The Goldbergs sings Bev's praises for once, allowing this strong-willed confident woman to be more than a walking plot-machine.  And it's glorious.

"The Kremps" illustrates the difficulty of neighborhood dynamics.  Making friends is hard no matter what the age, whether it's lonely 12-year-old Adam excited to finally have someone who shares his interests, or it's matronly Bev being so full of love that she can't stand having someone not like her.  Seeing Adam and Chad Kremp instantly bond over a love of Tron exhibits how simple friendship is when you're a kid.  All it takes is a shared word, and BAM.  Insta-bond.  Watching Bev and Virginia Kremp is a painful reminder of how complicated everything gets.  It's no longer as easy, but any resulting friendship is ultimately richer because it was fought for.  And good heavens, does Bev fight to make Virginia like her.

Virgina, who at first blush appears to be such a wench that it's a bit worrisome whether her kids will be OK in the long run, is the epitome of the gross passive aggressive woman.  She tacitly ignores the power-walking Bev, rebuffs multiple invitations to backyard BBQs, ducks behind a curtain to avoid Bev's gaze and then lies about it directly after.  It's a textbook example of how to be a terrible person.  And while it is at first nice to see all the craziness of Bev being thrown in her face--I mean, she is too loud and controlling--it soon morphs into rooting for her to defeat this woman.  It's because she has a complete acceptance of self that is admirable.  Bev behaves that way because that's who she is.  It's also in her nature to use those gifts to protect people, which is why she still comes to Virginia's aid when the baker at the grocery store is ripping her off.  Most people, myself included, would have internally laughed maniacally as the woman got her just desserts, but Bev is different.  Bev is honest to herself, which gives her an enviable compassion.  

The subplot, wherein Barry and Erica argue and brawl over phone rights, forces the series to continue confronting weakness.  While yelling is a Goldbergs trademark, it does get exhausting at times, making one wonder how a family can sustain that level of acrimony all the time.  Well, in this episode they show how--a family can't.  Not even the Goldbergs.  After a sad nighttime mud-throwing, Erica asks Barry "Why are we like this?"  No one can fight all the time.  Even the kids can't constantly be at each other's throats.  Sometimes, there is truce.  And Barry and Erica strike that truce, with Carry eventually helping Erica bond with Drew Kremp.  Sometimes, family really does have your back.

Some Thoughts:

-Second phone lines still mystify me.  I never had one as a kid, and so the thought that two people can be on the phone at once is mystifying to me.  As is the need for that as a necessity, but that's the tag-along child in me talking.

-Tom Cavanaugh guesting as the soft-spoken Mr. Kremp delighted me.  I love Ed, and I love J.D.'s older brother even more.

-Adam's Tron light suit is pretty freaking awesome.  I have to give major props to that ingenuity.

Sadly though, this week is home to more crazy Bev. While I appreciate the hilarity set up by the construct of her crazy driving rules, it is truly tiresome that every single plot is driven by the same impetus.  Instead of deus ex machina, it's deus ex Bev, with episode action happening because of over-protective matriarchal instincts.  This does lead to hilarity in "Call Me When You Get There", with an overblown map complete with plastic overlay hitting home the insanity of her rules, and Barry and Erica's teamwork in their resistance.  The moments of Barry lip-syncing as he drives off into the woods are treasured, even if it's doubtful that he would be able to cover up the array of food garbage in the dash. 


It's also nice to see more of Erica, as her character has finally starting coming into focus with these last two episodes.  She's looked more typically "cute" in the past two episodes, which might be the cause of her airtime.  There's the shiny sleek hair, and a little black mini skirt paired with a heart print that is terribly vogue right now (Burberry's version has been worn by Posh Spice, so it's a pretty big deal). They temper this current fashion trend in the last scene with some heinous leg-warmers, but if only Erica could get more screen-time and be allowed to be Eighties crack-tastic at the same time.

In addition to the madness of the matriarch, this episode serves up a steaming plate of male vulnerability.  Pop's age serves as the perfect vehicle for rehashing the ridiculousness of infomercials, particularly the gem of a quote "I've fallen and I can't get up!"  Predictably, Bev gets Pops a Life Alert, he's offended, and then in an amazing twist no one saw coming, he falls and can't get up!  Bev remains blissfully unaware, as Pops calls Adam to help.  Pops pride and hatred of the Life Alert eventually melts under Adam's plea to protect himself.  I wonder if the other kids are ever offended that Pops doesn't even try to hide the fact that Adam is his favorite.  Poor Barry and Erica.  It's not their fault they aren't blonde.

