This year, shows like ‘The Good Place’ and ‘Superstore’ found their emotional anchors in kindhearted but simple-minded bros who provided a welcome respite from dour antiheroism and toxic masculinity.
On his wedding day, The Good Place’s Jason Mendoza (Manny Jacinto) wears a backwards cap and sneakers, tears the sleeves off his tuxedo to render the ensemble more authentically him and shimmies toward the nuptial arch while a bass-heavy EDM cover of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” pounds in the background. With his buttercream bride (D’arcy Carden) standing before him, he recites a poem of own his devising: “Janet, my digital queen / Janet, we can dare to dream / Send nude pics of your heart to me / Jacksonville Jaguars RULE!”
His betrothed — a genderless, omniscient being neither deity nor robot — speaks of his overarching kindness. He responds to his “I do’s” with “Yeah!” and “Tight.” They kiss, cementing their beautifully demented romance.
A dimwitted petty criminal with a penchant for Blake Bortles and Molotov cocktails, Jason is, bizarrely, also the heart of The Good Place. NBC’s philosophical fantasy comedy is a convoluted joke machine of a show, one that I love to watch for its clever contortions but that ultimately inspires little sentiment in me. (Like with Community, I’ve never bought the idea that any of the protagonists could actually end up as friends.) It’s difficult to remember the plot’s varying twists and turns, so Jason remains my emotional anchor from episode to episode — a credit to Jacinto’s happy-go-lucky, childlike performance. The character’s innocent smile and clueless non-sequiturs continuously remind me what he and his friends are fighting for: a chance at happiness in the afterlife.
Jason may be the sweetest dope among a diverse array of sweet dopes who added lightness and levity to TV programs this year, including Superstore, The Other Two, Shrill, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and others. The stock character is a study in contradictions: a selfish but eager-to-please man-child; a dumb-dumb with a heart of gold; and an unsung hero whose inherent tenderness eventually touches the heart of a cold or neurotic love interest. (Think of Parks and Recreation’s carefree Andy Dwyer as the apotheosis of the archetype.) As Peak TV further embraces dark antiheroes — and as society continues to reckon with the consequences of toxic masculinity post-#MeToo — these adorable/ridiculous supporting characters sprinkle a little hope back into our souls.
They are striving, hopeful and gentle, often brimming with (half-assed) ideas, but are not-so-hot on the execution. The sweet dope is often both comic relief and underdog romantic lead, standing in contrast to cynical or snakelike rivals. In their best moments, they’re about as cerebral as a spoon but can be as heartwarming as Baby Yoda.
Source : hollywoodreporter.com