Hey there, did you folks catch the Modern Family Awards on that Sunday eve back in time? The series swept the comedy category at the 2011 Emmys with such conviction that an army of critics, ready to denounce it as "overhyped" or dismiss it with a "meh," were undoubtedly lurking in the shadows, just waiting for Modern Family to falter from its peak of wit and edginess akin to Julie Bowen's striking clavicles. – So mused Maris Kreizman, the brilliant Vulture recapper (whom I admire greatly and am a separate entity from, hello there!), around this very time a year ago.
The Modern Family team must have been saturated with such exasperations last autumn, understanding all too well that as they reigned supreme at the Emmys once more in 2012, they'd better deliver a premiere worthy of accolades. And oh, did they ever! They struck the perfect chord between whimsical humor and heartwarming sentiments, packing in punchlines galore, demonstrating a readiness for character development, and introducing fresh, non-tedious plot twists.
The ball gets rolling when Jay's hilariously assembled pals – Ernie Hudson of Ghostbusters fame and Chazz Palminteri from The Usual Suspects and A Bronx Tale – descend upon him on his 65th birthday, intent on capturing him with hoods and zip ties. A day he yearned for tranquility, devoid of surprises. Miles' overt fascination with his falcon serves as a passable joke, but Shorty's beard adoration steals the show. (And all too relatable, for my social decorum crumbles at the sight of any bearded gent, acquaintance or stranger. Resisting the urge to strike up a conversation about it is nearly impossible.) Perhaps I'm prejudiced, but Shorty's beard-centric riffs – envisioning Phil as an off-duty Jon Hamm with a beard (surely inspired by Ty Burrell's real-life beard-growing antics during hiatus, mirroring Hamm), deeming a soul patch "a beard's sorry excretion," and bemoaning, "the more I gaze at you, the more irritated I grow that you lack facial fuzz" – are nothing short of splendid.
Cam and Mitch, for once, aren't bickering for the sake of a laugh or plot development. In fact, they're so worn out from their botched attempt to finalize the adoption of a baby boy the previous night that their conversations revolve around the roast of their coffee and the milk fat percentage. Yet, the elephant in the room – quite literally, an enormous stuffed elephant – cannot remain unacknowledged for long. Lily storms in, announcing her intent to transcend being just another family member or an occasional punchline this season. She's a realistic 5-year-old kindergartener yearning for that baby brother. (A leap from last season's premiere where her plan was, quite chillingly, "I wanna make the baby dead.") She's already named her little bro Larry, but a kitten will suffice, as long as the moniker is transferable. "You really play that card with ease," Mitch tells Lily, as she unleashes her if-I-can't-have-a-baby-brother-then-can-I… requests.
Haley's prom has concluded, and she yearns to leapfrog the high schooler-parent boundaries, diving headfirst into the realm of a sophisticated college student and a non-intrusive motherhood dynamic. In a fit of pique, Claire offers Haley the ultimate retribution for an entitled offspring: a peculiar concoction masked as a hangover cure, blending eggs, bell peppers, sriracha, relish, herbs, and an assortment of other miscellaneous ingredients. It's a cold, calculated move, yet inexplicably amusing. (Less humorous, however, is the prospect of Phil sporting a beard by episode's end, only to have Claire decree its removal. Among Claire's myriad controlling tendencies portrayed in the series, must she really veto her husband's magnificent facial foliage? Recall, Phil was unwaveringly supportive when Claire experimented with brown hair dye.)
Gloria's baby news is first met by her son, whose expression oscillates between terror, exhilaration, and anxiety. Manny, nurturing a fleeting youthful fancy, dreams of a summer camp filled with amorous lady poets, yet struggles to shake off his responsible nature enough to embrace the joy of a new sibling, blind to the fact that perhaps he won't have to tend to it as diligently as the family salad bowl. As an aside, we learn that Manny, an old soul from birth, potty-trained himself. "The appeal of intentionally soiling one's pants eluded me entirely. That being said, I must confess to missing the kisses on my tummy," he admits.
Luke pulls a clever one on Manny, reassuring him that he needn't fret about a charming newborn sibling. "You're absolutely right. You're far cuter than a baby. I'll just go check on dinner," Luke says, not exactly devoid of wit. Cerebral mischief is afoot, as he confirms in a whispered aside, "Sometimes I just like to toss a grenade and run."
Acquiring a cat proves far from effortless for Mitch and Cam, mirroring the frustration of adoption. "I'm just sad, Cam," Mitchell remarks in a subtle, heartfelt moment. Despite being ensnared in a sitcom universe where hijinks must ensue regardless of gravity, they excel in portraying the aftermath of not obtaining the baby they longed for and prepared to welcome. (However, why aren't they simply adopting a different baby? Is there a logistical hurdle beyond their disheartenment? Will this storyline resume next week? I never thought I'd say this, Modern Family, but we crave answers. What lies beneath the surface?)
Dylan remains sufficiently dense that when conjuring a hypothetical tale meant to elicit sympathy, he kicks it off with, "My cousin Dylan said." Good grief. (Thankfully, he redeems himself later when his newly invented pal is revealed to be "less a friend and more of a raccoon." Pure genius!) Meanwhile, Jay uncharacteristically offers an overly supportive response to Cam and Mitch's kitten update, triggering a cascade of bewildering emotional dominos. Gloria steals the night with her pregnancy revelation, which sparks a string of hilarious remarks ("Oh, gross, I didn't know Grandpa still had it in him." "Don't be disrespectful, Luke," Phil admonishes. "Anyone could do it with Gloria.") that seamlessly blend into one of the show's most heartwarmingly delightful scenes. "That's the best news I've ever heard," Jay exclaims, his usual bluntness redirected with uncharacteristic enthusiasm into a positive light. A swirling cinematic transition whisks us through the summer months, culminating in a stunning one-take finish. The 22nd minute arrives, the baby's arrival draws nearer, and everyone is brimming with joy and humor.
