Traumatic Episodes™ are the real reality TV.

Ever since The Real World dropped almost twenty-five years ago, reality TV has spawned dozens of popular franchises, from Survivor to Jersey Shore to The Real Housewives of [insert your town here]. For better or worse, reality shows rarely reflect the realities of most of our lives. But scripted dramas, sometimes, can break through the context of the show, grab a viewer’s heart, and twist. A scripted drama can produce a kind of reality America’s Next Top Model could never imagine. 

A series can bop along for several seasons before delivering a Traumatic Episode. The classic example of a Traumatic Episode™ is Season 2, Episode 6 of The Bear, AKA, “Fishes.” If you have ever celebrated a holiday with family, and some of the family are difficult, and some of the family drink, and some of the family drink because their family is difficult, and some of the family are difficult because they drink, then the reality of this episode will grab you. I was warned, and I still had to watch the episode over three different nights. Like Game of Thrones’ Red Wedding episode, I felt compelled to watch, even if I did not always want to.  

Having learned in the previous episode that his father has died, most of Season 2, Episode 6 of Your Friends and Neighbors is a real-time unfolding of the reception following the service for Andrew “Coop” Cooper’s dad. Being at a function like this can be a lot for anyone, and maybe especially for Coop (Jon Hamm), who, we might say, is not good at having feelings. We get a lot of shots of an impassive Coop while various friends and family say the inane things that guests say to bereaved family at events like this. Protip: when you lose a loved one, approximately 75% of the stuff people say to you will be things they need to say, rather than things you need to hear. 

Coop brings a being at a car wash vibe to the function: Put it in neutral, don’t touch the steering wheel, and wait for it to be over. The camera work in this episode throws this performance into sharper relief. While Coop’s face remains immobile the camera swoops around the Cooper home with lots of tracking shots. It feels like the famous Goodfellas tracking shot, but doubled back on itself, over and over. If you are someone who has trouble getting traction at parties and sometimes just wanders around, Coop’s approach will feel familiar. 

One thing about a reception following a funeral for a family member is that it still is a party, and shares a lot of DNA with other kinds of parties. There are snacks, there are drinks, there are people. It is a party, and like any party, YMMV. Coop’s ex-wife Mel, bipolar sister, and daughter retreat to the daughter’s room to get high, and return to the gathering, filters removed. Early in the episode, Mel (Amanda Peet) observes to her ex-husband that Coop’s mom, Marley, is a lot. As someone who is also a lot, Mel speaks from experience. Mrs. Cooper’s alot-ness manifests in her decision to begin giving away her late husband’s stuff during the reception. She brandishes hedge clippers at Coop to ask if he wants them. Coop notices that Owen Ashe, a fraught business associate, is sporting a belt that Mrs. Cooper gave him, as he removes the recently installed flat screen TV at Mrs. Cooper’s behest. 

This alot-ness comes to a head when we get to watch Coop watch his baked ex-wife get into it with his recently widowed mom. This moment is Coop’s cue to leave the reception, take his father’s bowling ball, and go to the lanes to roll a few.  Stuff like this happens in real life when people die. Funerals are messy because grief is messy. This winter, I was the emotional support person for my friend Cookie at her dad’s funeral. He had divorced Cookie’s mom, and remarried a co-worker. Dad was not an easy man to eulogize. There were Feelings. The stepmom was not popular with Cookie or with Cookie’s brother Roscoe. There was a dinner planned for family after the service, including siblings and relevant cousins, and explicitly excluding the stepmother. The stepmother got wind of the dinner, and invited herself at the last minute. Then there was the time when a married friend threw herself at a friend’s wife after my mom’s funeral. I was not there, but this happened with all four principals in the car. 

By day, I teach American literature. According to me, one of the reasons reading books is not a waste of time is that you can experience the experiences of other people, which I call “empathy reps.” If you have not experienced a party like the one in this Traumatic Episode™, you probably will, sooner or later. This episode is one way of getting in some reps to get ready for that day. 

Jonathan Beecher Field was born in New England, educated in the Midwest, and teaches in the South. He Tweets professionally as @ThatJBF, and unprofessionally as @TheGurglingCod. He also writes for Avidly and Common-Place when the mood strikes.