I’ve come to the conclusion after this week that I was watching the beginning of the season wrong. I was still very much in the mindset of the romantic-comedy happy ending. It turns out this is more Wide Sargasso Sea than Jane Eyre.
I’ve come to the conclusion after this week that I was watching the beginning of the season wrong. I was still very much in the mindset of the romantic-comedy happy ending. It turns out this is more Wide Sargasso Sea than Jane Eyre.
Somehow, my fingers nearly gave out trying to type everything that happened in this episode, and yet at the end, with a couple exceptions, most characters were in the exact same place. How did that happen?
Last week, Mindy and Danny gave birth to Leo Castellano. This week, they enter their home with their new son. “Behold, one day all this will be yours,” says Mindy, continuing the whole Leo/Lion concept with what I assume is a pretty great Lion King reference. Danny quips, “I hope you like property taxes.”
Deacon and Beverly
We open with Rayna at home alone, getting ready for bed, looking sad, with weepy music in the background. OMG is Deacon dead?
Reading the title of this episode, I assumed it had to do with Dr. C. But the C stands for C-section, and “Coward,” it turns out, refers to Mindy…
Near the end of the third and most recent season of Nashville, Hayden Panettiere’s spoiled country-pop star character, Juliette Barnes, gives birth to a child and with wanton cruelty names her “Cadence.” And it’s all downhill from there, in terms of parenting quality. From the moment she leaves the hospital with her newborn, Juliette approaches her with the gritted-teeth, grimacing smile of a terrified woman, and refuses in ever more flamboyant ways to inhabit the persona of mother at all. Continue reading →
Mindy Lahiri was living her nightmare at the end of season 3 of The Mindy Project. Her boyfriend, and father of her unborn child, had just revealed he never wanted to get married. In the 4th season premiere, “While I Was Sleeping,” just released on its new home, Hulu, Mindy lives an even worse nightmare.
But let’s start with what happens in real life:
Rewatching Wet Hot American Summer recently with JD (who had never seen it), I was transported back to my freshman year of college. I had just recently discovered the power of the cult hit: doodled Donnie Darko references littered every page of notes I took in class, my nickname was “Jack’s Colon” à la Fight Club, a Napoleon Dynamite poster shared space on my dorm room wall with the fire exit and a low-sloping roof. But Wet Hot American Summer was the movie I proselytized to my friends, trying to seem as cool as the movie was: funny in a totally different, surprising way, messing with timelines, with expectations, with even the most faux-liberated college kid’s sense of decency (is that… Molly Ringwald… falling in love with an eleven-year-old?)