We need to talk about Alec Baldwin’s not-so-subtle dye job.
About half-way through this week’s 30 Rock, Pete rushes away from a woman he’s pinned all his dreams on, determined to reignite the same passion between them when they kissed once four years earlier. Speaking about the coming election, he yells “Hope!” “Change!”
“Forward, this year” she reminds him. But Pete barely heeds, as is the case with the rest of the cast. Last night’s episode tackled the challenging nature of always keeping hope, a hope that was borne for the country when President Obama stepped into office. It’s a worthwhile message for everyone; we must all constantly strive to better ourselves and our communities. But “hope”, for 30 Rock, strictly means reelecting Obama. The show sacrifices its biting satiric humor for political messages sprinkled throughout, which read like PSAs through a comedic filter.
Look, the episode’s funny. Maybe the funniest this season. And 30 Rock’s a comedy, so that’s what you’re looking for. But Tina Fey and company aim so much higher than cheap laughs and with that ambition come expectations. This week’s payoff of the two-parter is unsatisfying and unbearably political, nearly tossing aside parody and stating outright that Obama should be president. Not that I disagree, but the show demonstrates this point by shifting the character dynamics; Liz, typically the bumbling everywoman, is suddenly the voice of reason, the heart of Democratic values. In “There’s No ‘I’In America,” Jack is rendered a caricature, turning 30 Rock into a didactic, preachy mess.
The episode picks up right where it left off last week: Jack and Liz race to persuade Jenna to vote for their respected sides. Jenna, who supports a pro-Jenna America, basks in the attention and tells the two they’ll have to vie for her vote. Jack strikes first, launching attacks ads on Liz throughout the building. “Wrong on cuteness. Wrong on other bitches. Wrong for Jenna;” an ad that polls well “for both manic and depressive Jenna.” This leads to an oft-used trope of the show, but one that still works: Liz and Jack circling each other in attempts to convince the other of wrongheadedness. Each side’s bickering – Jack’s that he’s been unable to move the stubborn Liz an inch ideologically and Liz, who’s in a good place in her life for once, who really believes she should be listed to – falls on deaf ears.
Which brings 30 Rock to its punny best, if sermonizing worst, with the first and only debate of the “Jenna-role” election.
Liz not only supports, but also reflects Obama. She’s the relatable one, favoring appeals at people’s emotions over calculated reasoning, and she even found one family that pinpoints how the entirety of America feels about Jenna – just like the fictional families Obama and Mitt have created. And Liz has done her homework; little Shauna’s school, under Romney, would gut the arts program, and without music appreciation, love for Jenna would sway. But the blow to Jack’s side is shortlived; he rebounds, saying without arts programs, children would shy away from acting; thus, no competition for Jenna.
“The president listens to hip-hop rappings,” Liz then offers, bumbling her way through Obama’s “cool” streak. But when Liz lists the beautiful Hollywood elite who support Obama, Jack again counters, promising Jenna that in photo-ops, her beauty would be pitted against the likes of Craig T. Nelson, Chuck Norris and Charlton Heaston’s skull.
And the kicker: For Jack’s closing statement, he lists catch words like dream, fore-fathers and freedom. The statement makes no sense, and is not even a sentence, but the comforting words and Jack’s firm, confident voice declare him the outright winner. Jack not only represents Romney, the show nearly presents him as Romney. And he’s portrayed as a shambling, robotic, evil mess that would surely ruin the United States. Quite a stance for a sitcom to take.
Liz and Obama have lost Jenna’s vote. Her only hope is to go above Jenna and persuade Jack outright.
She makes an emotional appeal to his childhood, channeling Young Chowda’ Drinkin’ Jack. The execution leaves much to be desired, but the appeal to his sentimentality is spot-on, as revealed when Jack begins talks with Shauna, that little girl who will soon lose her music education.
Jack’s impressed with her entrepreneurial sensibilities and they appeal to Jack like Liz’s poor imitations couldn’t. Jack assures the child she’ll be able to thrive under Romney’s conservative reign. He explains how Jenna’s influence will swing the election in Mitt’s favor and the girl is so taken by Jenna’s power that her role model turns on a dime. Getting implants and acting insane has taken Jenna to the heights of stardom and Shawna can easily follow suit.
Meanwhile, Liz has Tracy hack Jenna’s twitter, getting her kicked off immediately before she can tweet to her 2 million followers and direct them whom to vote for. But it’s all for naught, anyway; Jack, humanized by Shauna, has already told Jenna not to support anyone, as no one person should all that power. It’s an unfulfilling end to an uneven and anything-but-unbiased ambitious plotline, but at least now it’s over.
In less direct political plots this week, Pete, who thankfully gets a “B” story, is the only impassioned staffer leading up to the election. He’s determined to rally the troops to spark the same feeling of hope they had felt for the commander in chief in 2008, so as to rekindle the spark from Maria, an easy-on-the-eyes security guard, who briefly locked lips with Pete following the announcement. Maria, though, works a different schedule nowadays; her shift ends at 6, so unless the election is called early, she won’t be around for some unbridled, unhinged celebrations.
Pete’s cartoonish sprinting and hustling around the office represents more than broad lust, though; the kiss was more than a kiss. That moment of passion evoked every bit of hope that Pete could dream of. It was a concrete example of how things can change for the better, and he needs to be reminded such optimism for the future can still exist. When he fails and Maria’s set to leave, and all hope is gone, Pete finally finds something he can latch onto; her new man is smooth, full-headed and can always find a parking space. We all need our Pete Horns to keep us motivated and optimistic, Pete’s is just a literal one.
In a forgettable filler story this week, Kenneth’s able to vote in his hometown of Stone Mountain for the first time. He’s filled with doubts about whether to vote for a candidate who wants to take apart the town’s clock tower and a hermit who lives in the clock tower who wants to keep the tower as is. While it fits within the political context of the show, the story here is just another example of Kenneth, a pitch-perfect TV-aphile at the show’s onset, being broadened to encompass everything crazy about the stereotypical south.
The show redeems the subplot with its Tracy-saving conclusion, though. Kenneth is hesitant to vote; after all, he doesn’t live in Stone Mountain and he can’t be informed about whether Old Man Burkle should marry his daughter or bury her. But Tracy pacifies him; being an uninformed voter is as American as you get.
It’s a small joke that works. But when 30 Rock aimed for the more substantive plotlines this week, it struggled to maintain the character dynamics we’ve grown to love for seven seasons.
Tidbits:
“There’s no ‘I’ or ‘me’ in America.”
This week’s Kenneth-is-immortal joke: “The Parcells have been in this country since we went berserk and murdered everyone at Roanoake.”
By the transitive property of Tracy Jordan, Black Shrek looks like some otter.
“She’s aging, mean and rich. That sounds like a Republican to me.”
“If you need a kiss so bad, why don’t you kiss a potato like the rest of us.”
“For Pete’s sake.”
“Mitt: It’s a human’s name.”
Jenna’s password: Me69
“Two can play at that game. Just like most games.”
“Yours dripped on me and now I’m drunk.”
Official 30 Rock EpisodeCountDownOMeter: We’ve got eight more til TGS is officially canceled.
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