I will not be writing about that final scene. Nope. You can’t make me do it. Did it make it laugh? Yes. Did it gross me out? Yes. Was it designed to do both and to make me wish “potty humor” wasn’t, well, so funny to begin with? Also yes. And so while we can celebrate this “new intimacy” between Sam and Joel (Bridget Everett and Jeff Hiller, total pros making toilet phone call comedy work), I am exempting myself from commenting on it and just sailing right past it.
Mostly because “#2” (get it?) gave us plenty else to discuss. And yes, that includes Susan (Jennifer Mudge), Fred’s fiancée!
Fred (Murray Hill) has long been a no-nonsense kind of guy. From the moment he met Sam in episode one he’s been inimitably himself, never cowering under anyone’s gaze. It makes sense he’d just drop a bombshell like “I’m getting married to a woman I’ve been on and off and in love with for decades” with such casual ease that it would derail an entire poker game. You’d think everyone would be joyous about hearing such news, but then, we all have Sams in our lives who can’t truly soak in the romance. Who’d rather sulk or nitpick or bring all their baggage into any celebratory moment lest they be reminded that good things can indeed happen. Thankfully, she’s balanced out by Joel whose squeals of delight are, in turn, a joy to watch.
Sam and Joel’s different reactions to Fred’s engagement speak to the way they each see the world: Sam may be trying oh so hard to be better at letting others in (Susan violates the NNP rule!) but she’s still mostly a world-weary cynic. Meanwhile, Joel is earnest and sincere, so in touch with his feelings he’s happy to cry in public at a sex shop if the mood strikes. The push and pull between the two structures Somebody Somewhere; and so while Sam was keen to poke holes in Fred’s wedding announcement, Joel was just ecstatic about a romantic happy ending to this quarter century-spanning courtship.
But perhaps we should pause before we try to further examine why Sam may be so uncomfortable with this revelation (though the show rightly makes her hilariously self-aware: “You’re gonna be all sweet to me while I’m being a cunt?” she asks Joel) and focus instead on the subtle way in which Fred and Susan’s relationship is so casually established. Not just the way Fred (and the show) merely plant her right into their poker game but how her arrival comes with a coming-out tale that privileges their bond over any transphobia; Susan chose Fred (“It’s always been Fred,” she notes) and her conviction that she wouldn’t let Fred’s gender identity become a problem with her father was sweet, yes, but also as loud a celebration of their love as anything else she could’ve done.
This is what I mean about Somebody Somewhere operating at a low key register. The show will never feel like an after school special or have anything close to a “very special episode.” Instead, its affirmation of Fred and Joel’s fully lived queer lives is what makes a statement at all. You wonder how long Hill and Hiller have been waiting for this kind of break, for this kind of character who gets to move through the world with confidence and pride and a support network who encourages them to be exactly who they’ve always wanted to be.
Is it all a bit too twee and cloying for our dear old Sam? Possibly. Perhaps even for some viewers. But then you get scenes at sex shops or on the toilet and you remember that this HBO gem makes us take in the sweet with the tart.
But the pièce de resistance of this episode was that school recital. And that one performance in particular. Kudos to Will & Grace scene-stealer Tim Bagley who totally annihilated that “why and what is this happening?!” moment that had Joel and Sam in stitches. Bagley has always excelled at bringing to life these awkward gay men of a certain age who are seemingly unable to read social cues around them. Such deadpan humor is a perfect match for Somebody Somewhere.
Moreover, rather than (merely) make him a punchline, the show has his performance serve as an inspiration of sorts for Sam. There is beauty and there is joy in what this committed man is doing with his life. Or, well, with his free time. Here is someone who relishes doing what he loves (singing, presumably) and cares little how the rest of the world (read: folks like Sam and Joel) see him. After all, he has great support in the shape of Darlene (Barbara Robertson), who similarly is overjoyed at hearing that Sam is ready to pick up where they left off when Sam was in school. She just needs to remember to bring a cassette tape (a detail I love). Whether this is a turning corner for Sam or a mere detour into her life as he learns to live and thrive in Manhattan, Kansas, it may be too soon to tell. But if this means we’re getting plenty more Bridget Everett singing, sign me up for that is a recital (and wedding) I do not want to miss.
Stray observations
- Please, no one ever actually make St. Louis sushi, I beg of you! Truly sounds like some creation that blends the worst of hokey highway-adjacent restaurants and horrid TikTok food trends. (In case you’ve forgotten already, the recipe calls for ham wrapped around a pickle and cream cheese. Now excuse me while I go throw up some more.)
- I would watch an entire YouTube channel where Sam and Joel traipse through sex shops and comment on any and every product there. (Also, I’ll just be over here figuring out the logistics of the Clone-A-Pussy… the, uh, logistics for those Clone-A-Willy ones feel more, ahem, straight forward, no?)
- Oh Tricia… you’ve never been more relatable than when angrily scrolling through an ex-friend’s Instagram and then shitposting from an anonymous account.
- My favorite bit from Tricia’s bit at the store is how even while wearing a name tag she was still mistaken for Charity.
- Speaking of that bit, I love how we’re seeing Tricia, Sam, and Joel all working. It made me think about how the show is emerging as a welcome portrait of a class of people whose jobs are means to an end and yet whose labor is not centered in the way the show tells their stories. This is no family nor hangout nor workplace comedy. Instead, Somebody Somewhere is toying with a blend of them all, capturing the way friendships, work, and family all intersect and interact in one’s life.
