Another Period

ANOTHER PERIOD is a new Comedy Central show from the minds of two lady comics who have been floating around the industry for the last tweny years: Riki Lindhome and Nastasha Leggero. ANOTHER PERIOD builds on themes they’ve been developing in their other work, so let’s run through their resumes quickly.

Riki Lindhome is one half of singing comedy duo Garfunkel and Oats, along with Kate Micucci. G&O had their own short-lived 8 episode show on IFC. One of the best storylines was when Riki’s character took hormones to preserve her fertility because she wasn’t ready to have a baby yet. The real Riki did this in real life, and was shocked that no one had ever talked about it. So she put it on television, and it’s some of the funniest, most relatable comedy I’ve ever seen. I’m a tiny bit worried by how much I understand her hormonal emotional-rollercoaster self. Aside from G&O, Riki has been a working actress and comic for years; she played Logan’s friend on Gilmore Girls. She’s that legit.

Natasha Leggero is a standup, and longtime friend and collaborator of Chelsea Handler, a frequent guest on the round table portion of Chelsea Lately. I have not seen nearly enough of that show, so I can’t comment on her performance there. But I’ve seen Natasha pop up in cameos for years—including on Garfunkel and Oats. She usually plays some version of a sex kitten, lampooning a role she obviously feels forced into by leaning all the way in. I’ve always been entertained by her, but never knew if her shtick landed for me or turned me off.

And now we have ANOTHER PERIOD, the clearest articulation of themes these women have been exploring for years. The show is about the Bellacourt family, members of a cadre of 1%ers who built extravagant mansions in Newport, Rhode Island in the early 1900s before the Great Depression ruined everything. Beatrice and Lillian (played by Riki and Natasha) are the Bellacourt sisters, the main characters. The ensemble includes their siblings: Freddy, who is also Beatrice’s lover, and Hortense, a feminist; their mother Dodo, who is addicted to morphine and accidentally urinates on important guests; Peepers the butler, who is committed to his second-class status and in love with Dodo; Garfield the under-butler; Blaire, one of the serving women; and another serving-woman Chair, formerly known as Celine, and played by Christina Hendricks in a role almost exactly modeled on her time as Saffron in Firefly. Sometimes the Bellacourt dad shows up to have an affair with Chair and be an ass. There are also great cameos in nearly every episode, including Ben Stiller (an executive producer).

A big source of story and comedy is the division between the upstairs and downstairs. The servants are treated like animals or objects. Lillian literally renames Celine Chair when they first meet, and the name sticks. Peepers is devoted to this class system, and enforces it much more harshly than any of the upstairs people, even when he’s impersonating Commodore Bellacourt at a dinner party Dodo brings him to. Having grown up visiting the Newport Mansions and learning all about the “wonders” of that time, I love that the show is constantly highlighting this class division for what it really is: imaginary and awful.

Class isn’t the only thing the show demolishes. This is probably the most feminist thing on television right now. They do things that I’m shocked the FCC let through. In one of the episodes Beatrice and Lillian are getting ready for a party, and they hold up their skirts to reveal enormous bushes so Blaire can spritz them with perfume. In another episode, the ladies are treated for hysteria. This involves Blair tickling Beatrice with a feather to climax, which takes half a second, and Garfield operating a dildo attached to a spin bike on Dodo, who apparently needs a bit more work to get there. In another story line, Lillian pays one of the servants to kidnap her so she’ll be a story in the papers. Events take a nasty turn when it seems like he might make her a sex slave. But the tone shifts again when she’s totally into it. And then he can’t really get it up, and the whole thing is revealed to be an elaborate sexual role-playing fantasy.

I feel like I’m always writing about feminist stuff like that’s the point, but it’s not. The point is that I write about GOOD stuff, and content is just better when it includes a diversity of experiences and voices. Diversity means different kinds of people rubbing up against each other, friction that is guaranteed to create conflict. And like smoke, where there’s conflict, there’s story. And I’m not saying men can’t play in comedy anymore—Louis is totally feminist, and really funny. Comedy like ANOTHER PERIOD is refreshing and exciting and also really extremely funny. There are so many things we’re not allowed to talk about (like pubic hair, which pop culture would lead us to believe has never existed). Shining a spotlight on unspeakables is funny. We like to think that our country has advanced in the last hundred years to be freer, less racist, less classist, less misogynist. But some of the plot lines here, though satirical, are a little too familiar for that to be totally true. ANOTHER PERIOD looks to history to comment on the present.

