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March 16, 2020 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

See what’s happening recently at thebirdonfire.org.

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FIREBIRD Letter to Palm Valley Community by Charles Schnell

Dear Palm Valley Community,

If someone asked you, “Who are you,” how would you respond? “I’m a. . .” Student? Parent? Teacher? Social worker? Musician? Politician? Doctor? Athlete? Farmer? Architect? Clown? . . . .

Ghost Hunting?!

By Luke Langlois Have you ever been trying to fall asleep at night when, suddenly, you hear a chilling whoooosh or an eerie creaking? Being the mature and fearless person you are, perhaps you brush these noises off as your cat doing cat things or the refrigerator… refrigerating. . . .

The Enchantment of Snowboarding

By James Zheng SYMPTOMS OF SNOWBOARDITIS

Being excessively elated over words associated with snow.
Desperately waiting for winter, not caring about the other 3 seasons.
Spending all time watching videos and reading articles about Snowboarding. (Symptoms worsen during winter.) . . . .

FIREBIRD Letter to Palm Valley Community by Charles Schnell

February 28, 2020 by szachik@pvs.org 3 Comments

“Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth. . . . O waste of lost, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this weary, unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?

O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.”

— Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel

Dear Palm Valley Community,

If someone asked you, “Who are you,” how would you respond? “I’m a. . .” Student? Parent? Teacher? Social worker? Musician? Politician? Doctor? Athlete? Farmer? Architect? Clown?

Then, if someone asked you, “What are you?” how would your response change? Would it change at all? What’s the difference between “who” and “what” you are? Which one makes you happy? Which limits you? Which obstructs you from being the happiest you can possibly be?

These questions are all asked and answered in Firebird, the new musical dramedy premiering at Palm Valley School this March. This play marks the return of the highly-regarded playwriting team of Mr. Chris Griffin and Mr. Ken Sarkis at Palm Valley School. (If you are a fan of shows such as Home Sweet Homer and Shakespeare at Starlucks, this newest musical of theirs is right up your alley!)

The play takes place over the span of the life of one person, named Arruda, as he travels throughout the world, bound to the task of defining “who” he is. There are no antagonists, other than life itself and that obnoxious, deceiving question, “Who are you?” During his voyage, Arruda encounters and learns from a wide array of odd folk who have already defined “who” they are and are quite comfortable with their answers, including a family who sweeps, the U.S. Common Core education system, successful businessmen whose specific company’s name we had to take out of the script (for copyright reasons), Buddhists and yogos, spirits of the Amazon river, and—everyone’s favorite type of people—self-absorbed actors.

This person’s journey to self-discovery will be accompanied by only the greatest composers of the 19th and 20th century, such as Maurice Ravel and Igor Stravinsky, with modern, original lyrics to tell our story.

Almost all of the 23 drama students in the Upper School Theatre Department will be playing multiple roles, and you better believe every single one will be acting, singing, and dancing their way through this existential, musical romp of self-discovery. And, to top it all off, you certainly don’t want to miss the show that will be Mr. Sarkis’s “Last Hurrah!” as a theatre director and teacher. You can expect that he is giving it his all! (As usual.)

If you would like to join us on this young person’s journey, Firebird will be running for six shows in the MPR: March 20, 21, 27, 28, 29 at 7:30 p.m. and on March 22 at 2:30 p.m. Tickets will start at $15 for general admission and will cost $20 for premium seats. (To purchase tickets, you can do so at the link below* or at the door.) The department is hard at work rehearsing and producing Firebird, and we hope to see you there as what you truly are.

On behalf of the cast and crew of Firebird,

Charles Schnell

Editor: Luke Langlois

*To buy tickets for Firebird, click here: https://www.eventbrite.com/o/the-palm-valley-school-9832789066

The Monkey’s Plunge

April 29, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

By Charles Schnell

Charles, no longer a Blogger-on-Staff but a consummate writer, still contributes short stories. “The Monkey’s Plunge” is his latest parable-ish fable submission.

On top of the hill in the middle of the forest the monkey meditated with his master in the master’s temple. The aged master, having two ounces of wisdom for every one wrinkle, imparted perhaps the most profound piece of wisdom he could to the monkey at the end of their meditation session. This was it: “Do not chase after the glitter, the riches, or the fame, my monkey. Those are all gold, but who needs gold when you can have God?”

The monkey replied, “Why can’t I have both?”

“If you allow your heart to fill with gold, there will be no room left for God,” said the master. “But, if you fill your heart with God, you will never need gold. You will still want it on occasion, which means you must be careful, for the second you let gold in, God gets pushed out.”

“So, what are you telling me to do? Run from the gold?”

