Wilfred: Compassion – Isolation

“Make no judgments where you have no compassion.”  – Anne McCaffrey

With three episodes left in the season following last week’s double-header, FX’s decision to sign their new comedy Wilfred for a second season becomes an increasingly justifiable one.  The show has been notably more consistent over the past few episodes and rings with the maturity of a proven series—its often charmingly juvenile sense of humor notwithstanding.  The double-header of “Compassion” and “Isolation” offers the most arc we’ve seen of the show’s dynamic duo since the series began, providing some much needed additional background for Ryan’s character through “Compassion” and using “Isolation” to infuse Wilfred’s impish antics with a much needed sense of heart.

Mary Steenburgen guest stars in “Compassion” as Ryan’s mother, Catherine, who has voluntarily resigned herself to a psychiatric ward for the past twenty years after being committed for a 72-hour psych evaluation following a freak-out at a family dinner party when Ryan was a child.  Steenburgen convincingly and sympathetically emotes the misunderstood artist who, despite all but abandoning her family through her voluntary committal, yields an unmistakable quality of motherly affection—her only true crime that common artistic quality of general obliviousness.  Nevertheless, when Dr. Cahill (John Michael Higgins) informs Ryan of his mother’s release from the facility, which centers upon Ryan’s willingness to bring her into his own and care for her during her transitional period, Ryan is less than lukewarm on the idea of being reunited with his estranged and eccentric mother, and only begrudgingly takes her in.

Wilfred, dealing with his own sense of abandonment as Jenna once again leaves him alone for a weekend, instantly takes a liking to Catherine.  But more importantly, he quickly calls Ryan out on his behavior regarding his mother:  “When you talk about your mother,” he tells Ryan, “I hear anger, but I smell fear.”

Fear indeed defines Ryan’s relationship with Catherine: along with a perpetual fear of what embarrassing act his mother may perform next, Ryan fears more than anything that he and his psychologically and emotionally unstable mother may in fact be far too similar.

The fear itself is a valid one that we have seen throughout the series.  The show has yet to reveal to us throughout its run a concrete explanation for Ryan’s hallucinated personification of Wilfred, and the inherited psychosis of his mother provides the most sufficient explanation for this thus far.

The defining moment of the episode comes about halfway through the third act.  After Ryan is committed for a 72-hour observation period following the discovery of his suicide note (along with an eight page diatribe against the post-office, presumably written by “Wilfred” as part of his set-up to get Ryan committed), Dr. Cahil approaches Ryan with the following:

“Based on years of diagnostic experience and your lack of health insurance, it is my medical opinion that you are not a danger to yourself or others, and I’m releasing you.”

When Ryan asks if this means he’s not crazy, Dr. Cahil reassures him that “Everyone’s a little cuckoo; but the people who hide it well, those are the people I worry about,” then adds “find someone you can talk to” before walking away.

Once again, the show successfully takes a sarcastic jab at society with the “lack of health insurance” bit stealthy slipped into Dr. Cahil’s analysis, and the show always proves at its best when it makes these attempts.  But Cahil’s final line about everyone being crazy, though thematically obvious, is effective and accurate nonetheless, and opens the doors slightly for what the show should continue to aim for in future episodes: pointing to the differences that qualify Ryan as crazy and the surrounding universe as sane in order to highlight the triviality of these very differences and what they reveal about our society.  It’s a rather tall order for such a farcical comedy, but the moments where the show directly aims to achieve this is when it’s truly at it’s best.

"Isolation is a self-defeating dream." – Carlos Salinas de Gortari

Ryan’s three-day stint at the “nut house” further augments the neighborhood’s perception of him as a crazed hermit, going for days without being seen without any explanation.  Thus Wilfred takes it upon himself to re-introduce him to the neighborhood in order to deter the building perception of him as a loony.  As one would expect, Wilfred’s antics end up getting Ryan in more trouble than he bargained for—he vandalizes all of the neighborhood cars except for Ryan’s as means of forcing Ryan out of his home to prove his innocence, which of course only aggravates a sense of hostility among Ryan’s neighbors toward him.

What “Isolation” truly accomplishes more than anything is bringing a sense of benevolence to Wilfred’s mischief.  Yes, his crime spree is certainly misguided at best, but Wilfred demonstrates an affection for his neighbors—by the end, his love for Ryan comes through rather powerfully as well—and urges Ryan to do the same and embrace those around him.  This sentiment is wholly epitomized as Wilfred, while offering Ryan a “tour” of his own neighborhood, arrives at the resting spot for a homeless man known informally as “Trashface” (Peter Stormare) and proceeds to pee on him.  When Ryan protests, Wilfred explains that this is not an act of disrespect, but rather that he wants “to mark him as part of our community—and wash the smudge off his face.”  The scene is a truly clever and defining moment for Wilfred, whose playfully wicked behavior may not always appear admirable on the surface, yet almost always present an underlying motive that is all but altruistic by nature.

The Trashface scene also exemplifies the type of humor with which the show has exhibited increasing dexterity, infusing classic canine behavior within a more human context in order to provide dually comedic moments.  With many previous episodes, the show has either centered entirely upon these sorts of jokes or generally abandons them in favor of a new secondary character; but the past handful of episodes has more seamlessly stitched them within narratives that do not inherently center upon Wilfred himself.

Subsequently, the show has grown into a more holistic vision rather than a mere sum-of-its-parts farce, and the increasing narrative cohesion between individual episodes only further enhances this truth.  While the double-header seemingly calls for a greater degree of cohesion than other single-episode weeks, this has been a much more common trait of later half of this season as opposed to the more unpredictable earlier installments of the young series.

Most TV comedies do not surround the same episode-to-episode narrative reliance as dramatic series such as Lost or True Blood or 24; but some of the best—The Office, How I Met Your Mother, and Community, to name a few—infuse just enough to keep us interested as the series progresses and to advance the arcs of the characters along the way.  If Wilfred continues the trend it has recently demonstrated, following in the likes of the aforementioned shows, I wouldn’t be surprised to read about FX continuing the show for future seasons by this time next year.  Of course, with three episodes left, there’s still much to prove, and how Wilfred chooses to close out its freshman season will ultimately prove equally important to how it chose to begin it.