And did I mention it’s funny?

The Braverman's: "May God Bless And Keep You Always"

"I was two years in Vietnam. Do you know what I thought about, what I dreamt about? Coming home, having a family, having grandkids. I dreamt you, Amber. And Haddie, and Drew, and Sydney and Max...You’ve had some bad breaks. You’re not feeling good about yourself...Well boo friggin who. You got to suck it up girl, you’re a Braverman...You do not have my permission to mess with my dreams." - Grandfather to granddaughter

Top 5 Reasons to Give In and Join the Braverman Clan

1. They love each other.

The Braverman's are... they're... ugh, you know, I started that sentence a few times but I'm not sure there's one word to describe them. Aside from fictional, but I have to remind myself of that. All of them are so big and bright and raw and their own special brand of crazy. 


They're ridiculous and too much. I mean they all go to every high school baseball game and every elementary school play. They schedule lunches and drinks and girl's nights out. They work and cook and shop together. Maybe it's unrealistic, but you're telling me you wouldn't like your own personal cheer squad for every pitch? Every meeting? Every shitty day? Because the Braverman's aren't just their for the birthday parties and baptisms, they're there for hospital visits and debt too.


Their love is unwavering and unconditional. They fight loud and hard but it's never the end. Family is forever. Maybe the most interesting love stories in this family are the unexpected ones. Of course husbands love wives and grandparents love grandchildren, but in the Braverman house, there's a bond between uncles and nieces, brothers and sisters-in-law, cousin and cousin. If one of them loves you, they'll all love you. Whether you marry in, your born in, or you made one of them smile one time. 

It's refreshing to see this on TV because there's no back stabbing or wife-stealing or, I don't know, murder. TV families usually hate each other, but in reality, you love your family. All the time. Even when you want to make them shut up by punching them in the face. 


And this family shows that side of life. The part where you can be tired and lazy but you get up and make them dinner because it'll make them smile or you answer the phone in the middle of the night and listen to them for an hour. Maybe you even cancel your plans to babysit last minute or make an embarrassing speech to their significant other strongly suggesting they never break your heart.

These characters are head over heels in love with each other, even when they don't know it or aren't sure or wish they didn't... they do. 

2. They're all human.

This is a show following a myriad of people. Yes, 98% white and 100% middle class. I'm not saying they're diverse, but they aren't all the same. There's an aging vet from the Vietnam war, a young female lawyer trying to make partner, a confused teenage boy... yet there's a moment with each and every one of them where I think, "Man, I hear that."


There's a scene when one of the youngest cousins threatens to run away from home. She's about eight and being dramatic, but she's a kid and not getting the attention she wants from her parents and she's hurt and sad and you know what that's like. Maybe it's not your parents' attention you're seeking but you totally get it. Then later, the grandmother is struggling with what the next phase of her life is going to be. Phase three as she calls it and maybe you're not on phase three, or you're twenty and already on phase seventeen, but you understand the transition and how hard it is to face.

They're all allowed to be who they are and feel what they feel and struggle where necessary. Their age or situation doesn't diminish how real it all is. Going through shit at 70 or 7 is life and Parenthood doesn't take that away.

3. Illness isn't sugar-coated.

Have you ever watched a show where there's a character with alcoholism, so their only struggle is not having a beer after work... or you know, vodka for breakfast? The past pain they caused isn't always brought up, nor is the scars they may have left behind. Or a character facing mental illness just needs to go to therapy and then everything will clear itself right up. Therapy isn't hard to afford or find or endure... that would be too trivial. Or maybe something as serious as cancer or heart disease is on screen, but don't worry - the random new treatment is free and the top rated doctor is around to treat you and only you.

That's not how it works. These diseases, all diseases, are uphill battles and long and hard and not ones you can handle by yourself. Someone has to bring you to your appointments and someone has to let you cry and someone has to feel your pain. In Parenthood, they do just that. Each struggle is real and this show lets the recovery take time. And sometimes the answer isn't recovery... or a cure... it's just learning how to live with it. And knowing someone else is living with it with you.

