SCHITT'S CREEK Season 1

This review was requested by Sonja Dominguez. Many thanks to Sonja for supporting Post-Credit Coda through our Patreon.

Episode 1 - Our Cup Runneth Over

Schitt's Creek is a story about opulence gouged. This cuts two ways. It's exciting to have a tiptop production quality show that is so explicitly about class in America. The emperors robbed of their clothing, and banished to a podunk town that they have ironic ownership of. We see the underside of the great American success story.

But you can't have your cake and eat it too. This show asks us to sympathize with a family of rich entitled white people, the exact folks who are killing the world hardest and fastest. Even more troublesome and potentially tone deaf is the pilot's insistence that this family's wealth is not being repossessed because of anything wrong they did, but because of the shady dealings of another (unseen) member of the clan. This retreat from responsibility means the show is likely aware of its central dilemma: How can we make a show about the redemption of rich monsters without making them so monstrous that the audience can no longer sympathize? Or to put it more bluntly... nobody makes millions of dollars without stepping on the necks of thousands of people.

The writers are therefore savvy to begin the show by emphasizing the gouge rather than the opulence. The first scene shows the government ransacking their mansion, which is both an economical storytelling choice and a way to shift our focus away from the inherent evil of millionaires.

This leads directly to the first joke of the show that really lands. The family learns that the government neglected to repossess one asset, the town of Schitt's Creek, which the family purchased as a joke. "You mean you actually bought that town? I thought you photoshopped the deed," the family says to the father, who responds, "Of course I bought the town! The joke was owning the town! Why would I photoshop the deed? The joke was owning the town!" This bit is both about the excesses of the rich, and about a father who takes having fun with his family seriously. It emerges nicely from Eugene Levy's performance, which I already like quite a bit. There are layers in the way he later overreacts to the weird but amicable presence of Roland Schitt (Chris Elliott), the greasy town mayor.

Not all the actors come off so well right away. The daughter Alexis Rose (Annie Murphy) is little more than a mediocre valley girl impression at this point, although she does get an absurdist scene that consists entirely of her saying "OK. OK. OK. OK. OK. OK." on the phone while her brother David (Dan Levy) gawks aimlessly at their new motel home.

The real highlight of the episode is its production design, especially the props. At the local diner the simple act of a waitress handing the family their enormous laminated menus completely dominates the scene. There's a gag that consists entirely of the mother Moira (Catherine O'Hara) holding a lightbulb as if it were a foreign object. And of course, her gaudy earrings that go missing and lead to this fantastic piece of dialogue: "I politely accused that girl of stealing my earrings and she turned ice cold!" I have a feeling the props design is going to be a backbone of the show, both from a design and a direction perspective. What better way to talk about the rich and the poor than showcasing the Stuff that they respectively surround themselves with?

All in all the pilot is modest, far from spectacular. That may be a smart approach, familiarizing us with the character dynamics before adding some razzle-dazzle. That focus on character means I don't yet know how the show will tackle its tricky class themes. I will be very curious to find out.

7

Episode 2 - The Drip

An early scene here has Johnny attempting to use a completely useless service bell, a nice follow-up to my prognostication about excellent props. It's a small moment that points to the impotence Johnny feels throughout this episode as deposed patriarch. This is reflected in the episode's title "The Drip," a reference to the sewage drip over his bed that Johnny doesn't know how to fix. His wounded masculine ego also comes to the fore in his insistence on leading no matter what, a reflection of a Trumplike business ego.

We see that ego take different form in his kids. "Love that journey for me," says Alexis, as she imagines finding a local revenge boyfriend. How can someone so myopic be self-aware enough to characterize her own journey? The rich see themselves as tastemakers, and these characters accordingly put an enormous amount of value in their ability to evaluate and curate. For Johnny, it's evaluating the tactics of his opponents. For Alexis, it's about evaluating her social media persona. For David, its about evaluating his community. "I think you're funny," he says to Stevie (Emily Hampshire) the receptionist, in a rare earnest-ish moment. This flimsy bond leads him to seek her out at a local tailgate in a scene that doesn't really go anywhere, but features a couple nice moments like Stevie crooning to David 'open your throat' as he sucks beer from a tube.