“Run from the gold, monkey. Run to God.”

“Yes, master,” the monkey said, not completely comprehending his master’s words. With this, the monkey left the temple and returned to the city to continue on with his life.

An hour had not even gone by before the monkey forgot his master’s teachings for the day.

The week that followed had been no ordinary week, for the monkey had finally been discovered. The monkey was getting famous, as he had always wanted. Fans wanted to meet the monkey wherever he went. They asked for autographs on the most random and unexpected of objects. In addition, his earnings skyrocketed. He started buying things he had always wanted.

In fact, the monkey grew so busy that he had to cancel his weekly session with his master. This is the first time he had ever cancelled. When the monkey came to see his master to tell him, the master sighed, shook his head, and only had this to say, “Remember: Be careful, my monkey. Run from the gold. Run to God.”

This final message from his master went into the monkey’s right ear and out of the left. He hurriedly walked through the jungle back to the city; he had a dinner reservation.

Almost a whole year passed without the monkey coming back for his meditation session. He grew so involved and integrated into city society that he had forgotten about his wrinkled master. He even made a few self-righteous and conceited decisions along the way.

It was at this point when the monkey realized that his situation was changing again. The city no longer loved him. In fact, its people started to turn against him. They didn’t like the monkey anymore. They grew jealous of the monkey. They grew to hate the monkey. They wanted the monkey gone. So, as if right out of a cartoon, they grabbed their pitchforks and flaming torches. The monkey was chased from the city.

But that was not enough; they wanted him gone for good. Gone gone. They chased the monkey throughout the jungle. Taking advantage of the vines to swing on and the branches to jump to, the monkey managed to avoid his ex-fans for a fair amount of time. But, eventually, they cornered the monkey at the edge of the waterfall.

The monkey had no choice but to take the leap of faith and dive head first into the lake below the waterfall. The monkey’s plunge caused a huge splash, convincing the people he was gone gone. The people peacefully returned to the city, taking their pitchforks, torches and hatred with them.

Meanwhile, the monkey was still in the lake under the waterfall. He felt relieved. He felt safe. But, his feelings of relief and safety quickly turned into confusion as the current of the lake pushed him into the connecting rapids. The rapids tossed and turned him for many miles. The fearful monkey could not do anything but close his eyes, continue his record of involuntary summersaults, and pray that the pain would end soon.

He eventually stopped moving. He was still underwater, and the rapids were still roaring by him, but he was no longer being carried down the river. Then, he realized why he had stopped moving: he felt a hand grabbing onto his arm. The hand started pulling him out of the river. Trapped underwater, he had no clue as to whom the hand belonged and prepared for the worst.

The master eventually pulled the monkey fully out of the water. The monkey was more relieved than ever to see that it was his master, not his enemy. After taking a minute to catch his breath and shake the water off his fur, the monkey looked his master in the eye, trying to muster the words “I’m sorry” but was not successful in getting them out.

Instead, the monkey said, “Now I know.” His master gave him a look of inquiry, so the monkey clarified: “Run to God?”

The master nodded, took the monkey’s hand, and escorted him back to the temple. “Run to God, monkey.”

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Puppet Cuts Free

March 1, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

A Fable by Guest Blogger Charles Schnell

At the top of a grassy hill almost untouched by humankind, his house stood basking almost too closely to the sun. He was the proud owner of the house on the hill. He was the one who made the dolls. And, he was a puppet.

Everyday, the puppet had to wake up, find himself at the desk in his study with his strings still attached, and get to work again. His life consisted of being hunched over his wooden desk, delicately weaving and stitching dolls together. Eighty dolls a day, to be exact. Six days a week–this would be the puppet’s routine: wake up; make eighty dolls; go to sleep.

Then, on the seventh day, the puppet would have to make his way to the village and deliver the dolls to the market. The strings attached to the hands of the heavens led the puppet’s way.

Walking back to his workshop on the hill, the puppet would have to hear the same comments from the villagers.

“Yeah, the dolls are nice. But what else do you do?”

“Wow, how do you come up with so many new designs? Every week you have something new!”

“Where do you see yourself in four years?”

In the beginning, the puppet tried answering these questions, but he always found himself at a loss for words, and the strings of the heavens do not stop for their puppets. So, he gave up and returned to his house on the hill in silence.

This all continued long enough for millions of dolls to have come spilling out of the puppet’s soul. Until one day, the doll stopped. He dropped his roll of yarn and did not pick it up again. The heavens tugged and pulled on the strings, but the puppet did not concede. In fact, that day, the puppet took his yarn cutting scissors, raised them up while resisting the tugging of the heavens, and cut his strings.

