(May 2007) Gilmore Girls Goodbye

"I actually felt happier talking like The Gilmore Girls. I literally felt my mood lighten."

By Kate Sullivan
Thursday, May 17, 2007 - 9:00 am

First The O.C., now The Gilmore Girls. I have to stop watching TV, because it appears that every show I love gets killed. Don’t try to sell me that Veronica Mars trip. I’ve tried. It’s not happening.

I’m told it’s hugely draining to create a weekly hour-long drama. Everyone who works on such a show must grievously sacrifice their personal lives. And granted, Gilmore had a good run — seven years. But come on. We needed this show! Or at least I did. The Gilmore Girls — about a 30-something single mom, Lorelei (Lauren Graham) and her brilliant young daughter, Rory (Alexis Bledel) — was a program I could share with my own mom, who lives 2,000 miles away, and is 37 years older than me. (“Did you see Gilmore last week?” is a common question for me to ask her during our phone chats.)

This was also a show I shared with my landlady, who is only a little older than me. We started watching four years ago when both our dogs were dying (and our personal lives weren’t exactly winning best in show). I think we both felt too smart to be watching Gilmore, and maybe a bit mistrustful of its obvious grab at our demographic. But I guess I gravitated toward it anyway because, frankly, I needed the entertainment. So we watched The Gilmore Girls together, for the first time, at her house. And throughout that first episode, we offered running (snide) commentary about how ridiculous the show was. Real people don’t talk like that was the main critique. I’m so sure.

After it was over, we went out on her front porch to smoke. And as we sat there in the pleasant evening calm, smoking and gabbing, I noticed that something was different. We weren’t just talking — we were bantering. We were talking faster than usual. And we were cracking more jokes, with a much drier delivery than usual. In short, we were talking like The Gilmore Girls.

It was a little embarrassing, but I couldn’t deny it: It was fun. In fact, I actually felt happier talking like The Gilmore Girls. I literally felt my mood lighten.

And so began a weekly ritual. I needed that little, mid-week perk-me-up. No show has ever cheered me up quite so effectively. And the longer I watched it, the more I understood that there was no need for shame. The Gilmore Girls was an exceptionally well-made show, with some of the best acting I’ve ever seen — on a stage, movie screen, or on TV. And as my life changed (and I dare say improved), those are the qualities that made The Gilmore Girls an enduring pleasure. Yes, the show featured a fantastic running role by Sebastian Bach as a bar-band hack, and a gratifying occasional appearance from Carole King (who recorded the show’s theme song with her own daughter). Yes, Gilmore featured many other bands and musicians (Sonic Youth, blah blah) and relatable references (Excedrin PM hangovers, Hello Kitty) — and often referenced my top-favorite bands (White Stripes, Art Brut, Wolfmother — they were inside my head, dude!). But the pop-cultural trivia for which the program was known seemed to fade in importance as the show developed. (And I’m hoping against hope all those name-brand references in recent times — Target, TiVo, MySpace, Jeep, Pussycat Dolls — were not backed by dollar signs. Oh, the insidious compromises one must make to watch TV these days!)

Working late over the past couple years, and often preoccupied with American Idol, I’d usually tape Gilmore to watch later. And that’s partly how I came to understand just how well-crafted the show was. Certain scenes and even individual lines were so right on, I’d find myself hitting the rewind button constantly. I often felt guilty for not writing a thank-you note to the show’s creators, just so they’d know their attention to nuance was not in vain. And I’m talking emotional nuance here: Practical details went out the window on a weekly basis. For starters, as mentioned, nobody talks like that in real life. Lorelei’s dog, Paul Anka, was AWOL half the time. I never saw Lorelei clean her way-too-tidy New England cottage. And how she could eat so much and exercise so little — while wearing such tight jeans — remains a question.

That wasn’t a weakness per se. I’m a girl, after all, and I savored the show’s idealised aspects — the shabby-chic interiors, the soft-focus charm of the buildings and town square, the coffee carts, the shiny hair and cute dresses.