But it is Moira who owns the first truly great moment of the show. She and Johnny attend dinner with the mayor and his wife Jocelyn (Jennifer Robertson) in an attempt to convince them to sign off on selling the town once more. With Johnny's business tactics exhausted, it comes down to Moira to give the mayor what he wants. You see, he's a fan of her stint on reality TV, and his dream is to receive a famous Moira Rose slap. She refuses at first, to which everyone objects by yelling at her to slap the mayor with increasing vigor. "Slap me like a bitch!" he yells, and Catherine O'Hara delivers with an all-timer screen slap.

The plotting of the show feels a bit shabby to me, which is common for first seasons of sitcoms. As long as we get transcendent character-driven moments like the dinner party scene, I don't mind waiting for the writers to get their plot legs.

7

Episode 3 - Don't Worry It's His Sister

The worst episode yet, "Don't Worry It's His Sister" privileges sitcom tropes above character moments. The lame opening scene sees Johnny heckbent on selling the town; much to his chagrin he learns that the generations-old 'Welcome to Schitt's Creek' sign features a pair of smiling white people who are accidentally drawn in such a way as to evoke sexual intercourse. To his greater chagrin, he learns that it depicts the founder and his sister.

It's an age-old sitcom debacle, where Johnny is for some reason too proprietous to say his objection out loud and everybody misunderstands him. At least the billboard design pops!

Johnny gives some weirdly hectoring monologues in this episode. This, combined with David's slimy plot about trying to find a minimum wage job, makes the episode feel a bit gross overall. I don't yet know what Schitt's Creek's identity is, but the episodes that lack a beating heart feel like a worse Arrested Development. Nobody can beat AD at the acidic irony game, so let's hope this show carves out a different identity.

Meanwhile, the town mythology grows in some rich ways. I like that we see not one but two separate townspeople playing Solitaire in this episode. I love that Roland's grandfather's name is "Horace Schitt," the first of the omnipresent 'shit/Schitt' gags that really tickled my fancy. And I LOVE the ramshackle design of the Town Hall.

Again Moira has the standout moment of the episode, when Jocelyn invites her to teach acting to her students and she actually gets excited about it because she's so bored. O'Hara is clearly going to be a carrying force on the show. I'm excited for her to get better material than the tired 'super serious theatre person intensely instructs children' gags.

The most disappointing moment was probably the final beat with the billboard, which I saw coming from a mile away. When you commit to ending your episodes with these grand ironic gestures, you need to really nail the misdirection for the audience to have that aha! moment. And again, no show does that as well as Arrested Development, so maybe it'd be best for Schitt's Creek to play a different game.

5.5

Episode 4 - Bad Parents

The cold open of this episode alerts me how funny the motel room set-up is. A motel is the ideal purgatory for a family whose resources used to represent limitless freedom. The set-up is great for visual and audio gags, like this episode's back and forth shouting about shirts, or a couple episodes ago when an impassioned nighttime speech from Johnny to Moira is interrupted by the kids asking them to keep it down, the walls are paper thin.

The directors and cinematographers are finding some inventive ways to keep the deliberately cramped space feeling fresh. During an exchange about how Alexis's parents have forgotten her middle name, there's a phenomenal shot of Moira looking at Alexis through a small mirror as she does her make-up, her image duplicated in a larger mirror above. It's a savvy characterization of the power dynamic as well as the fractured nature of Moira's psychology.

The rest of the episode is plotty in a way not worth getting into. Suffice it to say that one of the most exciting developments in the show so far is the performer's chemistry between David and Stevie-- both Dan Levy and Emily Hampshire are going above and beyond to humanize this pair who shouldn't work together but so clearly do. David feels grounded in a way that Alexis still lacks.

The best line of the episode, however, was directed at Alexis: "What's your deal you're pretty what's that like?"