You cry when they get the diagnosis but you cry harder when they get a hug. Because you'd want a hug. You'd need one. And so do they. But sometimes it's hard to give, and they show that too. Often, we're not the one who's sick, we're just watching helplessly. Or we're scared. We don't want to lose anyone or deal with it. Who likes walking into a hospital? No one. But in Parenthood, they show the reality of being a patient and of loving that patient. They require two different kinds of strength and this show proves the importance of both.

4. They remember to dance.

5. You'll cry.

I'm not entirely convinced I can stress how much of a good thing this is. And I didn't want to watch this show for fear of crying, but then you watch the pilot, and cry, and it's amazing.

I don't want to lie, sometimes you're just crying because things are sad. And you feel awful they're going through whatever they're going through, but so often it's because there's so much happiness and love and support and your heart can't handle it.

Without repeating myself or giving too much away, you'll cry because this show is honest. About heartbreak and parenting and car accidents and moving and school and pregnancy and change. You'll cry because it all reminds you of yesterday or shows you what you hope for their future... and sort of yours.

Parenthood isn't a show about hope, but it never loses it either. It's a show about a family, could be almost any family, trying desperately to get it right. And if one of them is about to give up, the others carry their weight for awhile. They have different opinions and plans and outlooks but number one on their list is still going to be wanting each other to be happy.

And for that reason alone, I promise, you'll cry.

Frances Ha

This is one of those movies that I’ve scrolled past maybe a hundred times while surfing Netflix – a great American pastime. (International past time? Netflix is a worldwide thing right?). The description always turned me off: “She’s a dancer and dreamer adrift in New York City. Friendship is what keeps her world turning.”

Eh. But I was bored the other day, and so I decided to give it five minutes. And then I watched the whole thing.

Frances Ha is written by Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach, and directed by Noah Baumbach. The film follows Frances, a 28-year-old adolescent who is emotionally in love with her best friend and at a loss for what to do with her life. In your 20s your soul mates are your friends, and planning for the future means finding a party for tonight. But that stage doesn’t last forever, and Frances Ha tracks the painful trajectory of becoming an individual.

First, Frances’s roommate moves out. Then, she loses her job. This life that she clearly thought was going to last forever (or maybe she didn’t think at all) is revealed to be totally temporary. Bit by bit, distractions and supports ebb away until she’s left alone, and forced to deal with her self.

There’s a feeling of total safety in an intimate friendship, where you really feel like part of a whole. Growing up, this something is lost, and replaced with an emptiness that you have to figure out how to fill up with yourself—whoever that is. Frances’ solution is to move in with two random guys and become basically their mascot, and go back to work as an RA at her college. She makes safe choices at first, re-treading places she’s already been. But that doesn’t work out. The one unbreakable rule of life is that you can’t move backward, and she doesn’t fit in to the places she used to any more.

Later, she tries to make bold choices. After losing her job, she buys a plane ticket for Paris on a whim. But the reality of a weekend alone in Paris is pretty much a bummer, and she blew her savings on it. These kinds of decisions are ones that work in movies, not in real life. Catching a last minute flight to Paris is a cool thing to do, but not necessarily the right thing to do. Frances is trying on lots of different life styles, but none of them really fit, because none of them were made for her.

Greta Gerwig is a delight in this. I’ve seen her in a few things and been interested, but never blown away. She lights up the screen here, she fills up every frame. She’s in every scene and she’s funny and awkward and real and confident and unsure and inspiring and cringe-worthy. Her character is completely realized. Which is interesting, because the rest of the characters are pretty flat. I think they’re supposed to be stereotypical, because we’re seeing everything from Frances’ point of view, and she’s got a limited perception of the world.

This is also really funny. In a Woody Allen kind of way. The jokes lie in the miscommunication and missed signals. One of Frances’ male roommates is clearly in love with her, and his awkward 20-something way of showing it is to make fun of her for being “undateable.” At the end of the movie he shows back up, with a new tune. During their conversation he interjects with “undateable” and she says, “oh I know, I’m totally undateable.” But then he says what he’d always meant which is: “No, I’M undateable.” Then he looks at her—“what about you? Are you still…?” And she repeats the same old joke in the same old way, totally missing his point: “Who me? Oh yeah. Completely undateable.”

Frances Ha is clearly made for people in their mid to late 20s. The jokes just hit too close to home. But it’s a funny and charming piece that would be enjoyable for anyone looking to relive an exciting, lonely, awkward, and pretty amazing part of life.