They Made a Huge Mistake: Arrested Development Season 4

Annyong! ("Hello!")

An Arrested Development post is long overdue ("I don't want to blame it all on 9/11, but it certainly didn't help").  My love for the show cannot be overstated ("He's very good").  My blogger profile pic is from the show ("and after he gave you animation rights to his banana grabber character").  I have lobbied for friends and family to try the show out and have several devout converts under my belt ("Caged Wisdom changed my life").  My wife and I have used the show as a friendship compatibility test ("Maybe you're not smart either! I didn't know until they told me").  I have watched the first three seasons over and over to the point that I can quote nearly every episode word for word ("it's going to be a long time before Sgt. Wendell Baker calls someone Private Homo again").  The laughs have never stopped ("They're laughing with me, Michael.").  I doubt they ever will ("At you").  But I could never figure out what to write about ("Franklin said some things Whitey wasn't ready to hear").

No episodic comedy has been ripped off more than Arrested Development ("I'm an ideas man, Michael. I think I proved that with **ck Mountain").  They mastered flashbacks, cutaways, and the mockumentary style of filming (are you forgetting I was a professional twice over: an analyst and a therapist, the world's first 'analrapist'").  The show became a cult hit after it's quick cancellation in 2006 ("Say goodbye to these, because it's the last time").  DVD and Netflix revived the failed TV show increasing the popularity exponentially ("Did you enjoy your lunch, mother?  You certainly drank it fast enough").  It became obvious the show was too good to not be resurrected ("I will become my dead father's body as I am lowered into his grave.  Dad's dead?").  The writing ("He said some wonderful things), the direction ("and you tell me you have some P.E. teacher directing, well, that just makes me want to puke all over your head, sir"), the cast ("her?"), and the light-hearted approach to comedy was simply some of the best in television history ("You're doing time Dad.  I'm doing the time...of my life").  So when Netflix announced it would bring season 4 to viewers over Memorial Day weekend, I was beyond excited ("I haven't had sex in a month.  You know you've been in here for two months").

I had a two day menu planned including cocktails ("10 cents gets you nuts") in anticipation for what felt like opening day after a seven year strike ("from whence you came").   In fact, I had planned on doing a short commentary on the show and focusing the Arrested Development post on my show inspired food ("there's always money in the banana stand").  But something very different happened ("It's never the one's you hope").  The changes and tone of the show were so distracting that my two day dinner party dissolved in disappointment ("I'm a failure.  I can't even fake the death of a stripper").

Spirits were high and flowing early Sunday afternoon as Firecracker and I began episode 1 ("it turned into one of the Bluth family's better parties").  We started the day with Gene Parmesan popovers filled with eggs, bacon, cheese and green onion ("it's just some idiot with balloons.  Is it?"), and paired it with a drink called Lucille's breakfast ("Get me a vodka rocks.  It's breakfast, Mom.  And a piece of toast) stolen from this guy, which is basically a vodka (Cloudmir) martini rimmed with toast crumbs.

I wasn't sure how to react after viewing the first episode ("you're gonna get some hop-ons").  After seven years I didn't want to see stunt actors in the opening scene, especially Seth Rogen's awful interpretation of George ("you got to play me like a man and not some mincing little Polly").  I was also confused how the show would change after devolving Michael ("the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together").  The lunatic antics of the rest of the family work because we had Michael as a backbone, the rest of the cast was free to be hilarious idiots ("I'm looking for something that says Dad likes leather").  Speaking of the cast, the ensemble format was abandoned in favor of character driven episodes ("C'mon!"), a direct contradiction of the style of show Arrested Development was ("No. Glasses on, hair back up.  Let's just get that hair right back up").  It was also clear the directing and editing were quite different ("and I apologize for that. I thought it was a pool toy").  The original program was confined to 20-22 minutes on Fox, the Netflix platform allowed for longer episodes resulting in longer scenes ("and scene").  Gone are the lightning quick edits which kept the laughs coming each scene ("Oh my God, we're having a fire...sale...oh the burning, it burns me, evacuate all the school children, ahhhhhh, amaaaaz, this isn't a fever,  zing graaace, can't even see where the knob is").

