Wilfred: Respect

"Seek respect mainly from thyself, for it comes first from within." – Steven H. Coogler

The border between farce and satire is a thin and generally permeable one by nature, with satire frequently relying on farcical style absurdity in order to more trenchantly illustrate its convictions.  Conviction, of course, would appear an obvious quality through which satire distinguishes itself; but true conviction ultimately derives from a broader foundation of respect (namely self-respect).  As is true for us as individuals, a satire must respect itself and its own convictions for it to demand the respect of others, and those that deliver with the greatest tenacity resonate with the greatest potency.  Although the vulgar humor and unique plotline of last week’s Wilfred proved highly amusing, the episode still suffered the same thematic flaccidity that has plagued much of the series as a whole – “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks” is not exactly ground-breaking commentary.  With “Respect,” however, the show explores the darkest corridors of its own imagination, painting an unapologetically bleak and sardonic portrayal of the human condition in what amounts to the most stimulating episode yet.

After the quote from the relatively unknown Coogler, we open to Ryan and Jenna chatting at a picnic table – it was nice to see Jenna take on a more prominent role this week after being relatively vacant from the previous weeks, and I hope they continue to investigate some of this narrative that they have seemingly neglected thus far.  Their conversation quickly reveals Ryan to be in a bit of a motivation rut:

“I’m glad you were able to come out to lunch with me,” Jenna cheerfully tells Ryan, to which he responds, “Well, my Mondays are usually pretty light.”

Jenna: “Um, it’s Thursday.”

Adding insult to injury, enter Nick, Jenna’s “Hero of the Week” for her 5 o’clock news segment.  Nick describes his ventures in Africa building solar-powered houses and shoes for children. 

“Wow,” Ryan replies.  “You’re like a great white Oprah.”

“Actually, I think of myself as post-racial,” Nick crows.

Douche.

Nevertheless, the smug and self-satisfied “philanthropist” forces Ryan to truly reevaluate the significance of his own existence, and he decides to volunteer at a hospice for the elderly in order to feel accomplished with his life.  Though hostile at first, the lead nurse (Rashida Jones) warms up to Ryan after she spots Wilfred sleeping next to a dead woman, believing that Wilfred could sense that the woman was approaching her end.  Later, when Ryan walks in on Wilfred holding a pillow over a recently deceased, the hospice staff believe Wilfred has successfully predicted another death, but Ryan fears a far more grim truth to be at hand as Wilfred embraces his new role as the bringer of death to the many residents of the hospice who so desperately plead for him to kill them next.

Although “Respect” lacks some of the same farcical wit provided last week, the episode is more scathing with its satire than anything we’ve seen before.  Most notably, the episode rather pungently assaults society’s superficial concept of morality on numerous fronts, particularly the moral fiber of our individual existence, and the opening quote along with the early exchange between Nick and Ryan directly correlates with this theme.  Despite the ostensible nobility of his work, Nick illustrates an all but masturbatory notion of philanthropy in which the inherent value of his work is only as important as the praise and “respect” it garners from others.  When Nick disingenuously brushes off Jenna’s compliments for his accomplishments and states, “it’s all for the kids,” before adding, “who have shoes now,” as if to remind them of his accomplishments, we sense Wilfred’s jeering ridicule of our cultural priorities:  Nick, who patronizes those around him with bloated complacency, is publicly declared “Hero of the Week”; while Ryan, who quit a well paying job because of the misery it brought to his life and has yet to re-establish his priorities, is silently deemed a bum.

Subsequently, Ryan’s decision to work at the hospice reads as a less than noble act driven primarily by his desire to impress, qualifying Wilfred’s comparison of him to a golden retriever as not only funny but rather shrewd as well.  The hospice scenes of course provide numerous additional sources of abrasive comedy and commentary, dabbling across subjects of drug abuse, euthanasia, suicide, and a god complex that would provoke my grandmother to roll over in her grave; but it is the underlying sardonic, almost nihilistic approach toward human existentialism that truly sets this episode apart, addressing the more pointed questions that it has been far too hesitant to address thus far.  Although the episode concluded in a way that would theoretically allow the show to move on to a completely separate, self-contained narrative next week, I hope the writers thoroughly consider a more episodic approach to future episodes, a move that will likely enhance the potential longevity of the series further down the road.  If Ryan’s existential journey truly forms the thematic basis for the show – an assumption that the opening quotes and themes presented within them would appear to suggest as true – than that journey should continue across the narrative of the series as a whole.  “Respect” ultimately proved so compelling because of the stakes, the sense that this could perhaps be the beginning of other future revelations; but if those stakes reset again next week, the show gambles away everything it managed to accomplish with this episode, and that’s a risk that a show bordering on such brilliance cannot afford to take.