Monsters of Television

“There are 2 big days in any love story.”

I’m understandably weary of How I Met Your Mother after being bloodied and bruised last season. I put it on warning that it needed to step up its game if even wanted me to be writing about it every week, let alone watching it. And while I know my warnings mean a whole lot to the show (I have a ton of clout, after all), I figured them too arrogant to take my word on thing.

I’m pretty happy to report that the sixth season premiere helped erase doubts with, essentially, a bottle episode (a rare thing for a premiere, yes?) (also, I use the term bottle episode as would be best applied for HIMYM, not another, less cut-away jokey show). I’m still a little cautious (they burned me so hard last season), but the episodes provides an umbrella to the pessimism storm.

And umbrellas are important.

As Jaime Weinman just tweeted, HIMYM decided to get back to basics with the premiere. Sure, there’s a few cut-away gags, but what would’ve been the big one (the story of Admiral/Captain/whatever Dibs) is thankfully cut short, almost as if the show understood that it would’ve been overkill, that the formation of the Bro Code was enough fake history, never be topped again (right, Sexless Innkeeper?). Instead, the episode sticks largely to the bar, with characters moving in and around it, to different booths and so forth.

While I value the show’s cut-away jokes, this episode’s focus on the characters, the true strength of this series, was refreshing. Bits of business, like the high six (“We should never do that again.”) show why this cast has clicked well from day one (well, Smulders didn’t gel until S2 for me, but that’s neither here nor there). And, for the first time in a long while, all the individual stories kind of worked with one another. Yes, the episode kept Lily and Marshall segregated from the rest, but rightfully so. Their conflict was one about other people butting into their lives, and even their friends needn’t be involved in that story. Robin hitting her hotness expiration date (and then getting a new one) was funny, but needn’t be a focal point either (and I’m just impressed that they managed to make Smulders look unattractive in a sitcom-realistic manner).

But, no, the focus was on Ted. As well it should be. No talk about douchey Ted to be found, thank goodness, and instead had Ted go back to, where, he kind of was in season 1: unsure of himself and unsure what to do, but the years of dating have at least given him more backbone, more willingness to make a leap, take control of his life. I appreciate this, even if I don’t feel the show has totally earned this due to last season being a lost season.

And, indeed, it’s not often we talk about sitcoms like this, but HIMYM‘s overtly serial narrative opens the opportunity to evaluate it perhaps more critically than other sitcoms that work episode-to-episode. Yes, narratively, to be sure, but also in terms of character. Sitcom characters don’t often have growth (indeed, they more often regress to broader and broader versions of their original selves), but HIMYM has tried to show these character grow (for better for worse).

Here, everyone gets a little reset. I think I can handle that.

FINAL THOUGHTS

• No idea who Ted is best manning-up for, or why the Mother would be there. The obvious guess is Barney, but I could just as easily see Robin having Ted as her best man for some reason (the one who sold her on marriage, perhaps?).
• I wasn’t thrilled with reducing the Mother to an ankle shot (fragmenting the feminine form!), but the long pan down Cindy’s date’s leg was a little much.
• Next HIMYM tie-in book: “Are you there Barney? It’s Me, Horny.”