#315-“Surprise”
Season three’s crux
is the “Surprise” and “A Mountain Town” two-parter. “Surprise” begins
in-media-res. Amy looks sad. The house is dark, full of random folk, plus the
Brown family and the Abbot family, waiting to surprise Ephram (because Julliard
granted him an audition). Hannah’s in tears and unwilling to talk about her
test results. Harold is eager to discuss a matter of importance with Andy. Once
the teaser ends, the story returns to a week before the surprise story so that
the viewers can see how the characters got to that place.
Hitfix’s Alan
Sepinwall posted a blog about the death of the stand-alone episode. Marvel’s
Jessica Jones inspired the post. Sepinwall urged show runners not to forget
about the stand-alone episode. The era of heavily serialized shows has created
a blur effect. Episodes don’t stand apart. Each is connected. Without one, the
narrative’s not whole. The emergence of cable dramas, streaming site dramas,
and the premium channels changed the form and structure of television drama.
Stand-alone, sometimes referred to as filler, episodes emerged in network
dramas not as a choice but as a necessity. 26 episode seasons were normal in
the 90s. The major networks continue giving shows 22 or 23 episode orders. None
of the network dramas I regularly watch produces distinctive stand-alones. The
Vampire Diaries works in three acts during a season—essentially three
mini-seasons in a season. Not one Arrow episode stands out as an episode of
network dramas of the past would (Buffy and ANGEL, or even Dawson’s Creek).
An old friend
and I used to write a weekly humor series that we posted on various websites
for friends to read. We were heavily from LOST, The X Files, relevant popular
culture at the time, the pop-punk and independent music scene, as well as a
little Charles Dickens. We wrote 22 little episodes between 2005 and 2006. We
mostly wrote stand-alone silliness. Our main character got too high and wanders
naked into the backyard of a home in Edgemont, PA! Our main character and his
faithful friend, a dog named Puppers, wanted Wendy’s, but he didn’t have enough
change. Him and Puppers walked the streets of Philly in search of loose change
for a Wendy’s meal. We renewed ourselves for season two and stuck with the
stand-alone silliness, but with more of our overarcing mythology involved. By
season three, we started off silly, but we shifted hard into constant
myth-centric narrative that wasn’t very good because it narrowed our fictional
wonderland of characters. Writing our stand-alone episodes built and revealed
the world moreso than our grandiose and nonsensical mythology. So it was with
ANGEL, Buffy, and The X Files, and a number of other series in the 90s and
early 2000s—even Everwood.
Season three of
Everwood’s main arc is the slow, slow march to Ephram learning about his son in
“Fate Accomplis.” It’s also about him and Amy experiencing normalcy, being in
love, after two emotionally intense seasons. Andy accomplished what he wanted
when he moved his family to Everwood after Julia’s death. If Everwood had 13
episodes for season three, the writers wouldn’t have a problem cutting the
non-essential parts of the season. Andy and Amanda? If not cut, then
significantly reduced to an episode or two episodes. Nina and Jake? I think
that would’ve been reduced. My point is a shorter episode order would’ve
narrowed the world of Everwood. I don’t think an Everwood in 2015 would’ve
given us “The Perfect Day.”
Every time I
watch “Surprise” and “A Mountain Town” I’m aware of the tonal shift of the
writing. I noticed a difference between “Surprise” and everything between it
and “Complex Guilt.” The two parter is what they wanted. I would not want a
reduced Everwood season that expedited the major drama of the season, which is
tearing asunder Ephram and Andy—and Ephram torching his hard-earned future. Aside
from the Amanda-Andy atrocity, season three’s full of good moments, scenes, and
stories that allows the viewer to transport to the fictional little town. It’s
a world that would not be as complete and full if the writers focused much of
the storytelling on the baby drama that really drains the season. If not for
the late Rose’s cancer arc at the end of the season, I think Everwood would’ve
been downright bad in season three.
“Surprise” is
much better than “A Mountain Town.” Hannah learned that she won’t suffer the
same agonizing death as her father, but she’s so blown away by it she can’t
speak. Harold told Amy the truth about Madison. Emily Vancamp played it as a
quiet shock. No histrionics or hysteria (it’s the opposite of Gregory Smith’s
performance in #317 and #318). Rose becomes the catalyst for Bright to change
his womanizing ways after a sexual harassment incident at work. Bright, so
trapped in uninspired stories in season three until Hannah colors his world in
“The Perfect Day”, begins apologizing to the women he wronged, thereby becoming
the man he thinks Hannah deserves. And the Andy-Amanda affair finally ends! Ephram
barely appeared in the episode, as well. He’s going to be a drag.
#316-“A Mountain
Town”
One understands
the episode’s importance upon hearing Irv’s narration, the first of season
three (and the last of the series, I think). The narration’s from his book. In
his book, he paralleled his life with The Doctor’s, and he also contrasted
their lives. Season four has an episode in which Andy reacts to the contents of
the book. The production moved to New York City for the episode. Ephram won’t
find out about the baby until the next episode, which makes his open desire for
his Dad and Delia to be part of his future in New York for his Julliard
education heartbreaking for the viewer and Andy. I don’t particularly like “A
Mountain Town.” It’s a bad kind of deliberate. Ephram could’ve told Andy he
wanted him in his life at any point in the season, but the writers waited to
maximize the drama of the baby fallout. It’s their last decent conversation
until season four. Greg Berlanti, though not involved daily in season three,
has a fatal flaw in his writing: soap opera melodrama. Arrow has some
strengths, but its weakness is contrived melodrama. Berlanti pitched the
Madison/Andy baby nonsense before he stopped running the show, which left Rina
Mimoun with a pile of shit to work with in season three. Madison was a terrible
character. She should’ve gone the way of Tommy in season two. She was a bad
idea the writers wouldn’t let go of because, I assume, they loved Sarah
Lancaster. I don’t like the melodramatic-as-General-Hospital Madison/Andy
scene. I don’t like her running into Ephram Manhattan on a weekday afternoon.
The A story is a contrived, soapy, and melodramatic mistake. Season four
basically drops it. If The CW brought it back for season five, Berlanti
would’ve forced Madison and all the bad melodramatic ideas back into the show.
The audience had to wait 2 months for the Ephram/Madison conversation in the
café. The writers couldn’t blow everything to shit with the shittiest idea in
the series.
What else
happens? The stories in Everwood are of the vignette kind. Bright continued
atoning for his past. Amy told him how’ll he know when he genuinely loves
someone and wants to settle down with her, which foreshadows his crush on
Hannah. Edna and Irv reunited. Irv finished his book. The episode closed with
an oft-quoted Everwood line: “I look towards the doctor, and I can hope to
hope.” (I may’ve missed the accuracy of the line). I don’t like that line
either. I expected more from Irv’s narration. I understand the line—it is
rooted in the heart of the series—but I don’t like it. It’s written for
specifically for the impending Andy/Ephram drama. And, well, I’m going to continue rambling and
repeating myself if I don’t stop writing here.
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