80 THENEWYORKER,APRIL20, 2020
Pamela Adlon’s character is a woman’s woman, not a man’s fantasy of one.
ON TELEVISION
MOTHER LOVER
The functionally dysfunctional matriarchy of “Better Things.”BY ALEXANDRASCHWARTZ
ILLUSTRATION BY LAURA BREILING
T
he joy and relief with which the
general television-watching public
seemed to greet each new season of
“Game of Thrones”—at last, dear, mer-
ciful Lord—is how I feel about the re-
appearance of “Better Things,” Pamela
Adlon’s bittersweet, very funny self-por-
trait of a show on FX, now in its fourth
season. Adlon plays Sam Fox, an actress
in her fifties who’s been in show biz since
childhood and is successful but not fa-
mous. When she’s recognized, it’s in the
gynecologist’s waiting room, or on a trip
to a friend’s wedding in New Orleans,
where a flush-faced drunk in an L.S.U.
cap lurches over to her table at Arnaud’s
to confess that he’s masturbated to her—
“more than once.” She lives in L.A. with
her three daughters, who range in age
from around twelve to nineteen, and in
temperament from prepubescent sweet-
ness to savage adolescent entitlement.
Across the street lives her mother, Phil
(played by the magnificent Celia Imrie),
a kooky, self-involved Brit, who stays
busy inventing new ways to be a pain in
the ass. And that’s just about the whole
megillah: the banality, comedy, frustra-
tion, and weirdness of daily life in this
functionally dysfunctional matriarchy. I
can’t get enough.
Those of us who love the show, which
began airing in 2016, should count our-
selves lucky that it has endured. Adloncreated it with Louis C.K., her longtime
friend and collaborator, who wrote many
of the early episodes. Two seasons later,
the #MeToo movement arrived, C.K.
fell from grace, and Adlon cut personal
and professional ties with him. Could
the show survive? Actually, it has thrived,
growing looser and at the same time
more tonally sure of itself. I do wonder
whether Adlon is tempted to address
the C.K. situation head on; the selfish,
destructive behavior of even beloved
men is squarely in the “Better Things”
wheelhouse. So far, she hasn’t, though
Season 3 featured a catharsis of a differ-
ent sort, in which Sam confronts the
vapid director of a big-budget alien-apoc-
alypse movie that she’s starring in, for
neglecting the safety and the morale of
his cast and crew while paying ample
attention to his nubile production as-
sistant. (“The Gamay is a very durable
grape,” he drones; never has workplace
flirtation looked so dull.) As Sam tears
into him, everyone else on set stays silent,
watching her self-immolate on their be-
half. “An apology would be a thing...that
would be nice,” she mutters, admitting
defeat. Instead, she’s offered the use of
the director’s porta-potty, a metaphor
disguised as a concession.
This season opens with a declaration
of atmosphere. It’s raining in Los An-
geles, all day, every day, as if the city had
been put under a spell. At the end of
Season 3, we left Sam suspended in a
moment of high drama: Frankie (Han-
nah Alligood), her smart, sulky middle
child, stuck between still adorable Duke
(Olivia Edward) and beautiful, spoiled
Max (Mikey Madison), had run away
from home. (What the household lacks
in testosterone it makes up for in boy-
ish names.) Now, however, after a trip
with Duke to their deadbeat dad’s, Frank-
ie’s back, hugging Sam like a little kid.
What happened? The show doesn’t say;
some things in life are allowed to re-
main a mystery. Naturally, Frankie’s affec-
tion flips to repulsion as soon as Sam
returns it. One of the show’s barbed jokes
is the degree to which Sam both resents
and accepts her kids’ taking her for
granted; she knows that they need her
as a stable post to sharpen their claws
on, though she does have a breaking
point. “You’re a cunt, Max,” Sam snaps,
after Max pushes her one step too far.
“You’re a big fucking cunt, your sister’s