Murray also slightly betrays his soft side.  When he finds Barry literally face down in a ditch by the side of the road, he admits that he almost died.  The thought of a hurt child is something that does make even the most stoic of men crack, and it's nice to see Murray admit that.  It's even nicer to see his completely appropriate rage moments later when Barry ruins a baseball score for him.  Is that rehashed sitcom territory?  Yes, but it doesn't feel stale.  Rather, it feels like a familiar blanket, wrapping the viewer in the over-simplified sitcom blanket of yore.

In its Halloween episode, The Goldbergs captures family dynamics in a way that is uncomfortably true to life.  A way that's sweet, but achingly honest to the loss of youthful illusions, and the reality that friendships fade, but for all their flaws family will endure forever.

Barry and Erica discover these truths with regards to siblings, as their saga places large emphasis on family being the only ones there for you.  Which is arguably very accurate.  But the way they get to this point is once again by villainizing Bev, who reverts to her most clueless of over-protective mother modes tonight.  Which is frustrating, because they've established that Bev can be a strong-willed, savvy woman who is not afraid to take on anybody.  But despite that, they translate fearlessness into cluelessness, as she seems completely incapable of realizing that interfering in your teenage son's love life is a bad move.  Even if she did have the decency to disguise herself as a ghost, it's still ridiculously over-the-top to talk up your 16 year-old son to his crush  

This is especially unforgivable when Bev refers to him multiple times as "delicious" when she is unmasked.  Shudder.  Barry's Hulk-fueled rampage out of the party makes Bev worry about him, but before she can emotionally stunt his growth Erica gets to him.  They bond over their shared need to survive their mother's insanity, but instead of being as gross as, say, The Millers, it's actually fairly endearing.  There comes a point of age where siblings have to stop clashing and need to come together as a team.  After all, no one understands the strange background you come from like a sibling.

For his part Adam, who is even more shrill than usual, rebuffs the customary trick-or-treating with Pops.  The cool kids invited him out, with their shark tooth necklaces and their penchant for mischief.  But Adam really is an imaginative, exuberant kid at heart, and though he goes along with their TP-ing, he's uneasy (and not solely because running in that marvelous boxy Rubik's Cube costume is unwieldy). This is another show that uses the unfortunate event of egging--here Adam, the moron, eggs his own house and, in a twist of bad timing, his own dad.  

At that moment, after Murray rightly vents his anger, Adam heartbreakingly declares that he did want to trick-or-treat, but no one else wanted to.  And Murray rightly concludes that the age Adam is sucks, that he is "between being a dumb kid and a stupid adult."  There's nothing worse than transitioning out of childhood imaginings, and doing it at a slower pace than others.  It's tough to see the kids who abandon childish joys get acclaim, leading to a questioning of identity that cripples the teenage years.  Little do they know that in ten years down the road, all of these sad twenty-somethings will be desperately trying to reclaim that childhood through game nights with adult hide-and-seek or Candyland, sad adults trying to recreate the innocence they so callously tossed aside.  Can't we just enjoy the magic at hand?  Adam gets a taste of that, going out to get candy with his Mom and Pops in the best Ghostbusters costume ever, but the sorrow is still there.  He's with his family.  His age-appropriate colleagues have abandoned him.  Even if this episode ended sweetly, the damage is done.

Some Thoughts:

-Seriously, I would cut someone for that Ghostbusters costume.

-Erica's Jane Goodall costume looks suspiciously modern.  This is heightened by her ultra-sleek and shiny hair (so not a thing in the 80s).  However, she does get more screen time this episode.  I sneakily suspect those things are related.  

-Adam has had a good upbringing.  When his thuggish friend kicks in a jack o'lantern, Adam nervously laughs "some kid worked really hard on that!"  There's some empathy in this one after all. 

In "The Ring," The Goldbergs starts exploring the depth of familial relationships--those outside the realm of maternal manipulator--and I couldn't be happier.  Finally the family is starting to feel comfortable.

This owe's a debt to the how believable Bev and Murray's relationship is--more on that later--and how ridiculously real Barry and Erica behave towards their parents.  The pair act like appropriately annoying kids.  The interplay with them and Murray in the garage, the children tormenting the elder and running away--that's how every kid acts.  And every adult must be annoyed with them.  It's the unspoken code.  What sells it on The Goldbergs is that there's still a noticeable affection, even though you still want to wring the kid's necks just a little.  And that's how families are, so kudos for capturing that. 

