The initial significant electoral contest of 2012 turned out to be a heart-wrenching defeat when, last evening, we learned of Claire Dunphy's unsuccessful bid for city council. Though her chances were slim, our support for her was unwavering. Imagine a role that would harness her combative nature, competitive spirit, and relentless drive for success—all outside the walls of her domestic realm. For Councilwoman Claire, countless opportunities could have unfolded, and for "Modern Family" as a whole, a show that often feels like a family-centric locked-room mystery, where the suspects are confined within a tight-knit circle, this could have been a breakthrough. Despite its insularity, last night's episode was masterfully directed by Bryan Cranston (aka Walter White from "Breaking Bad"). While it lacked grand surprises, Cranston skillfully managed the episode's multifaceted narrative, affording each cast member (save for Lily, did anyone truly notice her absence?) a moment to shine.
On Election Day, each family member was tasked with a mission to bolster Claire's voter turnout—the recurring gag being that, despite their noble intentions, their efforts amounted to very little. Cameron and Mitchell campaigned for Claire from a revamped, flashy former taco truck, equipped with a loudspeaker blaring pun-laden slogans like "The choice is Claire!" and the like. Their run was smoother when they realized the truck's microphone possessed immense power, which they wielded to curb littering, address offenses ("Hey, Dragon Tattoo, no jaywalking!"), and critique local establishments.
And then, as in any sitcom featuring a stray microphone, they indulged in what was meant to be a private conversation—but surprise, surprise! The mic was still on! When they discussed Lily's preschool teacher Sandy's fiancé, a gay man embodying every stereotype (he dances, gossips, loves flowers), Sandy (and the entire street) overheard. They had to convince Sandy that, despite his flamboyance, he was as heterosexual as...Hugh Jackman. Cam had spotted him at a restaurant and felt no chemistry whatsoever. Imagine if Max from "Happy Endings" could make a crossover appearance one day, just to prove to these guys that not every gay man fits the over-the-top cliché. In any case, it seems improbable that their efforts significantly boosted Claire's voter turnout.
Meanwhile, Phil finds himself entrusted with the formidable task of ferrying a contingent of 50 senior citizens to the polling stations, yet he manages to transport but one individual – Luke's inseparable pal, Walt (the ever-hilarious Philip Baker Hall). Walt proves to be a veritable minefield of eccentricities for Phil to navigate: from his constant demands for glasses, a fresh oxygen tank, and sustenance to swallow his pills, to his forgetful nature (as Luke sagely observes early on, a common trait among the elderly). Walt's dialogue resonates with the quintessential grumbles of crusty old men – "I can barely decipher the ballot. One slip-up, and I'll find myself hitched to some fella!" "I didn't risk my neck in a war for some politician to dictate where I park my car!" It's a delightful spectacle to witness the ever-obliging Phil contorting himself to accommodate Walt's whims all day. The culmination of their efforts? A solitary vote for Claire.
On the other hand, Jay doesn't have a specific duty beyond casting his own vote. But when he arrives at the polling station accompanied by Gloria and Manny, he abruptly departs with a vague excuse, later confiding in Gloria that he spotted Dottie, his first romantic interest post-Dede, working there. He hasn't laid eyes on her since their split. ("You dated a Dottie after Dede?" Gloria inquires, the names conjuring up images of frumpy spinsters, a stark contrast to Gloria's vibrant persona). Jay then reveals to the camera that their breakup wasn't exactly amicable; he sneakily slipped out after their intimate moment and never contacted her again. Who knew Jay harbored such frat-boy tendencies? Eventually, he returns to the polling station, hastily fills out his ballot, and encounters a rightfully sour Dottie. She seizes his ballot as hostage, refusing to deposit it, prompting Jay to utter an uncharacteristically risqué remark: "You don't have to do anything. Just let me put it in. (I probably shouldn't have said that.)" Not a single vote for Claire.
Claire appoints Alex as the head of the phone banking operation, where she oversees Luke, Gloria, Manny, and Haley with varying degrees of success. Luke dishes out grandiose promises ("Vote for Claire Dunphy, and you'll never pay taxes again!"); Gloria struggles to persuade people over the phone when they can't see her commanding presence; Manny excels naturally, exuding charm and sweetness; and Haley is distracted by her mail. She's been rejected by five colleges and has one final shot at acceptance. Manny might have garnered a handful of votes for Claire, amidst his smooth operations.
And then, there stands the candidate herself, Claire, amidst a whirlwind of chaos. A clueless local newspaper representative, mistakenly involved in ad sales rather than reporting, finds himself interviewing Claire at the polling station. It's during this interview that Alex catches a glimpse of an annoying tag protruding from her mother's sleek power suit. In a fit of frustration, Claire hastily bites it off, revealing a secret – a false tooth, a remnant of an old ice-skating mishap. With her front tooth missing, Claire transforms from a poised candidate into a hillbilly caricature, her speech slurred with a lisping intoxication (though far from her actual inebriated tone). She struggles to regain her composure, only to be struck in the mouth with a microphone during a radio appearance, forcing her to stumble through a discussion on safety, wages, and sustainability on "A Matter of Record," her words twisted into "thafety," "thewage," and "thuthtainability." Claire is at her most endearing when she's a tangled mess of herself.
The entire day unfolds as a catastrophe, but as night descends, the election results party at the Dunphy house offers a glimmer of warmth. Claire delivers a heartfelt thank you to her family, who smile back, huddled close as if posing for a family portrait or a theatrical cast shot (do real families ever stand so intimately united?). When Claire receives the devastating news over the phone, and Phil swaps the "Congratulations Claire" sign for the "Condolences Claire" one, she strives to maintain her composure, but our hearts ache for her, sensing her potential greatness thwarted, perhaps by the very family who loves and supports her.
Summoning her courage, Claire ventures into the kitchen for a soothing glass of wine, only to be comforted by Haley. Haley, who comprehends the humiliation of failing at something so diligently pursued. Haley, who steals the spotlight by announcing the arrival of her last-chance college letter. As the family gathers around Haley to unveil the letter, they discover she's been placed on the waiting list. "We'll take it!" Claire exclaims, her enthusiasm tinged with resilience.
Though Haley claims the night's victory, the show's closing minutes bestow a small but significant gift upon us, courtesy of Councilman Duane Bailey (a pity David Cross couldn't make a smarmy cameo): a stop sign. The very stop sign Claire fought for, the impetus behind her city council candidacy. It's a modest triumph, yet profound. Here's hoping the show continues to challenge Claire, allowing her occasional breaks from the family fold to demonstrate to the world that she is formidable in her own unique right.
