MAN SEEKING WOMAN, SEEKING AUDIENCE

 

For the last 3 years, Man Seeking Woman has been the most slept-upon comedy on TV.  It’s made no ratings splash, garnered no significant award buzz or critical accolades, and developed an internet following that is mostly silent and largely theoretical.  And that’s a shame, because it is one of the most insightful looks at millennial romance you’ll find anywhere.  But it’s also understandable, as it is definitely the strangest; an insistently trapezoidal peg that apparently preferred toiling in surreal obscurity to fitting itself to any of the variously-shaped holes that TV offers for half hour comedies.

Based on a memoir by Simon Rich, the show follows thoroughly unimpressive everydude Jay Baruchel as he searches for romance in Chicago.  That it’s Toronto, poorly (and pointlessly) subbing for the Windy City is the least of the oddball touches. The episodes take the form of a series of vignettes, which makes it almost a sketch comedy, albeit one with a core cast of recurring characters.  In tone and content, the best I can describe it is if you took the minute social anthropology of Seinfeld, but turned all the similes into metaphors. And then you filmed it with the loving eye for detail of Key And Peele’s movie parodies.  So instead of George and his girlfriend fighting over whether ending their relationship requires dual consent “like turning two keys to launch a nuclear missile”, MSW would put them in an actual military bunker with a Michael Ironside-type general lectured them about the irreparable severity of their decision.  Or in one episode, his new girlfriend may still be friends with her ex, who is literally Jesus, while in the next his own ex’s rebound relationship is with literally Hitler.

This structure gives it the unpredictability and unevenness of sketch comedy, so a single episode may have a ten minute segment whose conceit never really gets off the ground, then totally blindside you with an extended detour down a truly bizarre, hilarious path.  When a bit is firing on all cylinders, it can be as wildly and uniquely funny on as any show on TV, but it also has to transition between those bits and the dead fish without the benefit of the hard-out and full reset that a true sketch format affords. And on the flip side, it also has too loose a relationship with reality or continuity for character investment to carry those transitions.  People may feel compelled to keep up week after week with a show like Parks and Rec or New Girl, solely in order to keep up with what’s going on or ‘ship a particular couple.  Even as someone who loves the show, I was always tuning in for pointed jokes rather than to see whether Josh would-they or wouldn’t-they with the Woman du jour. 

This odd hinterland of comedy encompasses tone as well as structure.  It embraces absurdity and tangents like an Adult Swim cartoon, and is willing to work similarly blue, but those shows are more interested in the transgressive elements as comedic ends unto themselves.  MSW uses its more twisted concepts for contrast, a means of mining domestic minutia for fresher laughs – for example, an extended segment of our “woke” 20somethings debating whether it is charmingly chivalrous or regressively chauvinistic for a suitor to ask the father of his intended’s permission…to have anal sex with her.

That bit further demonstrates how the tone falls in the margins of cable single-cam comedies as well.  It’s far too exaggerated and silly for one of the more conceited “artcoms” like Better Things or Master Of None, and while it demonstrates a definite caustic streak, it’s not deep or acidic enough to fit with the strain of “asshole comedy” that It’s Always Sunny or Veep excel at.  Because while its characters are necessarily much more malleable than the leads of a more traditional, narrative-driven sitcom, the show’s cynicism is reserved for the institutions and ritualism of courtship and cohabitation.  It likes and wants us to empathize with its core cast (even, intermittently, Eric Andre’s ur-bro character), rather than hold them in the mild contempt we have for the Gang or the titular League or Workaholics.  But it’s still too goofy and strange to hit the depths of pathos that more grounded, bracing series like The Office or You’re The Worst are capable of reaching. 

At least in its first two seasons.  The third season switched up the formula by introducing a new girlfriend for Josh in Lucy (Katie Findlay), having them move in together halfway through the premiere and get married in the finale.  This provided a stronger emotional throughline than the more standalone misadventures that preceded it, but also seemingly brought the titular quest to a sweet, fitting, and natural resolution.  It’s a perfect place to say, if not farewell, then at least a hearty “woof woof, cowabunga!” to the series.

You may think there was something funnier than
this on TV this year.  You are wrong, though.

But if anything, the show would be more constrained by its title going forward than its abilities.  Even before the introduction of Lucy as a full-fledged co-lead who carried half the episodes on her own, the show had made an annual tradition of handing one episode a year over to Josh’s sister Liz (Britt Lower), episodes that keep the surreality but effortlessly shift focus to consistently produce highlights of the season.  The show has yet to find similar emotional resonance in Eric Andre’s Mike outside of his relationship with Josh, but even if there is not blood in that particular stone, I’m sure this creative team could find material for at least 20 sketches in the travails of newlyweds screwing up their honeymoon, buying a home, a pet, and eventually having a kid.  But realistically, FX is likely to take the natural out the latest finale presents and call it a wrap.  And it’s hard to begrudge them that decision, since 3 seasons is a perfectly fair shot for a show with the unspectacular ratings profile I mentioned before.  Man Seeking Woman’s quiet refusal to be anything but its bizarre, difficult-to-champion self may have made it always destined to only gradually come to be more appreciated as people discover its good-looking corpse on their own, streaming terms.   There are worse fates possible for even brilliant shows.  Just ask the shambling corpse of a) Arrested Development, b) The X-Files, c) Gilmore Girls, or d) hopefully not Twin Peaks.

