Aired 2009-2010 (2 seasons) on Starz
Created by John Enbom, Rob Thomas, Dan Etheridge, and Paul Rudd
Currently streaming on Hulu
For a brief introduction to this countdown, click here.
On my recent trip home for Thanksgiving my parents were kind enough to cede control of the basement TV primarily to me (sports) and my three-year-old (cartoons). This made a mildly stressful trip across five states with two small children a little more pleasant for all involved. My dad still took the reigns from time to time, which meant either news or in one case whatever was on TCM. One movie we watched was Sullivan's Travels, a film precisely as old as my dad (so pretty old). Based on the title you might expect it to mirror Gulliver's Travels, but it really doesn't. Rather than a meditation on human nature or a satire of contemporary culture, the film is the story of a movie director looking to find fulfillment through his work.
Does this sound familiar? If not, allow me to gesture towards...basically all of modern TV. Creative work about those who make creative work is not new, but in the era of "Peak TV" it's become nearly ubiquitous. If you don't believe me, here is a real category on Netflix:
The proliferation of this genre has its merits. "Write what you know" is a cliche, sure, but it's not wrong. By centering narratives on the world they inhabit, creators are often able to draw on their experience to tell stories about more universal themes. Movie studios are after all just another workplace, albeit an often peculiar one.
The flip side of this is that TV about TV by its very nature is prone to uncritically magnifying problems with the industry at large. One such problem in modern TV is the lack of diversity. Taken one way, this means that the opportunities for women and persons of color have not been as plentiful as they should be. Taken another way (one more relevant to this piece), this means that the stories that do get told on the small screen primarily reflect the experiences and the worldviews of those writing them. And the most relevant experience shared by all of these creators is that they were successfully able to get a TV show made.
Enter Party Down (finally thank God). My favorite comedy of the decade (and perhaps every decade) is yet another show about showbiz, but one that avoids the pitfalls inherent to this milieu. Part of this is because it existed before the current onslaught of semi-autobiographical shows. It also helps that it's set just outside of the world of show business, focusing instead on the exploits of a bunch of Hollywood hopefuls working for a second-run catering company. The show's ever-changing setting allows it to shift focus each episode, which does sometimes pull us into the orbit of stardom (eg. award shows, movie premieres, and parties for the rich and famous). If nothing else, the show's flexible premise is a clever stroke of genius that never gets stale.
“Party Down” could basically have run forever with a rotating main cast. Like a comedy “Law & Order” https://t.co/UPNd7YOIZK— Patrick Monahan (@pattymo) January 16, 2019
But the primary reason for Party Down's greatness is that unlike many tales about showbiz, this one isn't telling a preordained success story. While the characters are clearly portrayed as having (varying degrees of) talent, the show casts no aspersions to the certitude of their success. Casey is funny as hell*, Kyle is good-looking and charismatic, and Henry can act the shit out of a scene, but all that talent is met with heartbreak and little tangible benefit. This isn't about the promise of the destination; it's about the interminable grind, which is more plainly compelling and relatable story than one concerning the existential ennui of success. The dichotomy between the haves and have-notes even serves to drive a lot of the show's humor - the caterers want success and the successful they cater to want normalcy. Which is how you get Roman both consulting on an orgy and literally trading places with a rock star named Jackal Onassis.
*Every single cast member is fantastic, but Lizzy Caplan is the best and it's not close
Beyond this farcical humor, the show also manages a sly commentary on the virtue of trying to make it in Hollywood. In this way it resembles another show on my list, Review. But whereas the aspirational nature of that show is derived from its very specific artifice (Forrest's attempt to review life itself), Party Down lives in something more resembling the real world. And while the reality of show business has plenty of artificiality in it, there is something more nakedly real about the struggle portrayed here. Take Kyle's story. He is the most straightforwardly ambitious member of team with many of the necessary ingredients (good looks, talent, willingness to get "friendly" with producers) for stardom. But even this guarantees nothing. When he meets an old acquaintance at the aforementioned orgy his wide-eyed optimism is met with her earned cynicism. The thought that he might just be a "grain of sand" who never becomes a star is enough to make even beautiful, simple Kyle question if this is all worth it. These realizations and moments of introspection come for each character, and dot the goofy landscape of the series with a air of poignancy.
