"Little bit of Hollywood? Okayyy" rings as the closest approximation to a typical episode of The Chair Company, but that's not a knock at all, star rating be damned; the show is settling into a more consistent rhythm, which, for me, means this episode lacks the surprise and thrill of its predecessors. The episode's subtle menace seeps beneath the surface, making for a discomfiting viewing experience even when the actual threat of violence isn't present. In fact, much of this episode unfolds as a series of misunderstandings and clarifications, a pattern that may be the show's defining mode: introducing something unsettling but then undercutting it a scene (or an episode, or five episodes) later.
Take the opening, which resolves last week's cliffhanger with the revelation that the man taking photos of Ron in his closet is actually working for Mike Santini. He was sent here to keep an eye on Ron and was supposed to send the photo to Mike, but he mixed up the burner numbers. This revelation doesn't detract from the cliffhanger or the confrontation itself—the episode begins with an intense chase following LT's burst from the closet—but it provides another blueprint for the show's regular horror subversions.
Of course, Ron can't forget what just happened. Each scare leaves an indelible mark on his psyche, and you get the sense that they're starting to accumulate. At this rate, he might become a shut-in by the finale. The scene with LT is just the latest nightmare fuel-up, judging by his aggressive broom-stabbing to check the closets in the middle of the night. LT might have been a "red herring," but the scenario leads Ron to imagine the worst, including an intruder who would force him to kill his own family. Those people exist, he points out to Barb, so an expensive security system only makes sense.
As for the actual conspiracy investigation, Ron and Mike make some headway in this episode, traveling several layers deeper down the Tecca rabbit hole. Mike apparently managed to confirm that his employer, Jim X, got paid $50,000 to have Mike scare Ron. (It seems Mike should be pissed he got a measly fraction of that to do the actual scaring.) So Ron goes to the county clerk's office (using Douglas's name) and sees the name RBMG, Inc. on the deed for the abandoned building he visited. Apparently, the last man to check out the deed was a mean man named Steven Droyco—intel Ron manages to capture with some not-bad spy work.
A quick Google search enlightens that RBMG stands for Red Ball Market Global, a shady company whose website boasts a photo of the giant red ball from the abandoned office. There are photos and names of board members, including a woman named Ronda, whom Mike admires as gorgeous, but they remain as mysteries. When Ron dials the RBMG number, the catchy hold music loops endlessly. "That's the problem with the world today," Ron laments over beers with Mike. "People churn out trash, and you can't reach anyone for answers." The show's theme? Apart from a drunken, angry message for National Business Solutions mentioning the RBMG board, Ron's progress this week centers on Droyco, whom Mike tracks down. The guy appears unstable, flipping out and making a quick exit as soon as they inquire about Tecca. But Ron doesn't leave empty-handed; he and Mike break in and seize some random papers. In a spooky twist, they also encounter an old woman who supposedly died a couple years ago: Droyco's mother, who is apparently faking her death because she owes her sister money. Droyco reveals this to Ron during an unannounced visit to Fisher Robay. He's willing to admit that he worked at Tecca for four days, taking parts off chairs and putting other parts on while in the nude. He recognizes a photo of Ken Tucker, the CFO of Red Ball Global, but doesn't have any more information to offer. Ron promises to return his papers once he's ready for a more in-depth chat. Soon after, though, Ron receives a security alert with a horror-movie shot of a hooded figure in a hockey mask sitting in a Tecca chair outside the Trosper house, shaking his head maniacally. "Jason!" Ron exclaims in the final moments, just in case the scene was teetering on the edge of the horror/comedy divide. I anticipate the horror to deflate once we get the context. Apart from near-misses like the intruder at game night, Ron manages to keep his Tecca obsession from fully infiltrating his work and family life, though there are signs of discord on both fronts. For one, his decision to exclude football from the Canton mall development elicits pushback and publicity, including from a former Cleveland Browns player who cries on the news about it. Ron wants to stick to his vision, but his boss Jeff and colleague Alon undermine him by coming up with their own nod to football. It's small, but Ron's fragile ego—especially under pressure to live up to his father's legacy—is a character trait straight out of Detroiters. As Ron explains it to Mike, his dad was a great man with "a bridge named after him." Ron's homelife in this episode feels particularly Breaking Bad-esque: His wife is suspicious about his whereabouts, and his son is acting out. When he sees Seth drinking outside on the security camera, he arranges a meet-up at a café. There, Seth explains, "I found out that if you don't drink too much, drinking is actually really fun." When he's drunk, he says he tells jokes because they're funny, not just to get a laugh. (He also sometimes drinks beers and watches Abbott and Costello, which has nothing to do with self-consciousness.) Ron doesn't even fight Seth's logic; perhaps because he experiences that same desire to just be his core self instead of an idealized, hard-working family-man projection of himself.
However, Ron reveals a secret to cover another, employing the Seth incident as a means to evade explaining his recent extracurricular activities to Barb—a move that constitutes a blatant violation of his agreement with Seth, a telltale sign that Ron's attempts to conceal his true self are pushing him towards becoming a worse husband and father. His frequent absences have Barb pondering whether he's fleeing the monotonous life at Fisher Robay by indulging in "Jeep tours" again, after catching sight of the box LT and Mike were kicking around in the garage. In this absurdist take on a Breaking Bad-esque antihero drama, Ron's dark past is devoid of drugs, gambling, or contract killings; instead, he was once obsessed with Jeep tours.
As I delve deeper into the intricate character dynamics of The Chair Company or unravel its increasingly convoluted plot, it begins to feel somewhat comical. This series boasts a distinct vision and tone, undoubtedly, but it also serves as an opportunity for Tim Robinson and his team to play around. And that's still very true in "@BrownDerbyHistoricVids Little bit of Hollywood? Okayyy." Consider the clerk sent home to take a shower because, apparently, people can smell her. Or Douglas's supremely creepy "mistakes party," where attendees wear either yellow or green wristbands depending on their comfort level with mistake-making. In an episode brimming with theories and red herrings, it's these delightful diversions that linger the most.
