The effortless charm of this episode propelled me to investigate the directorial genius lurking behind the lens, a role that often blends into the background once the well-oiled Modern Family production line churns out another installment. To my delight, I discovered it was none other than series co-creator Steven Levitan, who only occasionally steps into the director's chair, usually for episodes marked by significant plot twists or introductions. It's hardly a coincidence that Levitan's previous directorial stint was this season's expertly handled, heartwarming premiere. (As the episode drew to a close, I momentarily thought, Ah, now we see why this week's episode was handled with such tender care — surely, it's because Gloria was about to give birth. How wrong I was.)
Each character was portrayed with honesty and humor, with the exception of Mitchell, who was somewhat limited to a handful of amusing one-liners. (Luke, too, played his part, though that's somewhat expected of him. It's all for the best — just rock that hundred-eyed-alien shirt and have a blast, little buddy.) And who would have thought, tuning in to their TV, that they'd hear the word "cassingle"? Who dares to hope for such audacious surprises while flipping through channels?
Tonight, the jokes flowed directly from the hearts of the Dunphy-Pritchett-Delgado clan, rather than being conveniently inserted for the sake of the script. Consider Claire and Phil's teaching moment with Luke, advising him to fashion a shiv not from an old knife but from a rusty spoon or a human femur. "Be creative!" Phil exclaimed, revealing him and his wife as not just parents but also avid prime-time viewers, having shared countless weekly living room dates with popcorn-filled bags and shows like CSI and Prison Break.
Occasionally throughout the episode, Eric Stonestreet reminded us why he's garnered two Emmys for his role. Tonight, it was through Cam's attempt to nonchalantly brush off his deep jealousy towards Kenny Van Heffington, the insurance agent he was understudying, a feat he failed miserably at. "He's breathtaking. Yeah, I hate him. Anyway, what was I talking about?" It was a delivery that hinted at an actor who could never view his character as one-dimensional, despite how his cohorts are sometimes portrayed.
When we delve into tales of grandeur, let's not overlook Lily! Her father, in a twist worthy of a comedy sketch, has removed the handles from her bureau, rendering it accessible only with the aid of a spatula. "How can I endure this?" she moans, labeling the situation a veritable nightmare. Mitchell, observing her plight a few episodes after Lily began mirroring his mannerisms, quips, "Someone's certainly inherited her dad's flair for exaggeration." Meanwhile, Jay addresses Manny, donned in wingtips, with a chuckle, "You're just a kid; you're no Nixon on the beach." The reason Jay's mind leaps straight to Nixon escapes me, yet I find it endearing, albeit slightly less so than Manny's endearing moniker for his neglected sneakers: "sporty-shoes." What a gem of an episode, ripe with quotable lines!
It's a delightful surprise to see Haley back, revealing her penchant for mugshots accompanied by the catchy tune of "Party in the U.S.A." echoing in her mind. Alex's side story, though cute, lacks punch, reminding us that the world's Hayleys will invariably overshadow the Alexes. Here's hoping Alex learns otherwise without succumbing to peer pressure and joining Haley's ranks. Her self-conscious confession, longing to broaden her circle of friends ("in a few years," she modestly muses, setting her social aspirations refreshingly low for a super-genius), is a poignant moment, blending vulnerability with humor.
"Oh, God, I adore you," Phil exclaims to Luke, pun-loving soul that he is, as his son crafts a middling wordplay upon entering the Doug-lympics. Manny, the perpetual little Sisyphus, dreads the athletic challenges ahead, preferring jump rope to tug-of-war. Can you fault a child whose peers equate skin color with nationality in their mock Olympics? It's both brilliant and tragic, tinged with a hint of terror. "Does anyone even care that I'm not from Mexico?" he pleads, inadvertently presenting Luke with the opportunity to display a birther mentality and Jay with yet another chance for the season's myriad border crossing/immigration/deportation jokes. (Through the cracks, you can almost hear the show pandering to half its vast audience: "We hear you, conservative America! Foreigners do make us feel odd, don't they? Crazy, isn't it?!")
Jay struggles to keep pace with the tech-savvy lingo of the younger dads ("I'm clueless; is call-waiting even an app these days?"), yet he seamlessly transitions into caveman-like banter, mercilessly ribbing Phil with mockable ease. Their conversation culminates in an inflatable boxing ring brawl, reminiscent of a WorldStarHipHop video, with Phil pounding years of grievances into Jay's psyche and physique, accompanied by Jay's humiliating wails of "I worked all summer scooping ice cream for that boombox!" Following the bout, Jay feels emotionally exposed. Phil consoles him, "Those guys genuinely liked you too," to which Jay's instant rejoinder is, "I don't give a damn about that. (Did they really? Even Jerry?)". Incidentally, Ed O'Neil delivers a side-commentary, gazing intently past the camera, leaving one to ponder: Was he reading cue cards or attempting to feign a conversation with an interviewer, rather than the cameraman? Has he a habit of this? I hadn't noticed before, if so.
Gloria, her mind fogged by pregnancy, concludes a heartfelt moment with Claire by attempting an ill-advised exit from a moving car. Paul Scheer, of 'The League', 'NTSF:SD:SUV', and 'Human Giant' fame (and an anomaly among comedians for being simultaneously not-dead-serious and utterly unamusing in a phone interview), appears as Paul, a somewhat underutilized Costco overlord. Claire finds it inconceivable that anyone could mistake her for a criminal, given her quintessential mom status. (Later, she and Gloria drive past gas priced at an astronomical $4.63 per gallon. Good heavens! This is supposed to be escapist fare, folks. Let's not be reminded of real-world gas prices, shall we?)
High atop Treeona Elmsley (a nod to Leona Helmsley, perhaps?), Cam's over-the-top sentimental love for nature rings true. He, Mitch, and Lily cherish family memories associated with Treeona, invaluable treasures indeed. Cam also endeavors to teach Lily the importance of taking a stand, yet as a pragmatic parent this week (and many others, albeit not invariably), he simultaneously imparts other lessons, conflicts and all. "It's equally crucial to demonstrate the value of honoring one's commitments! In this instance, my prior commitment preceded my stand," he elucidates.
Cam and Mitchell embark on yet another chapter of their season, standing as the sole duo consistently grappling with relationship dilemmas that resonate with a humanity and relatability far beyond mere plot contrivances. Tonight's instalment unfolds with Cam initiating endeavors but failing to see them through, while Mitchell struggles to offer the unwavering support his partner craves.
Enter a therapist clad in the attire of a sensitive cop, endeavoring to put an end to the tree-saving escapades that have grown rather absurd. His therapy sessions might seem cheesy, given his attendance stems from his partner's less-than-stellar decision to "shoot that guy," but such is life's unpredictability, as evidenced in cinematic masterpieces like 'The Departed.' This standoff presents us with a Cam adorned in fur and spandex, his face still adorned with fresh paint from the 'Cats' dressing room, licking sap from his hands like a feline in disguise. The corniness escalates with Stella the dog mistaking him for a real cat, though this bit does offer a chuckle. Yet, the true gem lies in the opportunity for viewers to defy the TV trope of protesters in trees always engaged in dramatic confrontations with menacing bulldozers. Perhaps, in reality, bored construction workers might simply shrug and call it quits for the day.
While not a groundbreaking episode, it exudes a sense of inspiration. It feels less like humor meticulously cultivated in a lab, adhering to an algorithm demanding more jokes, more now, and even more after that; instead, it reverberates with the show's early-season vim and vigor, careening through the narrative and allowing the humor to flow organically, unforced and unrestrained.