And yet as stylized as the show’s surface was, its guts were real. How I marvelled at the lengthy, Altman-esque takes during one unusually tense dinner scene between Lorelei and her wealthy, 60-something parents (Edward Herman and Kelly Bishop). At the scene’s opening, the old folks are strangely cold. Lorelei prods them, repeatedly, and finally they explode, and we watch a tangle of messy, decades-old, perfectly plausible emotions and frailties spill out onto everyone’s sherbet bowls. And we watch them go back and forth: grandma, grandpa, daughter, granddaughter, grandma again — on and on, for minutes, each character expressing something intense and real and understandable — and actually speaking to each other more harshly than ever before, saying things they’ve never said. But that happens in real life. Sometimes, after years, people will suddenly address each other in a totally different tone.

And that’s what happened. And they worked it out, and we got to see a new side of each character. And at the end of dinner everyone was exhausted and bruised, but also maybe a little happier. And their relationships did change a bit after that.

On most shows, characters have crises, and then afterwards they go back to being exactly the same as they were before. That can be comforting for the viewer, but it’s also kind of distancing. It’s just not real. The converse problem is that sometimes when characters evolve a little too much, a show loses its sense of dramatic conflict, and stops being funny and compelling (I think that happened to M*A*S*H).

Gilmore’s grasp of human brains and hearts was so subtle, it didn’t get boring. And because it wasn’t plot-driven, the writers didn’t have to jump the shark. As in real life, everyday things and events — a school paper, a new dog, a grandfather’s heart attack — were plenty interesting. The main show was what was happening inside and between the characters. And again, as in real life, it was always shifting.

Take Rory’s complicated relationship with her college boyfriend, Logan (Matt Czuchry), a great but privileged kid who’s just learning for the first time how to really love another person. At first he was fun, free-spirited, but obviously deep; then, over the past season or so, he became an internet-startup guy, and started using corporate lingo. He changed. Maybe he became more himself. That’s what happens as people get deeper into their 20s. You’ve seen it happen in real life a million times.

See, The Gilmore Girls didn’t just want us to have complex feelings about it characters (like, say, House). It wanted us to have complex and ever-changing feelings about its characters.

That’s a big risk for a show to take, and it didn’t always pay off. Last year, Lorelei broke up with her great love, Luke (Scott Patterson), and tried — unsuccessfully — to reunite with Rory’s father, Chris (David Sutcliffe). He was a nice, decent guy who bugged the shit out of me. He thought his own jokes were cute. Worse, he was rubbing off on Lorelei. And that happens in real life.

The payoff was that I shifted my attentions to the marvelous supporting cast — and discovered the best actors on the show. My favorite was Melissa McCarthy, the actress who played Lorelei’s best friend. On a show where everyone talks over each other, her ability to listen was pretty stunning. It made every single line reading a thing of beauty, note-perfect. (In fact, I look forward to the DVDs mainly to watch her performances.) And I cheered out loud when the noble Luke finally stood up to the mother of his child (a dreadful bitch). How I enjoyed his growing relationship with his science-geek daughter (also wonderfully played, by young Vanessa Marano) — and how I wished Lorelei could see it!

That happens in real life, too. So often, people need to break up and be alone for a while in order to become good enough for each other.

The series finale was nice, mainly because Luke and Lorelei got back together. (And were their names a joke on General Hospital’s “Luke & Laura” the whole time?) But I didn’t really cry or anything. I guess that’s because the characters seemed happy. And it occurs to me now, in light of Grey’s Anatomy, Ugly Betty, and other girly shows of the moment, the characters on Gilmore Girls were always happy. They had tragedies and disappointments in their lives, but they were basically happy people.

And though we rarely see it reflected on TV shows, and never on the news, that’s a part of real life, too.

http://www.laweekly.com/film+tv/screen/gilmore-girls-goodbye/

(May 2007) Stars Hollow Ending

By Karen Valby
I was prepared to be disappointed. I bet a lot of you were too. And I got nervous there in the beginning, after that hammy introduction of Rory to her hero Christiane Amanpour. Really? Would a journalist of her stature really be impressed by a stammering elf in a cute dolly tee and jogging pants? That's all it takes to get Christiane's business card? But that's it from me today. That's the last time I'll roll my eyes at season 7. Because, and I don't think I'm being overly sentimental here, last night really was a dandy.