Freed, he could no longer sense the heavens. All contact was cut. And for once, he left his house on a day that was not the seventh day.

At first, he liked the town. He liked being able to roam without the strings. And, for the first time, the villagers saw a smile on the puppet’s face.

Freedom did not come without its drawbacks, however. His newly found freedom caused newly found anxiety. Without his strings, the puppet had nowhere to go.

No, he had too many places to go, too many choices. That led to the puppet’s insecurity and anxiety. Pretty soon, the smile disappeared from his face.

The puppet continued on for a long time like this: anxious and insecure. But, one day he faced what he knew he had to do.

He returned to his old house on the hill, his desk, his workshop, his yarn, his scissors he cut himself free with.

He took a deep breath. He realized what he was about to do was for the best. He took the remnants of his strings to the heavens. He proceed with great care as he slowly and reluctantly stitched and spliced the strings together again. The heavens, seeing they had control once more, worked their magic, and the puppet fell asleep.

The next morning, the puppet awoke to his familiar life. The hill was untouched; the house was close to the sun; and the puppet made eighty more dolls.

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Avengers–High School Conspiracy

January 16, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

By Charles Schnell, Who Does Not Actively Follow or Care About the Marvel Movies

Before you scroll down or click away, hear me out. I know this may sound ridiculous, but I think the masterminds over at Marvel entertainment have outlined the four Avengers movies in a way that represents each grade in high school. At least, this is what my experience has led me to theorize.

Let’s go over the series and compare, shall we?

Avengers: Ah, the original. This is freshman year of high school. Think about it. There’s a new team of sheriffs in town. Some are smarter; some are stronger; some are more attractive. These freshies are here to team up for the first time and save the world. Now, take the average freshman class. Some are smarter; some are stronger; some are more attractive. However, they have all assembled at school for the first time to save each other, and the school as a whole, from bullies. Who are these bullies? Well, that would be the upperclassmen, society, the government, etc. Coincidence? I think not. Avengers is freshman year!

Avengers: Age of Ultron: This is sophomore year, most definitely. No doubt about it. In this one, the overall plot line is not tied up. Thanos is out and about, but not the main focus. This is more of a subplot movie if anything. Now, think about sophomore year of high school. Why does one go to high school? Well, at least if we are talking college-prep schools such as Palm Valley, one goes to get into college. That is the overall, main plot: getting into college. However, sophomores usually are not thinking too heavily about college. And, if they are, imagine how much worrying they’ll be doing junior and senior years, when college—Thanos—has finally arrived. In junior and senior year, all our GPAs start plummeting, and it’s one hard battle after another, and college is sitting right in front of you, taunting, laughing, smiling into the sunset. In sophomore year, that’s not the case. You aren’t focused on getting into college, the main plot. You usually have something else to worry about, the subplot. You’ve got your first (and perhaps your last) AP, your last year where the PSAT does not matter, and your 16th birthday—a classic American milestone. Sophomore year is the Age of Ultron.

Avengers: Infinity War: Time to put on your big kid pants. “Thanos” has arrived, and he is taking no prisoners. All who oppose him will be crushed, and in this “movie,” no “Avenger” is safe. Now, look again at those sentences, but replace “Thanos” with “college,” “movie” with “year,” and “Avenger” with “junior,” and you have a perfect summary of junior year. In years prior, the academic workload usually starts off slow. Everything is okay in the beginning of freshman and sophomore years, and then it all goes down the drain usually once December hits. But, those challenges have been manageable, and you have not let them conquer you. Junior year is much different. Thanos is unlike any other enemy. The junior grind does not allow for any meager distractions. Once junior year starts, it’s “GO GO GO” from the very first day. No time for breaks, no time for opposition. “GO GO GO.” APs! SATs! ACTs! PSATs! Look at colleges! HARVARD! This pain train’s got no breaks; it just hopes its passengers can hold on. Junior year is a war that seems endless, but it eventually ends…. Unfortunately, it might end in a way that you may not want it to. Junior year is the Infinity War.

Avengers: Endgame: “We’re in the endgame now.” I’m not a senior, but if I had to guess, every senior has probably said something akin to this during senior year. It’s the end. Half or so of the senior class was mentally destroyed during junior year. It’s up to the remaining seniors to help motivate their friends back to life, save their GPAs, and finally finish the main plot, the story that has been developing for 18 years; it’s time for the seniors to get into college and enter the next phase of their life. Need I say more? Senior year, the final year of high school, childhood, and—dare I say—innocence, is the Endgame. And yet, at the same time, it is much more than an end. It’s a beginning, a beginning to the next phase of your life.

