First off, sorry I missed last week, I was busy doing some collegiate bullcrap (for the last time, btw) but don’t be skurred, here’s a double dose of Girls re-up to make up for it. I’m still loving the show, but I better get my jollies in quick before we hit Season 2. This week brought the news that Donald Glover has been added to the cast, and I honestly don’t think I can ever appreciate something with Gambino in it. Ugh. Let’s start, naturally, with Hard Being Easy, an episode all about trying to figure out what other people want from relationships, big or small. The episode is essentially small satellite vignettes that frequently spin back to an extended centerpiece breakup between Marnie and Charlie, who is still dealing with the fallout from Hannah’s journal last week.

I wasn’t so much a fan of the opening scene which, while funny, pushed credulity a bit in Hannah’s attempts to glean literary advice from her best friend’s heartbroken boyfriend. I must say though that Allison Williams and Christopher Abbott both did their best acting work in this episode. The show has always done close-ups and quiet reaction shots very well, and each gets a great moment. In flashback a (not bald) Charlie meets a Marnie who’s too fucked up on jello-shot topped brownies (what) to step away from a pole, and plays a more realistic version of the annoyingly doting guy we saw in the first few episodes.

That iteration of the character was funny but cartoonish. Asking Marnie to come to his band’s show and slowly increasing the intensity of his hugs, however, was perfect. And it’s very interesting to see the way his relationship with Marnie has changed him in the present, with his attempts at hard edged commitment that you just know are a thin, sad candy shell. Which Marnie breaks in what is probably this show’s saddest sex scene thus far (an achievement, to be sure). Marnie thinks she can just change herself to cater to what she thinks Charlie wants (visits to her apartment, food, blowjobs) then realizes what he really wants is something nowhere near as easy as any of those palliatives.

The way her face shifts into this weird disgust of realization during sex was superb. Hannah meanwhile, in the comedic version of this plot, thinks that her creepy boss really wants her in a legitimate way. This leads to a pretty funny though not hysterical scene where she tries to seduce him only to be let down kindly. His reaction (to laugh it off) I thought was weird at first, but upon reflection I think it’s indicative of the way many adults do and should act towards people in their early 20s: as though they are insane people who can’t be held accountable for their actions. While Jessa’s storyline with her boss continues to worry me (I like James Legros and especially Katherine Hahn, who was excellent with like two lines here, it just feels rote to me) I did like the shifting tone of her meetup with an ex-boyfriend (very different than Hannah’s).

All of this leads up to a really kind of wonderful scene at the end between Hannah and Adam, which despite involving Adam masturbating the whole time, is really quite sweet and very smart. I’m really enjoying the way the show is handling the slow evolution of their relationship, how they soften towards each other as they invariably learn more about the other, what they each want and the little ways they are willing to provide them.

Building a relationship, essentially. Which brings me to the next episode “The Return”, an exploration of perspective on what you have. Though I was surprised it happened this early into the series, this really was a good “going home” episode, and I liked that it wasn’t bogged down by interludes in NYC with any of the other characters. At the end of the day Hannah is the center of this show, and it was cool to see her interact with new characters.

While some of her former classmates were perhaps too-crude caricatures (and the song for the Natalee Holloway-style missing girl was conspicuously well produced), the Hanson Brother looking pharmacist was finely drawn, a layered together mix of small-town attractiveness, what Hannah would probably perceive as the guy her parents wanted her to be with, while also at the same time being totally wrong for Hannah for reasons that come both from her issues and also (crucially) his own. Similarly, while the episode at first seems to be going to great lengths to show all the things that life as a “struggling artist” denies Hannah (cheap rent, food in the fridge, no drama, a guy who doesn’t want a pinky two knuckles deep in his butt, etc) it also ends up showing what it affords her.

I guess I fel that most strongly in the scene where she calls out her ex-friend’s legitimately stupid plan to move out to LA. Hannah’s really is an accurate view on that situation, and it comes from a perspective that being shit on and simultaneously pampered in a city could give you. She also has Adam, who is the nicest he’s been to her yet in their sweet phone call which closes out the episode. Lena Dunham and Adam Driver have this very strange chemistry that ricochets wildly between a lot and none at all in all the places you wouldn’t expect, and as I mentioned their relationship becomes more and more interesting to me. Also, you get to see Mrs. Weir’s boobs and Peter Scolari’s dick. HBO everybody!

