USOT Recap: All About My Mother

 "Yeah, keep on kicking, kid. Your pre-determined life of misery and disappointment is three weeks away." —Charmaine

Except apparently the "kid" felt three weeks was too long to put off the inevitable and decided to get a head start on that miserable life in the coolest, most disturbing between-the-legs water-breaking-slash-car-crash closing shot I've ever seen. But let's back up a bit.

Last night's episode was all very mother-centric, what with Charmaine's baby shower planning, Tara's difficulty coping with Kate's leaving, and Max's visit to his agoraphobic hoarder of a mother, this last of which turned out to be very revelatory indeed. I knew a connection would be drawn sooner or later between Max's crazy-adjacent childhood and his crazy-choosing adulthood, but I did not expect to learn that his father left his mother over a similar issue (during a long-ago Christmas season, no less), let alone that Max himself has considered doing the same. At this point, it begs the question of whether Max stuck around out of love and dedication to his family or out of sheer stubbornness and refusal to follow in his father's footsteps. Max is a great man/husband/father combo, and I don't doubt his commitment to his family, but it was interesting to get a glimpse into his history and a new dimension to his character, nevertheless.

While Max was dealing with his mother and his past, Tara was slaving away on Charmaine's baby shower, struggling to throw a decent party as well as appeasing her sister, who has been growing more and more negative and anxious about impending motherhood now that Neil is out of work. Oh, and she's also a self-loathing narcissist. The shower was shaping up to be a pathetic disaster anyway, so it's just as well that Charmaine went into labor outside a grocery store.

Kate's Japanese adventure seems to have taken a nosedive, as well. First, her plans to teach English in Osaka were thwarted by a massive earthquake, in what has to be the most unfortunate case of television prescience ever. Then, when she found herself an alternate host city, a beautiful flight attendant freaked her out about it with a casual comment. By the time a panicked Kate rushed back out into the airport terminal, I couldn't help but be disappointed that Japan would no longer be one of the settings of this show, but I am curious about what Kate will decide to do next; my money's on flight attendant training.

Tara's transitions were brief but plentiful in this episode. We've seen from Alice, Buck and T, and it's always interesting to note how different situations in Tara's life call for different personalities, yet how all of them are more or less catering to whatever her needs are at a given time. Alice pitched in with the baby shower arrangements, Buck hit the newest roadblock in his on-going quest to locate the abusive half-brother from Tara and Charmaine's childhood, and T... well, T is just pure id, showing up whenever Tara herself is too nice to be a real bitch to someone who may or may not be asking for it. When this show first started, the transitioning seemed random to me, but the more I pay attention to it, the more I see how deliberately and purposefully Tara is constructed.

So far, I like the direction the show is taking this season. I was a little bit worried about some of the less-than-stellar storylines of Season 2, but the last three episodes have been doing wonders toward restoring my faith in Diablo Cody's creation. I look forward to seeing the result of the "united states of Tara" meeting next week; I have a feeling it won't be as simple as Tara declaring herself king of the domain.

United States of Tara Recap: The Head Trip Returns

Toni Collette as Tara Gregson

God, I hope I'm not the only one who's excited over this, because, dear reader, I have made my selection: Tara shall be the show that I will be recapping here for the next twelve weeks or so. It's rather perfect, actually: a dramatic comedy with short seasons on cable. And honestly, I've written about Showtime babies so much in the past, it's only fitting that I return to the source of so many of my favorite shows slash blog fodder.

