You Look Mah-vel-lus, Darlink!-a review of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

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The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Executive producers: Amy Sherman-Palladino & Daniel Palladino

Producer(s): Dhana Gilbert, Matthew Shapiro, Salvatore Carino, Sheila Lawrence

Main cast:

• Rachel Brosnahan as Miriam “Midge” Maisel

• Alex Borstein as Susie Myerson

• Michael Zegen as Joel Maisel

• Marin Hinkle as Rose Weissman

• Tony Shalhoub as Abraham “Abe” Weissman

• Kevin Pollak as Moishe Maisel

The Guardian sometimes runs articles that feature 2-15 minute videos of various night show hosts doing monologues on the political developments of the day. Invariably, someone, usually an aficionado of whatever political figure is being skewered, shows up to huff indignantly that the comic in question isn’t funny at all, not one little bit. “Why, (s)he doesn’t even write the jokes!” as if that settled it.

And that has some truth to it; some comics can’t write a joke to save their lives. Some, like Stephen Colbert or Jon Stewart, write jokes as part of a team of up to a dozen people, working hard to provide material five nights a week. A truly gifted comic can improvise, with the sine qua non being the late Robin Williams, who was utterly amazing.

But with comedy, the material is only a part of the story. Delivery, timing, cadence, physical humor (facial expressions, body posture) and presence are huge parts of it. Put me on stage with a paper containing the funniest things George Carlin ever said, and I promise they’ll be throwing eggs or maybe anvils at me within two minutes. Oh, I can write funny (My English teacher told me that, shaking her head sorrowfully as she intoned it), but I don’t have what it takes to get up there and make them laugh.

Andy Kaufmann could make people laugh by walking out on stage and staring that the audience, wearing the same expression your mother wore that time she found your porn stash.

I was really late to the party on The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, partly because I couldn’t drum up much interest in watching a rich debutante/socialite in 1950s New York. And I found the idea of an actor pretending to be a comedian unconvincing.

Of course, Maisel has won a raft of awards in its first two seasons. Multiple Golden Globes and Critics’ Choice, Peabody, Emmy, Peoples Choice, Directors’ Guild, Writers’ Guild, and by next year, probably a Nobel Prize or two.

Even I can take a hint. And besides, I was spending al that money on Prime, I should watch their shows. So I stopped glowering, uncrossed my arms, removed the stick that was up my ass, and watched.

First: it’s very, very funny, and not in the dumb repartee way that most American sitcoms are. It’s intelligent, and the characters are realistic and well-round, and you find yourself even liking Tony Shalhoub’s character, who is, charitably, the biggest asshole in New York City.

Second, Rachel Brosnahan isn’t an actor playing a comedian; she IS a comedian, as good on stage as any of the greats. She genuinely belongs alongside the greats, such as Lucille Ball, Phyllis Diller, Margaret Cho or Sarah Silverman.

She also has to act, and that narrows the field by a fair bit. Actual dramatic acting, and not just slapstick. And she does that, too.

Finally, and this is possibly the most difficult part: there are times where she has to be on stage in her comic persona, and not be funny. Comedy is hard, and it’s easy to bomb, and all the best comics bombed frequently in the beginning, and some continue to bomb from time to time throughout their careers. But to consciously manage to not be funny while acting as if she was working in the opposite direction—that takes a nuanced subtlety that few could manage.

The titular character is in a complicated situation. Her husband Joel wants to be a stand-up comedian and is pretty bad at it, even though he steals only the very best material from the likes of Milton Berle and Red Skelton. After one particularly excruciating performance he loses his temper and tells Midge that he has been consorting with a mousy gentile secretary at his firm and wants a divorce. Stunned and devastated, Midge remains at the club and knocks back a couple. She ends up on the stage, ranting about her husband. It begins as gawdawful as you might expect but gets progressively funnier and funnier. At the end she demands, “Do you think she can compete with THESE?” and tears open her blouse. She gets arrested, and winds up in jail. Susie Myerson, a club assistant manager who has dreamed of being a talent’s agent and sees Midge as the talent she wants to represent, bails her out. As she’s leaving, she mets a comic who indirectly teaches her about the commitment and sacrifice needed for her new career—Lenny Bruce (Luke Farrell Kirby). Lenny Bruce was a comedian who did write his own material, and he is a legend today.

A strong supporting cast and brilliant writing ensure that this is the best comic series on television since the late, lamented Episodes. I’m sorry I was stubborn and waited so long to watch this, but I’m delighted that I did.

Season 3 will air on Prime in early December. Seasons 1&2 are there now.