Any sort of dissatisfaction I expressed regarding this show in the first Re-up, I officially rescind. This show is insane. This week’s episode, “And The Winner Is…” is insane. It practically blows every fight scene from the original series out of the water. I N S A N E. At this point in the series, the pro-bending tournament that has been so prominently featured – an element of the series that I previously criticized – has reached the finals. It’s Korra’s team, the Fire Ferrets, against the Wolf Bats, led by the pompous, ugly, super-Anime-y, Tahno. The episode kicks off with Korra and her team training for the finals, at which point series antagonist Amon takes to the radio threatening “severe consequences” if the finals are not cancelled. They are not, of course.

The finals get underway. Security is beefed up, with the chief of police, Lin Beifong (Toph’s daughter), insisting that the armor of the police is immune to the chi-blocking of the Equalists. As the fighting progresses it is made clear that the refs have been paid off in favor of the Wolf Bats. Tahno is oozing with self-admiration and pride at which point it becomes all too obvious that Amon is going to show up and rob him of his bending. That happens. Once the Wolf Bats win, a slew of Equalists emerge from the audience and use special gloves to chi-block the police, Lin, and Tenzin. Korra, Mako, and Bolin are similarly blocked and then tied up, as Amon quickly disarms Tahno and his crew, a scene that proves to be as dark as anything from the original series. Amon then makes a big speech criticizing the audience for celebrating a team that has used bending techniques that defied the regulations, and paid off the judges (which was most likely Amon’s doing), as champions. Then, in a moment with severe fundementalist undertones, proceeds to announce his plan to cleanse the world of the impurity that is bending.

Amon and his team then begin to exit the bending stadium into a big war-blimp, as Korra breaks free from her ties, regains her banding, and finally becomes cool. With Lin’s help, Korra is propelled out of the stadium and onto the roof where she takes out a bunch of Equalists. It’s a quality fight, though Amon escapes. An element of this show that is sure to provide some quality storytelling in the coming weeks is the flashback. Introduced two episodes ago, Korra is beginning to experience flashbacks of her previous life, that being Aang’s adulthood. In the first flash we are given glimpses of Sokka, Toph, and Aang, all fully grow, along with a mysterious pair of eyes. This week’s flash built on what appears to be a courtroom scene, and additionally showed a bearded Aang in the Avatar state.

Now halfway through the season, the show is picking up as Republic City is engulfed in a state of war. And though the pro-bending plot line was admittedly a great set-up for bender/Equalist war, now that it’s over there should be generally less filler. The show is definitely shaping up to be as captivating as the original though, and the darker tone is a welcome one. Kind-Of-Spoiler-In-The-Sense-That-It’s-Just-A-Theory-But-I’m-Probably-Right Alert: To further develop my theory from last week’s Re-up, I suspect that Amon is not using bending to remove people’s powers, but rather a deep chi-block. This, I suspect, will lead to a similarly deep chi-unblock at the end of the series, resulting in everyone gaining bending abilities. Huzzah!

What gives a collection of events meaning? Is the inherent human urge to uncover a superstructure itself a search for a concrete answer that exists, somewhere, out in the earth? Or is it instead a sort of water-treading until we manufacture an answer on our own that satisfies the curiosity without ascribing to any particular objective reality? Is this episode of Mad Men going to answer these questions?  Absolutely not, but it does a pretty darn stunning job of replicating the experience of grappling with them.

Past seasons of the show have, by this point in their arcs, more or less revealed the master narrative. Season 1 is about the revelation of Dick Whitman, and Don starting to truly embrace the character of “Don Draper.” Season 2 is about escaping from responsibility, whether it be through giving away your child (Peggy), infidelity (Don, Betty), a false marriage (Roger), and finally a trip to a California that seems more like a fantasy land. Season 3, more tangibly, was about the slow then very fast dissolution of Sterling Cooper. Season 4 then was about moving on, the grueling process of going forward and chaging. Season 5, while probably the most opaque of the bunch, seems to revolve around the phrase “what is happening?”

I’m truly impressed with the string of episodes that started with “Mystery Date” and continues with “Lady Lazarus”, perhaps the finest streak the show has exhibited. This is intelligent, evocative, but most importantly empathetic television that is basically firing on all cylinders. The sense of unease and paranoia that this season is slowly cultivating is impressive, yes, but also boldly different than what it has attempted in the past. As each successive episode passes, I can’t help but fear the bad thing that’s about to happen. Because as our characters recognize their surroundings, their own lives, and other humans less and less, so do their actions become less predictable.

The heart of this episode revolves around everyone unable to understand the intentions of two women: Megan Draper and Pete Campbell’s coworkers wife Beth, played by Alexis Bledel (not great, unfortunately). Let’s start with Pete’s tale. What begins for him like some sort of erotic fantasy (the beautiful, vulnerable housewife is locked out of her car and just needs a ride home oh-so-badly) and devolves into the story of a man breaking under the wiles of a femme fatale who might not even know what she’s doing. What do her strange comments about photos from space mean? How to interpret the heart drawn in window fog?

