Embarking on an episode of "Modern Family" offers a soothing reassurance; by the 29th minute, we're acquainted with the sitcom's magic—a reassuring embrace that all will conclude in harmony, devoid of the harrowing depths often explored in storytelling. A show where grave misfortunes are scarce (the last fatality, an eccentrically whimsical clown's funeral, stands testament to this), witnessing the Dunphys grapple with a heart-wrenching loss served as a refreshing departure. Farewell, Walt, the grouchiest of octogenarians, whose final moments were spent penning an ire-filled missive to the postmaster general.
Rather than veering into the territory of overly sentimental episodes, "Modern Family" stayed true to its essence last night, portrayal a litany of clumsiness, misbehavior, and outright foolishness—a byproduct of well-meaning parents lacking the emotional acumen to articulate their filial concerns. If Phil's bewildering behavior in the aftermath of Walt's demise exemplifies this, then Jay and Cam's father, Merle, who eagerly seized Walt's cantankerous mantle and bolted into Mitchell and Cam's bedroom with it, doubly so.
Each family member's response to adverse news unfurls in unique fashions. Claire's manic grin as she informs Luke of his friend Walt's passing is unforgettable. "You resembled the Joker," Phil remarks, astonished. Luke, meanwhile, retreats into the sanctuary of television, barely acknowledging Walt's demise. His shoulders shrug nonchalantly; he resumes video gaming. Throughout the episode, Claire desperately seeks any emotional reaction from Luke, historically uncelebrated for his sensitivity. Thus, his visit to Walt's house, less inspired by a quest for "Tuesdays with Morrie"-style memoirs and more by a desire to appropriate Walt's old TV, and his indifference towards Claire's proposed memorial gardening project, come as no surprise.
A fleeting moment of insight emerges when Claire accompanies Luke back to Walt's oven-like abode (maintained at such temperatures to coerce Kim, the Meals on Wheels volunteer, into shedding her sweater). As Claire nervously conveys the tragic news to Kim and a delivery man ("I just discovered my face does this," she explains, referencing her eerie smile), we discern that Luke used to peer out his bedroom window at night, checking if Walt's TV was aglow, a signal of his wakefulness. He'll miss this routine, he confesses to Claire. Though his emotional outpouring falls short of Alex P. Keaton's meltdown after his best friend's fatal car accident, it marks the zenith of Luke's emotional capacity.
On the flip side, Phil is perceived as the emotionally astute one! His immediate response is to weave an outlandish tale to Luke about the circumstances surrounding Walt's demise, where "breaking it gently" to him translates into fabricating an intricate narrative involving a coma, some flickering eyelids, more coma, and ultimately, death. This almost casts Claire in a more rational parental light. However, Phil's storyline takes a detour, affording him and Alex some precious screen time together. It transpires that Walt's estranged daughter refuses to fulfill her father's dying wish of tossing his WWII dog tags into the ocean. Realizing he shares ample heartwarming moments with Luke and Haley but lacks them with Alex (largely due to his own shortcomings), Phil resolves to embark on an adventure with Alex to honor Walt's wish. ("Adventure? We're chucking dog tags into a polluted ocean where they'll likely choke an otter," Alex laments.) He nearly persuades Alex of the beauty in the gesture ("It's somewhat Navajo," she concedes), only for a sudden bird to swoop down and snatch the dog tags away—a twist signaling the onset of absurdity.
Plan B for adventure entails trekking 50 miles to the Moonbeam Diner, reputedly home to the world's finest milkshake. Although the machine is broken, hope is not lost—the waitress is pregnant and overdue. It's here that Phil teeters on the brink, transitioning from endearing to eccentric: He slams around, even compelling the poor, pregnant waitress to fix their wobbly table, hoping this will become their defining memory, "the time we delivered a baby." His scheme is thwarted by the arrival of a doctor (foiled indeed!) and some dramatic vomiting (was that really necessary for the comedic effect?), but Phil regains his footing with the tale of an astronaut who etched his daughter's initials into the moon's surface. Phil's heartwarming demeanor is restored as they exit the diner, the camera panning to the Moonbeam Diner sign with the initials A.D. etched into it. Aww.
Phil isn't the sole father acting absurdly out of misplaced affection for his offspring. Last night, we finally met Cam's father, portrayed by the esteemed character actor Barry Corbin (renowned for his roles in "Northern Exposure" and "One Tree Hill"), who, in his twilight years, seems to have transformed into a Wilford Brimley from the oatmeal commercials era. Merle serves as the perfect contrast to Jay: the rugged country man versus Jay's tough city guy, two macho individuals who have never seen eye to eye. Jay eventually confesses to the camera that his dislike for Merle stems from Merle's perception of Mitchell as "the woman of the relationship." Ouch. Jay's hang-up on masculinity is well-documented, and he doesn't take kindly to the man who brings matching His and Hers watches to dinner and hands the Hers to Mitchell. "I think I might cry," Mitchell swoons in response, to which Jay, deadly serious, replies, "Don't." It's one thing for his son to be gay; it's quite another for him to embody "the wife." In nearly every episode, Jay is reminded that masculinity isn't the be-all and end-all, and femininity might just possess some merits.
It transpires that Merle is equally perturbed by his son's part in this unusual relationship, sparking a bitter rivalry between the two fathers. They descend into an absurd competition, giggling uncontrollably to prove whose son possesses the higher-pitched laugh. Poor Mitch and Cam remain oblivious to the underlying tension, mistaking their fathers' bizarre behavior for camaraderie. Ironically, the pair themselves end up mirroring Jay and Merle's squabble, squabbling over whose father is tougher. Though we're usually adverse to seeing Mitch and Cam engage in such pettiness, in this context, it only adds to the surreal absurdity of the entire situation.
What saves us from utter indignation is the eventual revelation. Both Merle and Jay confess that they're still grappling with the concept of their sons being "gay for each other." Merle finds solace in the thought that, in some way, his son has ended up with a woman. It's not a moment of pride, but rather an honest and vulnerable display from these confused men striving not to be homophobic. "They're both equal; neither one is the wife," they concede. The notion that one can be a wife and still an equal? For these stubborn old souls, it's a revolution too far. While Walt passed away as a bigoted old bastard, these guys are at least attempting to change.
Then, we encounter a somewhat superfluous segment where Haley tricks the family into allowing her to host a pool party at Jay and Gloria's place. Considering how much time the family spends together, it's peculiar that Claire doesn't question Haley's assertion that "my uncle, who already said he would do it," will serve as the chaperone. Of course, the uncle in question is Manny, Claire! Come on! As expected, Manny performs his usual routine at the party, thwarting hookups, confiscating alcohol, ensuring everyone uses coasters, and pointing out the fire exits. Once again, in an episode where the male members of the family behave like buffoons, Manny emerges as the most responsible individual around.