Season 3 premiered last night and quickly caught us all up to speed on the various goings-on since Charmaine's non-wedding last season and however long it took for her pregnancy to reach false labor stages. Kate is now moved out of her parents' house... and into her aunt's. Neil is in Charmaine's life now, but in a much less glamorous capacity than he would want, which became more obvious than ever when she coldly rejected his earnest marriage proposal in front of her whole family. Marshall and Lionel are together but aren't putting any labels on it, because according to Lionel, "'boyfriend' is just another one of those gross words, like 'vagina' or 'love.'" I can usually pick out within minutes the episodes written by Diablo Cody, and "...youwillnotwin..." was replete with the too-clever dialogue and cynicism that characterizes her writing. The episode title is in reference to a creepy yet intriguing moment when one of Tara's possibly heretofore unknown alters briefly hijacks her essay on somatization. Why is Tara writing an essay on somatization? Because this season appears to be all about her unfulfilled wishes, both conscious and unconscious: to find her newly discovered half-brother and to finish her undergraduate degree, which conveniently requires her to take a course in—what else?—abormal psychology. Her professor is a curmudgeonly academic type played perfectly (and, dare I say, sexily?) by the hilarious Eddie Izzard, who, according to the sneak peek for the next episode, does not believe in dissociative identity disorder (DID). Interesting.

In the episode's most surprising twist, it was also revealed that Tara had attempted suicide at least twice in college, prompting her to drop out in her last semester. But if the hijacked essay scene is any indication, it was most likely not Tara who wanted to check out early but one of her other personalities. So who is this suicidal (homicidal?) alter, then? Her existing alters have historically been pretty protective of her, so my money's on one we haven't been acquainted with yet.

But Tara is not the only one with problems. In fact, all the main characters seem to be at some sort of impasse this season. Kate can't find a real job with just a GED and a tawdry internet past, Marshall can't get his spawn-of-Satan boyfriend to commit, Max can't retain his business clientele, Charmaine can't seem to manage being an "independent fucking woman," and Neil can't seem to abandon his shrew of a pregnant baby mama in her time of need.

Right now I am feeling very excited about college student Tara and her future interactions with her psych professor. I expect his skepticism regarding her condition will provide a new kind of challenge for Tara and hopefully some insight into herself. I also anticipate some awkward yet sweet moments between Charmaine and Neil, perhaps even a slight cut in her narcissism now that she's on the verge of motherhood. And is it just me, or is it looking like Kate might be back in the Barnaby's uniform pretty soon?

What other thoughts or predictions do you have after this first episode? And who's with me in rooting for the quick dissolution of the Marshall/Lionel union?

The New Showtime Sunday: A Brief Assessment

Ever since Mad Men ended, my Sunday viewing has been sparse and disappointing, to say the least. Sparse because the only viable option is Desperate Housewives, and disappointing because, well, I don't think that bears an explanation. Naturally, I was more than a little excited to check out not one but two new Sunday shows from Showtime, a network with a track record of producing TV that is both great (i.e. Weeds) and... not-so-great (i.e. Californication).

True to its name, Showtime's newest (attempted) dramedy seems hell-bent on blowing up the appall-o-meter with its diversely messed up characters. Unfortunately, in spite of the semi-interesting premise, I don't think Shameless is a show I will keep watching for very much longer. There's nothing horribly wrong with it, but there's nothing truly special about it either. The show happens to suffer from a mediocre lead actress, but the biggest gripe I have is the huge discord between the gravity of the issues presented and the humorous attitude with which they are treated. Call me stodgy, but poverty and perpetually drunk single fathers-of-six are not that funny, no matter how many horny Joan Cusacks you throw into the mix. And then there's the other thing... Let's just say that in spite of the mixed signals emitted by this show, Shameless does give its audience one very clear, very frequent message: dudes sure be gaga over damaged chicks.

I much prefer Episodes, the new comedy about a grounded (and regular-looking!) husband-and-wife screenwriting/producing team who agree to bring their beloved and successful British sitcom to America, then are subsequently forced to stand by and watch the myriad ways in which the Hollywood treatment fails to deliver on its promises. The show also ushers in Matt LeBlanc's first regular TV gig since Friends (let's just pretend the abysmal Joey never happened), this time playing a hilariously dramatized version of himself, à la Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm. Pair a narcissistic LeBlanc with two judgmental Brits and toss them all into a Hollywood studio setting, and you've got yourself some mighty hijinks, my friend. All in all, Episodes is a pretty bloody funny show and home to the single most refreshingly "equalized" romantic partnership I can remember seeing depicted on a sitcom. (A friend jokingly referred to the female half as a "bit of a ball buster," but she's not. She's not!)

