12.05.2004
arrested development
i am increasingly obsessed with the tv show arrested development. it has become my most beloved distraction from apocalyptic thoughts in the wake of the election.
i think a lot of people are turned off by the show because it is so complex. like seinfeld (but better, i would argue), it's the sort of thing where if you miss the beginning, you won't get all the jokes at the end. so here's a little summary: development follows the layered and absurdly complex story of the bluth family/corportation, a motley crew of sinfully rich cultural misfits. the father, played with great subtlety by jeffery tambor (one of those "character actors" you recognize from god-knows-where), is jailed for an immense variety of corporate wrongdoings, building up to this season's biggie-- illegal real estate deals with saddam hussein. the majority of the show's content is dedicated to managing the company in his absence. this job falls, in large part, to his only (relatively) normal child, michael bluth (played by jason bateman-- who i've had a soft spot for since the teen wolf too era)-- an uptight widower stubbornly determined to provide his well-meaning son, george michael bluth (called "george michael" with wes-anderson-esque poker face), with "a family." the "family" in question includes: michael's racist, conniving and downright villianous mother, his superficially "activist" twin sister (and her possibly-gay husband), his hipster doofus older brother, and my favorite character-- younger brother buster.
buster, with his anxiety attacks and icky oedipal conflicts, best embodies all that is great about the show. the very concept of him as a character-- a dumpy, thirtysomething homebody with little interest in much beyond pleasing/antagonizing his mother-- is funny in the abstract. he is the sort of person you encounter from time to time in reality and feel a kind of fatal pity for... he is totally psychologically fucked; life for this guy is one rough ride, and one too ridden with cowardice to even merit outright sympathy. fortunately for us, the result is hilarious. tony hale plays "buster" with complete dedication-- his posture, his grimace & his bumbling manner are all activated the minute he hits the screen. he doesn't overdo it either, as david cross does occasionally as confused actor/husband dr. tobias funke. he lets silence arrange for laughter, and lets the spiraling plot do its thing. it is through buster that we see the many ways that the show is great: the way it turns abject tragedy into biting comedy, the way predicament out-performs "gag," the way it seductively orders you to pay attention (often the best jokes are the peripheral ones... character reactions, quick edits, strange musical clues) and, simply, the dumb brilliance of labeling this specimen "buster."
every contributor to arrested development seems to be playing. and doing so with a sense of abandon straight out of the marx brothers. the script-writers are as intuitve as the actors. the faux-documentary camera work seems eager and unaware of what's to come, mirroring adoring spectator-nerds such as myself. each plot development triggers an infinite number of shenanigans (not all brilliant, but so rapid fire in their delivery that you are continually amused), and each contributor to the whacked-out-whole goes scrambling off to attend to them. it's a wonderful juggling act.
(and i am a dork with too much free time on his day off)
i think a lot of people are turned off by the show because it is so complex. like seinfeld (but better, i would argue), it's the sort of thing where if you miss the beginning, you won't get all the jokes at the end. so here's a little summary: development follows the layered and absurdly complex story of the bluth family/corportation, a motley crew of sinfully rich cultural misfits. the father, played with great subtlety by jeffery tambor (one of those "character actors" you recognize from god-knows-where), is jailed for an immense variety of corporate wrongdoings, building up to this season's biggie-- illegal real estate deals with saddam hussein. the majority of the show's content is dedicated to managing the company in his absence. this job falls, in large part, to his only (relatively) normal child, michael bluth (played by jason bateman-- who i've had a soft spot for since the teen wolf too era)-- an uptight widower stubbornly determined to provide his well-meaning son, george michael bluth (called "george michael" with wes-anderson-esque poker face), with "a family." the "family" in question includes: michael's racist, conniving and downright villianous mother, his superficially "activist" twin sister (and her possibly-gay husband), his hipster doofus older brother, and my favorite character-- younger brother buster.
buster, with his anxiety attacks and icky oedipal conflicts, best embodies all that is great about the show. the very concept of him as a character-- a dumpy, thirtysomething homebody with little interest in much beyond pleasing/antagonizing his mother-- is funny in the abstract. he is the sort of person you encounter from time to time in reality and feel a kind of fatal pity for... he is totally psychologically fucked; life for this guy is one rough ride, and one too ridden with cowardice to even merit outright sympathy. fortunately for us, the result is hilarious. tony hale plays "buster" with complete dedication-- his posture, his grimace & his bumbling manner are all activated the minute he hits the screen. he doesn't overdo it either, as david cross does occasionally as confused actor/husband dr. tobias funke. he lets silence arrange for laughter, and lets the spiraling plot do its thing. it is through buster that we see the many ways that the show is great: the way it turns abject tragedy into biting comedy, the way predicament out-performs "gag," the way it seductively orders you to pay attention (often the best jokes are the peripheral ones... character reactions, quick edits, strange musical clues) and, simply, the dumb brilliance of labeling this specimen "buster."
every contributor to arrested development seems to be playing. and doing so with a sense of abandon straight out of the marx brothers. the script-writers are as intuitve as the actors. the faux-documentary camera work seems eager and unaware of what's to come, mirroring adoring spectator-nerds such as myself. each plot development triggers an infinite number of shenanigans (not all brilliant, but so rapid fire in their delivery that you are continually amused), and each contributor to the whacked-out-whole goes scrambling off to attend to them. it's a wonderful juggling act.
(and i am a dork with too much free time on his day off)
