Let me begin by apologizing for the panic I seem to have unleashed with my last post. It was genuinely just supposed to be an intro for all the reviews to follow, but quickly morphed into one of those “Look, my life is tough, give me sympathy” posts. And there is truly no lower form of life than social-media-sympathy-seeking cretin so I am really sorry for that. Also, big thanks to all the kind souls who reached out with love and good wishes. I am recovering quite well and should be living a crutch-less existence soon.
Onward with the matter at hand.
I had seen just one episode of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt many moons ago because a friend recommended it. It was not the most compelling of pilots, obviously, because even someone with my poor self-control was able to resist falling into the binge-watching rabbit hole on this one. However, with more time on my hands (you-know-why), I caught back up on the show. And I have to say, this time, I was hooked.
The show is the story of Kimmy, a woman who was kidnapped as a child and kept captive in a bunker, along with 3 other women, by a Reverend who told them that the apocalypse had ended the world outside. I discovered midway into Season 1 that Tina Fey was a co-creator of the show and if I had known that earlier, I would probably have jumped headfirst into the rabbit-bunker of this show a lot sooner.
I went in curious to see how someone like Kimmy, with a child’s clean perspective on the big bad stupid adult world, would view our life and times.
I was in for a binge-worthy treat. There are the expected jokes about her wonder at things we take for granted, like all the amazing things her new “Macintosh” phone can do. But there is so much more. There are her inventive interpretations of modern day American slang (“She is such a MILF, my interesting lady friend.”) There is Kimmy definitive sense of morality (“Somethings are just wrong – like kissing a married person, and tracing something and saying you drew it.”) There are also so many ways in which Kimmy’s post traumatic stress disorder is weaved into the story as she actively tries to deny it, without ever laying it on too thick (her repressed emotions manifest as smelly burps throughout Season 2). And to round it all up, there are the “normal” people around Kimmy – her gay roommate who is struggling to be a Broadway star, her aged landlady who moonlights as the neighbourhood drug dealer slash vandal, her elite New York employer who is as selfish and practical as Kimmy is generous and shiny, her alcoholic therapist (more Tina Fey, yay!) – who can scarcely be accused of any normalcy whatsoever.