Review: 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'

I've had a rough relationship with  It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia over the past few years. I was a huge fan of seasons 1 and 2, but from the first episode of season 3, I found that the routine was getting old. That first episode from season 3, "The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby" gave me the feeling that the show's writers and stars (Rob McElhenney, Glenn Howerton, and Charlie Day) had run out of ideas.

It's hard to pinpoint what makes each episode funny or not. That one featured Dee and Mac trying to turn their dumpster baby into a child model. In this clip, a modeling agent explains that there is no more room for a "white baby" in the industry and suggests they find a Latino baby instead. I think this scene doesn't work because in addition to Dee and Mac behaving absurdly, the woman they are speaking with is being ridiculous as well. When there is nothing to ground the show, it feels very slight, and you can notice the writers trying desperately to make anything work.

An example of this situation being effective is in the pretty funny first episode of season 5, which debuted this past Thursday night. In one scene, Charlie challenges a lawyer (played by Brian Unger) to a duel. Much to Charlie's surprise, the lawyer accepts the duel and Charlie begins backtracking. The lawyer explains that he wants to meet Charlie the next day at high noon, even offering to show Charlie the gun he owns. The scene works because the lawyer has been pushed by Charlie so you can see why he would want to duel him. Charlie is showing up at his office, unannounced, and the lawyer doesn't have time to deal with him. So he calls Charlie's bluff, and the lawyer's real intentions are just vague enough to make the scene work. It feels real enough, and the scene got a well-deserved laugh.

I went back to my season 3 DVDs after much encouragement from friends who love the show. I enjoyed a few of them, such as the last two: "Bums: Making a Mess All Over the City" and "The Gang Dances Their Asses Off." With both episodes, however, I was more amused by the concept than actively laughing. The two-part episode, "The Gang Gets Whacked," from season 3, is a perfect example of Mr. McElhenney and the other writers getting in way over their heads with an over-complicated narrative. That two-part episode is also an example of absurd supporting characters not working with the mafia gangsters.

The gangsters are such cartoons that we don't know if we're supposed to laugh at them or how Dennis and Mac react. I know it's hoped that both will get laughs, but what's more likely is that neither will (and either does). This sort of dual absurd characterization can work in certain situations. Stella, for example, was a show that pulled it off miraculously. That show was a descendant of the Marx Brothers style of comedy, as is It's Always Sunny, to a lesser extent.

The "Novel" episode of Stella, for example, features Janeane Garofalo as a famous author named Jane Burroughs. As the episode begins, Ms. Garofalo plays the character quite straight. She's just a regular person with a problem: she needs to write a second novel. After she has sex with David (David Wain), she ends up stealing a novel written by David, Michael (Michael Ian Black) and Michael (Michael Showalter) and puts her name on it.

Her deceit is (of course) discovered and rather than playing it straight, Ms. Garofalo's performance becomes absurd. By this point, Ms. Garofalo has already established that her character is a real person, that her plight is a legitimate one, and that those surrounding her (David, Michael and Michael) are the buffoons. When she begins behaving ridiculously, it is for the purpose of the plot, which in this case is sending up the idea of a famous author stealing the work of an amateur (which has been done over and over in one form or another). We recognize the purpose of the plot as a vehicle satire and absurdism, and allow her character to go nuts along with David, Michael and Michael because we've bought everything her character has done up until this point. In contrast, when the three stereotypically dressed Mafia types waltz up to Dennis and Mac (clip here), we know instantly that these men are cartoons, and that they are not real people. We're supposed to just laugh at them upon appearance. It's a really lazy shortcut. An audience does not like to be directed in such a way. Earn the laughs, don't shove them down peoples' throats.

That's why I'm pleased to say that the writers of Philadelphia seem to have learned their lesson. Season 5 starts out with two straight-forward plots: Frank is trying to flip a house and Dee wants to become a surrogate mother. What happens throughout the episode is the natural progression of events, portrayed "realisticaly" in regards to what would happen next, and the surrounding characters (the lawyer, the parents who want Dee to have their child), all play it straight for the most part, which allows us to laugh at The Gang, as the good lord intended.

