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.