6.5

Episode 5 - The Cabin

We are starting to get a sense of the unique elliptical dialogue style! One of the great joys of delving into a sitcom is witnessing the writers discover what they do best, and the Schitt's Creek team excels at self-referential sentences. The one that clued me in goes something like: "You know, having sex is about more than having kids who grow up to shame you for having sex." This dialogue style feels like a correct fit for the themes of the show-- a family who seem only capable of regarding themselves in increasingly meta-capacities.

The siblings are finding a nice rhythm with each other, as well, although I am still not a fan of the by-the-book sitcom plotting on display here. The parents are off on a sex getaway to Roland's family cabin, so Alexis decides it's time to throw a party. How old are these kids anyway? The party plotline does highlight the developmental regression of the family, just like the motel set-up. Albeit cliche, the no-parents-home-party plot is chosen for a reason. It also allows for some great undercutting of expectations, because the entire set-up pays off not with a dramatic disaster, but with a quiet and deeply felt conversation between Stevie and David about making the most of a bad environment.

Johnny and Moira seem to be getting the hang of exactly that skill, as the episode ends with them falling easily into role play banter. Johnny's eyes light up when he impersonates the voice of some pop culture character familiar to the two of them. The easy way they play with each other here is an amazing bit of acting. And for the first time, the finale of the episode is an understated character moment rather than some big ironic gag! With that bit of restraint, the show feels like it is finding its direction.

8

Episode 6 - Wine and Roses

The B-plot of this episode follows David slowly realizing that he's having a panic attack. He does this by complaining to everyone that he's feeling weird until a veterinarian tells him he's having a panic attack. Then he and Alexis go have an awkward sitcom situation at a yoga class.

There's nothing much to it and it ends in a tumble of cliches, but that's okay because our A-plot is where the heat is this episode! Moira has been conscripted into a television commercial for some really nasty fruit wine. Meanwhile Johnny storms around the set acting like he knows anything at all about filmmaking, a lame masculine posturing that comes from a feeling of helplessness. His wife is the one with something to offer this company, not him. Moira eventually sends him home, gently but firmly, because things will go so much more smoothly without him.

Or so she thought. The moment Johnny leaves the picture and Moira steps in front of the camera, the invisible shark of anxiety strikes. You see, Moira has become deeply invested in the art of this commercial despite her better judgment, and more than a little bit hopeful about this gig representing a career comeback. Whether or not we acknowledge the pressures we put on ourselves, they mount. The sequence shows a series of botched takes that culminates in a slow camera push-in on Moira's frozen, silent, terrified face.

The entire episode is a tour de force of vulnerability from O'Hara, who gives a deep performance that could never exist in a show like Arrested Development. Johnny is summoned back to set, and he finds Moira in a fit of childish, panicking drunkenness. The cork is uncorked, and all of her insecurities and fears have gushed forth in a torrent. "DID I USED T'HAVE A DRINKING PROBLEM??" she scream-slurs in a moment of pure wide-eyed earnestness. She is plumbing the depths of her soul, and O'Hara manages to nail down the perfect admixture of comedy and tragedy.

Of course it ends with us viewing through the commercial camera's lens Moira's triumphant, drunken return to set. In one magnificent take, she stumbles through the commercial with steely determination, giving us an iconic pronunciation of the word 'crabapple' along the way.

8.5

Episode 7 - Turkey Shoot

It is time once more to dwell on the adorable relationship between David and Stevie. He's so desperate to find a place to feel included, and Stevie is an oasis in a desert of people who don't understand him. How is she walking the line between irony and earnestness so well? David willingly volunteers to participate in a turkey shoot, which would have seemed inconceivable five episodes ago, yet here we are. I also think it's so cute that everybody in the family has paired off with a new friend at this point-- except for Johnny.