Perhaps Mr. McElhenney, Mr. Howerton, and Mr. Day didn't notice a lull in the show, but I'd like to suspect that they got stuck for a little while, and are now back on track. I look forward to the rest of season 5, and I hope they keep up the good work. [B] - Ryan Sartor.

New episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia premiere every Thursday night at 10 pm on FX. Repeats also air throughout the week.

Here's the Contract scene from The Marx Brothers' A Night at the Opera:


Charlie with his "son" from season 1 of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia:

Book Review: 'Seconds of Pleasure: Stories' by Neil LaBute

Neil LaBute, in my opinion, made two of the best films of the 1990s: In The Company of Men and Your Friends & Neighbors. He is also the respected playwright behind The Shape of Things, The Mercy Seat and numerous other plays. His legacy, though, may become his direction of the disastrous 2006 film The Wicker Man. To be sure, I hang out with too many Nic Cage enthusiasts, but whenever I mention Neil LaBute being a great screenwriter/playwright, the most common response is, “Oh, that dude who directed The Wicker Man? He sucks.” Hopefully he can shake this reputation, if it does in fact exist outside of my social circle.

Aside from “Director of The Wicker Man,” Mr. LaBute’s most critical label is that of “American theater's reigning misanthrope,” as the Village Voice declared him. A misanthrope, according to dictionary.com is a “hater of humankind.” I wouldn’t go so far as to call Mr. LaBute a “hater” of any group of people, but he certainly does notice the dark corners of the human heart. Like Todd Solondz, Mr. LaBute puts on display the side of humanity that we often ignore, and I would categorize the majority of his work as comedic. In order to do good comedy, one always has to get a little tough on his characters.

Seconds of Pleasure (published in 2004) is Neil LaBute’s only collection of short stories and it is very accurately titled. From incestuous situations to adulterous affairs of miniscule and substantial proportions, the people in his tales are obsessed with feeling good - if only for a moment. They struggle in vain to reconcile their desires with the consequences of the selfish means they go about to satisfy them. Mr. LaBute seems to take his own pleasure in watching these animalistic (or is it robotic?) humans as they try to squirm out of these situations. He knows only misery awaits these people until that next moment when they can again feel pleasure.

Described in this way, Mr. LaBute certainly does sound like a misanthrope, but to label him as such would be to fall right into his trap, just as many critics did with his debut film, In the Company of Men. In that movie (shot for only $25,000), two businessmen decide to toy with the feelings of a deaf co-worker, only to purposely break her heart right when she starts to care about one of them. For his efforts, Mr. LaBute was labeled a misogynist. And I’m sure he delighted in this label (okay, maybe he’s a tad bit misanthropic), because with the film he was making a point about how men often believe themselves superior to everyone, able to label those beneath them and put people in little boxes and categories. Every article about how Mr. LaBute “hated women” could easily have been asterisked by him with a “See? I told you so.” The film or theatre critics didn’t want to face the ugly side of themselves, so they just called Mr. LaBute a “mean name,” as one of his characters would, and wished the whole mess away.

One weakness in Mr. LaBute’s short story writing is that his description of his characters’ thoughts reveals that they have such awful, despicable viewpoints that they often come across as cartoons. It’s one thing to see the actions of a person in a film or play, but to know what they are all thinking every moment is exhausting, especially if they're such despicable thoughts.

In “Perfect,” the narrator obsesses over a mole on his wife’s shoulder. At first it is a feeling of identifying as the reader understands how one can be critical about a lover’s flaws, but as Mr. LaBute goes into details regarding just how much the narrator hates the mole, it becomes boring and is obviously the work of a writer, not this man’s actual account (as we should believe it to be). His best story in the collection is “Opportunity,” a slightly comedic at-first, and then deadly serious tragedy about a young girl's relationship with her father and how that relationship haunts her memory of her long deceased sister.

With every story, even those that go too far on a single topic, LaBute is trying quite sincerely to get at the heart of a human being’s desire and he takes to this task with great care. It would be easy for him to just direct films like The Wicker Man (as well as Lakeview Terrace and the upcoming Death at a Funeral remake), but Seconds of Pleasure is a treat and it falls in line with the best of Mr. LaBute’s work: art that is trying to confront humanity, by a writer who’s willing to take a few punches in order to get his point across. [B] - Ryan Sartor.