“There are some moments that are hard to take back. Moments that create too great a shift in dynamics. An earthquake in a family that shatters both members’ notions of themselves,” narrates Ron Howard as we delve back into the life of Orange County’s strangest residents. For the notorious Bluth family, this moment applies to more than just to when George Michael (Michael Cera) decided to punch his father, Michael (Jason Bateman), in the face upon unearthing that he’d been dating his girlfriend, Rebel Howard (Isla Fisher), daughter of Ron and accordingly an actress. It also applies to the cast of Arrested Development itself, whose publicity tour for the new season was abruptly cut short after a May 23rd discussion with The New York Times blew the lid off of not only Jeffrey Tambor’s verbal abuse toward Jessica Walter, but the consistently systemic problem of men in the industry like Jason Bateman dismissing away the effortless vitriol with which a woman is treated as par for the course. “It’s a very amorphous process, this sort of bullshit that we do,” Bateman “explains.” “It is a breeding ground for atypical behavior and certain people have certain processes.” And, rather expectedly, Alia Shawkat was the only one to step in and snap, “That doesn’t mean it’s acceptable.”
With season five divided into two parts (just like the final season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt–Netflix is really getting a hard-on for dangling), we’re left on a somewhat sour note with “Premature Independence,” as the tensions among all family members (even those who are missing) are running at an all-time high. It is the mark of the Bluth family, however, for things to be left on an embittered cliffhanger. This time around, however, it feels a bit stranger. More forced into fitting in with a certain formula–the one the show has become known for. And unlike episodes of the past, there aren’t really any laugh-out-loud moments here, so much as cringing smiles.
Although the Trump presidency seems tailor-made for the building a wall premise of season four (eventually getting re-billed as Season Four Remixed: Fateful Consequences so as to detract from how the narrative was originally shot in a separatist manner) that presently bleeds into the current season, there is something about it that doesn’t fit quite as well as when the series was lampooning the Bush II presidency. Maybe because that particular regime feels so much jollier and more harmless now. More, shall we say, in keeping with the same gentle buffoonery as most of the members of the Bluth family. But, like Trump, the Bluths don’t feel quite so “gentle” this time around. Case in point, when an emasculated George Sr. (who isn’t aware that he’s been taking estrogen pills for the past two years) puts on a red wig to answer the door to a new addition to the cast, Lieutenant Toddler (Rebecca Drysdale), on a quest to unearth the whereabouts of Lucille 2 (Liza Minnelli). Howard tongue-in-cheekly narrates, “His impression of a woman wasn’t going to win him any awards.” But yes, as we all know, Jeffrey Tambor won many awards for playing a trans woman, which, in retrospect, seems like it’s only going to further tarnish Transparent‘s memory.
But the irony of George Sr. being an emotional wreck while Lucille (Jessica Walter) continues to act the part of “callous male” in her bid to make the wall divide between Mexico and the U.S. happen so as to profit from the Trump agenda (as so few other people have) seems more like a mockery of “what men are becoming because of women” than humor.
As has always been the case with Arrested Development, the plotlines are deeply incestuous, calling back upon episodes ancient to rehash or refresh a certain punchline (e.g. Michael playing Peter Pan in an elementary school play, therefore a lifelong flirtation with maritime law). And speaking of punches, the punch that changes the entire relationship between Michael and George Michael is behavior that the latter is no stranger to, for he had to do the same thing to Gob (Will Arnett) when he stole Ann “Her” Veal (Alessandra Torresani) away from him. So now, he has given wallops to two patriarchal figures, which of course, has entirely new meaning now being that George Michael represents the generation of men intended to be “okay” with feminism–perhaps fake feminists themselves (for deep down, every man just wants women to shut the fuck up). As such, this metaphor for hitting an old guard member in the face serves up additional irony when taking into consideration the now infamous New York Times interview, in which the only one willing to throw out a punch for Walter was Shawkat–incidentally at her best as Maeby in this season as she runs one of many scams involving the necessity of pretending to be a seventy-year-old woman at Lucille 2’s retirement community. It rather harkens back to the “Florida” episode of Broad City (which makes sense considering Shawkat once attracted Ilana Glazer’s character solely for her similar aesthetic).
The political thread of the season also seems to be tenuous, at best, with occasionally interspersed moments from Trump’s election campaign serving as the best attempt at throwing back to the old, carefree days of seasons one through three, when George Sr. was at risk of being tried for “some light treason” by agreeing to build houses for Saddam Hussein (another emblem of, believe it or not, a simpler time). And, despite season five being shot in a more inclusive manner, the divide between cast members–skewing the rapport that once shone through so easily–is more evident than in season four, now five years old yet somehow more relevant than this new addendum to the series.
With season four’s Fateful Consequences re-cut from fifteen episodes into twenty-two, one wonders if the same couldn’t be done for season five, but in the reverse. For most of the jokes, plotlines and reliances on “blithe” political jokes can no longer be taken so blithely (Bluthly?). Too much has changed–which is to say, too much has gotten worse amid the rampant exposure of corruption within all facets of American life and the continued acceptance of those with the power to change, not just in the realm of television, but perhaps most notably in the music industry. That Arrested Development‘s cast members are content to simply “let [it] go,” as Walter herself put it, is part of why the first eight episodes feel like a hollow attempt at making us believe that things can be as they once were.
