Hello and welcome to Multiversity Comics’ weekly review of I Am Not Okay with This, the coming-of-age Netflix original series co-created Jonathan Entwistle and Christy Hall, based on the graphic novel of the same name by Charles Forsman. This week, we look at episode six, “Like Father, Like Daughter.” As always, our wide ranging discussion could touch on anything from the story structure and acting to the script and the soundtrack. Please be warned, however, there may be occasional spoilers.
1. The Medium is the Message: A Brief History of “Netflix Bloat”
Once upon a time, a so-called “season” of TV ran 26 weeks. In the vast majority of cases, that also equated to 26 episodes. For a whole host of reasons, not the least of which was the prevailing theory that fewer people watched TV in the lazy, hazy days of summer and reruns would therefore suffice, the 26-episode structure generally “worked” and eventually became codified.
Before long, as you can imagine, virtually everyone in the pipeline, from writers and directors to producers and network executives – even advertisers – thought of episodic TV in these rather unnatural, bloated six month chunks. Naturally, even the best shows occasionally struggled to sustain their momentum on the way to the season finale. Often, creators were forced to explore secondary narrative arcs or even straight-up tangents in order to fill the void. (Not coincidentally, very much in line with the first part of this review.)
Anyway, fast forward to the Cable TV Era and the explosion of new networks, particularly those who produced original, scripted series. With intense pressure to draw and keep regular viewers, competition for eyeballs intensified across the board. Suddenly, there was a lot less margin for error. If a series didn’t pull the kind of numbers executives needed, it could be scrapped midseason and replaced by an entirely different show. Seemingly overnight, when networks ordered new series, they only committed to an initial 13-episode run. It not only felt like a safer financial investment, it mathematically conformed to the traditional “season” decreed by the TV gods when they first revealed the mystical cathode ray tube.
Call it “Netflix Bloat” if you must, but the problem clearly predated the on-demand revolution.
Thankfully, over the 5-10 years, with the advent of binge watching, the ubiquity of new content and the preponderance of new, heavily branded platforms determined to move fast and break things, it’s a whole new era. Producers make the rules, unshackled by artifice and antiquated notions regarding the magic number that defines “a season.” Or do they? In the midst of the Streaming Wars, it’s easy to forget that the initial runs of seminal series like “House of Cards” and “Orange Is the New Black” both clocked in at 13 episodes. Huh. Some traditions die hard, whether we like it or not.
All of which begs the question that continued to nag me as I watched episode 6: were the creators of this series bound and determined to halve the length of a TV season yet again? Did they strive to produce precisely 6.5 installments? That seems to be what they’ve done, delivering a fragment that simply serves as a prelude to the Grand Finale.
Seriously, I can’t imagine anyone could watch this penultimate episode without immediately proceeding to the final chapter. It simply wouldn’t make sense. None of the content is bad, but it sure doesn’t stand on it’s own. It merely sets things in motion, assembles all the pieces, and hints at what is to come. Thankfully it ends with a new Bloodwitch track. Otherwise I might’ve thrown something at the TV.
2. This Isn’t Over
Unlike literally every other time Syd has walked down the crowded hallway of her school, this time it’s totally empty. No whispered comments, no judgmental glances, no popular kids laughing and smiling – not even a tumbleweed. Just Syd and her paranoid thoughts. For a brief moment, anyway. Until Brad Cooper arrives, seemingly out of nowhere, to thump his hand on the locker beside her and deliver a hackneyed threat that sounds like it could be from any one of a dozen forgettable gangster movies: “You could’ve kept your mouth shut, but you didn’t. This isn’t over…. Dina’s mine. Back the f**k off.”
Continued belowThe dialogue doesn’t need to be Shakespeare, but when the doors of a dozen lockers mysteriously fling themselves open with no discernible cause, it might be nice to see even the villainous Bradley Cooper take half a beat to react to something outside of himself. Instead, like the vast majority of cursory scenes in this brief episode, what we get seems purely designed to move the plot from Point A to Point B, subtext and nuance be damned.