Pete, it seems, is less interested in the girl than by how firmly she’s yanking his puppet strings. By the end, I wasn’t even sure if she was locked out of the car in the first place. While I feel the book is closed, albeit inconclusively, on this particular plotline, I fear the path that young Pete is progressing down this season. While I don’t think, as some have inanely suggested, that he will jump out of the SCDP window, becoming the falling man in the credits (because that would be the dumbest thing ever), I don’t think that things are exactly looking up for him.

Don, and to a lesser extent Peggy, are confounded by Megan’s abrupt decision to leave SCDP despite becoming an unlikely rising star. Her exact motivations for returning to acting remain murky (as evidenced by her saying, well, “I can’t explain it but failing at acting is better than succeeding [at the office]” a writing kluge that is never appreciated) but the end result of it is fascinating, as Don and Peggy get the foundation of their cages rattled substantially.

I particularly liked Rizzo explaining to Peggy why someone would leave (and I’m paraphrasing): “you work your ass off for months, worrying all day, and for what: Heinz. Baked. Beans.” But for Don and Peggy there has to be a reason. These are people driven by deduction, by causality (you sell the product right, people will buy it), by the ability to figure things out, see the bigger picture, and meticulously control the world around them. They’ve lost those footholds, and I wonder how long they can keep up without cracking.

So we get to the defining image of the episode, as Don summons an elevator (directly, I might add, after Megan goes through with her decision to leave. Was he perhaps picturing her chickening out at the last minute?) only to find an abyss, a deathly hole going as far as he could see. Is there a reason no elevator came? Why a routine trip downstairs became a near death experience? Why even the simplest things now seem wild and unpredictable? The future is murky for our protagonists. I’m rather excited to see how it plays out.

HBO’s Girls continues a string of episodes that I hope will silence all the “haters” (what an unfortunate and nebulous phrase, by the way) with another truly excellent outing – though checking around the internet today I saw some lukewarm reactions, most centered around racial politics, an issue that considering we are still only 4 episodes into a series with almost no secondary characters continues to boggle my mind.

Maybe I’m just a “hipster racist” (and aren’t we all going to look back at that term and laugh…) but I’m pretty sure the non-white characters in last night’s episode: A. rightfully called Jessa out on her boho-chic disguised holier-than-thou attitude B. were the only ones smart and responsible enough to keep track of Jessa’s charges after she had lost them and C. were genuinely kind to Hannah at her new job, and despite giving her some terrible eyebrows (remember folks: comedy), also gave her the best advice about Adam that anyone has on the show thus far.

Meanwhile the privileged white characters (the ones the show supposedly puts on a pedestal) lost children, snooped through people’s diaries, and openly cyber-cheated on each other. But that’s just me. Anyway, much like last week’s outing I was extremely impressed by the way the show intertwines its more overtly comedic joke based aspects with its situational/cringe humor and also the places were it verges on straight drama.

The raccoon dick pic (which, by the way, I’m sort of surprised we didn’t see) was a great running gag, but it also ended up paying off during Hannah’s conversation with Adam near the end of the episode, probably her finest acting work thus far (perhaps because it’s the first episode she hasn’t also been behind the camera), where she very endearingly lays out the essentially impossible thing she wants Adam to be. It was another in a long string of biting honesties on this still young show, and the moment where she realizes she’s gonna go into his apartment anyway was a little devastation played well by both actors.

Shoshanna meanwhile gets her meatiest storyline yet (though it’s still nowhere near Hannah’s or even Marnie’s) as she tries to lose her virginity from a humorously weird but at the same time very normal friend from camp. At first I thought it was a mite cartoonish but Mamet’s performance is starting to grow on me. As far as Jessa’s ongoing storyline with her boss, I’m ready to like it as long as it doesn’t end with her having sex with her boss. It’s just such a cliche, and it’s been so blatantly telegraphed from the start of the story that I really hope Dunham subverts that tired trope. That’s why I liked the scene where Jessa talks about the ways she used to run away so much, as it was about as far away from subtly erotic banter, instead more about Jessa connecting with her own mother by seeing the other side of the coin with her employer.

Finally there’s what’s ostensibly the main storyline of this episode, which is Charlie’s discovery that not only is Marnie quickly falling out of love with him, but Hannah is exhaustively recording it, perhaps even for an essay. I’m happy to see that plotline coming to a head, as more “he loves me so much but I’m over it” talk would have gotten old. Fast. Looking forward to the fallout from the Questionable Goods performance (and perhaps more of the “Keds” track?) next week.