The other half of this very plotty episode follows Moira and her burgeoning relationship with Jocelyn Schitt. The episode doesn't build to much thematically (although there is a nice bowtie when both plots casually collide towards the end). At least there's a nice revelation of the identity dysmorphia indicated by Moira's wall of wigs. She doesn't know who she is, to put it bluntly, which contextualizes why she tries so hard to try to be something.

It's mostly the little details that stick. I love that Moira likes junk food (the cheese last episode, the brownie desserts here). The way Catherine O'Hara delivers "The Blouse Barn" is unforgettable. And the brilliant alarm clock jump scare of begowned Johnny standing over David in the darkness is just about enough to salvage an otherwise forgettable episode.

7

Episode 8 - Allez Vous

I started the episode noticing the subtle handheld camerawork for the first time. It hovers steadily, barely perceptible, giving a lean-in feeling without the sloppy haste of something like The Office or Parks and Rec. It perfectly frames the show's more intimate encounters, like the close-up banter sequences between Moira and Johnny. Johnny's feeling anxious about travelling to the unemployment office, and Moira is trying to boost his ego. "Honey, I think you may need to raise that masculinity bar just a little," Johnny says with a wink and cocked eyebrow that elevates the joke so much. These performances improve the material by leaps and bounds, I'm excited for when the writers catch up.

To wit, Johnny's plot is another disastrous carousel of trying and failing to accomplish a simple goal, with his ego playing interference along the way. The whole episode revolves around car trouble. Cars are the ultimate American metaphorical phallus, and thus the ultimate source of castration anxiety. The story is typical and predictable, but a lot of nice moments are found in the direction, like the slinking hand-rubbing approach from behind of a local used car salesman. The plot culminates with a truism that resonates well enough: Sometimes a man's only recourse is to walk.

I'm much more interested in the love triangle plot (which is rare). Alexis is doing a lot of surprisingly mature work here, navigating her confusing feelings for boyfriend Ted (Dustin Milligan) and friendfriend Mutt (Tim Rozon, whose performance I find absolutely mesmerizing for a reason I cannot quite put a finger on). Annie Murphy has finally settled into the role, with some help from the writers. She feels like a real person with real concerns, real hurts, and real blind spots. It's such a relief to see her finally invest in the emotional well-being of another person. Watching her egg Ted on to be just a little bit mean is one of the most delightful sequences of the show so far.

7.5

Episode 9 - Carl's Funeral

Just like that, we have a new low. This episode is a series of contrivances that strike against the core of what makes this show so good. For example, the writers sense that it's time to introduce a new source of conflict between Alexis and Ted, so they have her finally stay over at his house only to discover... that he rescues dogs. This drives a wedge between them, because...? It's a piece of overreaching, artificial writing that seems at first glance to fit their respective characters, but does nothing to unlock any psychological layers. It's only an excuse for unfocused conflict and passive aggressive sniping.

Or we could look at Johnny's dilemma: a local man named Carl has died, and his brother Bob insists that Carl would have wanted Johnny to attend the funeral as a pallbearer. Johnny can't remember Carl and barely remembers Bob, so he tries to get out of it by lying about his bad back. Moira jumps in to suggest that Johnny has very weak arms, which wounds Johnny's masculine ego and makes him stammer. This has become such a common trick with Johnny's character: have those around him insult his masculinity, and watch him try to squirm his way out of it. The same joke over and over is getting a bit tiring, especially when it doesn't add to the commentary. It feels the same as the wayward sniping mentioned above.

The entire plot falls apart under this burden of contrivance. I know it's the joke, but why exactly do Bob and the late Carl care so much about Johnny? Usually in these situations it's implied that Johnny's torturers are doing it at least a little bit on purpose to mess with him, but that can't be the case here. It's a funeral. That would be too cruel. So we are to believe that everyone is just a wealth-worshipping buffoon? That goes against the earnest and empathetic heart of this show. It all just feels like an excuse to plop Johnny down in the middle of a classic sitcom cliche, the clueless funeral oration. The payoff is not nearly worth the price.

At least there's another super cute David/Stevie scene to get us through the dregs... but more on that next episode.

