Brace yourselves, all, as "Look, She Made a Hat" traverses a vast landscape of emotions and complexities. If you're not up for a rollercoaster ride, perhaps Amy Sherman-Palladino's masterful scripting might be too much to handle. Be sure to have a hearty meal before tuning in, or you might find yourself as bewildered and irate as the Weissman-Maisel clan during their Yom Kippur breakfast.
Today marks the momentous first anniversary of the day Joel deserted Midge, shattering her world. It's a pivotal time for both Maisels, who have yet to embark on their divorce journey, to reflect on their lives. On one side stands Midge, thriving in her newfound glory: she's dating a handsome doctor who seems to have been ahead of his time with the #MeToo movement, her stand-up career is blooming, and she's back in the makeup department at B. Altman. On the other, Joel has just purchased the building housing his family's garment factory and is indulging in a drunken spree of anonymous affairs with models. While I sympathize with him, especially when he weeps to his confidant Archie about his desperate yearning for forgiveness (his sorrow stems from his inability to forgive himself, not from Midge's resentment), his plight is self-inflicted. At least he has his kind spinster secretary, Mrs. Moskowitz, to caution him about the dangers of venereal disease.
Reminiscent of Midge's encounter with Lenny Bruce in previous episodes, where she was warned about the pitfalls of a stand-up career, the specter of that advice might soon rear its ugly head. Sacrifices are inevitable, and they might just involve her budding romance. Even in Benjamin's arms, Midge cannot escape the harsh realities that accompany the pursuit of her art.
Benjamin, a devoted admirer of the downtown Manhattan art scene, introduces Midge to Declan Howell, described as "the most famous unknown artist in the world." This being Amazon, it's only fitting that Rufus Sewell takes on the role, portraying Declan with equal parts of his previous characters: a high-ranking Nazi and a drunken painter enamored with a self-assured Jewish woman. It's not easy for an actor like Zachary Levi to fade into obscurity, but Sewell's presence ensures that he does. Declan serves as a stark reminder for Midge, if not the dark side of an artist's life, then certainly its unfiltered truth. On the surface, he represents everything that Midge strives not to compromise: once a family man, Declan now lives alone in a dilapidated studio, vulnerable to beatings from his landlord and his wife.
Yet, Declan also produces paintings that leave Midge speechless. One captivating scene involves Declan presenting Midge with a specific artwork, its grandeur remaining unseen by the audience, as he outlines her choices: "If you aspire for greatness, if you're willing to pursue it to its fullest extent, you cannot have everything. You lose your family, a sense of belonging. But behold, what awaits you on the other side." If "losing family" means Midge escapes the tumultuous turmoil brewing between her family, Moishe, Shirley, and Joel during the Yom Kippur breakfast, the choice seems evident. (However, where else would she find such rich material for her comedic arsenal?) Given her lack of concern for her children's welfare, her only impediment now is her budding affection for Benjamin.
Adhering to the unspoken norm of television dramas, wherein protagonists must juggle two pivotal events in a single night, Midge attends the breakfast and then rushes to the Gaslight, where a crucial talent scout is waiting to witness her performance. In a moment of impulsiveness, she decides to confess her secret life to family members, excluding Abe and Joel, and does so before a single morsel has been consumed. Even Joel shakes his head in disapproval, warning, "You've gathered a roomful of hungry Jews. There's desperation and anger hovering in the air."
(Indeed, but at least they serve cocktails. Imagine enduring the long wait to get into Brandeis University's dining hall for breakfast, four consecutive years, without a drop of alcohol, Joel. Then we can compare notes.) The response wasn't one of pure fury, unless you consider Abe's mock horror, but rather a profound sense of confusion. Marin Hinkle steals the show with her ability to prolong a plumber's gagging routine far beyond its necessity, and I'll be forever grateful for the comic relief. (Midge invited Susie to breakfast as a favor, and I'm still torn between which moment was funnier: Abe's deadpan "Hello, person I've never met before," or Rose desperately trying to unravel why the Steiner plumber doubles as a talent manager.) It's the perfect time for Midge to embark on her tour, albeit with the potential to wreak havoc on her budding romance with Benjamin. In their rare alignment, both Joel and Susie advise Midge against pursuing the good doctor at this crucial stage of her career. Joel's motives are transparent; he simply loathes seeing her with another man. And Susie will grasp any support she can find, even from Joel: "Absolutely, heed your husband's advice!" she quips.
After Midge's latest sensational performance at the Gaslight, we realize this segment wasn't necessary. As she explains, "I merely replayed breakfast, word for word." Remember Benjamin's confession to Joel that his approach was to never let people close? Now, having lowered his guard with Midge, he seems destined for heartache. In her post-show discussion with Susie, Midge fails to mention him even once. Instead, she speaks of her ambition to "be big. I want to be the biggest thing out there." She's determined to create that masterpiece, regardless of the cost. Let the games begin.
