Ted Danson and Kristen Bell |
Setting a television comedy in the
afterlife seems like an excellent way to set yourself up for failure.
Since there is, by its very nature, a distinct sense of finality
about the place, it’s hard to see how you might tell a long-running
story that’s set there. Furthermore, since most religious
traditions view existence after death as primarily a matter of
receiving one’s just reward or punishment for their actions on the
mortal plane, it’s not clear how you might develop a sense of
character, or achieve any sort of narrative progression or tension.
However, that’s just what Michael Schur and the creative team of
NBC’s The Good Place achieved on the first season of the
show.
As Mark Clamen noted in his
initial review of The Good Place’s premiere, Schur’s
metaphysical comedy had a rather tentative beginning. I found myself
watching the first few episodes primarily out of curiosity as to how
– or if – the show’s premise would develop, as well as for the
performances by Ted Danson and Kristen Bell. However, as the larger
scheme behind Schur’s premise began to reveal itself, and as the
characters who inhabit this decidedly off-kilter version of heaven
became more fully realized, The Good Place became far more
than a pleasant-enough entertainment with a veneer of philosophical
sophistication.
Ultimately, Eleanor manages to ferret
out the truth about her post-mortem existence, realizing that
affable, bumbling Michael (Danson), the spirit in charge of her
particular slice of heaven, has actually devised a new form of Hell,
a Sartre-esque world where his four test subjects – Eleanor, Chidi,
Tahani, and the monk, who turns out to be a failed DJ from
Jacksonville named Jason Mendoza – torture each other. Michael
reveals his plan and prepares to reset the experiment, erasing his
subjects’ memories, but before he does so, Eleanor manages to slip
a note into Janet (D’Arcy Carden), the cheery but non-human
information system who serves as a sort of mainframe for The Good
Place. The note, which simply says, “Find Chidi,” will help her
to unravel the mystery again when she wakes up. The new season opens
with an episode that shows just how quickly both Michael and
Eleanor’s plans unravel: his attempt to stretch out the
psychological torture over a much longer span of time fails almost
immediately, but that leads him to start over yet again, this time
without giving Eleanor sufficient time to warn herself in advance.
William Jackson Harper as Chidi |
As you can tell from that plot summary,
this is a comedy that’s remarkably reliant on serialization to tell
its story, and its creators no doubt acknowledge their debt to more
serious-minded shows, such as Lost, that ultimately strayed
into similar territory. It’s also, as Mark noted, a high-concept
show that, due to its subject matter, could very easily have become
either oppressively didactic or so eager not to offend that it felt
neutered. Instead, it’s turned into possibly the most high-minded
expression of the communitarian ethos that drives Schur’s shows,
such as Parks & Recreation or Brooklyn Nine-Nine.
In this vision, people are flawed and irreducibly complex (arguably
to a significantly greater degree than the characters in the other
two shows that I’ve cited), and it’s their ability to come
together as a group that helps them to overcome their individual
failings. Rather than simply advancing this as a thesis, the show
invites us to explore it by showing us the budding connections
between Eleanor and her fellow denizens of what ultimately proves to
be The Bad Place.
Crucially, it also uses that
constantly developing sense of the characters and their relationships
with one another as the main engine to drive the humor. Consider, for
instance, the episode in the first season where Chidi – who’s
been sentenced to eternal damnation because of all the harm he’s
caused by endlessly weighing the ethical implications of his slightest action – finds himself besieged with professions of love
by practically every single woman he’s met in the afterlife.
This functions as both a way to drive the plot of the episode and a commentary on the seemingly inevitable will-they-won’t-they
dynamic that characterizes romantic relationships on most mainstream
television shows.
Ultimately, The Good Place works
because of its cast. Danson alone makes the show worth watching.
Prior to the second season’s premiere, I went back through the
first one again, now that I knew the twist at the end, primarily to
watch how he played his scenes. They’re marvels of comic timing,
and the change in circumstances brought about by last season’s
finale has managed to add new layers to his performance: Michael now
knows that his initial failure means that he’s on thin ice with his
otherworldly superiors, and there’s a paradoxical blend of malice
and vulnerability that Danson manages to convey almost effortlessly
in the second season’s opening episode.
Kristen Bell, D'Arcy Carden, and Manny Jacinto |
Bell’s also fantastic, giving us a
sense of Eleanor as a person who’s capable of steely resolve but
also deeply wounded by a past that caused her to shun any sort of
substantial connection with another human being. She’s also
marvelous at playing the more absurd comic moments, as when she
discovers that her (supposed) residing in The Good Place means that any time she means to utter an expletive, it comes out as something innocuous (“Holy motherforking
shirtballs!” she exclaims when she figures out Michael’s game in
the first season’s finale). She also plays well off Harper,
who’s less well known than Danson or Bell but who’s very fine as
the tightly wound Chidi. He’s able to make the ethicist’s torment
simultaneously believable and manically hilarious.
Carden’s
playing a broader, more blatantly absurd, role, but she does so with
an impeccable comic sensibility and a blithe, vacant air that’s
both very funny and unsettlingly inhuman. Jamil and Jacinto are also
both entertaining, although their characters still aren’t as fully
sketched out as the leads; the fact that the writers mainly used
Tahani as an antagonistic force for Eleanor to overcome in the early
episodes has left a lingering deficit in our understanding of her
character, while Jason’s defining characteristic is his utter vapidity.
I’ve been alternately thrilled by and skeptical of The Good Place’s ability to develop its premise over the course of its first season, and the apparent restoration of the status quo – Eleanor and her friends reawake in what they think is The Good Place, ignorant of what’s just transpired in their previous two journeys through the afterlife – at the end of Season Two’s premiere hasn’t helped me move in one direction or the other. Regardless, it’s a show that’s operating on a different level than Schur’s other, already excellent shows, and I’m immensely curious to see where this unique comedy goes next.
I’ve been alternately thrilled by and skeptical of The Good Place’s ability to develop its premise over the course of its first season, and the apparent restoration of the status quo – Eleanor and her friends reawake in what they think is The Good Place, ignorant of what’s just transpired in their previous two journeys through the afterlife – at the end of Season Two’s premiere hasn’t helped me move in one direction or the other. Regardless, it’s a show that’s operating on a different level than Schur’s other, already excellent shows, and I’m immensely curious to see where this unique comedy goes next.
– Michael Lueger teaches theatre classes at Northeastern University and Emerson College. He's written for WBUR's Cognoscenti page and HowlRound. He also tweets about theatre history at @theaterhistory.
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