As Girls progresses and settles into just being a show that airs every week, as opposed to some sort of weekly event/lightning-rod/anger-factory, I’m very much enjoying how the show is quietly making the episodes more obviously humorous, perhaps slightly more “normal”, whilst still retaining the smart novel edge that dominated the initial outings. Indeed the whole seems to be slowing down slightly, allowing scenes to play out with some of that back and forth energy that makes for many of the best jokes in producer Judd Apatow’s ouvre.

It’s also giving more time to Dunham as director, unfettered by briskly moving plot, to really push herself and her other actors. This episode more than the others is full of lingering close up shots on the leads faces, forcing them to act subtly, emoting with their eyes and the tiny details of expression, just as you do in, y’know, real life. It’s a revelation that seems as stupidly obvious as it is exciting. While Charlie shaving his head is only a vaguely funny (if at all) concept, the extended close-up of Allison Williams’ face as she processes it gives the scene a double dose of pathos and laughs.

Ditto for the scene between Hannah and her ex-boyfriend that is hilarious on the page and made even better by Hannah’s weirdly quivering lip and flittering eyes. It was probably the show’s most successful comedy sequence thus far. Speaking of that ex, the whole reason he’s in the picture is because Hannah finds out that, from one person or another, she’s contracted HPV. It’s really the perfect STD for the situation: obscure enough to not cause outright, visceral, world-ending terror, but significant enough to still certainly register.

Most importantly, it’s not a disease that poses immediate danger to men beyond passing it on to other girls, something that would be upsetting to almost everyone but is lodged right in Adam’s blind spot. So much so that his only anger comes from her accusing him of carrying it, an idea he rebukes and then tries to work through with a strangely hilarious session of bicycle kicks. So Hannah, after a much needed venting session with Marnie, is off to reunite with her Ex to tell him he’s probably the carrier.

Marnie, meanwhile, is off at her job in a gallery (had that been established before?) working an event with some pretty broad “gallery types” that did nothing except highlight that cheap laughs do not work on this show. It’s all a vehicle to introduce a douchy artist played by The Lonely Island’s Jorma Taccone, a casting decision that goes from confounding to impressive around halfway through the episode’s signature line “The first time I fuck you, I might scare you a little. Because I’m a man and I know how to do things.”

It’s such a bizarre and specific line that, as much as it pains me to think about it, I feel it must have come from reality. Because guys really do say some pretty insanely ridiculous things to girls, especially ones they want to establish dominance over. Probably just because of her dissatisfaction with Charlie, it seems to work on Marnie who has to go rub one out in the bathroom. Still not sure how I feel about that scene, but at the very least it was a bold decision.

Jessa has the most relaxed plotline of the week, starting her new babysitting job in a wildly inappropriate outfit. I hope the kids’ mom makes more than her brief appearance in this episode, because Kathryn Hahn is such a funny actress. The scenes with Jessa and the kids are predictable but nicely low-key. Jemima Kirke exudes a very real seeming laissez-faire attitude that’s not so stereotypical as “free-spiritedness” and it carries otherwise bland scenes like the interplay between her and bored dad James Le Gros.

But enough of all that, back to the scene between Hannah and her ex Elijah, who is now quite obviously gay, a revelation that sends Hannah into a tailspin that goes from self-pitying to vindictive quickly and hilariously. By the end of their conversation she’s calling him out for putting on a fake fey accent, he’s saying he could only get it up with her because she was “handsome”, and, while Hannah desperately wants the last word, Elijah flies out with “it was nice to see you. Your dad is gay.”

I was pretty much chuckling-to-outright-laughing throughout. I’m glad the show has that level of comedy in it to balance out the more dramatic elements. Unfortunately still not much going on on the Shoshanna front. Still a virgin, still the most cartoonish of the four. At first I thought having her not be a close friend of any of them was a really good idea, but they’re really not forcing her into the plot like they probably could (maybe should?). It’s hard to picture her having a scene with any of them as great and touching as Hannah and Marnie’s dance that closes the episode. It’s Robyn. What’s not to like?

While the overwhelming theme of season 5 of Mad Men has been the way that time changes the things around you, transforming what used to be normalcy into a quite literal horror show (I’m still, to be honest, monumentally impressed by the way the she embraced an Edward Albee – who, by the way, was name checked last night – type suburban terror), the past two episodes – “Far Away Places” and “At The Codfish Ball” – have been about the way that you change without even noticing.

