an adult also let’s you see how much of the heavy-machinery placement that inevitably takes place in pilots comes to the fore in “Encounter.” The episode does well to split up the crew into two halves to prevent things from getting too crowded at the beginning. Rest assured, however, that we get some shoehorned-in exposition about Tasha’s backstory, a few character-establishing moments for Data, Counselor Troi’s first pointless use of her Betazoid power, a conversation that underscores the history for Dr. Crusher and Wesley, and some explanation as to what exactly’s going on with Geordi’s visor. There’s even brief interludes for Worf and O’Brien that give them a hint of personality before they’re fleshed out as characters.

Plus Q! If there’s one thing that gives this episode a boost coming back to it as a fan, it’s the presence of one of the franchise’s favorite characters. Here, Q is a little more explicitly malevolent and moralizing than the trickster god he would later become, but it’s still a treat to see John de Lancie plying his trade in theatrical fashion. There’s a bit more Alan Alda baked into his presentation than I remembered, but seeing him hold court, freeze dissidents, and run through the costume department’s leftovers still injects some whimsy and weirdness to the proceedings.

That just leaves Riker as far as big character introductions though. He’s missing for the first half here, but Frakes’s dashing figure receives almost the same level of introduction that Picard does. What’s truly interesting is the great character work “Encounter” digs into between the captain and first officer once the rush of Q’s intergalactic cage and kangaroo court are (however temporarily) behind us. The notion of Picard testing out Riker, seeming cold and distant and yet letting his soon-to-be Number One earn his respect by completing a difficult maneuver and affirming that he’ll do his duty to protect the captain regardless of how Picard feels about it, thereby showing his skill and integrity, is a good way to not only introduce Riker but kick off one of the core professional relationships of the show.

It’s hard to tell whether from the opening hour alone whether the show’s braintrust intended to establish a dynamic between Picard and Riker to match the one between Kirk and Spock, but the groundwork is there, both actors have enough of a presence to fill out the back half of the episode, which feels more devoted to setup and introduction than the nigh-instant fireworks of the first half.

That just leaves an appearance from good ol’ Dr. McCoy to pass the torch to the new crew. He’s 137 years old, reverted to his Foghorn Leghorn-like accent from the prior occasions in which he’s prematurely aged, and is as cantankerous as ever. His back and forth with Data intentionally evokes the dynamic the good doctor once shared with his Vulcan counterpart in a way that’s a bit clumsy. But he offers a benediction on the new ship, and by extension the new show, and it’s enough to hand the baton to the next generation.

It will take some time for The Next Generation to take that baton and run with it. Elements that worked in 1966 but not so much in 1987 linger for a while before the show demonstrates why it’s the namesake for “Growing the Beard.” But even in this early installments, the roots of this essential science fiction show -- from its great central performance, to its unique cast of characters, to its cheesy but high-minded reflections on humanity -- are evident as signs of what the series would become.

[7.7/10] The theme of this one works – not running away from your problems and facing your difficulties head on. The Leslie-Ron is one of the strongest platonic relationships in all of television, and so having them each escaping their (very differently) problematic paramours and realizing that that’s no way to be is a good way to go. Ron’s first ex-wife is more in the cartoony vein (though the fact that she works for the IRS makes for a nice foil to his libertarian leanings), but it works well enough with Ron’s more outsized qualities. (His insta-step, go bag, bushy beard, and warning about the quantities of ground chuck he keeps in his desk are all classic Ron.)

But Leslie’s is more understandable, albeit a bit sitcom-y. The notion of wanting to avoid telling Ben about her campaign, so as to avoid having to end this great thing they’ve been enjoying, is a very human impulse, even if it’s realized with “ladies yacht club” excuses and emergency s’more supplies. [spoiler]The scene where she does face the difficult thing, and Ben reveals the button[/spoiler] is one of the signature moments of the whole show. Revealing how perfect they are for each other – given how Ben immediately understands why they can’t be together and founding it on how important it is that Leslie get the respect and esteem she deserves – and making it tragic but sweet that they have to break up.[/spoiler] The campaign arc is one of the high water marks for P&R as a whole, and this was a lovely way to kick it off.