5

Episode 10 - The Honeymoon

Early in the episode Moira and Johnny join the kids in their bedroom to have a family chat. The scene is intimate, performance-driven, and a perfect highlight reel of what the show does best. I love the way the family members laugh at each other's jokes and arguments within the scene, less an indication of an actor breaking character and more a sly way to show that these characters enjoy each other's ridiculousness. Sometimes, at least. The fantastic dialogue wraps up with Moira exclaiming that she's forgotten the purpose of the conversation in the first place, a tidy button that leaves a negative space where the purpose of the scene would normally be.

This episode has two major threads and, perhaps for the first time in this show, they are both excellent. This is the episode I've been waiting for, an embarrassment of riches that delves deep into the show's archetypes.

The primary plot centers around David, Stevie, and the fallout of their tryst. It begins with the return of the dysfunctional front desk bell! And just like last time with Johnny, David fails to ding the bell in a moment of heightened castration anxiety. Props are supposed to highlight the inner life of characters just like all design aspects, and this show understands that very well.

David is a far more dynamic character than he at first seemed. This is by design. He's typically so gay-coded that it feels jarring to see him switch into a more 'het' affectation to flirt awkwardly with Stevie! In a savvy move, the writers let Stevie express that exact confusion in a typically Stevie way: sly metaphor. As they're selecting wine for a dinner party, Stevie offers that she is interested in red wine, and she thought David too was only interested in red. But David replies that he loves red wine, and white wine, as well as the occasional rosé. This is such an endearing way to talk about what gets revealed explicitly later in the episode: David is pansexual.

It's great that this can come as a surprise and also not be a big deal! The way we perform our sexuality on a daily basis is tied deeply into identity, biology, trauma, social expectation... but most TV that aims for a birdbrained notion of 'diversity' doesn't come close to understanding that nobody fits easily into such boxes. That Schitt's Creek is willing to leave room for confusion and complication in this way is both dramatically and thematically rich. It's part of a bundle of assumptions and surprises that generates the spectacularly awkward triple-date-dinner-party It also relieves some tremendous tension when David learns that Stevie was only pretending to be upset so they could leave the party early. She had me fooled. For a character to pull off a gambit like that in a sitcom, where gambits are usually telegraphed scenes in advance, is such a pleasant surprise.

Meanwhile, Moira has another iconic performance moment, stammering her way through a failed attempt to relate to 'regular people.' "Oh WHAT am I trying to say!" You see, Roland and Jocelyn are hosting a pig roast, and they didn't invite the Roses because they assumed a lack of interest. Perhaps out of wounded pride, perhaps out of boredom, the couple decides to attend. We are primed to expect antics aplenty at this shindig, an expectation further cemented by Roland's strong desire to touch Johnny's white suit with his sauced up hands (poor people just want to touch!). This expectation is upended in the best way possible. Rather than put the characters through the ringer as usual, they all get high together and share some revelations straight from the heart. Johnny speaks honestly about his son's pansexuality in a way that doesn't feel forced at all, and Moira...

She's from a small town!! I don't know exactly why this excites me so much, but it feels like it slots a lot of things into place. The identity dysmorphia. The vocal affectation. The junk food!

This is a prime example of the way that truly great sitcoms set up familiar plots, but swerve away from them into something achingly real when we least expect it. Bojack Horseman was the titan of this sort of storytelling, and to even mention Schitt's Creek in the same sentence of that show is a good sign of its potential indeed.

9

Episode 11 - Little Sister

The alienated aunt returns to visit her hard luck family! I didn't care much for either the character or the plot, which is yet another excuse for Johnny to debase himself for the potential of money. I'm sure they'll do more interesting things with this character later in the series, but for now at least we get the fun moment in the opening scene where the kids stare at the aunt like she's an alien... until she hands them a couple hundred dollar bills. As far as my opinion of a cartoonish aunt introduced out of the blue to rehash already done plots, I'll repeat the words of Alexis: "I'm all for it, I just think it's a super big mistake."

