
Have you ever fallen asleep while binge-watching a series on Netflix? Episode after episode cycles on by without pause as youâre knocked out cold on the couch atop the clicker and a bag of chips. Hours later, you wake up to the seriesâ menu with suggestions of what to watch next that are so far off base you canât help but wince in your dazed stupor. Because itâs Saturday in this hypothetical situation, you remain intent in watching and clumsily try to remember what episode you left off at, only to stumble two chapters ahead in which Character A hates Character B and Character C has now been written as the nemesis of Character D. Soon enough, you realize things arenât where theyâre supposed to be, click back a couple episodes, and once again find solace in the lofty comforts of a structured narrative. Thatâs sort of how âTake My Picture by the Poolâ feels on this weekâs Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll, except that, no, we havenât fallen asleep and, yes, this is exactly where weâre told to be.
After two comparably promising episodesââSupercalifragilisticjuliefriggingandrewsâ and âHard Out Here for a PimpââDenis Learyâs win some, lose some FX series takes another hard tumble. Whoâs fault is it? Does it really matter? Do we have to answer that? Of course, but letâs divvy up the blame, shall we? Truth be told, âTake My Picture by the Poolâ suffers from a major problem amidst a number of minor ones. The most glaring issue is the jump in both narrative and logic, starting when Josh Paisâ rattled Ira, who might as well had walked in and shook everyoneâs hands saying, âHey guys, my nameâs ex MachinaâDeus ex Machina,â materializes in the studio and startles everyone with the news that Sony wants to offer Gigi a record contract and a $250,000 advance. (Who does he think he is? Frankie Sharp?) Even better, they want Johnny Rock and Flash on board as songwriters behind the scenes, leaving Bam Bam and Rehab in the dust. âThey said the drummer is too fat,â Ira explains to no oneâs surprise, adding: âAnd the bass player was old enough to be Frank Zappaâs father.â Ouch.
Thatâs okay. If you recall, Bam Bam and Rehab have that âbeastcoreâ side project from last weekâs episode (see: Three Dolphin Clicking Sounds), and although thereâs been zero narrative between then and now, Iraâs all set to start booking them DJ gigs. This doesnât sit too well with Rehab, who, in an admittedly rare defining moment, rips up Iraâs white flag, mumbles something about their âbeastcore manifestoâ, and cites a sacred rule about not selling out. Letâs stop for a second and address a few reasons why this conflict is mildly upsetting and confusing. To recap, Bam Bam and Rehab were fairly content going off on their own last week, and their success, at least according to Ira, was a surprising feat in itself. So, why Leary decided to skip that promising beat and segue straight into a fairy tale scenario is beyond me. Bam Bam and Rehabâs triumph should have been The Heathensâ loss, at least thatâs how it was set up in the final moments of âHard Out Here for a Pimp.â
Yet once again, the showâs limiting format and claustrophobic run time rears its ugly head, forcing what could have been a slow burn of a narrative into a hustled and bustled scenario that really only capitalizes on the lead charactersâ predictably awful indulgences and their even more predictably shallow moralities. Of course, Johnny and Flash are going to be stoked about the new deal, despite the fact that itâs screwing over Bam Bam and Rehab. Of course, Gigi will champion her own cause, and later come to regret her decision. Of course, theyâre all going to backpedal their way out of another obvious problem. Granted, nothing lasts forever, but nothing manages to last more than 22 minutes in this series, and thatâs a glaring crisis that Leary still hasnât resolved. Because of this, the series is back to being a frantic mess, unsure of what it is because itâs equally unsure of what it wants to be. If this all sounds repetitive, consider this an apology, but itâs utterly baffling how up and down this series goes.
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There was one change behind the scenes this week. Learyâs son, Jack, who has served as a script coordinator all season, hopped alongside his pops in the writerâs chair. Whoâs to say if he suggested the frivolous contract subplot, but the episode doesnât exactly bode well for his inclusion. To be fair, âTake My Picture by the Poolâ has more glaring issues outside of its hammy and erratic script, as aforementioned. Director Michael Blieden is also off his game here, and namely with his manic stylistic decisionsâfrom the awkward club night snapshots, employed to conjure up the lively atmosphere in lieu of zero extras, to Gigiâs gratuitous slow-motion curtain call, seemingly designed for hormonal fanboys to reach for the closest box of Kleenex. Even the guest casting, which has been the most consistently rewarding facet of the series thus far, failed to elicit much of a reaction. Flaco Navajaâs role as a phony pop producer was just ⌠too much. Sure, that was the running joke and the episodeâs attempt at a twist, but good lord.
There were some bright spots: Itâs always fun watching Leary and John Corbett spar with one another. Bobby Kelly and John Ales do save a dour scene with a witty convo about spirit animals. And even amidst his faults, Blieden manages to sneak in some clever visual commentary by cross-cutting Johnnyâs facial reconstruction with Gigiâs make up sessions. Still, itâs just not worth it in the long run, not when every episode feels like itâs pathetically selling off stories at half-price to keep the action moving. Nine episodes down and already weâve met Gigiâs mother, seen a Heathens comeback, attended a wedding with Johnnyâs parents, gone to therapy, traveled overseas, faked deaths, attempted sobriety, witnessed side projects, and, well, you get the point. Now, weâve seen the gang sign a record contract, only to wipe their collective ass with it. What does this all prove? What did we learn? What changes? Where should they go from here? Better yet, where could they go from here? Do we even care anymore?
Meh, leave me snoozing on the chips.
Stray observations
- Gigi: âI hate that I know whatâs happening right now.â Must be nice.
- This episodeâs drinking game? Take a shot every time someone says âGaga.â Good luck.
- Johnnyâs weird obsession with fine liquor rivals Jay Zâs love for fine threads. And yet, heâs offended by being mistaken for Jon Bon Jovi?
- B-Lap, aka âBitches be lappinâ up his vids.â #killmenow
- Can someone please, please, please trademark Cheesecake Cheetah?
- Okay, okay, the New Johnny was pretty funny. Though, prior to the Bon Jovi gag, I had him finally pegged as Bowie. No?
- Rehab: âHow old are the guys from Daft Punk?â Bam Bam: (shrugs) âNobody knows.â Ahem. ::raises up glasses:: Thomas Bangalter turned 40 this past January, while Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo blew out 41 candles the month after.
- Rehab is DJ Whale Earnhardt, Jr. Bam Bam is DJ Mac ânâ Cheese. Even Rehabâs tired of the gluttony: âDude, what the hell? Again with the food?â
- âA Jon Bon Jovi blow job is still a blow job.â Write that down.
- One more episode left and itâs called âBecause Weâre Legion.â Will Bam Bam and Rehabâs impromptu remix conquer the airwaves? Will The Heathens play Riot Fest? Will Johnny look like Rod Stewart again? See you next week, folks.
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