There you have it. High school is the Avengers. The Avengers is high school. This is my argument, and I have laid it out plainly for you. Now, all that’s left is your opinion. Do you agree with, disagree with, or—best of all—ignore my post, and move on to more important matters?

Editor: Luke Langlois

Existentialism at the Third Grade Level

November 14, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

By Guest Blogger-Editorialist Charles Schnell, Singing “Hello, Dolly!” Too Loudly in the Afterlife

The possibility that there is no almighty deity, definitive meaning, or afterlife is a frightening notion, particularly if you’ve been paying for a Netflix subscription all this time.

After taking AP Chemistry for quite a few weeks now, I have come to hope that there is an afterlife, that there is more than this.

Though, when I reach the afterlife, I have a few questions that need some answering before I can start enjoying myself. Firstly, how long has it been since the afterlife was founded? How late is the neighborhood delicatessen open? Will my college debt carry over? Are there more levels of education? Have we gotten a clear lay of the land? How much money are the cartographers making per 1,000 maps? And, of course, is there anything after the afterlife? Is there anything after the afterlife’s afterlife? How many afterlifes are we going to have to go through before we get some peace and quiet? And, on average, what is the cost of quality plumbing in each of them?

Having posed those questions, we must remind ourselves that all of them will be answered eventually. It is of the utmost importance that we try not to worry about the future so much. How could we? There’s too much going on in the present moment to consider what could be, as well as what could have been.

Editor: Luke Langlois

Teachers and Students

November 1, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org 4 Comments

By Charles Schnell, Self-Proclaimed King of Mediocrity, Controversy, and Unavailability

Is it better to be the teacher or the student? Neither, if you still do not have a significant other.

When all is said and done, there is not much of a difference between teachers and students. We are all human, and that means on our best days, we are all imperfect. (Albeit, some more than others.)

Teachers and students are more similar than the teachers would like to admit. For one thing, we all fall in love. Teachers fall in love with Lincoln, the Ti-84, the government, and the College Board. And students, well, we fall in love with each other–for better or worse.

Additionally, we all have favorite foods. I am sure all my teachers are craving an In-N-Out burger as much as I am. The difference here is students have the metabolism to handle the burger, the shakes, and the fries that find themselves tossed around in the bag.

Sure, metabolism is great, but being a student certainly is not free of its own disadvantages; teachers have a “leg-up” on us in many things. They cannot be grounded by their parents, only the law; they get to correct the homework instead of doing it; they can drink. As a lover of freedoms like these, I would rather be a teacher than a student. However, if you were to ask teachers, I’m sure they’d rather be students again.

To sum it up, teachers and students have one key similarity trumping all other similarities: our humanity. We are all human, so maybe we can reach an understanding and compromise. Teachers, if you stop giving us homework, we will stop giving you homework to grade. Imagine how many outings to Applebee’s we could make.

Editor: Luke Langlois

Death is Sexy

September 6, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

A One-Act by Charles Schnell, former Blog Staffer, now freelancer who aspires to write and publish the book A Hundred Ways to Ruin a Date and Two Hundred Ways to Fix It.

(SAM, a teenage boy, is in his bedroom lying on his bed, preoccupied with his phone. He’s wearing a yarmulke. There’s not much to his room: a bed, a dresser, a desk with a chair, a TV, and a video game console. Then, DEATH—a sexy, flirtatious young lady in her 20s—crawls through the window in nothing but her black undergarments, which have skull designs plastered all over. She’s also boasting a skull-plastered small black backpack. She tumbles onto SAM’s carpeted floor.)

SAM. Holy smoke! What’re you doing?

DEATH. (brushing herself off) Hello, Sam.

SAM. Who are you? Jennifer Aniston?

DEATH. No, I’m Death.

SAM. Is that your supermodel name or….?

DEATH. My real name. Listen, can I sit down? Climbing up here really took a lot out of me. (sits next to him on his bed)

SAM. (looking with eyes full of amazement) Okay, well, what do you want, Death?

DEATH. Do you have any Sprite? I could really use a refreshment.

SAM. Only Sierra Mist.

DEATH. Damn mortals.

SAM. What’re you doing here? You wouldn’t have come all this way just for a Sprite, Death. My parents would kill me if they found a girl like you in my room.

DEATH. (surveying him) Or they would pinch themselves out of disbelief. I’ve come to take you to the afterlife.

SAM. Okay….

DEATH. Your time has come.

SAM. Okay….

DEATH. Now all I need you to do is kiss me.

SAM. (does a double take, acknowledges audience) Okay! (leans in toward her)

(He shuts his eyes and goes in for the kiss. DEATH smiles devilishly and leans in. Just as their lips are about to touch, DEATH burps. Loudly. DEATH jumps up, flustered and embarrassed.)