Both episodes carry an almost body snatchers feeling, with characters acting in ways they don’t recognize and don’t really have an answer for. Consider Peggy’s tryst with the weirdo flunkie in the movie theater, or more notably Don leaving Megan in the parking lot of Howard Johnson’s (“How could you do that to me?” “I don’t know… it was a fight”). Last week’s realizations came from looking inward. This was most plainly realized in Roger Sterling’s segment, as he uses LSD, a drug renowned for its (real or perceived) ability to incite deeply weird levels of introspection.

We see some more benefits (or fallout, depending on your perspective) of Roger’s trip in “Codfish.” He’s uncharacteristically chipper, unburdened by the occupational paranoia which has been haunting him. But at the same time, you wonder whether the whole thing is about to go off the rails. Sure, people can change their attitudes, but when personality shifts are so rapid (especially when aided by drugs) they are more often than not masking an increasingly cavernous disconnect from reality. Not to say that Roger is the only person experience this.

Consider Megan, who’s shaping up to be a really fantastic character, and who’s French-Canadian parents are in town for a visit (parental interaction being the other strong narrative thrust of “Codfish”). In a quietly terrifying conversation with her father at a American Cancer Society Ball honoring Don, she is prodded into realizing that she, in a way, has no idea what she’s doing, working with these people and taking care of these children and so on. Her whole life becomes instantaneously unfamiliar.

There were a lot of blindsides in “Codfish”, usually forced upon one character by another, whether it be Peggy and Abe’s will-he, wont-he, okay-he-kind-of-did situation (Peggy and Joan’s two scenes were some of the best of the episode, as Joan gently helps Peggy feel comfortable owning her feelings. Those two’s friendship may be the purest of the series), or the very grim way that Sally, all dolled up and high off her hysterical rapport with Roger, realizes she’s not ready (or willing) t0 enter the adult world – whatever that means.

If I were to have some quibbles with “Codfish”, the weaker of the two episodes, it would be the several moments where writer Jonathan Igla got too cute by a half with himself. I’m thinking specifically of Peggy’s “I do” at dinner, in reference to wanting to order (but she really meant about marriage you guys, did you get that???) and the closing line as well (“How’s the city?” “It’s dirty”) smacked of the smugness that can be Mad Men‘s very worst trait. Nonetheless, both episodes displayed a cast and crew that were firing on all cylinders, from Don & Megan’s impressive romancing of the Heinz people, to Ginsberg’s chilling origin story (first time I’ve enjoyed that character), and on and on. After a slow start, season 5 is shaping up to be a doozy.

I felt a personally unearned but nonetheless pleasant satisfaction as “Vagina Panic”, the tremendous second episode of HBO series/pervasive-thought-piece-subject Girls wrapped up. Not only was it better than the premiere episode (something I, quite frankly, was not expecting) but it – probably inadvertently – did much to rebuff the perplexing and uncomfortable vitriol that’s been spewed at it over the past week.

Sure, Lena Dunham’s auteur project is still about 4 young, privileged white women, but whereas last week’s episode was built around the probably-not-universal plight of being financially cut off by your parents at age 24, “Vagina Panic” bravely went places most everyone goes but don’t necessarily talk about. If anyone wants to argue that they can’t relate to being treated poorly by a sexual partner, fear of contracting STD’s, the difficulty of acing a job interview, fear of pregnancy, or helping a friend through a difficult situation like an abortion, well… I think that would probably be a pretty shitty argument.

As of two episodes in, has the cast shown much diversity? No, and that may eventually become an issue, but to borrow the words of the always astute Film Crit Hulk, “AFTER ALL, WE DIDN’T MIND THAT THE ENTIRE CAST OF FREAKS AND GEEKS WAS WHITE.” I’m not saying that Girls should remain white washed, not at all. What I am saying is that it’s been like 56-57 minutes of show thus far, and we haven’t really met too many character beyond the four leads, one of whom is the creator of the show, one of whom (Jemima Kirke) is essentially playing herself – as she is the IRL best friend of the creator – and one other is supposed to be that character’s blood relative. Besides all that, I certainly will go to bat about this show presenting a viewpoint that is unique in the world of TV.

Much more than last week’s installment this episode was about female troubles, and not in the euphemistic way (well, except for one part). It started with a blisteringly uncomfortable pair of sex scenes that continue to be not only funny but painfully well observed and informed by character. Whether it’s Hannah’s cum-stained tryst with Adam (where the problem, in a subtle importance, isn’t the dirty talk or the domination but its intensity coupled with Adam’s simultaneous aloofness), or Marnie’s perhaps even more awkward sex with the doe-eyed Charlie, where almost imperceptible movements speak volumes about a relationship that is all candy shell.

