In this second episode of "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," titled "Mid-Way to Midtown," the structural flaws that marred the season's opener have been skillfully addressed. Chiefly, Midge's return to New York, leaving the Parisian scenes to Rose and Abe, feels like a much-needed correction. While the first episode's detour was regrettable, this episode restores the series' natural flow.
The universe of "Maisel" aligns perfectly this time: Midge and Susie reunite, while Rose and Abe find the solitude they desperately needed to mend their marital rift. Over candlelit dinners, waltzes by the Seine, and shared moments in Rose's cozy apartment, their love is reignited with the aid of Frank Sinatra and Keely Smith's serenades. Yet, even in the midst of such bliss, Tony Shalhoub's beret-clad figure steals the spotlight.
But as with all fairy tales, even in the whimsical world of "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," dreams must come to an end. Rose's plan to purchase a Parisian apartment is abruptly halted by Abe's reminder of impending responsibilities. Although he's enjoyed his intellectual cafe conversations, the reality of returning to Columbia soon looms. Unexpectedly, Rose offers a staunch rebuttal, declaring that in Paris, she's liberated from the mid-20th-century shackles of traditional American wifedom. She speaks with determination, proclaiming, "Here, I am shatterproof."
Not everyone can escape to Paris during a depressive spell, but since "Maisel" (and Rose) have the financial means, we must accept that the Weissmans' troubles are resolved in a rather convenient manner. However, in this fantastical realm, a happy ending is easier to digest. Rose's actions might appear as petulant defiance from a privileged woman, but one cannot deny that Abe had been distant as a husband. It's surprising, even to Rose and the audience, that her drastic measures succeeded in bringing him back to her side.
Upon their victorious return to New York, Abe proudly proclaimed that he had skillfully maneuvered through Columbia University's corridors, clearing the path for Rose to audit art history courses, thereby extending her academic pursuits that had flourished in Paris. Moreover, moved by their romantic dance beneath the moonlit Seine, where "we danced with alluring charm, albeit with a touch of inexperience," he enrolled them in dance classes at Arthur Murray. Despite not often envisioning Tony Shalhoub in the role of a romantic lead, one's heart was inevitably captivated by this heartwarming scene.
Now, with Midge back home and having made the difficult decision to end her marriage, it was time for her to buckle down and face reality. This entailed acknowledging the responsibilities that accompany independence, including confessing to her parents and friends: "My name is Miriam, and I'm a stand-up comic."
Susie, who was hiding out at the Weissman apartment to evade Harry Drake's hired thugs, had secured Midge a paying gig at a downtown club thanks to her interview in the Village Voice. However, before this could happen, Susie had to give her naive client a crash course in Publicity 101, essentially admonishing her, "Stop complaining that I got you noticed." Midge somehow believed she could become famous without her parents and best friend Imogene knowing about her secret job; girl, you're friends with Lenny Bruce, news travels fast.
Here lies my concern with Midge throughout this episode. She insisted to Susie that she was fully committed to her career, but the prospect of the responsibilities and challenges of being independent and successful terrified her. Adding to her plight, Joel's offer to buy an apartment for her and the kids made her realize that her carefree days at her parents' home were numbered. While I understand Midge's reluctance to leave her comfort zone, especially after enjoying it for 26 years, Zelda cannot always be there to unclog her toilet or raise her children. What Midge truly needs to take that leap of faith in her life is a robust infusion of confidence. Ironically, there is no better way to acquire it than by standing her ground in the brutal, sexist world of comedy.
Midge was never going to stand idly by and endure the hazing she encountered during her stand-up debut in "Mid-Way to Midtown." We all know by now that her best material springs from moments of vulnerability. Not only was she bumped around the stage and subjected to insults from other male comics, but she was introduced in the most humiliating way possible: "If she can't make you laugh, she can at least make you dinner." It was appalling.
However, this boys' club stood no chance against Midge's little black dress, her elegant pearls, and her razor-sharp wit. Even in her pungent, musty state, Midge single-handedly shattered the comedic patriarchy, eagerly anticipating "the possibility of seeing a chick fail" with one profound observation: "Comedy is fueled by oppression. By the lack of power. By sadness and disappointment. By abandonment and humiliation. Who better describes these experiences than women?" This electrifying scene was sorely lacking in the season premiere, but thankfully, we didn't have to wait long for it. With every gig, Midge grew stronger and more confident, and that is precisely what we, as audiences, yearn for. If only she could find the courage to reveal the truth to her parents...