The “text your dong” B-plot is peak Ann comedy, with her deadpan and justifiably creeped out response to everyone being pretty perfect. It’s an absurd way to go, but everything from her reaction to Chris’s description of testicles as the “ears” of the crotch area, to the guy talking about watching women’s golf and having a few glasses of wine, to the “your inbox is literally filled with penises” bit, it’s a great sendup of the ridiculousness and creepiness of sending pictures of your penis.

Otherwise, the episode is pretty tame. Tom handing out pointless Entertainment 720 swag is a nice indication that the company doesn’t do anything but pointless branding. (Andy summing it up as “you put logos on things?” is a nice bit.) And Andy’s minor internal conflict over whether to accept Tom’s job offer, with April getting him a job as Leslie’s assistant instead, is an abbreviated story but one that works well for what it needs to do.

Overall, it’s a quality episode, one that still includes a bit more setup than knocking things down, but the kickoff of the Knope campaign (and the personal costs associated with it), plus the whole texting bit make it enjoyable.

[9.4/10] This was the first Parks and Rec I ever watched, and it’s not hard to see why it led to my interest in the show. It does a great job at introducing most of the characters and their dynamics, both the A-story and the B-story work like gangbusters, and it’s truly hilarious.

Let’s start with the B-story. Ron and Chris having a cook off to decide whether beef hamburgers stay in the commissary is a fairly sitcom setup, but the war of culinary ideologies takes on such comedic force with its two champions. Chris’s boundless positivity, coupled with Andy’s doltish charm makes for a great deal of fun around the office and the Whole Foods knockoff where they shop. Ron’s matter-of-fact demeanor (aided by April’s flat affect) makes for a nice contrast, and the revelation of Food-N-Stuff is a hoot. Ron prevailing despite Chris’s attention to detail is a nice resolution (with Donna, Jerry, and Kyle as judges) and the whole enterprise is a lot of fun.

The A-story is great too. The notion of Leslie feeling like she only gets attention from sleazy guys – the peak of this being matched up with Tom on an online dating site – is a nice premise. It gives her time for some good heart-to-hearts with Ann, some hint-worthy interactions with Ben, and a great little bit with Tom. Her lunch with him, followed by his asshole behavior, is great comedy, both in terms of Leslie’s bewilderment that anyone could think like Tom does and then her frustration at his idiocy when he thinks she likes him. The fact that a kiss is what shuts him up (followed with a perfect retort of “you should be so lucky”) is brilliant stuff.

And it dovetails nicely with the path toward Ben and Leslie’s attraction being fulfilled. The whole wildflower bit is a little easy, but it’s still a nice way to dramatize the way that they think alike and are well-suited for one another.

Plus it’s just such a hilarious episode all around. Tom’s nicknames for various food-related items is a great sequence. The tag with Donna shutting up Tom by kissing him too is great. The guy from sanitation is pitch-perfect in his skeeviness. And Ron’s “nature is amazing” scene with the hippie at the store is silly but hilarious stuff.

Overall, this is a great episode to introduce someone to the show. It has something for all the major characters to do; it has simple but effective plots, and it’s damn funny in the process.

[8.7/10] And thus begins the Harvest Festival arc! Thought it would be good to go back and round out my unplanned rewatch of P&R, which randomly started in the middle of S3, by watching the first few episodes of the season. It’s interesting watching the season premiere shortly after seeing the season finale. It shows how far Leslie & Co. come from the humble, position they start in.