The Hollywood-specific focus never becomes overwhelming, though. This is in part because of odd man out Ron Donald, played with sweaty aplomb by the ever-versatile Ken Marino. As the lone member of the crew without his sights set on stardom, his existence helps to provide a counterbalance. His motivations are necessarily less glamorous than everyone else - at first he hopes to run a restaurant franchise (the beautifully named Soup'R'Crackers, which I so wish was real), and when that fails he turns towards management roles within the Party Down company. But these dreams still represent the same fundamental aspirations as the rest of his team. When he caters the college republican group in the second episode, Ron internalizes the concept of being what they call "an achiever," and this becomes his modus operandi for the rest of the show's run. In true Party Down fashion, most of what this mindset drives him to do is patently absurd. Leading team-building exercises, conceptualizing the Ron Donald Do's and Don't's, and trying to rehabilitate his image by catering his high school reunion are all terrible ideas that clearly demonstrate how the urge to do something just to do something is foolhardy. As pie-in-the-sky as everyone else's hopes are, at least they are tethered to a tangible idea of success.
As compelling as all this is, the undeniable thematic center of the series is Henry Pollard, played with the usual amount of charm by Adam Scott. Whereas everyone else is striving, he spends the entire length of the series explicitly giving up. This is not an exaggeration as the pilot begins with his return to catering following his burnout at the hands of his iconic ad work (the way his catchphrase "Are we having fun yet?" becomes more and more tragic of a line reading throughout the series is a brilliant touch) and the finale ends with his first audition since quitting.
As such Henry's story consists of him re-adjusting to working for work's sake. While everyone else does this job to support their larger efforts, Henry is emphatically just a caterer and is not looking for any sort of fulfillment in his work. Given the failure Henry has experienced in his other life this attitude seems healthy at first, but it's quickly revealed to be untenable. When Ron's absence leads to a leadership vacuum at the end of season one, Henry steps in to save face. This leads to a full-time offer to become the new manager and not coincidentally a relationship with rival caterer Uda Bengt,* who is impressed by his effort. Henry tries the life of responsibility, but nights of watching The Mentalist with Uda in between firing employees that care about the job as little as he used to doesn't suit him any better.
*I told someone I loved Kristen Bell recently and then realized this love was based primarily on her appearance in a grand total of two episodes of this show, as I never saw Veronica Mars and am extremely lukewarm on The Good Place
Once he realizes this, he abandons both his responsibilities (by giving them back to Ron) and his relationship. He then reconnects with Casey, which is mildly ironic given that their previous fling ended when she took a job on a cruise ship. This is probably the happiest we've seen Henry as he's now free to stop acting like he cared about something that he didn't really care about. But this too cannot last as Casey still desperately hopes to break through in her career. When her potential big break falls through, Henry tries to comfort her to no avail. "If you’re not crazy enough to believe it for you, how are you going to believe it for me" she asks through tears, unable to receive meaningful consolation from someone who's given up. So he stops giving up and takes the audition for his dream job.
The culmination of Henry's arc is the clearest demonstration of the show's central ethos that what you strive to be is central to who you are as a person. Every character faces the choice of whether or not to keep going over the course of the series. Even goofy old Constance isn't truly herself until she finds her love in the finale. When characters choose to stop pushing forward they are met with depression and dissonance. But when they do keep trying, there's always at least some measure of solace in following your heart.
In the series' finest half-hour "Steve Guttenberg's Birthday Party," the titular actor finds himself identifying with the plight of the crew. He tells them that their struggle reminds him of the beginning of his own career, which he calls the best time of his life. Of course they push back and say isn't your life better now with all the money and such, and Guttenberg's subsequent loss for words is played for laughs, but that's really the whole show right there. The people who are lucky enough to tell their own story may romanticize the path that got them there, but that's a blinkered view that obscures the reality of the situation. And until we get more stories like Party Down on TV, the medium itself will continue to be biased toward the survivors.
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