LEGION - "CHAPTER FIVE"

In which everyone creeps around creepy places looking for David and his creepy alter egos

After last week’s absolutely bananas jaunt to the astral plane, David and the gang return to Summerland and the “real” world this week, but no one seems quite themselves.  Granted, the concept of “yourself” is slippery business on Legion, but David takes an uncharacteristically wolfish glee in telling/rubbing Melanie’s face in stories of her weirdo beatnik psychic vegetable husband’s bachelor pad in a floating ice cube (look, I’ve told you already, it’s a weird show).  But that’s positively restrained compared to his vamping for the security cameras and striking flamenco poses as he massacres seemingly the entirety of Division 3.  And even that seems more like the David we know than the one that we see in the astral honeymoon suite, where he's not just confident, but sexually confident.  If the bugs on the strawberries were not enough of a tip off that he was not in the driver's seat, that would be enough; nothing about his characterization to this point suggests he could talk about erogenous zones without stammering.

For all the continued strangeness in presentation, “Chapter 5” continues to increase the clarity around David’s issues, as we have confirmation that the Tubby Yellow Devil, The Worlds’ Angriest Boy In The World, King The Beagle, and Benny/Lenny are all manifestations of a singular entity, and that entity does exist as more than a facet of David’s fractured psyche.  This means that he is not schizophrenic in the technical, DSM-sense of the term, but he is in the popularly held (read: inaccurate) conception of it meaning multiple fully formed personalities battling for control.  Oliver’s diagnosis of the Devil as a parasite is confirmed, meaning it is less a split personality than a tapeworm.  Or if you prefer, a malevolent demon that speaks in many voices.

The Devil is far from the only parasitic passenger in this story, though.  While it presents in more benign, symbiotic fashion, Cary/Kerry also have two consciousnesses occupying the same body.  Ptonomy has the ability to insert himself into other people’s minds and pasts, whereas Syd and The Perm can hijack their actual bodies. Legion seems to be suggesting, at least subtextually, that the substance of our identities is an accumulation memories.  But also that those memories are highly malleable, and shaped by those - family, lovers, allies and enemies alike – that we allow into our mental real estate.  No man is an island, as they say, but on Legion, a man is more like wide open prairie basin with no discernable border security.

Confused, quasi-political geographic allegories are brought to you by Papa Johns

But that’s subtext, and as we all know, the tem “subtext” derives from the Latin for “bullshit”.  So let’s get back to the considerable textual puzzle the show presents.  Because while David’s sinister behavior eventually clarifies the nature of the Devil/Lenny, he’s not the only one who has suddenly strapped on his sassypants this week.  Ptonomy is acting noticeably more sarcastic and catty toward Syd and particularly Melanie, whereas before he was this perfectly zen, gentle guru type.  Presumably this is due to his being possessed (or occupied, or bugged, it’s still not entirely clear how his powers work) by The Perm during their tussle last week.  The brief glimpses we’ve gotten into the characters’ past suggest that he founded Summerland with Oliver and Melanie, and judging by his comments in the guise of David’s doctor last week, he has some lingering animosity toward her in particular.

Which makes all the sense in the world, because Syd’s snotty behavior toward Melanie after she and David knock metaphysical boots suddenly caused several shoes in that web of relationships to drop.  Somehow it had not occurred to me that Melanie was Syd's mother (did I miss an offhand reference establishing that in one of the early episodes?), but when she was petulantly bragging about all the sex she was having with my boyfriend, it suddenly became obvious.  It’s the sort of brattiness you expect from a 15 year-old instead of a twentysomething, but when you factor in that it’s only her second sexual encounter and the first was a disastrous body-swapping trick on a boyfriend of her mother’s (again, weird show), some arrested development is to be expected. 

NO ONE EXPECTS ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT!!

But it also it begs the question of who her father is, and duh, there is another, older mutant on the show with the power to hijack other people’s bodies, and that guy has a history with Melanie.  Whether he or Syd is aware of their relationship remains an open question, I suppose, but having possessed both the telekinetic Rudy and (presumably) Ptonomy, he has become as much a parasite within the Summerland ranks as Lenny is in David’s mind.  My guess is that whenever they sort out this latest mental jaunt to the mental institution, they will return to Summerland to find either an ambush or ashes.  

•  David’s shrink  also seems to have had some sassy screws loosened since he was talking with Amy a week or two ago.  Not sure what to make of that.

•  Further suggestions that the Perm is at least “in” Ptonomy somewhere – the D3 head who is bleeding out with a severed leg’s warnings to Syd make more sense if he’s actually speaking over her shoulder to his ally, saying “we” made a mistake. 

•  That silent sequence was fantastic and unnerving.  I particularly loved Melanie silently screaming at a reluctant Cary, leading to that cut back to Kerry, spiked bat in hand.  Bats with nails sticking out of them are a fantastic weapon – they scream “I want to fuck things up so bad, I’m willing to get a little stupid to do it.”