It’s also backstory: the episode! That’s not a bad thing. I’d forgotten the deal about Chris’s blood disorder and how it makes every day a gift for him. And I’d forgotten that we hear about Ice Town so soon. There is something very sitcom about Leslie (and the Ben) crashing Chris and Ann’s date to hash the budget issue out, but it works despite some of the hoariness of the premise. Ben and Leslie have chemistry even as frenemies, and the combination of Chris and Ann is surprisingly effective when they’re in a typical situation and not doubling down on relationship drama.

Plus, it’s the beginning of the meme-ification of Ron Swanson. His pyramid of greatness and coaching some kids basketball pays a number of silly, amusing dividends, and the same goes for Andy’s team, which is the disorganized, goofy yin to Swanson’s disciplined yang. The Tom-Lucy-Ron-Wendy love triangle was never one of my favorite storylines on the show, but I do appreciate the gag of Tom trying to be a biased ref and revealing his complete lack of knowledge about sports.

The larger story of the episode, that the Parks department is broke and the team is scrambling to fight for the dept. rather than let it be whittled down to nothing, works as an animating theme for the whole season. Using the parallels between Leslie and Andy as unlikely peas in a pod is nice touch, and the way it plays on Chris and Ben’s good cop/bad cop routine, eventually breaking down the walls of their denial, paves the way for so much that happens in the rest of S3. It’s a great start to arguably the show’s best season, one that embodies the fun but meaningful things the show is capable of.

[9.1/10] One of those episodes that just shows you how many great character combinations and great individual performances Parks and Rec can boast. There’s hardly a weak link in this episode, with all of the stories being tied together nicely and feeding off of one another.

The best, naturally, is Leslie Knope powering through the flu. It’s so clear rewatching these episodes how much Amy Poehler brings to the table, but she just outdoes herself comedically here. The way she absolutely conveys Leslie’s resolve in the face of debilitating illness, her ability to stand up and power through when she needs to, and most of all her flu med-assisted lunacy is amazing. The lines are great from “Hello I’m Leslie Monster, this is Nightline” to “Scott Bakula from Quantum Link everyone,” but Poehler sells the bewildered, hallucinatory state to perfection.

By the same token, Rob Lowe does great work at communicating Chris’s utter debilitation when “the microchip” is compromised after he too contracts the flu. His crash and bounce back and germophobia is supremely well done, and his mirror-facing demand to “stop pooping” is hilarious. Tying it to Ann feeling nervous about her date but seeing him like that easing her fears is a nice touch.

My second favorite bit in the episode, however, is Ron and Andy bonding. The two are so opposite in personality, but the way the show teases out the common ground between the two of them is terrific. There’s great comedy in their hijinks, and using them as fodder for the two to get close enough for Ron to tell Andy about April adds a touch of heart to it as well.

Speaking of April, her mini-feud with Ann isn’t as strong as some of the other material, but it still brings the funny and moves along the April-Andy romance nicely. Similarly, Tom’s bit at the spa (amusingly named “Spa-wnee” is slight, but advances the cause.

Last, but certainly not least, Adam Scott is great as a straight man to Leslie’s flu-addled ramblings, and then as someone duly impressed at her ability to turn on the Knope when she needs to for the Harvest Festival. He and Chris Trager were a pair of ingredients that really put this show, which had already found its groove in S2, over the top. Altogether, an episode like this one was a sign that P&R had truly arrived and was at the height of its powers.

[9.7/10] Such a great episode. It would be so easy to turn something like Ron excluding girls from his scouting group and Leslie having her own rival faction into a hackneyed battle of the sexes. Instead, it goes a completely different direction – understanding that equality isn’t about competition or winning, but about everyone getting the chance to follow what drives them, no matter what’s between their legs.

Oh yeah, and it’s extraordinarily funny to boot. I get caught up in the maturity and legitimate complexity of the issues Parks and Rec is willing to address and the way it addresses them, but bits like tots shushing Ann or Leslie talking about her “70/30” pride to annoyance ratio, or Andy going gaga for puppies is just great stuff. Amy Poehler is on fire as well, from her silly southern belle impression to her overcompetitive bent at the campsite to her legitimate heart-to-heart and understanding of Ron.