I was impressed and very pleased that the show was smart enough to spare us Jessa telling the other girls about her pregnancy, and her decision to have an abortion. Because, let’s be honest, after meeting the character I assume we all expected that was a foregone conclusion. So kudos to Girls for diving into the meat of the situation without delay. After all, we’ve seen a hundred PSA style scenes about abortions. But have we seen women chiding each other in the waiting room about the entertainment quality of said procedure, or another show up with snacks because she’s not sure how long it’s going to take? I submit that we have not, but it addresses the uncomfortable but necessary way that humans temper sadness with humor.

Though perhaps it wasn’t as novel, the job interview scene between Hannah and Mike Birbiglia was so funny and cringe-worthy I really didn’t care. The way the scene shifted on a dime was just perfect, illustrating how Hannah isn’t incompetent or stupid she’s just still feeling out the limits of the scary new world of adulthood. All of this paled in comparison, however, to the closing scene between Hannah and the doctor administering an STD test. Lena Dunham (once again the writer of this episode) bravely tackles a monologue where she basically talks herself into admitting that a small part of her wants to contract AIDS (or, I should say, HIV that eventually turns into AIDS) just to get people off her back.

It sounds like the most awful thing ever (and the show does a good job of addressing that through the doctor’s appropriately stern but mannered reaction) but I once again think it demonstrates an honest understanding of another unfortunate but real human (especially young humans) reaction to hardships or mistakes, where a (always, in imagination, consequence free) action like suicide or contraction of a deadly illness reminds everyone how great and important you are. The nurse says “you couldn’t pay me to be 24 again.” You know how she knows that? Because she’s been 24. It is, almost unavoidably, a universal experience.

To use her own words from last night’s exceptional premiere episode of her HBO series Girls, Lena Dunham is “the voice of [our] generation. Or at least a voice. Of a generation.” And all that before the show really even started. Though she was probably smart and talented enough to do it on her own, the world at large pretty much did it for her by inundating us with countless think pieces, takedowns, puff-ups, and magazine covers. Wasn’t this supposed to be an indie show?

Luckily, the show (or at least the first episode, and I hear that the quality doesn’t dip over the next few) is more than good enough to stand up to the immense weight that must be on the creative team’s shoulders, and any sort of vicious screed against it can probably be chalked up to “haters gonna hate.” After all, it is a show that is ostensibly about rich, young, white people who live comfortably in the most “cultured” city in the world and complain about it a lot. But to boil it down to that is to be glib and, ironically, elitist.

You should be able to at least enjoy this show if you are young, or at one point in your life have been young. By my count that makes, oh, everyone. Because, as the title suggests, this show is not about being an adult. It’s about trying really hard to and failing. It’s about that nebulous middle ground, where you can rent a car and your first friend has a non-accidental child and yet you still want to shotgun beers in a bathtub and watch Netflix all night.

Dunham (who humorously is, like, the first 10 credits at the show’s end) plays Hannah, an aspiring essayist who at the very beginning of the show is cut off financially by her parents Jean Weir and the other Bosom Buddy. This immediate establishment of stakes deftly refines Dunham’s sharp but sometimes directionless wit into a shape fit for television. I assume that was exec producer Judd Apatow’s involvement.

Hannah is at once self assured and incredibly nervous, a paradoxical combination that we have all felt at some point (or maybe always): the belief that because you are you that something special and good must eventually come but a fear of both the randomness of life and the imperceptible limits of your faculties. The reason people don’t push themselves is usually because they’re happier not finding their edges.

So Hannah, a smart and capable person, finds herself lost and floating, finding grim solace in the arms of a guy who’s even more aloof than she. Her scene with that guy, played perfectly by Adam Driver, was probably the highlight of the episode for me, using the physical awkwardness of sex to expertly portray two characters in a way that shows like Sex & The City or even (sorry) Game Of Thrones could only hope for.

Hannah has friends too, or at least acquaintances, and even though this episode was mostly her show I imagine the ensemble will come more to the forefront soon. There’s Marnie (Alison Williams), the “stuck up” one who isn’t that stuck up at all, and is trapped by her overly loving boyfriend (“I just exploded a kiss on your face”). Then there’s Marnie’s opposite who’s not really that different from her, the supposed “free-spirit” Jessa who’s mystique gets by mostly on her accent and flowy rompers.

Finally, and least present, was Zosia Mamet’s Shoshanna, a seemingly cartoonish college student obsessed with the aforementioned SATC and, at least for now, the most tangentially connected to the group. All were, or have the potential to be, extremely well drawn characters. To be honest I really just want to see more of this show. It’s so hard to pin down exactly what something is about after just half an hour, but it’s enough to know I am certainly coming back for more.

