Monsters of Television

“Fine. But I’m not saying ‘unconditionally.'”

Oh, Amber.

Earlier in the series, and really throughout, Zeek has acted as the purveyor of the mighty name Braverman, making sure that Jabbar is going to take the name, bucking his children up with phrases akin to, “Hey, come on. You’re a Braverman!” The last name which, let’s face it, sounds a little made up (apologies to any readers surnamed Braverman but, come on, it sounds like a cartoon hero’s alter-ego), is a source of pride for ol’ Zeek. He believes himself the patriarch of nobility (but hard-workin’ nobility). He has two markedly successful children, one who is wildly talented, just trying to get out of her own way, and, you know, Crosby, who’s cool (he might be successful, too, though it doesn’t seem like he ever works). The Bravermans breed pride which makes failure so hard to swallow for them.

Failure is the theme for this episode and not just for the main cast but for the children as well. It was a dangerous and, at times, horribly awkward, time to be a Braverman. Good thing Jabbar hasn’t taken the name yet.

Although he, and the rest of the kids, put up some pretty compelling performances. Jabbar, whose lines have been extremely limited so far, showed that not only can he be adorable with a can on his finger but also, even so young, can bolster a running theme of this show: kids are never to be underestimated. He deals with Jasmine and Crosby’s relationship better than they do, despite their attempts to shield him from the horror, but in a way that feels completely natural. It’s sweet and I’m happy to see the little tyke have an opportunity to pitch in a little more.

That being said, he is no match for my favorite characters on the show: Max and Amber. The coaching Adam puts Max through on being a “good host” is handled beautifully, even if Max falls apart at the end. Adam so desperately wants his kid to “act normal” around other kids that he piles a lot of pressure on poor bug-obsessed Max. Max cringes and runs away when he realizes he’s scared off possibly new friends that do not express autistic traits. He conveys in mere seconds that he feels he’s failed his coaching and it’s possibly one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve seen anyone on this series do. His failure reflects Adam and Kristina’s ability to deal with the Lessings (who are, to be fair, unbearable and their kid is also a hard pill to take). In his cringe, you simultaneously see the guilt of failure to his parents and the shame of feeling equal to Noel (the autistic kid on this show, not my fellow Monster of Television).

That being said, I kind of want them to get married so he can take her name and be Steve Holt.

Amber takes the prize though for most compelling and developed “kid.” After Haddie and Steve break up, Steve starts to come around Amber’s place of work and she is able to deliver these flirty and clever lines with such natural ability that every time she speaks she not only shines in the scene but she continually strenghtens the association between her and Sarah. That’s not only a testament to the acting but also to the writing, establishing that like-mother-like-daughter connection without having to sell it hard. My only complaint was Amber’s quck erosion of principles when she gives in to Steve’s advances. I guess this was supposed to be another nod to her mother, but it felt out-of-place for a girl typically so stubborn to stick to her guns. That being said, I kind of want them to get married so he can take her name and be Steve Holt.

Even though the kids were interesting, the A-story for this episode was Zeek’s failure, specifically his poor investment and, as it is later confirmed, his infidelity. He confessed his money problems to Adam two weeks ago and Sarah finds out about it after seeing Zeek’s valuables at a pawn shop. This leads to our Sibling Conversation where the grown children band together to get Zeek’s money trouble out in the open so they can help. Though not as satisfying as most of these styled conversations have been, Sarah and Crosby arguing in the car before leaving was great. I think I like their connection best: the two not-as-obviously-successful kids with their gray-area ethics and always-wavering maturity levels. They need more one-on-one scenes.

The dinner itself is possibly the most awkward experience on the show to date, including the time Zeek sat down in the bathroom while Drew was disgracing himself in the shower and the time Zeek announced his belief that Jasmine’s family hated Crosby because he’s white. Really, Zeek’s brazen nature is the source of so many awkward moments but this is the first time that it wasn’t so much funny as it was tragic. The bravado here is thin and ends with Camille (who has been almost as absent as Drew) kicking Coach out of his house. While we don’t get the feeling the family is crumbling, we do get that it has been scarred, hero worships have been irreparably damaged, and, judging by next week’s previews, lots of wounds will open up because of Zeek’s flawed maverick nature. In a family that can generally puff its chest out and be proud of those growing under the Braverman umbrella, failure, and prolonged neglect of recognizing it, is the punch in the face the Bravermans (Bravermen?) need to open the show up a little more.

Other things:

• You might be curious as to why this episode is called “No More Namaste.” Julia decides to coach Sydney’s soccer team (the Little Giants of fútbol) and Racquel (her rival who wants nothing more than to run away with Joel and for whom “namaste” is a totally reasonable salutation/valediction in everyday life) is the coach of another, better-organized team. There’s a scene where Racquel offers Julia one of her kids so that her team can be more “competitive” but it turns out Jabbar is like Lionel Messi playing against the Kansas City Wizards. Julia’s plan is to just give Jabbar the ball and let him score the points and they win a game, mostly because Carlton wasn’t there to steal the ball in closing seconds. And because this isn’t basketball. And it isn’t The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. But that’s Julia’s storyline: she takes over as coach, they get crushed one game, get Jabbar on the team, and then they win. Seriously, do the writers hate Erika Christenson? As @KelliMarshall remarked earlier, at least she’s more likable now.
• I want there to be an episode where we follow what Drew does when he’s completely absent from an episode.
• In case you’re not hip to my witty soccer metaphor: Lionel Messi is an Argentinian soccer player who currently plays for Barcelona in Spanish La Liga (like the NFL but for soccer in Spain). He’s internationally renowned as one of the greatest players in the game and, notably, in a game against the current English Premier League (again, the NFL but in England) champions, Chelsea, scored three goals in the first 45 minutes of play, four goals overall. The Kansas City Wizards are a mediocre MLS (America’s soccer league) team.
• Has Lost ruined the word “namaste” for you, too?
• I like that Crosby is more into his relationship with Jasmine than she is. It makes sense for Jasmine to still not fully trust Crosby’s rapid transformation. I also love Jabbar’s line, when he finds Crosby in a sleepover: “Should I got to back to bed and pretend I didn’t see you?”