You’re the Worst Reinvents Itself (Again) with Its Stellar Season Premiere
(Episodes 4.01 and 4.02)
Photo: Prashant Gupta/FXX
Near the end of You’re the Worst’s hour-long season premiere—a brilliant, brazen, funny, devastating tour de force, to get the slavering out of the way early—Gretchen (Aya Cash) launches into a rasping, fretful rendition of Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week.” Though she spits the chorus rather than singing it, stripping down the late-’90s earworm until it’s a spoken-word performance, Cash approaches the moment with such conviction I half expected extras to appear, lined up for a “Sharks-and-Jets”-style routine: Strung-out loathing as unmusical musical number, in which remorse is still to come.
As with “One Week,” from which the episode draws its title, “It’s Been” is full of sheer nonsense, and I mean that as a compliment. Despite the characters’ transformations in the three months since Jimmy (Chris Geere) left Gretchen behind, this is still recognizably Stephen Falk’s tart-tongued anti-romance, peppered with baroque insults: “BMWs are for lady travel agents.” “You look like a boat dock come to life.” “You have the bush of an old Italian man.” But it is also—again, in line with the song—an attempt to understand interpersonal fallout by hearing both sides of the argument; just as Barenaked Ladies slip from first person to second, “It’s Been” shifts seamlessly at the midway point from Jimmy to Gretchen, setting up a season in which the “will they/won’t they” plot is poised to revolve around forgiveness.
For You’re the Worst to reinvent itself in this way is both risky and necessary—after its erratic, at times frustrating third season, I’m glad to see the series still toeing the line between comedy and drama, even if this is what sometimes leads it astray. After all, it’s this indelicate balance that distinguishes You’re the Worst: When it works, it can open on Jimmy laying porch planks and fixing fences in California’s high desert, segue into his ribald buddy comedy with Burt (Raymond J. Barry), and conclude with that lovely coda at the retirees’ motor court, projecting L.A. Law under the starry night sky.