As with “Milk of the Gods,” this week’s episode of Shameless is something of a mixed bag. There’s quite a bit of good material here, but the show is doling it out very slowly, and as a result much of “I’m the Liver” repeats the beats of the premiere, without adding any depth or creating any further complications. Even the instances that do develop new wrinkles this week (I’m thinking mainly of Fiona here) are still baby steps forward in a season that is in no rush to make its point.
Again, Shameless has more than earned this sort of measure storytelling. There’s no reason not to be confident that the season is building to something, and that much or all of this early work will pay off down the line. But when aspects of the episode are as trying as aspects of this episode are, it can be difficult to be as patient as one would like with the storytelling.
Once again, the bulk of the episode is spent with Frank and company, and once again, I’m left to wonder if this isn’t a mistake. The broader comedy on this show can be hit or miss, and Frank’s story this week exemplifies both extremes. There is some excellent physical comedy—in fact, Sheila casually squirting Sammie with the hose is side-splitting—but also some misguided attempts at black comedy that ultimately forget they’re meant to be telling a joke. The Father’s Day luncheon to which Frank and Sheila are invited, hosted by the parents of the donor whose liver Frank is now abusing, is dark to the point of discomfort. By the time the donor’s mother is cringing in horror at the head of the table, the audience is way ahead of her. It’s not funny enough to warrant how very dark the scene is, and so it ends up gross and even somewhat exploitative, too weird for its own good. Wrapped up in all of this is Sheila and Sammie’s continued feud, which is, like so many things with these characters, too outlandish to achieve any sort of pathos; and without the pathos, the comedy falls flat, too.
Lip and Ian are both stuck in retreads of the premiere. Lip has his first day of work on the demolition crew; he puts on a brave face, pretending to be this strange, idealized version of himself that he holds in his head, like he can still be the blue collar, working class South Side hero. But he’s not that guy, and after a hard day of work, he rounds the corner and collapses. The story is well-told in its few scenes, but divulges no new information, nor does it change Lip’s status quo, not even when he briefly crosses paths with Mandy. Still, it’s a sight better than Ian’s story, which is equally repetitive but less well done, featuring an (admittedly accurate) caricature of the Westboro Baptist Church and an increasingly heightened manic episode of Ian’s that is never quite believable or engaging. It may just be that Cameron Monaghan is better at playing the depressive episodes than the manic, but something in the combination of performance and writing just doesn’t work this week.
Much more successful is the C-plot featuring Debbie and Carl, which starts out as a light-hearted, standard teen-movie romp, through the lens of Shameless, before turning into a more careful study of Debbie’s continuing journey into adolescence. Her scenes with Svetlana are comedic gold, as are Debbie’s studied attempts at sexiness at the public pool. Svetlana is pretty much always awesome to have around, but tonight’s scenes are a good reminder of just how well rounded the character has become.
But what’s truly best about this particular thread is the way it dovetails so neatly with Fiona’s, leading to a devastating final scene that sneaks up on the viewer, so that you don’t realize its horror until it’s too late. Fiona spends much of the episode flirting back and forth with Sean, newly free of her ankle monitor and suddenly (or perhaps usually?) flush with options with regard to men. But after a violent encounter with a diner who was rude to Fiona (and I mean, super fucking rude), Sean hits the brakes. He might have seemed like the responsible and respectable option, but is in fact the same kind of conflicted, bad news guy that she’s always into. And he confirms every scary thing that Fiona has ever thought about herself. “I’m not just chaos,” she pleads, but he knows better.
And so she takes her fourteen year old sister, dressed like a hooker, to a 21-plus concert, puts her directly in harm’s way with some gross pervert, punches a guy, draws the singer of the band into a fight, and runs like hell out of there lest she violate her probation. Chaos with a capital-C, sweetheart. This is a great note to end the episode on, not just narratively speaking, but also just with the composition of the shot. Debbie is foregrounded, giggling with excitement, finally off on an adventure with her big sister. Meanwhile Fiona is behind her, exhilarated as well, at first, until she realizes just how much trouble she is.
It’s this ability to turn on a dime that makes Shameless a better-than-average series. It doesn’t hit these heights often, and tends to only really be consistently sublime with regard to Fiona, but man, do moments like this one make the whole endeavor worth it. I’m still waiting, somewhat less patiently than before, for the rest of the season’s elements to coalesce; but as far as Fiona and Emmy Rossum are concerned, at least, I’m all in.
Stray Observations:
Little Chuckles continues to be an absolute delight, with his “Happy Father’s Day Gampa” sign and all.
“This is just like with the Jews.” “Today, the urban gentry is moneyed lesbians.” Frank’s thoughts on gentrification are typically complex.
Another great shot: just when I was feeling a little skeptical, Frank and Sheila are prancing down the street holding hands, and dare I say my heart melted a little a bit.
Kevin gets some great scenes in with Svetlana as well, as his and Veronica’s parenting troubles take a turn for the worst this week. Sometimes a haircut is not just a haircut.
“Surrogate. I rent uterus like youth hostel.” Svetlana is a treasure.
“You can’t wear the uniform and wield the cross as a weapon, soldier.”