3. What is with You Today…?
Since the very beginning, when Syd described herself as “boring” and “not special,” she’s leaned into her role of outcast, avoiding unwanted attention and keeping to herself. The two notable exceptions, of course, are Dina and Stanley – one of whom Syd’s crushing on while the other is crushing on her. Either way, it’s hard to position yourself as “Me Against the World” when you still have two people who genuinely care about you.
Dang. Better take care of that! Must be time for Syd to drive everyone away. Commence operation Self Sabotage.
In a mere four minutes of screen time, Syd unambiguously kicks her best friends to the curb. First, she shuts down Dina, completely refusing to give her even the smallest glimpse into what the hell’s going on. Maybe in the end it would seem gimmicky, but can’t Syd give her a hint? Or at least a caveat? Like, “Sorry. I can’t tell you yet.” Even when Dina walks away, Syd doesn’t flinch. What? Wait a minute, where’s the internal struggle? Syd’s been pursuing Dina the entire series. Suddenly, in this moment, she’s just going to let her go?
Oh, right. Never mind. Got to keep things moving. Time to go push away Stanley.
Needless to say, in this situation, the tables are turned. Stan vies for Syd’s attention, essentially asking her to go to homecoming yet again. Meanwhile, Syd’s hyper-distracted with way more to worry about than hurting somebody’s f**king feelings. Stan sums it up perfectly, asking rhetorically, “What is with you today? I mean, I’m used to you being a dick, but this is like a whole new level.”
Look, Stan, it’s not you. You’re a quirky-yet-lovable sidekick. Some protagonists insists on working alone. Sorry. We’ll have to check back with you later, likely when you offer some incredibly timely, semi-predictable, much needed assistance during the final showdown. Whatever that might be.
4. You Try Your Hand at a Little Poetry Yet?
Honestly, I’m not mad that it seems pretty late in the game for someone to suggest Syd needs something from her father, even when that thing is conspicuously labeled “closure.” How many times have you seen or read a story an awful lot like this where a minor character, or even a total stranger, sets the story in motion by telling the hero they need something from a deceased loved one? No doubt it’s a set-up almost as old as storytelling itself. Here, refreshingly, the storytellers zag. Even after Syd distances herself from everybody else, she finds herself closer to the wise old hippie Ms. Cappriotti. It’s also a nice callback to the origin story of the diary entry device, reminding us of our unique vantage point and our unfiltered insight into Syd’s otherwise intensely private thoughts. Finally, the episode breathes. We learn something new and both actors deliver top notch performances. It’s a scene that makes the case for a little more zagging and a lot less zipping through a nuts-and-bolts series of plot points.
5. At Least Now We Know Exactly Where the Dog Tags Came From
In direct contrast to the unexpectedly effective timing of the scene above, Syd’s discovery of her father’s locked metal box full of military paraphernalia feels, at least in part, like a just-in-time info dump. It certainly doesn’t help that much of Maggie’s dialogue seems unnecessarily peppered with phrases we’ve heard too many times before. To kick off her speech Maggie warns, with a predictable heavy sigh, “You want to know about your dad, Syd? If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. But if I do, you need to know, you might not ever think of him the same way.” You can pretty much guess the rest: multiple tours in the marines; he saw things that weighed on him; once he came home, things were never the same; no one could possibly know what he was dealing with….
Continued belowI’m sure that kind of experience is all too real and all too common. I also don’t doubt that it sucks, in ways that can’t be described. But if you’re going to go there and mine that kind of trauma for backstory, it seems like the whole thing deserves a little more screen time, a little more nuance, and at least a basic level of specificity. Instead, we’re asked to equate Syd’s simmering anger and stifled emotions – Like Father, Like Daughter – with what feels like a generic afterthought.
Surprising/Not Surprising
Syd’s diary is suddenly nowhere to be found.
