Hello folks 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 three, “The Party’s Over.” As always, our freewheeling, wide ranging discussion might touch on anything from the cinematography to editing and production design, not to mention the script, acting and the soundtrack. Please be warned, however, there may be occasional spoilers.
1. Dang, That Was Quick
If you thought it was kinda weird and more than a little random that Liam’s pet hedgehog, Banana Wigglesworth, was hanging out at the breakfast table at the beginning episode two, you were right. No, despite his conspicuous, Pinterest-worthy presentation – in a shallow wooden crate atop a layer of green felt – he hadn’t just arrived from Harry & David. Turns out, we had to meet him in order to say goodbye.
Intriguingly, Sydney immediately assumes the tragedy was her fault. And yet, unlike previous scenes when her telekinetic powers were unexpectedly, uncontrollably revealed, there aren’t any quick-cutting flashbacks to underscore her anxiety, frustration and repressed emotions. In fact, Entwistle reserves that technique for the following scene.
As Syd begins to vocalize a heartfelt apology to her deceased father, we see a flashback of his hand on a steering wheel, then holding a puzzle piece. Creepy organ music swells and Sydney retreats to her bedroom, overwhelmed by racing thoughts. Only then do we clearly see her powers manifest, just like previous patterns.
Banana Wigglesworth, we hardly knew ye. Your role was brief, but vital. Thank you for your service.
2. The Berrys’ Birthday Parties are the F**king Best!
It’s not a legitimate teen-centric story unless there’s an epic party. And you can’t have an epic party until there’s a scene where least some of the characters get ready for said party. Preferably, Syd and Dina. Thankfully, Entwistle forgoes a cheesy, predictable montage, but the scene nonetheless relies on some pretty well-worn tropes.
First, there’s a brief debate about whether to wear a blue top that’s “kind of all about the boobs” or a red one that “helps out my ass a little bit.” Moments later, there’s peer some pressure to put on lipstick, followed by a concession to wear cherry ChapStick. Needless to say, I don’t need to tell you which character says and does what. Nor do I need to confirm the color of Dina’s top as she stands on Ricky Berry’s driveway, nervously wishing she could inject vodka directly into her veins.
3. But Seriously, Everybody Feels Like a Freak Sometimes
In life there are moments when you simply want someone to listen. You’re not necessarily looking for guidance or advice. You just want to open up, speak your truth and let down your burden. A great friend can tune into that, let you speak your piece and simply receive what you’re saying. Other not-so-great friends might think that’s what they’re doing, when really, they’re totally not.
In a brief moment of quiet, Dina encourages Syd to open up completely and talk about what’s going on. Uncharacteristically, Syd finally seems ready to lay it all bare. Almost as soon as she begins, however, Dina rolls right over her. “Oh my God,” Dina exclaims. “No, same, me too,” completely missing the point. “But seriously,” she continues, unhelpfully, “everybody feels like a freak sometimes.” Poof. The moment evaporates as soon as it began. Sydney’s window closes and Dina presses on, oblivious to her friend’s needs, recounting a thoroughly random, irrelevant anecdote about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and Brad’s dumbass friends. “They just looked at me like I was batshit crazy,” she concludes.
Sorry Syd, that sucks, but I’m not sure why you thought someone who dates Bradley Lewis would be able to listen – much less relate to you – in the first place.
4. I’ll Be Right Back, I Promise
Look, I don’t make the rules, but if two teenage girls go to a crowded party with all the popular kids and the more social BFF assures her awkward companion, “Duh, I’d never leave you,” they’re guaranteed to be separated long before the night is done.
Continued belowTime to cue up the montage!
At first, it’s like a dream. New Wave-inspired dance track “Two Hearts,” by British synth-pop trio NZCA Lines, slaps like it’s ’86 and strobe lights just went on sale. Meanwhile, Dina and Syd play beer pong, eat limp slices of pizza, win a game of foosball and dance like nobody’s watching. Well, one of them does, anyway. The other one awkwardly jerks back and forth like the Tin Man having a seizure in slow motion.
In any case, you know it all has to end and, yup, there it is. “Bradley Lewis in the house!” He makes a jokey toast to his football teammate, Richard “Dickwad” Berry, and immediately asserts his toxic masculinity all over Dina. Caught between friend and lover, Dina turns to Syd and pleads woefully, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Needless to say, that vow falls apart faster than Jenny Tuffield can down a shot of vodka. Wait – who the hell is Jenny Tuffield? Look, I didn’t make this rule either, but if the main characters suddenly see a previously unnamed character from across the room and briefly discuss who she is and what she’s been doing, that character is about to play a big role. And if she’s wearing a leather jacket, just got back from rehab and assertively flips people off, I’d say there’s a damn good chance she’s about to get all up in your boyfriend. The only real question is, whose?
5. The World’s Slowest Car Window vs. Fast Paced Edits, Part Two
Last week, I talked about the refreshing, atypical way in which Stanley Barber’s awkwardness was portrayed by actor Wyatt Oleff and director Jonathan Entwistle. Early in episode three, they brilliantly mirror that instantly classic scene with the same technique.
Stanley pulls up next to Syd and her younger brother Liam, stops, and rolls down his window. Of course, it descends ever so slowly with a belabored, groaning squeak. “What’s he doing?” Liam asks. “Just wait,” Syd responds. “Hey,” Stanley finally says with practiced nonchalance once the window has lowered to its optimal height.
Contrast this scene with the one between Sydney and Dina at Ricky Berry’s party and we see a simple, but crucial difference. During Stanley and Syd’s brief comedic exchange, each character is shot in close-up, alone, without anything in the foreground. If each character’s lines weren’t intercut with the other’s, we’d have no idea to whom either one is talking. It could be anyone. Also, the solo framing creates a stronger feeling of distance between them, even though we know they’re only a few feet apart.
The scene between Syd and Dina, conversely, employs a classic over-the-shoulder framing technique. When we see Dina in close-up, Syd is in the foreground. When we focus on Syd, Dina is still very much present. It’s a subtle yet powerful visual indication of how close Sydney feels to Dina, and how she keeps emotional distance between herself and Stan.
Bonus Round
I was Today Years Old when I learned “Every Time You Go Away,” a massive international hit by Paul Young in 1985 and somewhat predictable tribute to Banana Wigglesworth here, was written by Daryl Hall and originally recorded by Hall & Oates. Damn. I really wish they’d used that version instead. Hall’s vocals just kill it. Fight me. You don’t stand a chance.
