Amy Sherman-Palladino is a showrunner to whom I feel minimal attachment. While most TV critics/superfans whom I respect have some level of undying love for “Bunheads” or “Gilmore Girls” or both, the latter was before my time and the former never caught my attention. Thus, the Sherman-Palladino name isn’t itself enough to excite me about an upcoming TV project.
The first four episodes of Amazon’s new Sherman-Palladino series, “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” have provided me with some insight into the staying power of her cultish following, most of which boils down to the fact that she is really quite good at what she does. Sherman-Palladino’s not-quite-singular cinematic (televisual?) style has a distinctive, stylish quirkiness that has undeniable and obvious appeal to large segments of the television-viewing populace.
Reviewing “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” is an endeavor which, in this difficult period in American history (Peak TV, duh), ultimately comes down to my either recommending the series or telling you to spend your precious TV-viewing time on some other obscure new show on some other non-Netflix streaming service (“Future Man” on Hulu has been a surprising source of entertainment for me recently, not that you asked). And I suppose the bottom line is this: if you enjoy that trademark Sherman-Palladino style — that fast-talking, uber-heightened, female-focused sheen over anything and everything onscreen — then you will love the heck outta “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”
Rachel Brosnahan plays the eponymous Mrs. Miriam “Midge” Maisel, a 1950s woman whose aspiring standup-comic husband is a cheat and a cad (he’s a cheat in that he sleeps with his secretary, and a cad in that he steals mediocre Bob Newhart bits for use in his own standup routine). Their breakup scene in the pilot is one of the series’ best so far. Midge’s matter-of-fact reaction to Joel leaving her for his secretary is emblematic of what makes Brosnahan such a good lead for this show: she’s funny and charming and, most importantly, preternaturally loveable.
The second lead of the show is the reliable Alex Borstein, here playing a burgeoning talent manager who sees in Midge a potential breakout comedienne after witnessing her have a meltdown on stage at the end of the show’s pilot.
This brings us to what is, in my view, the largest problem with “Mrs. Maisel:” said meltdown, and many other “spontaneous” Midge outbursts, are intended to be hi-larious, but they just… aren’t. The most that can be said for them is that they display a lack of personal boundaries on Midge’s part, a willingness to break taboos to get a real reaction out of people — which is a valid characteristic for Borstein’s character to latch onto, but still. We’re told that something that isn’t funny is, and that’s a problem. (Tangentially, nothing in this show feels at all spontaneous. Sherman-Palladino’s style is such that every single bit of dialogue, every little action, every monologue — especially Midge’s comedic outbursts — feels planned to a T.) Midge is a funny character and person, but that comes through entirely in her day-to-day, not in her on-stage shtick. Which, if I may tiresomely repeat myself, is a problem for a show whose premise holds that its lead character is destined to be a great standup comedian.
Did I forget to mention that that is the premise of this show? After her husband leaves her, Midge ends up going to the club where he occasionally performs his ill-gotten comedy routines and has a meltdown on-stage which ends in her flashing the audience. This inspires Borstein’s character to mold Midge into a real comic, something which had not previously crossed Midge’s mind, as she was too busy caring for her husband and boosting his comedy career. Midge then spends a few episodes in a hero’s-journey rejection of the call, after which — inevitably — she accepts the challenge and starts to pursue a career in comedy.
Brosnahan is watchable even in moments where the necessary performance stylization seems somewhat beyond her. I’m certain they could have found someone more suited to the material on-paper, yet from frame-one Brosnahan takes complete ownership of the show, making it, even more, a “Brosnahan-starrer” than a “Sherman-Palladino show.” Her distinct energy and authentic period sensibility influence everything else that happens on the show surrounding her.
Which leads me to yet another problem: the supporting cast. Borstein hardly spends a moment on-screen that isn’t shared with Brosnahan, so that’s fine. But the “Boardwalk Empire” actor who plays Midge’s husband and Kevin Pollak as her father-in-law and Tony Shalhoub as her father — and more — all get their own storylines, and not one of them is successfully engaging when all you want is for Midge to be back on screen.
If you are not invested in at least one of the following: 50s stand-up or Amy Sherman-Palladino, I cannot possibly imagine what appeal this show will hold for you. If you are, there’s hardly anything else currently on TV that deals seriously with any of those, so I’d be remiss not to compel you to do a “Maisel” deep-dive as soon as it hits Amazon next week. [B]