The B-story of this one is great too. Treat Yo Self has become one of the show’s most iconic bits, and leaning into Tom and Donna’s more outsized yuppie couture qualities lends itself to plenty of fodder for comedy on its own. But as usual, throwing in Ben to be the straight man baffled at all the insanity around him pays humorous dividends.

But here again, the show doesn’t go just for laughs, using it as a way for Tom and Donna to help Ben through the rough time he’s having with the break up. Him crying in the Batman suit is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking (especially with Tom’s response), and the two Treaters pumping Ben up and telling him to let it out is a sweet character moment.

It also dovetails nicely with the A-story. Donna realizes that treating yo self is an individual thing, not a one size fits all endeavor, and following the spirit of the holiday means changing up its practices for the person celebrating it. The same goes for Ron and Leslie.
Leslie is never going to abide gender segregation, but it takes winning and the entire boys ranger group wanting to become “Pawnee Godesses” for Leslie to realize that Ron didn’t believe in gender segregation, he just wanted to do wilderness training his way, and when faced with young men and women who are willing to be a “Swanson” he’s as happy to train them, because getting to do something that’s “no fun at all” is far more important to him than the rules he didn’t put in place but didn’t object to. Leslie reveling in winning, getting her own “Little Leslie Knope” monsters coming back at her for a bit of hypocrisy, and both her and Ron finding joy in their own non-gender-specific group is a great story for both of them.

The only bit in this episode that doesn’t do much for me is Chris dating Jerry’s daughter. I know they needed something for these characters to do, and there’s a mild bit of comedy from Jerry’s uncomfortableness at Chris’s forthrightness, but it’s just not as strong as the rest of the material.

Still, a fantastic A-story that understands its characters and has empathy and perspective on both, coupled with an almost-as-good B-story that is iconic but also emotional makes this one of P&R’s finest half hours.

[8.5/10] In some ways the Obama birther nonsense feels like it was a million years ago, and in others, it feels like it was just yesterday. P&R folds that topic, like it does so many current events, into its own little world in a natural way. From complaints about "gotcha" journalism, to calls for long form birth certificates, to the delightfully specific reveal that Leslie was born in Eagleton, the episode does great at commenting on the absurdity of such complaints in a funny, and ultimately inspiring sort of way. The "it's not where you're born, it's where you're from" commentary isn't exactly funny, but using Leslie's clear and utter devotion to the City of Pawnee as a way to take the air out of the whole birther idea works like gangbusters.

It's also superb for the comedy side. Leslie's disgust (and near-vomiting) after having to even say the words Eagleton is great. Chris being shocked when his attractiveness doesn't get him a special exception at the Eagleton records office is a nicely played moment from Rob Lowe, and Andy leaping over the counter is an excellent bit of physical comedy. Even the recurring gag about racoons infesting Pawnee is a nice touch.

The B-story with Tom, Ben, and Joan was a little broader. I do like the idea of Tom having to face the music after flirting with Joan for so long, and Mo Collins is a pro, but it got a bit over the top at points. Still, Ben's sarcastic commentary ("Is she going to powder her vagina?" "That was as long as it was loud") saved any of the more ridiculous parts.

And the C-story with Ann trying to have a 5-minute conversation with Ron and April was well-conceived as well. Putting Ann on an island in those talking heads can be a gamble because she works better when playing off of someone, and this was no exception, but the well-edited sequences of her trying to get some sort meaningful response from the two unenthusiastic acquaintances landed very nicely. The medical malady story as the clincher was great too. And the capper, with Ron and April using wrong names for people, worked superbly as well.

Overall, a very strong episode that brings the laughs and packs a little emotional punch in the process.

[6.0/10] Most of the time, when I’m writing these reviews, I wait until I’ve completed my write-up to look into any of the behind the scenes information. Knowing the circumstances under which something is made can color how you look at the completed product, rather than judging it on its own terms. But more than once, going back and looking at the production history of a show or a film can explain problems or successes that are evident in the final work.