This Is Huddy Do It

This post contains spoilers about the Season 6 finale of House, but it was three weeks ago, so you're probably OK.

Watching Drs. House and Cuddy kiss—for real—was damn satisfying on the season finale of House a few weeks ago. So satisfying, in fact, that it instantly got me asking, first, “What’s wrong with this picture?” and second, “How jaded am I that I would question a lovely scene like this?” Not to mention the way it was perfectly emblematic of the ideal romantic partnership—both parties sacrificed, gave, and took equally during those few minutes. That it also happened to bring to fruition a six-year-long foreplay session was just icing on the cake.

But then I figured it out: what that moment triggered within me was the recognition that a kiss like that had somehow become a completely foreign concept on television. That elusive je ne sais quoi I was struggling to put my finger on was the presence of romance. Pardon the cliché, but it has to be said: TV romance is (nearly) dead. Sure, we still have the cutesy hookups of new and old sitcoms like Cougar Town and How I Met Your Mother to fall back on, as well as the always interchangeable, always manipulated screw-lationships of Grey’s Anatomy, but as far as serious, mature programming goes, the romance dial is essentially stuck on one position: the sweaty, carnal, envelope-pushing, checking-behind-you-for-grandmother’s-whereabouts fuck fests of the wonder that is cable television. (The backyard scene on United States of Tara from the beginning of this season comes to mind.)

What happened to buying a gal dinner first? What happened to affection? Emotional intimacy, anyone? Nothing tugs at the heartstrings anymore. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it makes me too much of a girl to demand some occasional wooing in my nightly viewing. I mean, enough with these borderline rape-y, bend-her-over-a-table-while-heaving-threats “love” scenes—yes, Weeds, I’m talking to you. I love cable programming as much as the next person, but sometimes I really wonder if a misogynist writer didn’t sneak his way onto the Showtime team. It’s like, we get it: it’s all just biology and there’s nothing really sacred about two people coming together physically. Except… it’s not, and there is.

These shows, while well-crafted and cleverly penned, appear to lack a basic belief in love. If love is the higher power, they are the atheists of TV programming, endlessly attempting to convince their audience of the idiocy of romance by depicting increasingly depraved sex scenes more reminiscent of animalistic mating rituals than expressions of human desire. While many such scenes can be funny/charming/real/necessary in context, they nearly always point back to that ol’ bodily function—no, not shitting—sex (although they sure make it hard to distinguish between the importance of the two). I have no beef with sex, but I’m sick of seeing it get reduced to nothing more than an urge. Yes, lust is a real and beautiful thing, but these shows will have you believe that it is sex that bestows significance on love, instead of the other way around. No offense to atheists, but I’ll stick with my silly magic.

So when House and Cuddy, two of the most complex and grownup characters currently on TV, finally got around to being on the same page for the first time in six years, I repeat, I was satisfied. Even better, I was touched. I was touched by their words to each other, the way she helped him up off the floor (symbolism alert!), their barely-there kiss, all the way to the final shot of their tightly, desperately joined hands. (I mean, seriously, who holds hands while making out anymore? I literally had to fan myself.) There was nothing tantalizing or titillating about their coming together, yet it was the sexiest thing I’d seen all year—perhaps longer—on the small screen. And I didn’t need visual proof to know that, in the House universe, those two totally got their freak on after the screen went black.

And so I urge you, television gods—as an non-sentimental, even cynical woman who does not get weepy at weddings and often rolls her eyes at proposal stories, I urge you—do not let on-screen romance die. As much as it shocks me to say this, less D.H. Lawrence and more Jane Austen, please. Look, I too dig a raunchy scene now and again; I just wish you realized that doing the nasty doesn’t always have to be so, well, nasty.