A highlight Erica is coming into focus as a real person. At last! She gets in a good one-liner--"You belong in the large-breasted girl's tent," directed at Barry--and suddenly she's a palpable character.  She's just the more calm, sane Goldberg.  I can run with that.  Barry is also mellowing into a mostly-welcome presence.  The fakeness of his Canadian camp girlfriend is a good sub-joke, especially as he slinks around Adam and Gramps's discussion of how to get girls, constantly bragging about his fake girlfriend, getting offended and saying "I'm outta here!,"  then slinking back for more.  It was a nice gag.

As for Adam, he's a little less grating in a subplot about chasing the girl of his dreams.  It has a lot to do with looking at him through the lens of John Cusack.  Referencing Say Anything is a wise move, Goldbergs.  It automatically brings out the pathos in full force, and we are present for your trials. While the object of Adam's desire is way out of his league, the twisted romantic comedy means of obtaining her do lead to some hi-jinks.  I love the moment at her house when the heads of her brother, father, and finally the girl herself pop out of windows to comment with raw honesty on Adam's foolishness.  But it would have been better if they had left the end with Adam getting rejected.  Now they're just propagating the false ideal upheld by romantic comedies, leading people to think that grand gestures and overcoming improbable odds is how love works.  Tut tut.
 
That saccharine story of love is tempered with the sheer horror that is the romantic plot between Murray and Bev.  After establishing a relaxed relationship, one that echoes my own motto of "that's what marriage is.  Mutual not giving a crap," they segue into Murray's previous engagement, his love poetry and his RING RECYCLING.  

Now stop the presses. 

Ring recycling is one of those things that is completely unacceptable in my mind.  If I was Bev, I would handle it the same way, if not worse.  Such horror.  The fact that the tag introduces this as a real story, one where the real Bev actually still wears the recycled ring, makes me a little ill.  So I'm all aboard with fictional Bev forcing Murray to buy a spite ring.  Even if the spite ring itself is one of the ugliest things I've ever seen.  It's Kim Kardashian levels of huge, plain, and uggo.  Still, the resulting video montage of wordless expressions of love warmed my cold dead heart.  Bev and Murray actually have a wonderful marriage.  After all, the throes of passion only go so far.  In the end, doesn't everyone just want someone who will carry heavy groceries and give them the last of the dessert?

Some Thoughts:

-There are some giggle-worthy glimpses of a pre-Facebook world.  It hasn't been that long since the days of microfiche, but WOAH.  I suppose we really are living in the future.  But I would totally trade the ability to quickly stalk someone for flying cars or hoverboards.  Hey, tech companies?  Can we spend less time getting super connected and more time flying in the skies?  That'd be great.

-Adam's treehouse is rad.  Why does everyone in television have an awesome treehouse?  Mine was a plank of plywood in a tree, and I loved it, but man.  I wonder how people even make these wooden monoliths.

Well, it happened.  Finally.  Bev miraculously stopped her obsessive focus on Adam.  Instead, she's narrowed her controlling urges on her own father.  Joy.  

The family dynamics have always been a thing to appreciate on The Goldbergs, because this is a show surrounded by people who act like a semi-believable family.  They like each other, they hate each other, they yell, but they also defend their own.  However, it does specialize in taking things a step too far.  Not crossing the line and then running the full nine yards past propriety (I'm looking at you, The Millers), but setting their foot firmly in "uncomfortable" territory.  This episode is no exception.

First, Bev's strange fascination with setting up her father.  Maybe it's me, but when it comes to the sex lives of parentals I prefer to scrunch my eyes, stuff my fingers in my ears and "la la la" that facet of life away.  Not Bev.  She dives in headfirst, insisting that her father's man-ho ways must end and that she, his daughter, is going to find him a soulmate.  I do enjoy her example of how to be a bossy matriarch--"I'm just telling you what to do even though you don't want me to,"--but this interference feels a tad on the invasive side.

Luckily George Segal has the acting chops to keep it from being too creepy.  He's competent enough that Bev's overbearing mama-bear behavior is slightly understandable, instead of being the cartoonish conflict Adam's constant shriekage would have the audience believe.  Segal manages to downplay the confrontations between father and daughter, deftly handling Bev's busybody nature and even busting out the feels.  When his debonair attitude cracks and we see the reality of his fears to commit to another woman, the way Segal's face falls and and the sincere resolution in his voice as he says "I already had the perfect woman" makes a degrading storyline something beautiful.  It doesn't excuse Gramps's shallow treatment of all the women he dates, but it gives some emotional depth to sitcom shenanigans.

