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Tag: Only Murders in the Building season four

  • Doreen Savage Gives Marty Mendelson A Run for His Dolls

    Doreen Savage Gives Marty Mendelson A Run for His Dolls

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    On July 9, 2000, a theoretically small role in the “No Ifs, Ands or Butts” episode of Sex and the City left an indelible imprint on anyone with a phobia of dolls (a.k.a. pediophobia…not to be confused with pedophobia [fear of children])—not mention an imprint on anyone who can’t unsee and unhear the part of the narrative where Samantha (Kim Cattrall) dates a Black guy. However, perhaps even worse than dolls in and of themselves is dating someone who happens to be obsessed with them. Naturally, it would be unlucky-in-love Stanford Blatch (Willie Garson) who would end up in such a bizarre scenario. And this after so generously playing Cupid to Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) and Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) by making her go to his furniture store after seeing him splashed across The New York Times Styles section.

    And what does Stanford get for his good deed? A so-called meet-cute with Marty Mendelson (Donald Berman) at the same furniture store where Aidan’s dog, Pete, does all the heavy lifting for Carrie in terms of “aligning” them (by humping her leg). While Carrie is crushing hard and things seem to be going well (until Aidan realizes she’s a trashball smoker), it’s immediately clear to Stanford that his would-be Prince Charming is some kind of freaky. And not in the good way. This discovery made after Marty suggests they move their makeout session into his bedroom, whereupon Stanford is met with the eyes of seemingly hundreds of dolls staring back at him judgmentally (and yes, this was long before anyone had an inkling of Prince Andrew’s teddy bear fetish).

    Marty unabashedly approaches the bed, throws up his arms and proudly announces, “These are my dolls.” He then gushes, “I’ve been collecting them for years.” Stanford does his best not to seem creeped out as he smiles, “I had no idea.” Because, obviously, if he did, he wouldn’t have come over. Worse still, Marty asks him to help clear the dolls off the bed. Which he really shouldn’t have…considering how particular he is about the way his dolls are touched, moved and arranged. This, let’s say, fastidiousness (or “fagtidiousness,” as an edgier SATC writer might have punned) is what leads Carrie to say in one of her voiceovers, “Stanford wondered if he was enough of a queen to make love to a queen who collected queens” (most of his dolls being from Madame Alexander).

    Turns out, he is. Or at least tries to be the next time he goes over to Marty’s apartment, determined to do away with the boner-killing ritual of having to individually remove each doll from the bed. To this burst of devil-may-care carnality, Marty at first screams, “No wait, the dolls!” But Stanford gets the better of him, and Marty lets his guard down long enough to allow for one of the dolls to fall off his bed thanks to Stanford’s churlish ways. Thus, the dolls put a stop to their union before it can even start because “to Marty Mendelson, a broken face was a deal breaker” (side note: the entire episode is centered on various deal breakers in relationships). For Charles-Haden Savage’s (Steve Martin) younger sister, Doreen (Melissa McCarthy), in the seventh episode of Only Murders in the Building’s fourth season, it’s not that much of one. Especially if it means she might get a little action from Charles’ friend and co-podcaster, Oliver Putnam (Martin Short).

    Along with Mabel (Selena Gomez), Oliver has found himself at Doreen’s house in Patchogue, Long Island because it’s the “safest” place Charles can come up with after they’re threatened yet again by whoever Sazz’s (Jane Lynch) killer is. From the moment they arrive at Doreen’s, it’s apparent to Oliver and Mabel that she’s more than slightly eccentric—though Charles bills her as being “spontaneous.” And if her bombastic appearance and comportment wasn’t an instant tipoff, then her vast collection of dolls is. Hence the episode title being “Valley of the Dolls” (indeed, SATC probably would have titled the Marty episode that were it not for the fact that they had already titled a season one episode “Valley of the Twenty-Something Guys”). Carrie is, of course, sure to make use of that reference in a voiceover instead, narrating, “Meanwhile, back in the Valley of the Dolls, Stanford decided there was something even more rare than a porcelain French face: his passion.”

    But it’s Doreen who will be the passionate one in the Only Murders permutation, with Oliver, the non-doll-collector (therefore theoretically in the Stanford role) unwittingly turning her on by making the Psych 101 assessment, “So I guess you replaced your children with dolls, huh?” For the rest of the episode, filled with its eclectic backdrop of life-size and baby dolls alike, Doreen will try to make something happen with Oliver, who is mercifully spared by the sudden appearance of Loretta (Meryl Streep), his long-distance love. And yet, that still doesn’t stop Doreen from expressing her over-the-top ardor with gusto, even using one of the life-size dolls’ set of braids to fashion pigtails on her short hair in the style of Loretta.

