“Aaron Brownstein Must Be Stopped” is just a great episode title, and happily, it accompanies a pretty great episode. Any time spent on Max is generally time worth spent, and this week is no exception. But the episode also achieves the remarkable feat of taking Crosby’s story, which has oscillated of late between boring and incessantly petulant, and invigorating it by allowing it to dovetail with Amber’s story, and to a lesser extent Drew’s as well. The result is an episode that deals with character absences in a much more successful way, as well as one that takes advantage of the show’s shared settings to increase interaction between the characters who do appear.
The action at Chambers Academy is the best use of the school setting yet. The school’s very existence may strain credulity, but when we realize that really, it’s only there to allow Kristina to take part in school stories with Max, it’s a forgivable lapse in logic. Scenes like those at the school this week are reason enough send the Bravermans on ludicrous business endeavors: so that they can all work together, learn together. This is simple character economy, sure, but it also plays to the show’s greatest strength, which is its ensemble of crazy talented actors and their chemistry with each other. Chambers is a device that allows Kristina to play both principal and mom, and to take an active role in Max’s school trials, rather than merely react to them once he returns home.
It helps that Monica Potter is a rock star. It can’t be said enough. She can do literally anything—her range as Kristina is astounding. She’s funny in the opening scene with Nora; she goes from confused to flustered to devastated in breaking up Max’s fight at school; in her last conversation with Max, she is tearfully resigned to the unique difficulties that Max will face, yet her priority is never anything less than Max’s safety and emotional well-being. Especially with Peter Krause out this week as well (Adam is “away on business”), Potter is left to do the heavy lifting here, and she knocks it out of the park. Max Burkholder is great as well, taking the histrionics of Max’s freakout and giving a very tragic, human edge to them. As always, the writing is careful to remain sympathetic to all characters involved, and to give deference to Max’s Asperger’s without becoming treacly. What he does is creepy. But he doesn’t know any better, and the way Kristina helps him through these emotions is inspired. It’s a scene that will surely make the Emmy reel for both actors.
The bulk of the rest of the episode revolves around the Luncheonette, another shared setting that can incorporate multiple characters. Crosby’s work woes are infinitely more interesting this week, and that’s because Jasmine’s voice is finally in the mix, as well. Jasmine even gets her own scenes, for the first time in what feels like forever. (Call it a hidden blessing of the cast scheduling gymnastics this season is having to perform.) The idea of career fulfillment, and of how to balance the need to make money with the need to enjoy one’s work, runs throughout Crosby’s story, and is paralleled by Amber and Drew. I think the show strikes a pretty successful balance here, but I wonder if Crosby isn’t let off the hook a little too, considering how immature he is with Jasmine and her mother. Then again, perhaps I, like Drew, am a total wet blanket about this issue—though even if that’s the case, Crosby’s need to bring pot to the concert is an absurdly poor decision that is swept under the rug, before it’s played for laughs.
It’s great to see Amber woven into this story, and to see a story that deals with her professional issues as well as her personal ones. Mae Whitman has great chemistry with Dax Shepard, and as their characters tend to be rather similar in temperament, there’s plenty of entertainment value in watching them try to score one for the Luncheonette, with Adam lurking over the episode as this horrible off-screen presence, raining awful singing cat ladies down upon them.
And then there is the Hank and Sandy show, which, while good, feels this week like an entirely different show. That sense is exacerbated by Sarah’s absence. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ray Romano and Betsy Brandt both, and they are so good that I almost don’t even care that these secondary characters are swallowing up so much of the show. But no matter how good the scenes are, they’re a constant reminder of stories we’re not seeing, characters we’re not spending time with, and that weighs everything down just a bit. The conclusion of the story is pure Parenthood though. Even though Ruby manipulates Hank in the worst possible way, and betrays both Hank and Sandy’s trust, the mean words, the fights and the lies, they’re just blips along the way, and no more. Other shows like this would turn this party into a big teachable moment, full of tearful apologies. On Parenthood there is just a game of poker. Life goes on.
The stop-start nature of the season’s arcs is too frustrating to look past: Zeek is absent again, Joel and Julia are nowhere to be found after last week’s cliffhanger, Camille pops in for a second to babysit and vanishes (but hey at least she’s alive!). But the individual components are all lovely, and the closer we get to the end of the season, the more I suspect we’ll start to get everyone in the same room once more. If we’ve a little longer to wait before that happens, at least it’s an altogether pleasant wait.
Stray Observations:
- I wonder if we are meant to compare Ruby’s behavior toward Hank with Dylan’s behavior toward Max? They’re each taking advantage of the Asperger’s, though in different ways.
- Last week I completely biffed on Sandy’s name and called her Linda, for some reason. Sorry about that.
- We need to talk about the cat song that Adam schedules for the Luncheonette, because it is just amazing. Drew: “It’s really bad, Amber, thank you, for your inviting me to hear this.”
- Seriously, it becomes hilarious how specific the show is about explaining these absences. Amber, mid-pregnancy episode, on whether Crosby should call Sarah: “She’s in Napa anyway, she can’t do anything.”
- Did Drew Holt Get a Haircut? Nope. It’s getting all tangly back there again.
Michael Wampler is a graduate of The College of New Jersey, where he completed both B.A. and M.A. degrees in English literature. He currently lives and works in Princeton, NJ while he shops around his debut novel and slowly picks away at his second. Favorite shows include Weeds, Lost, Hannibal and Mad Men (among many more). When not watching or writing about television, he enjoys reading, going for runs, and building his record collection.