Barry and Adam's storyline has an equally icky premise followed by a slightly saccharine resolution.  It's nice to let the brothers verbally share their love for each other, even if the impetus is a sort of love siblings probably shouldn't share around each other.  My biggest concern in the saga of scrambled boobs (other than the bad masturbation puns...there are FAR better options than sniggering at the work "tugging") is the role of poor, abandoned Erica.  

Just because she's barely a character, does that mean she does not feel?  While it's great that Barry and Adam found a shared (*shudder*) hobby, my heart goes out to poor Erica and her General Hospital loss. Is she to be denied bonding time with Adam just because she's a sister, a girl, and therefore less important in his life?  And more importantly, how will she ever know if Luke and Laura get married? Depriving her of that epic love story is simply cruel.  

When I first heard "Gangnam Style,"  I was confused and angry.  But my former students were obsessed, and I couldn't take two step without running into that galloping dance.  It was everywhere.  I eventually saw the video, heard the jokes, and then Psy and his greatest hit sneakily crept into a corner of my heart.  I can dance along like a champ.

The Goldbergs has sort-of, kind-of pulled this move.  This third outing "Mini Murray,"  was less painful.  It might be wearing me down, and while I don't like it, at least watching it is not an excruciating experience.  I even laughed out loud once.  What's happening to me?

It's still a deeply, egregiously imperfect show.  It lacks any character consistency.  In the cold open, we learn that basketball is Barry's life, which is why we haven't heard anything about it until the third episode.  Bev started out as the lone likable character, and now she's descended into a manipulative mom cycle that is offensive and boring to watch.  Murray and Barry, who drove me crazy in the first episode, actually delivered an interesting and believable banter as they played out furniture-selling maestros.  The daughter Erica is the most consistent, probably because she's barely even a sketch of a person.  Maybe that's why she's also my favorite so far--she hasn't had the chance to contradict herself.

Also, the story looping continues.  All Adam and Bev have done so far is repeat the same arc, just dressed in different clothes.  In this version, Adam watches Poltergeist without Bev's permission, it scares him, and Bev uses his fear to keep infantilizing him.  Shocker--she acts that way because she's not ready to let him grow up!  No one saw that coming.

Some Thoughts

-The Great Mouse Detective is a much better movie than Poltergeist.  I don't know why anyone would choose the latter instead of opting to spend ninety minutes with Basil.

-"We're bad parent's aren't we."  "Not great, that's for sure."  The greatest moment of truth.

-Reebok Pumps?  Could they not afford to use Air Jordans? 

-Crawling into bed with your mom after watching a scary movie?  Too real.  Uncomfortably real.

Patton Oswalt begins his smug, never-as-good-as-Daniel Stern-voiceover, and the loop begins.  Once more, these characters are introduced as something completely new, unknowns that are being presented for the first time.  

And they might as well be. 

These are characters I'm all too willing to forget about between viewings, so in some ways it's a wise move to treat every episode like the first.  Sure, it can be annoying to a committed viewership that demands respect for their investment into a TV show, but let's be realistic.  The Goldbergs is not likely to have that. So carry on with the repetition.

This predicament is not helped by the overuse of the exact same formula in this episode.  Television writing is formulaic in nature, but the beauty of it comes when writers look at the formula and play around with it.  Think about Firefly.  Taking a show about a renegade band and adding space and cowboys and genre twists galore.  Or even Lost.  What could have been a simple survival story turned into a complex mythological telling that I will defend until the day I die.

The Goldbergs does not play with the formula.  It is the overly-attached son of the formula, living in the formula's basement, making the formula do its laundry and complaining about how he would date if he could find anyone half as good as the formula (or at least half as good a cook).  

What was slightly endearing if a bit heavy handed in the last episode was bludgeoned to death in this one.  It tries to have the exact same emotional climax, with matriarch Bev bemoaning how fast her babies are growing up, and accepting the passage of time.  If this keeps happening I'm never going to believe these characters when they hint at personal growth.  Like the tapes that endlessly irksome Adam keeps recording, the moments will just be rewound and shot again.  Why bother buying into it, when it will just try again next week?

Some Thoughts


-I have to give credit where it's due--there are actually some hilarious lines in this show.  It's just a shame that the actors are so inept that any witticisms are lost underneath the monotonous bluster.  Take Murray's line "I don't even like to spend time with myself.  That's why I nap." Now there's something I would make my mantra, but Jeff Garlin runs over that line with the subtlety of an armored tank.  

