The thing is that Amy Sherman-Palladino left right when Roseanne was ****ing it up. She was the parakeet. She saw firsthand what happens when a person lets their selfishness get in the way of basic storytelling — when the language you speak, which is what you have to trade just like Joss and anybody else that came through that machine, overwhelms the actual human truth you’re trying to portray — and got out right on time. Her last episode on that show, “Busted,” is one of the finest half-hour scripts I’ve ever seen, in a show-length career of the best work you’ve ever seen. And then comes Gilmore, which had its problems, but certainly none of what we’re seeing here. What we’re seeing here is Roseanne-losing-it crazytown nonsense. This was a script that could have been written in ten minutes. Ten years ago.
What happens in it? Boo manages to make friends with the hottie boombalatty son of the odious Rico at the Oyster Shack where she works, in a fairly competent sequence of events that put the other girls — especially, of course, Sasha — right up on their toe-shoes. But beyond the meet-cute (in which he rescues her from the OCD of their college-focused teen manager, a type ASP has already done a million times, and better), it all just seems like plot movements. We’re told next week will “change everything,” and I have to say, as a fan of these ladies over the last month, I can’t wait. Anything beyond the lazy binary of “skinny bitch with skinny bitch mother” and “chubby sweetheart with chubby sweetheart mother” — plus the two basically interchangeable other ones we still don’t really know — that we’ve been asked to care about so far.
These are some damned capable people we’re watching go through this nonsense. It should not be halfway through the season that we still don’t know what the hell the point is. It should not be halfway through the season that we’re still bumping into gross characters like tonight’s ass-centric goomba and wondering what part he’s going to play. This isn’t an era-spanning, geographical survey; it’s a story about girls, women, who have **** to do. And instead of doing it, we’re just meeting more and more people we may never meet again, and wouldn’t miss if we didn’t.