• On the weapons tip, I also like that Ptonomy carries a tommy gun.  You just know everyone refers to it as his "Ptonny gun". 

• Fantastic physical performances this week from Bill Irwin and Aubrey Plaza.  When Lenny is in full predatory mode, it’s even scarier than The Devil With Type 2 Diabetes stalking people around the astral plane.

LEGION - "CHAPTER FOUR"

“If that’s weird…I’m okay with it.”

It’s a fine line Legion has to walk.  It’s committed to telling a strange story in a strange way, set in and around the unexplored depths of the damaged, mutant psyche of a damaged, mutant protagonist.  It has to do that with a certain amount of verve and visual inventiveness, to distract us from realizing just how much time we’re spending on self-indulgent gobbledegook.  But it also has to maintain a tether to some exterior, “objective” reality, and make that reality interesting enough to give a sense that there are some stakes that are more than just an excuse for that gobbledegook.  Otherwise it’s just watching someone masturbate.  And no one masturbates so stylishly that I want to watch it for 10 hours at a stretch.

Sorry, bud, not even you

In the make-believe world, or Astral Plane if you prefer, Jermaine Clement appears as Melanie’s cryogenically comatose husband (look, I said it was a weird episode, okay?) Oliver.  Clement is an international treasure, and his particular style of goofy serenity is perfect for this character whose oracular wisdom is constantly undercut with predilections for horrendous jazz music (as opposed to regular jazz music, which is merely awful), dire beat poetry (not opposed to regular, because all beat poetry is terrible), and magnificently bad leisurewear.  His opening address to the camera is my favorite bizarre flourish so far, even if it threatens to make blogging about the show redundant.  If the show itself is going to explicitly break down the fundamentals of storytelling into the designs to foster empathy versus preaching caution, or have Syd ask in voice over “what are we if not the stories we tell ourselves?”, then that takes some of the rhetorical wind out of my sails here.  I can't very well take the observation that David, Syd, and Cary/Kerry's powers all deal with the nature of identity when disassociated from a specific physical anchor and pawn it off as some strikingly original insight of my own, if the show is just going to highlight and engage with that stuff directly.

But if it can stay as unpredictable and entertaining as Legion has been thus far, then I can live with that.  Because as weird and meta and elliptical as “Chapter Four” gets, it makes sure to provide plenty of plot movement, revelations and new clues as to just how deep David's problems go, both within his head and without.  We learn his childhood dog was not real, but the yellow-eyed devil is more than just a figment of his imagination (Oliver clarifies that he's more of a parasite than a true alter-ego).  We learn that the Lenny who Syd met and accidentally killed in the asylum was only superimposed over a different, male junkie in David’s memories.  That David didn’t just rob, but assaulted and permanently injured his former therapist.  That his ex knows at least a little about his powers and the Division.  That Kerry/Cary do occupy the same body, at least when there’s nothing exciting enough to hold her attention going on, and that she is significantly younger because she doesn’t age when she’s “hibernating”.  That our main heavy has vast powers that allow him to impersonate or possess others, walk through hails of gunfire completely unscathed, and rock an egregious perm without shame. 

"Look upon me, and despair."

Also getting more interesting is Amy’s predicament, as she finds herself in a Count of Monte Cristo situation with (one of) David’s former psychiatrist in an adjoining cell.  The cells themselves are works of sadistic minimalism; dimly lit with bursts of harsh flourescents, bare concrete on a steep incline with a glass wall denying even the illusion of privacy.  Along with how she attacks the food tray when it is presented, it suggests that Division 3 has no qualms about giving this innocent civilian the full court press, meaning not just leeches, but starvation, sleep deprivation and stress positions to break her down.  Is Dr. Kissinger a legitimate fellow victim, or part of a more insidious plan to probe what she knows?  In this world, like in David’s mind, it’s hard to be sure of anything.

Which would be irritating, and feel like the most indulgent kind of wheel-spinning, if the characters weren’t aware of and actively trying to unravel these puzzles as hard as we are.  As I’ve said before, that is crucial to making it feel like a ride the show is taking us on, instead of a trick it’s playing on us.  For now, at least.  All of “Chapter Four” is tilting wildly on the rails, but as long as the show can maintain this level of forward momentum without falling off entirely, I’m going to keep digging the hell out of it.

• Lennie has “things to do” out in the world.  Given the revelations about her nature and increasing visual ties to the devil with the yellow eyes, this can’t mean anything good.

• Speaking of the devil, the decision to give him stubbly little twigs for legs is not a great one.  It tips his look from creepy into goofy.

• Super-specific prediction: Ptonomy’s eye immediately turned milky like The Perm’s when he touched him.  I’d guess this allows The Perm some form of long-distance monitoring that forces the memory guru to actually blind himself, a la the ruse with Philly.

• David’s initial nod of acknowledgment when he sees Oliver in the old timey diving suit feels like the only natural response when you find yourself suspended in a floaty green void with someone.   It would be the funniest bit in the episode if it weren’t for Clement’s crestfallen reaction to learning that bras have made a comeback while he’s been on ice.