The second half of “Encounter at Farpoint” is a great example. The original outline and script for the episode were written by one of The Original Series’s best writers, Dorothy “D.C.” Fontana. But there was grand debate between Gene Roddenberry and the producers at Paramount as to whether the premiere of a new Star Trek series should run for one hour, two hours, or ninety minutes. The result is that Fontana, and later Roddenberry, were cutting and adding material throughout the scripting process.

The result is a “Part 2” that feels logy and unfocused. Much of the episode feels more in line with a traditional episode. There’s a mystery down on the planet; the crew tries to investigate it; difficulties ensue, and through a last-minute revelation, the day is saved. But mixed in with that fairly straightforward (at least by Trek standards) story are lots of moments that don’t add much to the episode-specific narrative but are designed to introduce to the new set of characters and their relationships with one another.

In multiple instances, that takes the form of long lost or forbidden romantic relationships among “key officers” on the Enterprise. The most obvious form of that comes between Riker and Troi, a relationship the show would explore with some regularity as it goes on. “Encounter” uses a heavy hand though, playing sweeping music as Riker gawks at his old flame and Troi psychically tells him “I couldn’t say goodbye either.” There’s little compelling about the connection here in the early going, despite Troi expressing concern when Riker risks his life in the cave, but it’s another point where you can see the heavy machinery of a pilot episode being wheeled around.

The other, no more subtle but slightly more successful effort in this vein happens between Picard and the Crusher family. This part of the episode plays a little better if only because it’s more complicated than just a bit of unresolved romantic tension. There’s complexity that the show would eventually mine in the fact that Picard was friends with Dr. Crusher’s deceased husband, and even delivered the news of his passing. The way that Picard tries to show compassion for the difficult position this puts Beverly in, and Beverly responding with resoluteness that pushes back against any patronizing sets them out to be excellent foils for one another right from the jump.

It also gives us the first scenes shared between Picard and anti-fan favorite Wesley. While the li’lest Crusher was few people’s favorite character, there is something to be wrung from the Captain who explicitly admits that children annoy him and make him uncomfortable trying to be accommodating for the son of his dead friend. More to the point, the show uses the scene where Picard welcomes Wesley to the bridge to sell the awe and majesty of the ship better than any saucer-spinning space maneuver could.

The camera switches to a POV shot from Wesley’s perspective, letting us see the bridge through his eyes: the scope and depth of the path to the controls, the imposing Klingon standing in his sightline, the regal Captain himself gesturing toward him. As much of an impossibly, annoyingly talented kid as TNG would make Wesley, it could also use him as an audience surrogate, someone wowed and in wonder of the Federation’s flagship, and that’s where he finds his best use here.

(We also get a brief encounter between Riker and Data, with “Pinocchio” comments that feel like foreshadowing, or at least fodder for callbacks, in a later episode.)

The same can’t be said for Q, who reappears in the second half of the pilot to taunt Picard and render judgment. De Lancie is still a fun ingredient in the soup of the first episode, replete with “mon capitan” utterances and claims that he leaves of his own volition, but he’s more imposing than playful. That’s not to say he’s bad, just not quite as familiar as the character would become, leaving him feel somewhat more perfunctory considering how Roddenberry shoehorned him into Fontana’s original script.

That script, or at least the portions of it that remain in the broadcast version, are generally strong. As much as the acting and the pacing of this hour suffer (and man, Troi’s glassy-eyed protestations about what she’s sensing are no better here than they were later) there’s a very traditional, and heartening story at the core of it.

Star Trek is about many things, but one of its most prevalent themes, and the one I’d argue provides the essential ethos of The Next Generation, is the will to explore and the importance of lateral thinking. This isn’t the last time Q will impose a puzzle on Picard and company and force the crew of the Enterprise to consider the unconsidered, and test their commitment to their principles.

