Photo: Courtesy of Danny Feld/ABC; Courtesy of Peter Iovino/SHOWTIME; Courtesy of Bob D'Amico/ABC.
Hump: It’s backkkkkkk, gladiators. In the current clime of Carlos Danger, Sydney Leathers, et al., it’s almost refreshing to see a scenario (albeit a fictional one) where a politician has an affair with an intellectual equal. I’m not condoning adultery, but it never seems to be on a very level playing field. Plus, that white coat in the bunker scene. Want.
Marry: One of my main goals in life is to be a Lizzy Caplan character, specifically Gena from Bachelorette or Casey from Party Down — although I’d settle for Janice Ian after she graduated from high school, became the Regina George of Sarah Lawrence, then won a Tony award for her one woman show, "I’ve Got a Big, Lesbian Crush on You," which she also wrote and directed.
Mean Girls fan-fic aside, I’m pretty sure that IRL Lizzy Caplan is every bit as badass and sardonic as her on-screen alter-egos (two of whom, it should be noted, ended up with the equally wonderful Adam Scott), and I won’t have anyone telling me otherwise. Right now, she’s on Masters of Sex being all sexually liberated with the guy from Fired Up! (the second greatest cheerleading movie of our time) and Michael Sheen, which I will accept as a suitable Caplan placeholder, while Rob Thomas and the gang get the funding and script organized for the Party Down movie. Clock’s ticking, Ricky Sargulesh.
Kill: Speaking of Bachelorette, I really wish Rebel Wilson, Conan O’Brien, and the rest of the Super Fun Night creative team had read and listened to a few reviews of the film before going full steam ahead with Kimmie Boubier, American girl. If they had, they would have noted critics panning the criminal underusage of Wilson’s comedic talents, which were mostly tampered down by her attempt to speak with an American accent. For some reason, when Rebel swaps her Australian twang for clipped, Yankee vowels, she ends up swallowing her words and using maybe 1/16 the inflection and emotion she would in her native accent.
On top of the whole dialect issue, Super Fun Night made the unfortunate decision to swap its original pilot episode with what was supposed to be episode two. You never realize how critical it is that a sitcom slowly introduce you to its world and explain the relationships between inhabitants until it simply doesn’t. In the original pilot, it’s very clear what the show’s name means and why going to a silly piano bar is such a big deal for Kimmie and her two equally clueless friends. I also think the “villain” was played by completely different actress, and I liked her more than bland, blonde Kendall Quinn.
The episode that aired Wednesday didn’t bother aligning any of the characters with the audience’s sympathies, so it wasn’t really clear why we should be on the same side as three grown women who don’t know what things like “friends with benefits” or “Long Island iced teas” are. Also, it’s 2013. Enough with the Spanx jokes.