TV Review: The Emotional Authenticity of "Somebody Somewhere"
HBO's beloved dramedy returns and, as always, it excels at excavating the deeply human emotions of its characters, particularly main protagonist Sam.
Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
As many of you no doubt know, I’ve been a devoted and passionate fan of HBO’s Somebody Somewhere since it first began airing a few years ago. It might sound strange at first to pronounce myself a fan of a show that doesn’t feature Elves or superheroes or zombies, but this lovely little dramedy has something else that is just as appealing as those supernatural elements: a whole lot of heart. Now that the third and final season has begun–and let me tell you that I am devastated at the idea that this will be the end of the series–I thought that it was time to do a more sustained look at what it is that makes this show so important to me, paying particular attention to Sunday’s premiere, “Margarini.”
One of the things that I’ve always admired about this series–and a major part of the reason that I enjoy it so much–is its emotional honesty and authenticity. This is a series that really does understand what it’s like to struggle to find your footing in middle age, past the point where many of the others in your age cohort have already figured out their place in life and started putting down roots. Bridget Everett has excelled from the beginning at capturing Sam’s sense of loss and bewilderment, first at the death of her sister and then at the fact that everyone has (or at least seems to have) a better grasp at how to be a middle-aged adult than she does.
This opening episode reveals that this is particularly true when it comes to Joel. We saw in season two how their relationship begins to fracture thanks to Joel’s romance with Brad (the ever-endearing Tim Bagley), and anyone who has ever struggled with a friend finding romance will no doubt see a great deal of emotional verisimilitude in this particular arc. By the time that the third series begins Joel and Brad have taken their relationship to the next level–moving in together–and it’s clear that the former is having a bit of trouble balancing his obvious love for Brad with his affection and friendship with Sam.
For Sam, at least, Joel’s finally finding someone with whom he can build a romantic future is bittersweet. Obviously she’s not so selfish as to want him to put his relationship with Brad on hold–and in this episode she does as much as she is capable of doing to not interfere or be a third wheel–but one can see from the look in her eyes that she feels the pain of a changing friendship. I get the sense that Sam sees this transformation as yet another thing that she has to grieve and, given just how much she’s already lost, it’s understandable that she would feel ambivalent about it (it doesn’t help that, as she admitted last season, she tends to set expectations for others that she knows they won’t be able to meet).
Indeed, this premiere was all about change, as everyone around Sam seems to be making great strides in their lives, finding happiness and fulfillment while she is spinning her wheels. Dear Fred (the supremely talented Murray Hill, who is as dapper as always), for example, is making some lifestyle changes, largely thanks to his wife’s urging. Even though this seems like a relatively minor thing in the grand scheme of things, it’s yet another change to Sam’s sense of the world and, as we already know, Sam sometimes has difficulty dealing with change in a healthy way.
Even Tricia, Sam’s sister, seems to be going from strength to strength. Not only is she driving around in a Cadillac–which she seems to have bought thanks to the strength of her “cunt pillows” and her savvy business sense–but she also has a number of dates lined up, which leads her to begin neglecting her always-fragile bond with Sam. I have long loved the work that Mary Catherine Garrison puts into this role; even when she’s being prickly and borderline-cruel to Sam, it’s clear that her heart, at least, is in the right place. I love the scenes that Everett and Garrison have together, as their barbs bounce off of one another in just the way that one would expect from real-life sisters. While it’s great to see her finally overcoming the sense of sadness that was the result of her divorce, it’s also wrenching to witness Sam’s sadness at her sister’s prioritizing of new dates over their own relationship. The fact that they have both lost a sister makes it even sadder, and it’s pretty clear that the residual grief is never far from Sam’s mind.
The scene in which Sam goes to the farm to collect the rent from the tenant who is currently living there is, I think, another perfect example of the skilled way with which this series has handled grief and how difficult it is to ever make peace with the past. Accentuating the pathos is the fact that Mike Hagerty’s death during the filming for season two. Diegetically, so far as we know, Ed is on an extended vacation, but in these scenes one can’t shake the feeling that his on-screen counterpart has also passed on, leaving Sam to wander through a house that, for all that it still has many of her parents’ belongings and decorations in it, is slowly becoming a strange space. It’s yet another of those moments that is moving precisely because it’s so universal. Who among us, after all, hasn’t wandered through the house of a deceased loved one, aware of their absence from a space that was once filled with their presence but is now just as marked by their absence.
Sam has been through a lot since we first met her way back at the beginning of season one. She has slowly learned the power of lowering one’s walls and allowing others in, even as she has also had to grapple with the fact that doing so means that one is going to get hurt. This is clearly something that she’s going to have to continue to grapple–and hopefully make peace–with as the season progresses.
All of this isn’t to say that the premiere wasn’t full of humor, because it is. Indeed, the laughs are often drawn from the absurdities of the everyday. Somebody Somewhere excels at drawing out gentle laughs rather than guffaws (though there are some of the latter, too), and it’s one of the very few dramedies in which the dramatic and comedic elements are actually in balance. I don’t know what the rest of the season holds for our beloved characters, but I’ll be there every Sunday night, ready to watch.