| Niecy Nash, Laurie Metcalf & Alex Borstein make up TV's most underrated ensemble in Getting On (HBO) |
Valerie
Cherish, more than anything else, just wants to be recognized – her inflated sense of self reflects a
core belief that the world is just waiting to see her return to the spotlight.
The
opening scene of The Comeback’s
sophomore season – airing nine years after its first – is perhaps the most
unrelenting, uncomfortable (and hilarious) sequence the show has done to date.
While the first season was framed through archival footage assembled by an
actual, professional camera crew, this second season begins with USC film
students – or just students, as Valerie (Lisa Kudrow) frustratingly learns –
clumsily tracking the has-been actress. The camera is shakier, and Valerie is
even less comfortable. She’s re-introducing herself to the world – it’s a
reality pilot presentation, and in Valerie’s mind, updating viewers on what
she’s been doing in the last decade (medical drama guest spots; a failed stint
on Real Housewives; sponsoring hair
care products) is of utmost interest to the general public. Co-creators Kudrow
and Michael Patrick King allow the scene to go on, and on, and on – Valerie typically
stumbles into cameras, inadvertently shows off embarrassing footage, and gently
scolds her husband for behaving “inappropriately” in front of the cameras – thereby
maximizing the series’ signature brand of discomfort humor. Valerie, as King and
Kudrow remind, is obsessed with that camera: it’s where she belongs, it’s where
people want to see her.
HBO
has paired The Comeback with the
second season of Getting On, the
low-key comedy set in the elderly-care ward of a hospital. While Valerie clings
to the potential of the spotlight – she so cherishes the “accidental” bump-in
with Andy Cohen and Ru Paul – the protagonists of Getting On reside, with various levels of acceptance, in a realm
completely ignored by those outside it. They are socially and personally inept
(Nurse Dawn, played by Alex Borstein); working mothers with significant familial
commitments (Nurse Dede, played by Niece Nash), and feverish, self-involved
doctors without a friendly relationship to their name (Dr. Jenna James, played
by Laurie Metcalf). They’re not there because they want to be, really; no, it’s
where no one else will go. There is no spotlight for Dawn, or Dede, or Dr.
James (much to her chagrin) – there is only the work, grueling and isolated and
frustrating as it may be.
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| Lisa Kudrow gives one of TV's funniest and sharpest performances in The Comeback (HBO) |
These
vast differences ultimately illuminate a commonality between The Comeback and Getting On – their characters are peripheral, whether they accept
that fact or not, and both series harshly and painfully contend with that
reality. Over time in its first season, The
Comeback elicited more and more sympathy for Valerie, who – while always
gloriously self-involved – was unveiled as a victim of an industry engaging in
overt ageism and sexism. That empathy is also evident in Getting On, which aggressively blends the outrageous with the
mundane. It’s a hybrid of the work-family stylings of shows like The Office and of manic-yet-life-affirming
half-hours such as Enlightened.
Characters in Getting On – also including
a sexually-confused, data-loving male nurse named Patsy (Mel Rodriguez) – are
removed from more-prominent, more-desirable realms of the medical world for
their own reasons, yet as they come together, they collectively find solace in
a place completely ignored by everyone beyond it.
There
are moments of profound emotion: throughout, conversations between characters
about how they’ve let loved ones go, and about the relationships with the
elderly in their own lives, stay true to the show’s spirit while guiding it into
richly dramatic areas.
In a wrenchingly-sad scene in the second season premiere, an older widow excitedly explains to Nurse DiDi that she has the capacity to bring her deceased lover back to the living – and that the day that she did so was the happiest of her life. Within the same episode, nearly five minutes are spent on DiDi accidentally tilting a patient’s bed to the point where Dawn must support the patient with her butt against her, to prevent her from falling. Such a balance accurately captures the sensibilities of Getting On – and it also sufficiently describes The Comeback. A late season one episode finds Valerie parading around shamelessly in a giant cupcake suit – yet when, in said suit, she finally fights back at her tormentor Paulie G. (Lance Barber), it’s a moment of triumph and emotional satisfaction for Valerie and the viewer.
In a wrenchingly-sad scene in the second season premiere, an older widow excitedly explains to Nurse DiDi that she has the capacity to bring her deceased lover back to the living – and that the day that she did so was the happiest of her life. Within the same episode, nearly five minutes are spent on DiDi accidentally tilting a patient’s bed to the point where Dawn must support the patient with her butt against her, to prevent her from falling. Such a balance accurately captures the sensibilities of Getting On – and it also sufficiently describes The Comeback. A late season one episode finds Valerie parading around shamelessly in a giant cupcake suit – yet when, in said suit, she finally fights back at her tormentor Paulie G. (Lance Barber), it’s a moment of triumph and emotional satisfaction for Valerie and the viewer.
The
uniqueness of these comedies is derived from their desire to mercilessly poke fun at their
characters while always maintaining a sincere, unwavering affection for them. I
wouldn’t say The Comeback is about
show-business, brilliantly satirical and ruthlessly honest as it may be about Hollywood,
and I wouldn’t say Getting On is about
healthcare, no matter how incisively it tackles the failures of the American
system (and really, the scene at the end of the second season premiere is
terrific in that regard). By being pushed out, the characters in both series
subtly evoke tragedy, broadly mine comedy, and carefully expose the greater
realities of the world around them. The world may not care to see Valerie
Cherish again, but damn it, she’s going to put herself out there anyway. The
medical community (or the greater political system) may not bat an eye to the glaring
lack of resources Dr. James et al are dealing with, but creators Mark V. Olsen
and Will Scheffer make a critical statement: their stories, as well as those being
cared for in the ward, still matter. We can laugh at Dawn’s incompetence or at Valerie’s
delusion, but there’s something beautifully raw and real about their realities and
their glaring imperfections. And that, for the viewer, makes for an especially
rewarding experience.
We'll be covering both series on a semi-regular basis in the coming weeks. A full review of each will be posted in December, when they've completed their respective seasons.