At Friday Night Dinner — am I in this post-Gilmore Girls world going to have to start a Friday Night Dinner club? — Emily is crabby that Rory missed cocktail hour to network instead. She wants after-dinner drinks as payback. Lorelai blanches. But when Rory trots in with news that she'll be leaving in three days to start following Barack Obama on the campaign trail (Hollywood loves Barack! Don't hold it against him!), everyone kind of crumples in their seat. Lorelai does an admirable job of pushing her panic aside and is sweetly firm and confident in her daughter's ability to rise to the challenge. Who cares if their month-long roller-coaster adventure is now toast? Her daughter has to get on the bus! This scene may have been the first time this season that Rory has shown any of the spunk and quiet grit of seasons past. Maybe that little girl in the strange purple top will make it after all! Emily, on the other hand, looks sucker-punched at the idea of losing her granddaughter, and thus her hold on Lorelai, so soon. But then Lorelai soothes her by saying, ''After-dinner drinks for sure.'' I wanted to cry tonight. I'm crying!

With Rory so suddenly employed, there's no time to plan the graduation-reenactment party. She and Lorelai have fanny packs and book lights (miss you, Paris!) to find. So Luke takes it upon himself to plan the surprise party that the town needs to feel good about sending Rory off into the world. There's a brilliant moment with Miss Patty sticking her face out of her darkened studio doors, telling Lorelai she's communing with her muse and can't be bothered. Cut to a cowering line of Stars Hollow's finest inside. Later, Luke, so strangely full of go-get-'em pep, cuts off Taylor's caterwauling and spurs everyone into action. Kirk offers to DJ. Oh, Captain K, what I'd do for one of your college mixtapes. (Speaking of Kirk, check out Mandi Bierly's most excellent conversation with Sean Gunn, who shared his top 10 Kirk moments from the last seven seasons.) In one of the night's funnier scenes, Babette comes careening into the town square, her arms waving in front of her like a zombie having a spaz attack, warning Luke of her swollen ankles. Her hair is 50/50, but the ankles don't lie. It's going to rain, and the party will be a washout. I know there's a lot of Christopher fans out there, as well as fans of the ''don't mess with Luke and Lorelai's friendship'' formula. But how not to think that she'd be in good hands with a man who stays up all night in his diner sewing together patches of fabric so her daughter's party won't be ruined. It took me years, but I'm a believer. Marry the guy.

Rory, meanwhile, has ducked out from under her mother's perky wing to say goodbye to Lane. Unsurprisingly, the scene was unfulfilling. These two have drifted, and those actors aren't going to sell lines like ''I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but I feel like I do, you know?'' Suck on that, Gigi! Back at home, Lorelai's on an ironing binge to stave off her frantic sense of loss. When Rory gooses her for some emotion, Lorelai's chin starts puckering, and she insists she's not ready to get sad. It's too soon, and they've got 36 more hours, and oh my, I can't handle this. I wish I owned an ironing board. In a relationship defined by quick wit and banter, thank you, writers, for the quiet, devastating moment when Lorelai checks on her sleeping daughter. The la-la-la music was at its achiest, and Lorelai was in a hoodie, and she was pulling up Rory's blanket, and the chin was going, and not a word was spoken.

I thought nothing could top the oomph of that moment, but when Lorelai and Rory drove up the next day and saw the town clutching pinwheel umbrellas, gathered together under a makeshift tent, my own chin started getting a little crumbly. Why don't I iron? Thank you, Kirk, for lightening the mood! ''Rory, in my official capacity as town sash presenter,'' he says, ''I would like to present you with this sash,'' and then he tells Lorelai that he ''got the material from one of mother's nighties'' Love it!