-There are some songs that should be retired after a TV show uses them perfectly, just so no other show comes along to ruin the moment.  I nominate "Come Sail Away"  as one of those songs.  Nothing will top the one and only happy ending in Freaks and Geeks, as Sam chooses the wrong slow dance and Lindsey gains some emotional closure.  So hands off.  Leave Styx alone, Goldbergs.

-I despise the Adam character.  He only has one tone of accusatory shriek, and his smile is the fakiest fake of all Faketown.  That is all.

The best part of The Goldbergs happens during the closing credits--and no, not just because they signaled that this headache of a show was over.  During the credits, pilot footage was cut with actual video from creator Adam F. Goldberg's childhood.  This was a wise move.  Not only is the real family infinitely more entertaining than the scripted one, but it proves that these events and statements did, indeed, happen.  Without those clips I would have never guessed that a script like that could exist in the real world, but apparently there was a precedent.  Well then.

The Goldbergs is one of the loudest, broadest, clunkiest pieces of unfunny tripe on TV (the only worse so far is Dads).  It falls into the trap Mary bemoaned in her Moms review, where the trailer spoonfeeds the audience the entire pilot.  Not the behind-the-scenes sneak peek, but the trailer.  Oy.

And unlike Brooklyn Nine-Nine, there is no build to the jokes revealed in the pilot.  The "funny" just sits there, floating out of actors mouths and landing with a thud on the dull cement of the plot.  All the added bits that pad out the show from four minutes to twenty-four minutes are painful clunkers, like a subplot featuring the robotically  adorable younger brother Adam's obsession with boobs.  For some reason, writers assume that a young character has to be a wide-eyed innocent with an undercurrent of pubescent raunchiness.  Dear show writers: it doesn't work that way.  You're obviously shooting for Sam Weir, but you forget that John Daley's awkward sincerity was genuine, not some manufactured overly-directed response.  

In fact, the writing and direction was completely terrible.  The show's beats are as clunky and off-tone as a middle school drummer, with the shifts in action ramming the viewer like a train to the face (a fate that seem preferable to this pilot).  One second we are supposed to be amused at a terrible birthday present, and the next we are goaded into "aw"-ing at parents cuddling a baby blanket.  It's manipulative, insulting, and needs to stop.  It doesn't help that the episode decides to focus on the two most shrill and unpleasant characters: Barry the misunderstood middle child who expresses his feelings by yelling at everyone, and Murray the patriarch who expresses love through curses and, oh how unexpected, yelling.  Only the mother Beverly comes off even slightly believable, as she seems to care about her kids and realistically be a little lost when they grow up and need her less.  


Also, I'm confused about George Segal's presence here.  Isn't he better than this rubbish?  Wasn't he a successful actor once?  Does he need a paycheck this badly?  I'm worried about him.  Maybe it's time to set up a George Segal fund, just so he doesn't have to be a part of this excremental show.

Interest Rate: I'll wear the stirrup pants, but I won't be happy.

Nostalgia is in, and yet the 80's seem to be the one decade impervious to this trend.  We will salivate over the 60's, laugh at the outrageous-ness of the 70's, and create endless tumblrs commemorating the 90's, but the decade that gave us big hair and Duran Duran remains sorely overlooked.

It's not for lack of trying.  Freaks and Geeks was technically set in 1980, but a) it only lasted one season, and b) it seemed to revel more in the 70's rock and aesthetic.  Last year The Carrie Diaries barely evaded cancellation, but it did so by leaving any period-accurate trappings by the wayside.  That 80's Show and Do Over embraced the vulgarities of 80's fashion, and each only lasted a handful of episodes. For some reason, the world can fondly gaze at flannel and grunge, but it's too soon for acid-wash and New Wave.

Somehow, I don't think The Goldbergs is the show to change America's mind.  The fashion and flair look more accurate, but the show itself is too grating to stand.  The volume of the characters is treated as a joke, but just because they let the audience know that they're in on the humor doesn't make it good.  Self-aware loudness is still loud, and it's exhausting.  And I swear, if I have to watch one more show where children talk to their parents in such derogatory, holier-than-thou tones, and the viewer is expected to cheer for the kid?  I might slap my screen silly.  Especially when it comes to birthday presents.  Guess what, kid?  Your parents gave you life!  They really don't have to give you anything else, let alone something awesome.  So shut your trap and have some respect.

To give The Goldbergs some credit, it is one of the few family-themed shows that does not appear to keep that mean-spirited tone throughout.  The family doesn't seem to completely hate each other, and the heart-tugging moments of sincerity, though calculated, have a note of sweetness to them.  I don't think it will be able to strike that balance with any semblance of consistency, but kudos for trying.