It’s less interesting to see Riker’s away team dodder around in a cave or negotiate with the overacting local representative. But it’s compelling to see Picard have to decide whether to fire on what looks to be an enemy ship attacking the station below, or find some other solution. It recalls “The Korbomite Maneuver” as another instance where the Enterprise crew is threatened and encouraged to strike, but forbears, finds alternative answers, and discovers new life in the process.

The image of those giant space jellyfish emerging and reuniting in interstellar fashion is a weird but beautiful one, which captures the spirit of the franchise. It’s an unexpected resolution to the central mystery, one that answers the questions asked by the strange occurrences down on the surface with a story about respecting life and sideways solutions to unforeseen problems.

The opening hours of Star Trek: The Next Generation certainly have their problems. The stop-and-start-and-double-back scripting process can be firmly felt in each scene that feels unrelated to the one before it. But it capture the feel of the series -- the personalities and connections between them, the spirit of adventure, the need to think outside the box, and the respect for life that make up the core of what Star Trek is.

Picard’s final lines, about more interesting adventures and seeing what out there are on the nose, but also inviting, making you want to, like Wesley, sit in that chair and wait for whatever’s to come. I certainly felt that way watching this show as a kid, and it’s heartening to know Picard’s first declaration of “engage” can stir the same feelings today.

EDIT 3/12/2022: When I first revisited this episode, five years ago, it was after my run-through of The Original Series. Seen in that context, there’s nothing particularly objectionable about “Encounter at Farpoint Station”. The rhythms of the show, its style of presentation, aren’t all that different from those deployed in service of Kirk, Spock, and Bones more than twenty years earlier. The similarities make sense given how much talent behind the scenes was held over from the 1960s series.

But coming back to it now, after revisiting the other 170+ episodes of the show, it’s striking how, well, bad this installment is. My pet theory is that The Next Generation is the bridge between television’s previous epoch and the modern era. Nothing drive that home better than watching the polished, surprisingly contemporary hours of entertainment the show could put out in what is an admittedly weaker final season, versus this awkward, stilted throwback of a premiere for the show.

It’s also apparent how much Roddenberry’s influence versus Fontana’s story-telling sense bore out. The pacing and structure here is atrocious, with long pointless scenes that don’t advance the main plot in any meaningful way, and necessary but shoe-horned in character introduction scenes that could effectively be deposited into any first season episode. As much as I love Q, the whole first half hour of his overextended tete-a-tete with Picard plays like pointless academic navel-gazing about the nature of man, a favored Roddenberry pastime.

It’s apparent, in hindsight, how much of the Q material was added to fill time, or more charitably, beef up the episode, and how perfunctory it feels. Toss in the elongated scenes of Riker manually docking with the saucer section, or the weirdly gendered space jellyfish emerging and hanging out together, and you have a debut episode that was clearly made by committee without a unifying vision or clear structure to separate wheat from chaff.

The style is also strikingly antiquated in a way the episodes which premiered just a few years later are not. The whole set and costume design aesthetic is far more beige, more riddled with that washed out 1980s look than I’d remembered. Much of it practically stings the eye. To the same end, the score here is oppressive, with cheesy synth stings galore. Throw in a high-volume acting style from almost everyone -- especially poor overmatched Marina Sirtis, who’s tasked with overdoing every emotion under the sun -- and you have an opening salvo that plays like a hokey relic.

And yet, I can’t help but have a certain affection for this rocky first outing of The Next Generation. It still has Patrick Stewart who, while still needing to settle into the role, still makes you feel the emotional weight of the moment when he reunites with the widow and son of his dearly departed best friend. Q remains a tad off-brand, but is still imbued with John de Lancie’s inimitable, teasing joie de vivre. And for all its faults, “Encounter at Farpoint Station” is still devoted to the highest values of Star Trek, in all its forms: a respect for life in all its forms and a desire to explore the unknown.