My composure left my living room when the camera turned to the grandparents standing alone on the edge of the party. So vulnerable, those two! Poor Emily can't stop with the fussy routine, which we all know means that she's cracking a little inside and that sneer is all she's got to protect her. Richard, building on his kind words to Lorelai last week at graduation, is turning into one giant-size, bow-tied teddy bear. He starts praising Lorelai for the love and devotion she earned in Stars Hollow and acknowledging his own regrets before Emily cuts the loving off quick: ''Oh, please don't become one of those 'I had a heart attack, let me express my every thought' types.'' Nice try, Emily, not buying it! Later, she corners Lorelai and needles her again about adding on a spa element to the Dragonfly. See, they'll lend her money, and of course they'll have to get together every now and then to discuss the project, but it's really for the good of the inn. Lorelai finally gets it and announces that they can discuss the matter further over the next Friday Night Dinner. They're alive and well! And the way Kelly Bishop unclenched her jaw and shoulders, the way her whole being visibly softened upon news that she would not lose whatever tenuous tether she had to her daughter, was just terrific. And then she snapped back to Emily Gilmore. ''Don't be late and don't wear jeans!'' Those two will go down as one of my favorite mother-daughter relationships in TV history.

And then we came to the line where a sob surprised me by shooting up my esophagus and exploding in the back of my throat. The grandparents are saying goodbye to Rory, and Emily gets all serious for a second and grabs Rory's arm and tells her, ''It's an honor to be your grandmother, Rory Gilmore.'' After typing that, I'm thinking, well, is that little line, a throwaway on paper, really what made a bomb go off in my mouth? But the delivery was moving without being mushy, and I remain for life a sucker for Kelly Bishop.

Cheers for the graceful wrap-up of the endlessly frustrating Luke and Lorelai story. When Lorelai hears that it wasn't Sookie who planned the whole affair, that it was Luke who stayed up all night sewing a patchwork tent of raincoats, well, what's a girl to do but march across that same street that knocked them on their asses so many times and smooch the guy. I bet many fans will feel cheated that they got but a second of that long-awaited kiss before the camera panned off to focus on the town square. I loved it. I loved that we got to see them reconcile without a lot of words, and that whatever romance they cook up is now their business alone. I don't want to see him giving her a necklace and promising to make babies that very night. I want her wearing the necklace and him rightfully in the background the next morning while she says goodbye to her daughter.

So the series ended where it began, in Luke's diner, with Rory and Lorelai making love to their coffee and ordering an obscene amount of food. When they leave us, they're jabbering away at each other, protected from the world by their enormous, enthusiastic, almost childlike appreciation of their best friend before them. See you later, girls.

And goodbye to you, Mrs. Kim, wherever you are!

http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20039039,00.html

(May 2007) 'Gilmore Girls' takes final bow on last episode

By: Marshall Fleming


When Amy Sherman-Palladino created Gilmore Girls seven seasons ago, she knew from the start how she wanted the series to end; even down the final four words of the last episode. Unfortunately for her, and the cast, and the fans, and the show itself, she wasn't around when the end ultimately came.

Sherman-Palladino and husband Dan Palladino, (also a writer for the show), left after the shows sixth season, reportedly because they couldn't agree to terms of a new contract with the network. Apparently where the creator and head writer goes, so goes witty dialogue and quality plot lines.

Most fans of the show were extremely disappointed with the seventh season's writing, but still sat on their couches on Tuesdays at 8:00 p.m. to tune in. Then, May 3 a bomb dropped: the CW announced that the scheduled season finale for May 15 was now going to be the series finale. It caught so many people off-guard that even some of the cast and crew didn't see it coming.

It came down to the show's stars, Lauren Graham and Alexis Bledel opting not to renew their contracts.

Leading up to the farewell, many fans were upset that the show would not be having a special send off, and that it would just end with a typical season finale. What most of the producers and cast members were saying, however, was that the episode could really go either way, and that it brought the series full circle.

Rory (Bledel), now a Yale graduate, got a job with an online news magazine, covering Barack Obama's presidential campaign, and would ultimately be leaving home for a long period of time. Had the show come back for an eighth season, writing her back into episodes would prove difficult. Meanwhile, Lorelei (Graham) and Luke (Patterson) seemingly got back together for good.

The episode's writing was nothing spectacular but it did bring some closure to the series. The final scene was similar to the first scene of the series - Rory and Lorelei sitting in Luke's diner drinking coffee. Nothing spectacular. No double-wedding that many speculated would be the finale. No reappearance of one of Rory's old boyfriends to come in and take her away. Just breakfast in the diner one last time.

It still would be nice if Sherman-Palladino would let us know what those final four words would have been.


http://media.www.thetriangle.org