I know it’s funny. I know it’s smart. I know it’s well acted. I know it’s honest. I know it’s trying to say something, and – as a twentysomething in New York – it’s probably trying to say something to me. So sure, Lena Dunham. Be a voice of a generation. Or at least try.

One of Mad Men‘s recurring themes is that the illusion of success at the highest level can often disguise, or even create, an unhappiness far more difficult and powerful than failure. If Matthew Weiner indeed believes this, then he must be incredibly sad this morning, because last night’s episode “Signal 30″ was one of the series’ finest, an utterly gripping and powerful hour that moved with purpose and skill, was smart but more importantly wise, and was executed to the fullest by everyone involved. I simply did not want it to end.

The theme of violence carried over from last week, and I think suburban horror is quite a good look for this show. The country is once again ensconced in violence (I count a commercial plane crash, continuing deaths in Vietnam, rising occurrence of car accidents, and the UT sniper as gruesome things mentioned in this episode) and everyone is feeling slightly on edge. As Pete Campbells nubile crush remarks, (and I’m paraphrasing) “everything seems so random these days.”

Speaking of Pete Campbell, “Signal 30″ was ostensibly centered around him and boy howdy, I reckon Vincent Kartheiser just earned his first Emmy nomination. Pete has always wanted to be Don, and now we get to see him complete that journey: beautiful wife, partner at the agency, children, house in the suburbs, expensive stereo, etc. But, as he’s done in the past, he discovers another of Don’s deep, dark secrets, this time by experience it himself: all of these things make him incredibly, dangerously unhappy.

Not even the faucet works right. Nonetheless, he and Trudy (a very good Alison Brie, who should jump ship from Community and land here for good) want to have a couples night at their home, inviting Don and Megan, and Ken and his wife Alex Mack. Don’s reticence to go out there (“Saturday in the suburbs is where you really wanna blow your brains out”) reminds us how miserable he was spending a decade there. Nonetheless, Trudy wrangles him out and we get a exceptionally written dinner scene.

The wonder of it was that it actually held together throughout the whole thing, with no party being anything but genial, but the whole thing felt as though it could spin off into Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf territory at any moment. Especially when the sniper gets brought up (“his name is ‘Whitman’” says Don, who’s real name is… well) and also when Ken is forced to disclose that he’s still writing bleak science fiction on the side.

Pete’s insecurities are externalized wonderfully when his sink breaks (caused inadvertently by his feeble attempts at stopping the leak) and Don has to step in, doffing his shirt (“he’s like Superman!” remark the ladies) and fixing it with ease. To Don it’s just a sink. To Pete it’s everything that’s wrong with his life or, I should say, his own stubborn inability to appreciate it.

This conflict between him and Don is brought to a head in the middle of the episode’s other plotline, which concerns Lane Pryce trying to bring Jaguar in as a new account. After meeting the Jaguar exec, a fellow Brit, at a World Cup match he takes it upon himself to close the deal. But despite multiple meetings he’s not getting the results he wants and Don, Pete, and Roger decide to step in. Turns out that the Jaguar man has a predilection for prostitutes and fancies Lane a prude (funny, considering Lane has exhibited a similar weakness in the past).

So the four of them head to a brothel and the boyish Pete gets his choice from a roster of fantasies: of course he wants to be worshipped as a king. But morning comes hard and fast, and a perceived condescending look from the famously womanizing Don is enough to send a half-drunk and ashamed Pete over the edge. But it’s not judgement coming from Don: it’s a recognition of someone making the same mistakes he did.

Everything boils over the next morning when it turns out their actions at the brothel has lost SCDP the account (“his wife found chewing gum in his pubis!”), and Pete and Lane end up physically duking it out in the conference room. I was grinning throughout the whole fight, as it was totally weird but somehow believable. Pete is, of course, defeated and leaves work at lunch, taking the elevator down with Don. “I have nothing” he sputters through tears and a bloody, swollen face. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t even believe himself, and that makes the pain so much worse.

Man are series finales tricky. The only ones of recent memory that stick out to me as having accomplished everything them meant to are The Sopranos(which, even whilst being incredibly great still somehow invited a stream of criticism that persists today. Not from me though. Tony is dead. Sorry.) and especially The Shield. The Shield was a great show to be sure, but it was elevated even more by the fact that its finale was also its finest episode. What a feat. Most of the time, however, whatever muse force behind a great show stumbles, usually breaking the tape but doing so with its arms flailing, energy sapped, nipples chafed to all hell and both shoes untied.