We withheld judgment ("My name is Judge") understanding the show would inevitably be different, and watched episode two.  After the second episode it was already time for a break ("spring break, woo!").  I knew the show would be different, I knew there were impossible standards to live up to, but I never thought I'd ever watch an episode of Arrested Development without laughing ("it's like she gets off being withholding").

After our break, we returned with a renewed optimism ("Even if it means me taking a chubby, I will suck it up") as we sat down to a lunch of mayoneggs and the Ike and Tina tuna plate ("I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it").  We washed it down with a drink called I'm afraid I just blue myself which was vodka, lemonade, and blue curacao ("No. It just looks like he's dead.  He's covered in blue paint or something").  The further we got into the season, the worse I felt ("Hey, who wants to go to the hospital?").

The new season had a much darker feel than the original series ("always keep from crying, even though your heart is dying").  The subject matter included hitting rock bottom, drug addiction, adultery, divorce, a month long roofie cycle, and prostitution ("Not tricks, Michael, illusions.  A trick is something a whore does for money").  Seasons 1-3 might have been able to make some of that funny, but the bombardment of dark humor really became a bummer in season 4 ("Ignore it! That's something the body does when you shake it").  Equally as distracting was Portia de Rossi's face which was nearly unrecognizable from obvious plastic surgery ("and I think I maced a crane").

By the time we were frying up cornballs and drinking Gob's Tea for Dong ("I need something to give my dingle less tingle. Me quick want slow, wait that's Indian"), I realized the magic was gone ("The Gothic Asshole?").  I tried to tell myself that once I watched every episode the jokes would become clear and therefore funnier the second time around ("well, did it work for them? No. It never does. I mean, these people somehow delude themselves into thinking it might, but...but, it might work for us").  I even tried to marvel at the inside-inside-inside joke that season 4 was an allusion to the actual life of the show ("did someone say wonder?").

In the end, we only had a banger in the mouth ("oh, I forgot, in the states you call it a sausage in the mouth.  We just call it a sausage") and Buster's juicebox to cheer me up ("We have unlimited juice? This party is going to be off the hook").  We didn't even have the stomach for hot ham water, especially after seeing new character DeBrie smear margarine all over her face ("is she funny or something?"), or maybe it was because we had a Skip's Scramble for breakfast ("don't order the Skip's Scramble").

I hate being so critical of something I have loved for so long ("she thinks I'm too critical. That's another fault of hers"), but I just couldn't find the funny ("if I can't find a horny immigrant by then, I don't deserve to stay here").  My despondent mood wasn't fixed by watching live TV since there are half a dozen apocalyptic movie trailers currently running ("I just want my kids back").

The Bluth weekend I waited seven years for was a doleful mess and I had to go back and watch some old episodes to wash out the taste of season 4 ("take the Seaward back. I'll leave when I'm good and ready").  Rewatching the original series reminded me that the show did typically tackle cynical subjects, but did so with a much lighter touch ("No touching!").  It is because of this that season 4 will never be included with the first three ("I'm a monster!"). It will live on it's own as a dark and zany experiment gone wrong ("I know you're the big marriage expert. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, your wife is dead...I'm sorry.  That was 100 percent inappropriate, and I do apologize profusely").

I still have Bluth bananas in my freezer ("Gimme a Gob").  I'm not sure if I should just throw them out in disgust or eat them and feel fortunate that they gave it a try ("you didn't eat that did you? It died right in the middle of a show").  One thing I do know, the rumored movie is in serious peril thanks to the backlash the series is sure to receive ("it doesn't retain the complex eroticism of the French original").  If they do try beyond season 4, I hope they learned a lesson ("and that's why you always leave a note").  Until then, we'll always have the original series ("That's like comparing apples, and some fruit nobody's ever heard of").