Blaire Is the Beating Heart of Peacock’s Ted

TV Features Peacock
Blaire Is the Beating Heart of Peacock’s Ted

If you told me at the end of 2023 that one of my favorite shows at the beginning of the new year would be Peacock’s raunchy Ted prequel, I would not have believed you. But seven episodes and a slightly belated binge later, I am a Ted convert. Surprisingly, the talking teddy bear series from Seth MacFarlane is much more than just dick jokes and frequent f-bombs (though there are more than plenty of those to go around), it has tangible heart and delightfully explores this family and this strange world with a perfect balance of humor and sincerity. And in all its vulgarity and immaturity, there is one character that grounds its heartfelt moments and ultimately makes this series work more than it probably ever should: Giorgia Whigham’s Blaire. 

A new character created for this prequel series, Blaire (or Blai-ah, in the Bennett’s Bostonian accents) is John’s (Max Burkholder) college-aged cousin attending school while living with her uncle Matty (Scott Grimes) and aunt Susan (Alanna Ubach). From the very first episode, it’s clear that Blaire is an outlier in this household. She calls Ted (MacFarlane) out on his use of outdated terms, argues with Matty over dinner about his racist comments and assumptions, and is ultimately almost kicked out for (reluctantly) dealing Ted—and, by extension, Johnny—weed. It’s from this episode that the series establishes Blaire as not only the classic voice of reason befitting Ted’s sitcom-esque structure, but also as the liberal insert within this comparatively conservative family. It’s that starting position that allows her to fully flourish and grow outside of those bounds, as she impacts every single Bennett throughout the course of the season. 

In Episode 1, Blaire tells Johnny that her family is majorly messed up—her father’s a drunken asshole, her mother isn’t much better, and her brother is currently sitting in prison for robbing a Mrs. Fields at gunpoint. She insists that she wants better for Johnny than the curse that seemingly hangs over anyone with Bennett blood, but it’s clear that she longs for better for everyone else in the family, too. She wants Susan to be treated with respect, she wants to help Ted whenever she can, she wants to change Matty’s world view—it’s all in an effort to prevent this particular set of Bennetts from becoming like her own parents, to try to hold all the pieces together before they fall apart. And in doing so, there’s an unabashed protectiveness when she goes head-to-head with Matty over his treatment of Susan or when she takes the fall for Johnny’s mistakes. It’s oftentimes played for laughs, but from the hoarded cans of tuna stashed in her room to the fierce way she fights for those she loves, Blaire takes the clear trauma she carries from her own home life and uses that underlying pain and anguish with a determination to help the Bennetts become a more functional family. 

It’s in those protective or quiet moments where the series truly shines. Slowly but surely, Blaire injects a kindness and a softness to Ted’s most grounded scenes, all while still blending seamlessly into the crass humor that defines the series’ laugh-out-loud bits. Over the course of the season, everyone in her orbit changes and grows because of her open heart and mind, through her sheer presence and patience. Of course, she’s defined by the same brashness and argumentative nature that colors the entire season, but her layered portrayal as both an agitator and an empathetic voice elevates her and every character around her. 

At every turn, she’s always looking out for her aunt Suze, constantly encouraging her to find her own passions outside of the house or standing up to Matty on her behalf. In Episode 4, when Susan believes she isn’t satisfying her husband and fears she’s not enough for him, Blaire assuages her worries and takes the blame for the porn tape, knowing both outcomes (the tape belonging to Johnny or to Matty) would equally break her aunt’s heart. When Johnny is worried about still being a virgin in the season’s final episode, she offers heartfelt advice and encourages her cousin to just be himself. Johnny evolves into a kind and respectful young man throughout the course of the season, and even despite Ted’s best efforts, he comes out the other side okay—Blaire has succeeded in her mission, at least so far.

And even in her tumultuous relationship with Matty, their most important scenes are stilted, sure, but deeply impactful. As Blaire tearfully begs her uncle to accept her after coming out at Christmas Eve dinner, it’s impossible to ignore the truly profound grief and heartache that comes along with that conversation, and the tentative joy that blossoms from their reconciliation at the end of the episode. In its portrayal of queerness, Ted is sincere and moving, with Episode 6 being a stand-out of the season. While the episode hinges on a very problematic, sentient toy truck likened to Hitler, the humor never truly punches down at its queer characters or queerness in general. Susan’s comment about Blaire and her girlfriend Sarah being “just very good friends” was particularly delightful, poking fun at Susan’s naivete while aiding in the episode’s examination of a queer existence in the ’90s. 

The series constantly outdoes itself when it comes to Blaire’s endlessly kind heart, and truly shines when showcasing her capacity for empathy while still allowing her to be just as sardonic as the rest of the family. She’s also just as hilarious as the rest of the cast. In many ways, she’s the most effortlessly funny, often given the task of reacting to the ridiculousness around her and playing it straight in scenes that need the anchored element of an audience insert. Whigham plays it all with ease—the angry, the vulnerable, the hilarious. She’s the grounding force behind Ted, and her performance breezily shoulders that burden.

At every turn, this series and this family are delightful and surprising, and Blaire propels the show’s best elements. Ted spends the entire season offering heartfelt humanity alongside its ridiculousness, and as much as it shouldn’t work, it absolutely f—king does. 


Anna Govert is the TV Editor of Paste Magazine. For any and all thoughts about TV, film, and her unshakable love of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you can follow her @annagovert.

For all the latest TV news, reviews, lists and features, follow @Paste_TV.

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