Most shows’ first episodes feel a little strange to longtime fans. Almost every program takes time to find its voice and settle on a style. Going back to this opening hour after seven seasons’ worth of evolution and revolution for science fiction on television is a splash of cold water. But these humble beginnings only make it that much more impressive how high Captain Picard and company would eventually fly.

[8.6/10] The first time I watched Parks and Recreation (or at least up through Season 5 or so when I caught up), I hadn’t seen The West Wing. I knew enough through cultural osmosis to get that this was something of an homage, but it didn’t have much of an impact on me as a reference.

Coming back to it having since seen the entirety of Aaron Sorkin’s and John Wells’s fascinating series, the main story has a lot more force. It’s not just the presence of Bradley Whitford (who’s great here in a comedic guise, whether or not you’re processing him as Josh Lyman), or the “Pillner for Pawnee” napkin, or the “we play with live ammo around here” borrowed line. It’s the very idea of the episode – that all of these political choices come with tradeoffs and compromises.

In truth, The West Wing wasn’t always a great vehicle for that message, with the show just as often having its heroes find some brilliant solution to whatever the crisis of the week is without too much compromise or consequence. But it’s still a great lesson for Leslie here and great showcase of her character.

I love the way she keeps trying to find extra room in the budget, and each fire she tries to put out starts another one. Solving the Parks dept. budget means closing the animal shelter. Saving the animal shelter means Ann (and other employees) getting fired. Ann keeping her job means either the Parks dept. budget shrinks or something else has to have a bite taken out of it. There is, again, a certain I Love Lucy quality to Leslie’s solutions (particularly her adopting all the animals) but I love her last one.

Leslie is the kind of person willing to take the political hit – to give Bobby Newport the win, in order to do the most good for Pawnee. Having him fund the shelter himself is a canny solution to the problem, and it serves many purposes here. It shows Leslie acknowledging that there is a cost to all of this, that you can’t have everything, but that she is always going to be the one to pay that cost herself rather than inflict it on others. A really stellar A-story to be sure.

The rest of the episode has strong material as well. I enjoy April trying to do Leslie’s job and coming up frustrated. Someone like Leslie is used to taking a licking and keeping on ticking, but for April, trying doesn’t come as naturally so every setback stings all the more. I like her trying to pursue a big idea (having a pet adoption event), get little traction and get frustrated. But I like even more than Tom gets to be a good guy instead of just a swaggery dudebro about it. Him pumping April up, and by extension Leslie, by reminding April that she’s face a lot of crap in local government, but that the good she can do is worth it, is a really nice beat for both of them.

And last but not least, Chris and Ron make for, once again, a surprisingly successful pairing. Ron inadvertently clearing his mind at the meditation center is a nice gag. It’s also another good story beat, with Ron admitting that meditation isn’t his thing, but Chris explaining it was just a test of sorts for Ron to show that he can be flexible. The reveal that Chris might lose his job if Bobby wins seems a little cheesy, but I like that it creates another moment of bonding for the two of them where Ron helps Chris out with some whiskey and friendly advice (and yet another Chris-Ann tease). Ron blowing off Chris in the tag by pretending to be meditating is a great button as well.

Overall, it’s an episode with a lot of nice moments, and a good down-to-earth message about government and the realities of it throughout.

[8.7/10] I just love the fact that you can take the civil servant out of the government but you can’t take the government out of the civil servant. The fact that even when she’s on suspension, Leslie can’t help trying to do her job, to the point that she basically makes her own shadow parks department to try get things done. The fact that it’s also a way for her to sublimate some anger at Chris is a nice touch too, even if she ends up apologizing to him at the end. The fact that she’s polling poorly is a blow, but it’s clear from the P.C.P. (the group, not the drug) that she has the perseverance and crazy Leslie Knope zeal to see it through.

