Wilfred: The Season 2 Premiere

After a strong season one finale, I eagerly anticipated (albeit somewhat hesitantly, given the show’s history of inconsistency) Wilfred to return with newfound narrative conviction: Wilfred (Jason Gann) lost his memory after jumping in front of a car to save Ryan (Elijah Wood), and Ryan had recently discovered that the door to the basement in which he and Wilfred had spent so much time led only to a coat closet, situating his character for a new journey of psychological realization. For the first time since the series premiered, Wilfred appeared prepared to evolve beyond Ryan’s anemic courtship of Jenna (Fiona Gubelmann), the sole connective tissue within the show’s often aimless and in-cohesive episodic approach, and finally establish a narrative identity that lives up to the potential of the original premise.

Alas, one week before this past Thursday’s “season two premiere,” the show made one of the most outrageous and befuddling moves in recent television history in the form of releasing a “Season Two Special Preview Episode.” This is not to be confused with an episode that previews the action of the approaching season, or a short (i.e., less than 10-minute) prequel that is inessential to the plot but serves to merely whet the palate of the show’s more loyal fans. No, this was a full 21-minute, 10-second humorless atrocity that succeeded only in effectively undoing all the progress—ironically, the title of the episode—put into motion by the season one finale, most notably the grievous decision of ending the “episode” with Ryan tearing down the back closet wall to reveal the stairs to the basement.

That’s right: after months of hypothesizing the significance behind season one’s epic conclusion, Wilfred responds to our most pressing question of all by literally destroying it with a sledgehammer in the final seconds of something that may or may not even qualify as a real episode.

Honestly, how do I even begin to review the follow-up episode to that? Am I truly expected to sit down for the second episode of the season and treat it like a premiere?  Am I supposed to just accept that this “premiere” concludes with Ryan and Wilfred conducting their typical basement banter as though nothing happened, as though it’s totally normal to one day discover that what you thought was a basement was actually a closet but then you tear down the drywall at the back of the closet only to find the stairwell leading to the basement that had in fact existed the whole time and your only reaction is to smile and dust off the furniture because clearly in whatever stoner version of Narnia you live in this is totally normal and not at all a sign that you may be bat-sh*t f-ing crazy???

Um…WHAT?!?!

I had hoped to put the “special” pseudo-episode behind me when sitting down to watch the actual premiere, which, despite its return to the ever-frustrating courtship narrative of Ryan trying to steal Jenna from her long-time boyfriend Drew (Chris Klein), proved refreshingly amusing. But the moment Wilfred made the unprecedented decision to open season two with a pre-premiere episode that exhibited about as much respect for its viewership as Wilfred exhibits toward a fire hydrant or stuffed bear, all leniency with which I had previously approached the show flew out the window.

The saddest thing about the season premiere(s) is that the preview episode all but accidentally stumbled upon a perfect narrative vice for the show. In what (of course) turned out to be a dream, Ryan had checked himself into a psych ward under the care of Dr. Eddy (Robin Williams—and yes, they do throw in an amusing Good Will Hunting reference).  This would appear the perfect backdrop to ground the show and establish a lasting source of tension beyond Ryan’s perpetually pathetic pursuit of Jenna. Suddenly you’ve rounded out the show family, with Dr. Eddy trying to help Ryan while Wilfred perpetually impedes their progress; add to this the endless possibilities provided through the other patients, and you suddenly have a quirky TV version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with a recurring narrative that people can really sink their teeth into.

Or we can just return to the depressed lawyer taking bong rips from a Gatorade bottle with his love interest’s talking dog for an entire season. Whatever.