Liars and Saints

 Recently, I did some work for a company; I thought the work was going well, and I was enjoying myself. This wasn't a major commitment -- just a few hours per week. Suddenly, rather quickly, I received a landslide of negative feedback. I tried to mend fences (with apologies for the mixed metaphor) -- but this was a useless endeavor. The chapter ended with a non-termination termination -- "We'll be in touch if other opportunities arise" -- and I bit my tongue. On one level, I'm relieved not to be working with this group anymore; things ultimately seemed chaotic and (at the least) questionable. On the other hand, I'm surprisingly hurt -- because I had a certain half-vision of what this year would be, and now I need to regroup. That's also the plot of "Somebody Somewhere," this week. Sam seems to take steps toward one particular future -- then discovers that she is actually walking backwards. A random remark at a bar throws a light on for her: ...

 The final season of "Somebody Somewhere" offers up some new crises and breakthroughs. For example, Joel has a "poop event" that begins while he is parking his car. "It's coming out! Oh my God!" he screams, as he runs into Sam's house. (Oddly, Sam shouts, "Let me help!") On the positive side, Tricia has new pillow ideas, for her business. (As part of "Trish Upon a Star," Tricia creates dainty floral pillows with shocking messages...."Vicious Cunt," "Lying Cunt.") We will soon see a Christmas subset of pillows, with snowflakes and silver bells. Tricia's crowning achievement has little festive snowmen, and the stitching says: "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like You're a Cunt." I'm sad to see that this will be the final season--but, still, what a major achievement for Lisa Kron et al. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1BihonDew8

  For seven episodes, this year, the writers of "Somebody Somewhere" pitched a perfect game. This was like watching an Anne Tyler novel on television; I can't think of higher praise. Sam--a walking trainwreck--grows agitated when her friend, Fred, announces his plan to marry. "No new people," says Sam. Also: "I don't trust love; I've never been in love." These lines are unnerving, but there is so much hilarity in the show, it's possible to overlook the awkwardness. It's difficult to make even a small change--and Sam really struggles just to drag herself down the road to singing lessons. (She will need to perform "Ave Maria" at Fred's wedding.) The lessons happen to toss a new person into Sam's orbit (such is life), and the new guy, Brad, soon falls in love with Sam's close friend, Joel. Because he senses how fragile Sam is, Joel hides his relationship from Sam, and the tension starts to grow. At the same time, Sam ...

 "Somebody Somewhere" is three for three this season; this past Sunday was about fear. Sam begins voice lessons, and she makes seemingly casual references to her "heavy voice" and "all the work I need to do." It turns out that, as a teen, Sam had heard these slightly nasty remarks from her teacher -- and she took them to be the gospel truth. In fact, the teacher might have been having a bad day -- or the teacher might have been simply wrong. But Sam had wanted a reason to shoot herself in the foot -- and she seized on the deadly thing that the teacher had offered to her. In a parallel story, Joel worries that he can't attend a friend's wedding because he no longer gets along with God. And his friend has the correct response: "I need you there; it's about you and me. We'll leave the God stuff for later." These neurotic, shy people speak my language. Also, I'm so interested in Sam's mom -- who cannot remain in the nursing ho...

 Lisa Kron wrote a beloved play, "Well," and she adapted "Fun Home," and now she is writing for Bridget Everett. "Number Two" refers to Everett's episode 2.2., but it also refers to "doing number two," or pooping. Everett spent her childhood writing silly songs about her own body parts, and you can see that spirit in her current TV show. People have explosive diarrhea while chatting on iPhones. ("This is a new level of intimacy!") A trip to the local sex shop introduces viewers to a new product: the "Clone-a-Pussy." Running parallel to the raunchiness is this strange current of sadness. I especially like Tricia, who finds herself in limbo after her divorce. This should be a "new chapter," but Tricia spends her evenings sending nasty DMs to her former friend through a fake Facebook account. Also, Tricia can't escape the people who conflate her with her former friend -- even though, in her new job, she wears a ...

  "Deadwood" was about inventing democracy; "Somebody Somewhere" is about inventing a family. Sam, our hero, has returned to Manhattan, Kansas, to try to live. She can't tolerate her day job, so she quits, and she moves in with her gay best friend, Joel. Evenings involve homemade martinis in a cramped living room; it's called "the honeymoon suite." Joel and Sam entertain each other with "Pound It or Pass," in which they evaluate the sexual desirability of strangers. These two don't share a bed, but they sleep with their doors open, and they call out to each other before shutting off various lights. "I think if I married," says Joel, "I wouldn't wear white. Because you gotta keep 'em guessing. I'd have the song 'Gloria,' by Laura Branigan, as my accompaniment, and you would be the lead singer." "No, no," says Sam. "You don't do Judy. You don't do Barbra. And you don't d...

 On Bridget Everett, "Somebody Somewhere": First, the thing I can't tolerate. It's the title. "Somebody Somewhere" is bland--and it's also a rip-off of *another" bland title, from the novel "Someone," by Alice McDermott. Ugh. If I'm judging on titles, and the choice is between this and "Scream," this and "The White Lotus," you know the outcome. That aside, what is happening here? A woman in her forties, Sam, moves home to Manhattan, Kansas; she is grieving the loss of a sister. It's difficult to live within a family, and to live within a small town. Sam's mother struggles with drinking; she drives her car over her husband's leg, leaves large shell-bits in the egg salad, and falls asleep midday without having first made it out of bed. Sam's old classmate has exploited Sam's trauma for a self-published memoir. And Sam works punishing hours at an unappealing job, something having to do with standard...