After three years of hanging out chugging beers and being sad with America’s favorite redneck Kenny Powers – a character so fantastic he elevated his rude n’ crude dialect to a strange speak that flirted with a red, white & blue inbred Shakespeareanism – I wanted Eastbound & Down to end perfectly. I wanted it so badly. They’d done it before, when the first season was by means guaranteed to warrant them a second, and the conclusion of that finale remains the shows finest moment (and one of my favorite TV moments ever. No lie.). I was filled with joy last night because the show seemed to be pulling it off. Until 20 minutes in. Oh Jody Hill, Danny McBride, and everyone else: why couldn’t you have just left that last third off. You were so, so close.

Let’s start with the good. First of all, this episode was very, very funny. Most of the time when Eastbound does serious stuff I’m like a pig in slop, but I find many other viewers are thirsty for more straight up jokes, and I get that. No one could quibble with this episode though, which featured standout comedic moments for Kenny Powers and Stevie Janowski, the two guys we really needed it from. Stevie – still hairless and wearing a different wig and eyebrows in every scene, a great and horrifying running gag – is really on point. Some choice cuts: talking about putting up new naked lady pictures for Toby to get “baby hard to,” his comments on the welcome return of crab Spurgeon (“he lives in a bowl? He must be getting high as fuck!”) and, most importantly, his break up with Kenny on the beach.

Because yes, after Texas closer Seth Rogen (at first I balked, but then I was like y’know what? A closing pitcher could probably look like that) is killed in the cold open, Kenny is finally, after all these years, called back up to the Majors. The first sign that the finale was working was that I was legitimately happy for him (though, because it’s Eastbound, his victory came hand in hand with a death). Because of this, Kenny is leaving Myrtle for good, a decision which leads into a trio of scenes so perfect, I wish they had closed out the series.

First is the joyful moment of Kenny, Stevie, and Maria throwing all of Kenny’s strange paraphernalia into the ocean (including a many limbed beer bong, a pocket pussy, and fake breasts), and finally setting aflame the pot leaf boogie board. It was one of those wordless scenes Eastbound does so well, and it then transitioned into a wonderfully written scene where, as I mentioned, Stevie finally stands up for himself: he and Maria are staying in Myrtle. She’s pregnant (“I know, I held the stick under her pussy myself!”), and Stevie has finally realized that maybe he is one of those guys that wants to settle down and have a family. One of those guys that Kenny resented so much and taught Stevie to hate. Hey look, Stevie being his own man. Earned growth! Good things!

We then get one of Kenny’s finest monologues which is streaked with – you guessed it – earned growth! Showing up in Andrea’s classroom yet again (“Hey everyone I promise this isn’t a school shooting. It’s something much better.”) to deliver a kiss off to her that actually functions as a kiss off to his immaturity, his clinging to the past and whatnot. His hair never looked more majestically greasy than it did in that scene. And finally, we have what in my head are the last moments of Eastbound & Down, where Kenny says goodbye to Toby and April.

It was not a particularly funny scene, nor was it a loud or brash one at all. It was just really, really good. Danny McBride and Katy Mixon both acted the shit out of it, and seeing Kenny walk out of that house after April tries to reconcile was so perfect. Perfect because you knew, somewhere down the line, he would come back. It was a great callback to the end of season one. But whereas in that instance Kenny’s face was a cold, expressionless depression, here it was a cracking sea of tears and puffy eyelids. Kenny powers cared. Finally.

But we didn’t need to see that reconciliation play out in such idiotic fashion. I don’t even want to talk about the last 10 minutes that much, but here goes: Kenny drives to Texas, is given a funny motivational speech by Matthew McConaughey, pitches two great strikes in the majors before realizing he’s a family man after all, runs out of the stadium, starts driving back to Shelby (“I’m in a Cameron Crowe movie!”), crashes his car and dies, there’s a montage of everyone being said (okay, Stevie riding the Panty Dropper was great), but then a blonde Kenny actually fakes his death and reunites with April in a scene so odd I actually thought we were supposed to read it as April’s hallucination.

Bummer. As my friend Joe said, “there were basically three ways they could have ended the show and they just did all three of them in rapid succession really poorly.” Those three being: Kenny returns to the Majors and abandons his family, Kenny gives up the majors and reunites with April, and Kenny dies. All were present and none were given ample time to really work. It just didn’t feel right, and I guess there’s nothing I can do about that. Nonetheless, Eastbound & Down was a fantastic show and I will miss it dearly. It was a hysterical comedy that dared to have a very real heart, and it featured one of our great characters. And now it’s fuckin’ out.