And the rest of the gang is going to help her! The final moment of the episode, with the entire department stepping up to run her campaign, is one of the most touching in the series. Ron is particularly on fire, from his being furious at Leslie’s “thoughtful, personal” gifts, to his quiet protestations that he wanted to build a miniature wooden parks department rather than a gingerbread house, to his angry inability to glue graham crackers together. There’s a lot of comedy from the gang banding together, but the way it all falls into place when Leslie walks in is lovely. There’s always been a beating heart on this show, and everyone being willing to give up their lives to support Leslie, because she’s always done it for them, proves that with gusto.

Ben wondering what his next job will be and interviewing around has a solid amount of good comedy as well. I love the guy at the accounting firm who (mildest of mild spoiler alerts) you’ll see again and is a delight in his dorkiness everytime. The horror of Dennis Feinstein’s interview is great, as is Jean Ralphio’s terribly-put but surprisingly helpful advice. The notion of driven Ben taking some time to explore himself is a good one.

But overall, this is an episode about Team Leslie, and from her fervent citizen action, to everyone banding behind her, it’s full of the true X-mas spirit – the spirit of giving your time and talent for someone you care about it, because you know they’d do the same for you.

[8.5/10] Look, if I’m being honest, this isn’t the best-written episode Parks & Rec has ever done. Ron’s story ends essentially by fiat (though you can chalk it up to self-actualization if you really want to); Tom and Ben’s story is basically an excuse for E720-related hijinx and gets sewn together with a mostly unearned final beat; and the only story that does get tied up in any way is Ann’s which was the slightest to begin with.

But damnit if the meat of the episode isn’t so good that it’s hard not to completely excuse it for sort of abruptly screeching to the finish line rather than finding a natural ending point for thing. My god, Ron being confronted and controlled by Tammy 1 is a thing of comic beauty. High mark to Nick Offerman who manages to make Ron seem like a bizarrely, hilariously different person, bereft of facial hair, trusting the government, and wearing a colorful shirt. I cannot tell you how loud I laughed when he told someone he hoped the rest of their day would be “cool beans,” possibly the least Ron Swanson words ever uttered.

If that weren’t enough, everyone’s reaction to this is amazing. Leslie’s frightened declaration of “Ron, your mustache fell off!” is perfect and her drunken state is amazing. A low-simmering but brilliant subplot is April being enraptured by Tammy 1 as the “cold distant mother I never had.” Tammy 2’s brief scene about getting acid poured on her foot is short but sweet. Andy comes up with the winning idea, or at least, gets us halfway there! Everyone in the story is gold!

That extends to the guest stars. Patricia Arquette is amazing as the frosty queen bee herself. Making Tammy 1 this frighteningly effective controller, one who is a “literal golddigger” as Leslie points out, is a great bit. And Tammy Zero (aka Ron’s mom) makes a big impression in just a couple of scenes. Her “This is America, isn’t it? Then I don’t have to answer stupid questions on my own property” is one of the series’s best lines (and April’s follow up about her really being Ron’s mom is the perfect capper). Sure, the drink off being finished by Ron is a little sudden, but everything, including the notion of independent Ron being controlled by all these Tammys in his life, is so great up until that point that the show gets a pass for it.

The same goes for Ben checking the books for Tom. Let’s be frank, it’s just an excuse for strait-laced Ben to be mystified at all the insane stuff going on at E720, and for P&R to show off all that insanity, replete with a pair of NBA stars as a two-man greek chorus. The final scene, where Tom realizes Ben was right and gives him an iPad as a show of thanks is nice enough, but it’s basically just an extended bit of sketch comedy about rich know-nothings. Still, it’s funny and creative, so it gets a pass too!

The one complete story is Ann filming the diabetes PSA with Chris. Chris’s boundless enthusiasm and overcommitment to the material leads to great comic stuff for Rob Lowe, who really sells it. The mild theme of the bit – Ann wondering how she went out with Chris, only to remember when he compliments her and shows that he’s caring despite his outsized qualities – is nice too.
Overall, it’s not the best-structured episode of P&R you’ll ever watch, but damn if it isn’t great anyway.