    All of which is to say that doll collectors—if Marty and Doreen are anything to go by—definitely seem to share a particular characteristic: sexual hang-ups, limitations and perversions that make actually having sex with one of them all but impossible. Not that Stanford or Oliver really wanted to in the first place…especially not after they saw all those dolls. Thus, it would appear that, in addition to the term pediophobia, there ought to also be one for a phobia of people who collect dolls in the extreme (no shade to those who do in moderation, one supposes). For it can make for a very harrowing attempt at a sexual encounter. Regardless of whether the collector in the scenario cares about any potential damage done to their dolls during the tryst or not.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Naturally, Imposter Syndrome Is Tackled Through the Lens of “Being A Screenwriter” in Only Murders in the Building’s “Adaptation” Episode

    Naturally, Imposter Syndrome Is Tackled Through the Lens of “Being A Screenwriter” in Only Murders in the Building’s “Adaptation” Episode

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    When it comes to wanting to emulate a certain screenwriter, the biggest “douchebag cliché” veers toward Charlie Kaufman worship. In the screenwriting world, it almost amounts to the same thing as a literary writer worshipping David Foster Wallace—who, yes, is mentioned within the first two minutes of Only Murders in the Building’s fifth episode in season four, “Adaptation.” (Specifically, “I can quote David Foster Wallace AND Ace Ventura.” Which is not exactly something to be proud of.) Obviously named as such in honor of Kaufman’s grudging homage to the masochism of screenwriting in the 2002 film of the same name.

    To convey the masochism and imposter syndrome that’s particularly unique to screenwriting, Marshall P. Pope (Jin Ha) opens the episode with the age-old question, “What makes a writer a real writer?” For most, whether writers or not, the answer, tragically, remains: being paid for it. Because being paid for things is what’s supposed to make you feel like a “real person” in general. But that sensation magnifies tenfold when you’re a writer—and, unfortunately, just one of many in the competitive cesspool of overall mediocrity that often actually allows only the mediocre to rise to the top.

    After selling his script to Paramount (with producer Bev Melon [Molly Shannon] at the helm), Marshall fears that he might be just that sort of “success story” as he applies a fake mustache and beard in front of the mirror (an Antonioni poster looming in the background for added pretentious, pseudointellectual flair) to make himself appear more “writerly.” More “worldly,” as he calls it. And, as most people in New York will maintain, “It’s about convincing the world and, honestly, yourself that you have the goods.” The old “fake it till you make it” chestnut. A vexing platitude that was much easier to execute back during a time when absolutely every embarrassing and/or compromising detail about your past couldn’t be dredged up somewhere on the internet and used against/to discredit you.  

    Even so, Marshall tries his best to evoke the “Kaufman look” (a picture of Charlie tacked to the mirror, in what could be called Single Asian Male-style) in the hope that said screenwriter’s own “brilliance” might rub off on him. Because, as Marshall also adds, “The look only gets you so far.” Theoretically, you’re supposed to have some talent, too. But that theory seems quaint now, rooted in the days before the Kardashians landed onto the scene. Marshall then instructs, “It comes down to what’s on the page.” Alas, if that were truly the case, movies like Madame Web would never be made.

    While OMITB’s “Adaptation” never bothers with getting meta in quite the same intense, envelope-pushing way as Kaufman’s movie (though, on a related note, Meryl Streep was in Adaptation just as she’s in season four of OMITB), the episode’s own writers, Steve Martin, John Hoffman and J.J. Philbin, are sure to drive home the meta aspect that stems from Charles-Haden Savage (Martin), Oliver Putnam (Martin Short) and Mabel Mora (Selena Gomez) being forced by the studio turning their podcast into a film (rather than the movie-within-a-movie genre, OMITB seeks to embody the less-trodden movie-within-a-TV-show genre) to be photographed with their so-called doppelgangers: the actors playing them. For Charles, it’s Eugene Levy; for Oliver, it’s Zach Galifianakis; for Mabel, it’s Eva Longoria (who tells Mabel she’s been “aged up” to make her relationship with two old men seem less creepy). This serves only as more creative fodder for Marshall as he delves into additional rewrites on the script after spending more time with the trio (thanks to being questioned by them as a suspect).

    As Mabel and Charles wrap up their questioning of their “suspect,” Mabel can’t resist the inclination to ask, “Is your beard…fake?” An embarrassed Marshall replies, “Oh god, is it that obvious? This is supposed to be costume-grade human hair.” When Mabel continues to probe about why he has it, Marshall admits, “I can’t really grow facial hair and… I wanted to sell myself as a ‘real writer.’ This is the look, right?” Charles and Mabel both regard him as though he’s the saddest creature in the world before Charles gently inquires, “How could a writer of your talent have imposter syndrome?” Mabel, however, can immediately relate to knowing what it’s like to be good at what your passion is, yet still not really believe in that talent even after being accepted by the Establishment. Indeed, for Mabel, Establishment acceptance seems to be another sign, to her, that she’s an imposter. Particularly after Bev laps up every half-cooked idea she offers as Bev’s next adaptation-from-a-podcast movie.

    As for Martin (even if playing Charles while saying it) asking the abovementioned question, he’s no doubt speaking from his own experience in the screenwriting field, a métier that makes most of its pursuers feel like a fraud. Especially if they’ve never even sold a script. That one-in-a-million chance befalling only so many aspirants—and it’s typically only the most annoying, least talented ones who are willing to openly say, “Yeah, I’m a screenwriter” despite having no evidence other than an ego and a spec script to back it up.

    But what this episode of OMITB aims to do (apart from introducing a pair of new lead suspects) is assure those billed as “amateur” artists that said word is not a bad thing. That, in fact, it proves one is doing it for the love of the art rather than the quest for commercial “glory.” Marshall initially serves as a representation of both sides of that coin, albeit one who only really wants “success” because he’s been conditioned his entire life, like everyone else, to believe that art has value solely if it’s being in some way corporately subsidized. Therefore, “sanctioned” by a “higher power.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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