Dear all, let's explore a handful of pitfalls to steer clear of in our roles as parents: Imagine your daughter mustering the courage to embark on her college journey, solo and friendless. It's crucial not to project your own anxieties onto her fragile shoulders at such a moment. Picture your kindergarten-aged child finding peace with her bully and, in a tender display of 5-year-old affection, developing a crush on him. Now, is it really the best time to engage in a snarky spat with the child's parents? And when your son expresses genuine concern about being adequately prepared for the arrival of a new sibling, resist the urge to skip parenting class in favor of a burrito feast. After one such incident, Manny utters a timeless line from the parenting playbook, "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed," directed at Jay and Gloria, reminding us of his unparalleled comic prowess. (Has anyone on this show delivered successful jokes with more consistency than Manny? Even a basic role reversal paired with his signature line hits the mark.)
This episode uncovers a plethora of misguided beliefs within the Dunphy-Pritchett-Delgado family. Phil's ideal toast involves quoting George Jefferson ("Here I stand, a proud black man..."), while Jay's consists of a simple, "My arm is tired — to Haley!" Phil measures emotional intensity by how much he weeps, comparing it to his first viewing of Air Bud, and bizarrely believes that 24 is the reasonable sexual frequency cap for any college student. Luke's unique method of concealing his sadness over his sister's departure? Casually donning an eerie cyborg mask. (Luke's advice, "Don't drink too much beer and shots of tequila," is amusing purely due to its phrasing; Modern Family is known for its joke-dense narratives, but the thoughtful wording enhances some of the lesser lines.)
With Haley venturing off to college, her ongoing schtick of playing the dimwit seems out of place. She doesn't grasp the concept of a premise and mistakenly identifies George Jefferson as a president. Recall the previous episode where she stared blankly at Alex's attempts to use the word 'facetious,' and similarly with 'sarcastic.' (My five-year-old understands 'sarcastic,' albeit pronouncing it more like 'starcastic.') We yearn to feel pride for Haley, not frustration. Her airheadedness, however, paves the way for Claire's zinger aimed at the equally proud Mitch about their daughters: "Haley going to college is a miracle; Lily going to kindergarten is the law."
Two particularly enduring and irritating facets of this show revolve around Claire's inexplicably petty cruelty (albeit one that spawns delightful witticisms), and the relentless sparring between Cam and Mitchell (although their premiere episode offered a welcome respite). Nonetheless, the bond between Mitch and Claire, portrayed as siblings, is meticulously crafted. Sarcasm serves as their armor, as Mitch himself admits. Recalling this makes their behavior slightly more palatable, if not entirely bearable. Moreover, the trickle-down effect of their sardonic humor onto their children can be truly rewarding — the playful exchange between Haley and Alex, with lines like "don't dork up our room" and "don't slut up your college," is pure gold.
The prospect of a new baby joining the show (around midseason, according to co-creator Christopher Lloyd) is undeniably exciting. However, a silent bundle of joy seldom propels a sitcom forward. Instead, it's time to embrace the notion that Jay will soon be a father once more. This Jay, who blames his combative, endlessly sarcastic offspring on their mother, claiming he was barely around, might find redemption in unburdening his juvenile, off-color jokes in a safe haven, such as a parenting class among strangers. Perhaps this will mark a fresh start for him.
"Modern Family" excels at taking overused sitcom tropes — like a baby class, yet again, with the same teacher but now sporting a British accent — and subverting them. It does so not through the all-out irreverence and madness of "Arrested Development," but by staying true to its characters and mining humor from their individualities, rather than the situations themselves. Gloria's boastful toss of a burrito-wrapped baby doll, followed by Jay's retort that it wasn't a race, and not even close, is both a genuine moment and hilarious.
We are gifted with the knowledge that a tome titled "Phil's-osophy" now exists, a half-baked collection of obscure life tips interspersed with terrible one-liners. "The most amazing things that can happen to a human being will happen to you ... if you just lower your expectations." "Dance until your feet hurt, sing until your lungs hurt, act until you're William Hurt." Imagine the joy of poring over such a gem with a new college roommate, all at your dad's expense. Instant lifelong best friends, indeed.
Summoned to Principal What-the-Fudge’s office over Cam’s playground vigilantism—a scenario Louis C.K. once fantasieszed about in his latest stand-up special—Cam and Mitch find themselves squared off against the mothers of the involved boys, one of whom is none other than Wendi McLendon-Covey of "Bridesmaids" fame. As we venture into a thicket of gay stereotypes and effortlessly cringe-worthy jokes—Mitch heading to a gay bar named the Lumberyard, while Pam, in contrast, visits an actual lumberyard! Get it? She’s the butch one! You catch my drift, don’t you?—we witness Cam and Mitch enacting a human Venn diagram that exemplifies why gay men and women often don’t see eye to eye. Cam’s smug routine about lesbians riding motorcycles, teaching gym, and hating makeup is meant to be absurd, yet it falls flat. His piercing screech for Lily to unlock her bedroom door, intended to flip the stereotypical script back on him, similarly lacks charm. The storyline isn’t cruel, but it fizzles out nonetheless.
Back at college, just a short year after Phil embarrassed Haley during a school tour in anticipation of this very day, Phil and Claire are determined to mortify their eldest one final time. The condoms, the My Little Pony bedsheets? Come on, Mom and Dad—you’re sending mixed signals! Not a good look! Making a solid first impression is crucial, akin to Julia Child making her mark. Later that evening, a heartwarming final glimpse of Haley in her dorm triggers the episode’s obligatory heartstring symphony—the swelling of “I love yous,” the soothing “so, so much,” culminating in the crescendo of “I’ll miss you.” It’s a melody we’ll hear for many, many weeks to come. Savor it, or learn to cope with it.
