Saving the Comedy From Itself
by JESSICA FERRI
Jason Schwartzman’s face holds so much meaning for most of us—his big beautiful mole, his undeniable Jewishiness; the soundtrack of Rushmore starts to flounce around in my head. Do you remember the first time you saw it? How moved you were by Max’s dedication to write the world’s best play? And his determination to win Rosemary’s heart? Those awkward indie days are long gone. Schwartzman has become the star of an HBO series.
The show is Bored to Death, and it was written by Jonathan Ames, who, despite his many novels and risqué one man shows, is still fairly under the radar outside of New York as far as writers go. His reputation is one of a slightly perverted funny man with great autobiographical pieces. Unsurprisingly, Schwartzman’s character on the show is lovingly named, “Jonathan Ames.” The show opens with a hang-dog looking Schwartzman, incredulous at the Israeli movers carting his beloved girlfriend’s belongings into a moving van outside their apartment. When Jonathan questions their ethnicity (Jews aren’t strong enough to be movers, right?) one responds, “What are you, another self-hating New York Jew?" And Jonathan nimbly nods his head as if to say, “duh.”
Here we’ve entered into some sort of parallel universe where jokes about self-hating Jews are awkward and unfunny. Watching Schwartzman in this strange non-Wes Anderson real world (which, thanks to a The New Yorker Talk of the Town piece we know is Fort Greene, Brooklyn) is like watching Woody Allen in a film where he plays a well-adjusted WASP. Thankfully, Zack Galifianakis, who plays Jonathan’s friend Ray, is here to save the comedy in this comedy. After Jonathan’s girlfriend takes off (with a parting kiss that’s hotter than most people get when they’re in a relationship) Ray describes his feelings after his last girlfriend dumped him."After my breakup I felt like I was wearing a falcon hood." "A what?!" Jonathan exclaims. "A falcon hood."
Like most television shows, Bored to Death is off to a shaky start. Jonathan, an aspiring writer, picks up a copy of some Raymond Chandler and decides the best way to distract himself from his post-break-up gloom is to become a private detective. The transition into the show’s premise is rushed and strange, but, okay, we shrug our shoulders and keep going. It’s ironic that Jonathan chooses the lifestyle of a private dick given the fact that his girlfriend has terminated the relationship because Jonathan apparently indulges too frequently with white wine and marijuana. Opening a bottle of white wine, Jonathan plops himself in front of his laptop and posts a Craigslist ad, saying he’s "unlicensed," but willing to help. And his rates are reasonable.
At this point, I’m not quite sure what Ames is trying to do. It feels like he’s trying to remake a less than great Woody Allen movie starring Jason Schwartzman for television. But I digress. Ted Danson, as Jonathan’s needy boss, George, the editor of some New York magazine, jumps whole-heartedly into this endeavor, greeting the audience and Jonathan with “do you have weed?” Once they’ve installed themselves in the bathroom, Jonathan wonders aloud why George is back on the pot. “Oh I’m just bored—I’m bored to death,” he whines. Danson, despite looking like a cross between Annie Lennox and Frankenstein, delivers in this scene, and in a later one where he appears in a bathrobe, desperate for marijuana and women.
Jonathan’s actual detective work in this episode, which involves locating the boyfriend of a missing girl at the request of her sister, is frankly, boring. The scene where he tries to order a whiskey in a bar instead of white wine gets more laughs. It’s obvious at this point that creator Ames has no intention of making the detective work clever or funny. The show’s potential lies in Danson and Galifianakis and their respective interactions with Schwartzman. There’s certainly something here—and Parker Posey and Kristen Wiig are scheduled as the next guest stars. While the conceit of the show is not unlike a Wes Anderson movie, if Schwartzman can keep the mugging to a minimum, we just might have something funny not starring Larry David on HBO.
Jessica Ferri is a writer living in Brooklyn. You can read her published work here, and her blog here.
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