I'm much more drawn to the other plot. Jocelyn is so sharp, and part of that sharpness is not letting anyone else around her realize it. She stands in for the perennial happy housewife, the one who keeps her own pain so near and dear that she can spot the pain of others from a mile off. This episode she tries to ease the burden of a gay student of hers by recruiting David to give him a pep talk. She reveals this to David via a hilarious gauntlet of euphemisms.

Simply watching David walk into an empty classroom is such a treat. The performer is so awake to his environment, and the character is developing a surprising sensitivity. This sequence felt like the antidote to the plot earlier in the season when Jocelyn recruits Moira to inspire her students. David's interaction with this high schooler isn't over the top or unbelievable. It's brief, pointed, honest, and real. More of this, Schitt's Creek, more of this.

7

Episode 12 - Surprise Party

Two more things this show excels at. One: the writing, acting, and directing are all calibrated to make the passive aggression absolutely scathing. Two: these performers are much better than most sitcom actors at delivering extremely ridiculous lines without telegraphing how ridiculous they sound. Moira's claim that she worked for "all the most profitable non-profits" split my sides, especially because it makes so much sense that this character wouldn't be in on the joke. That's what money and whiteness'll do to you.

I don't have much else to say about this episode. Johnny wants to throw Moira a surprise birthday party and all the most tiresome cliches ensue. The very end of the episode has some charming interactions once it finally gets past its plot, but I have to wonder why the whole thing had to be such an inconsequential ordeal to begin with.

I will take this opportunity, however, to say that I love Moira's chic black and white clothing style. I don't know much about clothes or costume design, but I'd warrant that the Costume department on this show is knocking it out of the park. We learn so much, so immediately, from the way people dress, and how it blends or clashes with their environment.

6.5

Episode 13 - Town for Sale

I love pared down cold opens like this. It's mostly Johnny running through town, then having a quick out-of-breath exchange with his family. It's barely a gag, more of an excuse for some fun performance and reaction showcases. It takes restraint to write a scene like this, all that it needs to be without any garnish.

The episode itself is not so easy to watch. The Roses have found a buyer for the town, and this means they are packing up to leave as soon as the money is transacted. That means we get to run the gamut of seeing each of them demonstrate, in their own way, how disposable their new relationships still are to them.

It's kind of dispiriting for that reason. From the moment Johnny says, "We're leaving," the rest of the episode feels like a foregone conclusion. We know that they will treat their impending departure callously, and we know that the climax will feature some reversal that prevents their exit. Unfortunately this reversal is more cosmic than character-focused-- the nasty Shelving Company executive who agrees to buy the town has some sort of stroke while eating dinner at Roland's house, and he cannot sign the papers. This sort of dripping irony feels a bit played out. Didn't we get a nearly identical scene earlier in the season, in the exact same location as this, also featuring a brash man of bodily appetites who delays signing paperwork much to Johnny's chagrin? Why go through all of that again, to diminished returns?

There's also a subplot about Moira giving a coat to Jocelyn, who regifts the coat to Ronnie, which I couldn't care less about other than the bit of screentime it gives to Ronnie. Karen Robinson is low key the secret MVP of the season in a very tiny role, which is something I wish we didn't have to keep saying over and over again about Black actors.

Alexis is torpedoing her social life in all the expected ways, but the saving grace of this finale falls to David. He is the only one trying to salvage the life he's found in Schitt's Creek, and he is the only one not in denial about how schitty their old life used to be. There is a deep well of sadness in David. Seeing him reach out unsuccessfully to his loved ones for companionship in the next stage of his life is heartbreaking, even more so to see him finally resort to filling that hole by asking his father for more money. Emily Hampshire is pulling her own weight in tragedy. When David tells Stevie, "You made my time here survivable," her repetition of the word survivable is pregnant with meaning in a way that will stick with me for a long time.

Goodbye David, and goodbye season 1. I'm looking forward to the other characters finding the same wellspring of humanity that you have tapped into.

7