I’m so tired. So, so tired. I want so much for it to end. And it just won’t. What started out as a promise of fun summer fluff has turned into I Claudius only with Ponds placements, crap looping, and an aching, gaping hole where sexy should be.
1) Though he may be passionate and shirtless, Sam is also humorless. I mean it: the writing and the performer have completely abandoned all hope of being funny. It doesn’t help that Messing has scenes wherein she enacts brain freeze in the middle of Sam’s bittersweet confession about killing his BFF. I don’t think anyone really has a grasp on funny, but with Sam, it’s painful. I think that the few moments that make me laugh are either unintentional (please see Sam’s bittersweet confession, which I could’ve sworn was going to end with Sam saying, “It’s like the Chappaquiddick has it out for us rich, drunk white people”) or light, momentary, and fleeting, like the Silence of the Lambs parody last week.
Oh, and I laughed thinking that when Sam snapped at Joan that he needed a damn drink, Joan would reply, “Sorry, but we’re all out of fortified wine!”
2) Joan and Molly’s segue from grooming Molly of hobo twigs and leaves to a serious discussion about Joan’s drinking problem? Dude, I’ve seen afterschool specials that ground less gears.
3) For the last time, who cares about that Vincent Gallo-looking motherhonker? Does anyone believe the serious auteur dialogue they write for him? Does anyone find it entertaining?
I will admit: one of the delightful believable moments was when he made a total douche of himself at dinner. He’s totally the kind of guy who would make a grating “Let’s all try to live homeless for a day” declaration.
4) Let’s get back to the whole Molly/Sam setup. I get that she’s getting the best sex of her life. I do. I buy it. Sure, sure. But how are we supposed to believe that an earnest-yet-jaded lady like Molly, sex-deprived and earnest though she may be, would immediately jump from “good boning” to “I think I have a chance with this guy!” Why, oh, why were we forced to endure the dinner scene at all? Where has there been any indication that these two people are interested in each other beyond their lend-and-read Philip Roth book club and their rubbing up on each other and whatnot?
5) The one good thing about the series, Joe Mantegna’s Lou, was tarnished by the sloppy, lazy, grotesquely stupid memorial scene, that went on about five minutes too long, was dumb and crap, and involved Mantegna wearing lipstick.
Uh, this isn’t to say there weren’t AWESOME Mantegna moments. Like him eating fries and watching National Geographic Channel. Couldn’t we have hung out in that scene for seven minutes or so, watching Mantegna eat one fry at a time? Or how about watching him do roadside cleanup on his hand-free, his adorable dark bangs brushing against his forehead? What about the host of totally smokin’ hot pictures of a bearded Mantegna at the memorial? Or that thing at the end where Molly goes to Lou’s house, and Lou hugs her from behind, and then Molly and Lou make gentle yet athletic love on the sparkling marble floor.
Molly and Lou had sex. You heard it hear. I don’t care if the previews show some kind of poncey pissing match between Lou and Sam for Molly’s affection. I don’t care if the voiceover proclaims that Molly has to choose between comfort and passion, thus telling any viewer with a pulse that we are supposed to be rooting for Molly/Sam.
This is the only way I can justify having spent five hours of my life watching this miniseries. Don’t crush my dream. It’s such a fragile, impure, dirty thing. *weeps with guilt and sad, sad, sad, sadness*