Let's get straight to the juicy bit: a How I Met Your Mother reunion, huh!? I'm in the dark about whether Cobie Smulders will make a comeback in the season two's final two installments, but the notion of her portraying a romantic interest for Jason Segel's character is blowing my mind just a tad. Marshall and Robin? Their subtle, underlying chemistry as friends has always been a treat for me, so the prospect of witnessing them locking lips is both fascinating and a bit surreal.
Jimmy ventures out to meet Sofi to purchase her yellow Mini Cooper, a gift for Alice's milestone 18th birthday, which happens to resemble Tia's former ride. He brings Derek along as his negotiating buddy, though he should've anticipated that Derek's style of negotiation involves folding like a house of cards at the slightest hint of empathy for the seller's plight. When Jimmy returns to pick up the car, he and Sofi hit it off, exchanging playful jibes about their respective marriage mishaps (her ex is dead to her, while his wife passed away). She even semi-jokingly claims that her situation is worse because while he cherishes fond memories of Tia, she's saddled with bitter memories of the husband who ditched her for her best friend.
Jimmy is pleasantly taken aback by Sofi's openness to delve into deep topics rather than sidestep the elephant in the room—his deceased wife. Even though this show boasts an ensemble that's willing to bare their souls with minimal prompting, this scene still stands out. It's a heartwarming moment, and Smulders radiates charm in a delightfully quirky, rom-com adorable manner that's distinct from her edgier demeanor in HIMYM or her underappreciated role in Andrew Bujalski's film Results.
At this juncture in the narrative, revisiting Jimmy's dating life feels apt. It's been a few months in-story since he and Gaby ceased their bedroom escapades, and while he's still not quite ready for anything serious, he's pondering dipping his toes back into the dating pool. However, he can't quite summon the courage to ask Sofi out, despite acknowledging the potential spark between them.As I gaze upon Jimmy, I do not behold a soul perpetually frozen in time. He and Alice have never been closer, and individually, they are thriving in ways unprecedented since Tia's passing. Alice, in particular, has reached a turning point this week, severing her informal, park-bench therapy sessions with Paul, realizing she can now navigate her grief-laden journey without the need for constant check-ins. A pivotal moment in her growth came when she confronted and subsequently reconnected with Louis, the man she once deemed her life's ruinator. Today, she radiates a sense of lightness and tranquility that was nowhere to be found earlier in the season.
Hence, her discovery that her father, Jimmy, has severed ties with Louis strikes her with profound pain. Alice's conversation with Jimmy in his bedroom, though brief, is laced with brutal honesty, starting with her poignant accusation: "You instructed him to avoid me, even when you knew it was aiding my healing?" Her words encapsulate the essence of the situation succinctly. While there's no legal obligation compelling Jimmy to forgive the man who caused his wife's demise, it is undeniably selfish to deny his daughter a relationship that has immensely benefited her—and to compound the hurt by lying, leaving her questioning her sanity. The irony is palpable, akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy: Jimmy shuns Louis because Louis serves as a reminder of Jimmy's own selfish, neglectful past, which marred Alice's 17th birthday. Yet, in doing so, he inadvertently spoiled her 18th as well. Though I find little sympathy for Jimmy in this instance, I can fathom the turmoil brewing within him as he utters an exasperated "Fuck!" in the closing scene.
Ultimately, growth necessitates confronting one's own stubbornness, fear, and insecurity, which often pose as the greatest obstacles. It's invaluable to have a friend who dares to confront your flawed defense mechanisms head-on, as Paul and Gaby have recently done for each other. In the aptly named episode "Changing Patterns," Gaby lambasts Paul for not asking Julie to move in with him following her husband Elliot's demise and the sale of her home, instead content with her merely "crashing" at his place. Julie, however, is well-versed in Paul's slow embrace of change; she has gradually integrated herself into his life, patiently awaiting his realization. Later, in a tender moment, Paul confesses that he believed he was living his best life before meeting Julie, but now he has discovered "a new, even better version."
In this episode, Gaby finds herself immersed in the reality of Paul's words from the previous week, which highlighted her tendency to act as a caretaker. When her anxious patient, Jackie (a returning character portrayed by Edy Modica), requests her to babysit for just an hour, she reluctantly agrees, prompting a triumphant "classic Gaby" remark from Paul. Despite having the opportunity to enjoy lunch with her charming and attractive boyfriend, she finds herself trapped in the office, unwittingly crossing a professional boundary.
A grateful call from Paul persuades Gaby to heed his advice and tackle the difficult task: informing her mother, Phyllis, that she does not want her to move in with her. Watching this unfold is particularly wrenching, especially considering the poor timing and Phyllis's tangible excitement. Ashley Nicole Black's script doesn't spare Gaby, depicting Phyllis's heartbreak and disappointment, particularly at Gaby's firm resolve. Phyllis, deeply hurt, asks her daughter to just leave.
A part of me still wonders about the necessity for Gaby to start prioritizing herself, given that much of her season's storyline has revolved around taking on more responsibility within her family. However, navigating Phyllis's health issues and preserving a healthy mother-daughter relationship will undoubtedly offer ample drama and trigger profound introspection for Gaby in future episodes and seasons. Thus, I am eager to see how this unfolds. Growth is neither straightforward nor linear, and everyone occasionally stands in their own way.