DEATH. Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I thought I had finished digesting all the others!

SAM. Others?

DEATH. My apologies.

SAM. You mean you…

(Death and Sam speak simultaneously.) DEATH. Would’ve sent your soul to the afterlife and eaten your body? SAM. Go to other guys houses and kiss them?

DEATH. Yes. SAM. What!?

DEATH. That is the idea. How else are people supposed to go when it’s their time?

SAM. What do you mean?

DEATH. I’ve already told you, silly. I’m Death!

SAM. So when you said my time was up….

DEATH. Yep!

SAM. Wait, hold on! I don’t want to go yet.

DEATH. Oh, oh, what am I supposed to say here!? Sorry, forgive me it’s my first day on the job. Hold on, let me look at the handbook.

(DEATH pulls out the “BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO TAKING SOULS” out of her small black backpack.)

SAM. Job? Handbook?

DEATH. Ah, yes. Here we go. Ahem…. “We sincerely apologize that you don’t want to go yet. But unfortunately, your time has come. In life, we all must undergo things we do not want to. Nor are those things often ever under our control. For example, one time a man booked a ticket on American Airlines and got stuck next to a corporate lawyer for the entire flight.”

SAM. How’s that supposed to make me feel better?

DEATH. “The irony of this story is that after the flight, the guy wanted his time to come. Sometimes it can be a blessing!”

SAM. Look, I have no idea who you are or what crazy organization you belong to or how much red meat you’ve consumed recently. All I know is that you are very hot and I really want to kiss you. But, you ain’t worth going to the afterlife for!

DEATH. C’mon, kiss me!

SAM. No! If I kiss you, my soul will be sent to the afterlife, right?

DEATH. Yep!

SAM. What if I don’t kiss you?

DEATH. Then I’ll just have to take you normally.

SAM. Normally?

DEATH. Like all the other Deaths.

SAM. So you don’t have to kiss me? Then why do you? Not that I’m complaining.

DEATH. Oh, don’t get so fret up. They assign me to people who haven’t had their first kiss yet. That’s my position. I kiss them out of pity.

SAM. Hey, I’ve had my first kiss!

DEATH. Oh, don’t try to lie to me. In the afterlife, we know all. Besides, your cousin doesn’t count.

(SAM opens his mouth, but can’t think of anything to say to defend himself. He turns to hide his shame, notices his game console, and gets an idea.)

DEATH. Well, are you ready? I’m on a tight schedule. Kiss me already!

SAM. Wait! How about we make a deal? Let’s play a game of Madden. If you win, you get to take me. You don’t even need to kiss me! But if I win, you don’t take my soul and let me keep living.

DEATH. What’s in it for me?

SAM. What? You scared you’re going to lose?

DEATH. Scared!? I’m Death! I’ll have you know that at the office, we all play Madden on our time off! You’re on!

(SAM turns on the console, the TV. SAM sits on the bed while DEATH sits in the desk chair as they face the TV. They start playing.)

SAM: So what’s it like in the after life?

DEATH. Way better than here.

SAM. Really?

DEATH. Yeah! We’ve got Madden, cupcakes, blankets, quality plumbing, almost no bugs, quite profitable crop yields, a true democracy (as opposed to the American system), Dunkin’ Donuts. Plus the stock market is soaring right now.

SAM. Wow, it seems as if the afterlife has no downsides.

DEATH. Well, I wouldn’t say that. You’ve gotta die, and that’s a one-way trip. And, as much as reality sucks, it’s really the only place you can take a nice, hot shower.

SAM. Well, you can’t have everything.

DEATH. And the worst part—we’ve still got serial killers, rapists, and insurance salesmen.

(They focus on the game for a beat.)

DEATH. Ha! Interception!

SAM. I’m still up by 7…. So, how long have you been doing this death gig?

DEATH. About three days.

SAM. A newbie?

DEATH. Yep!

SAM. How many people have you kissed so far?

DEATH. 240.

SAM. Were you human before this or….?

DEATH. Nope. I was created three days ago.

SAM. By who?

DEATH. Death! My brothers and sisters and I are all extensions of Death.

SAM. Do you have any allergies?

DEATH. Nuts. Death is VERY allergic to nuts.

SAM. Really? Nuts are the weakness, huh? Nuts: the key to immortality.

DEATH. Oops. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Ah!

SAM. And another touchdown for me! Halftime show!

(SAM gets up and dances. He pulls out his phone and blasts “Get Down Tonight” by KC and the Sunshine Band.)

DEATH. What are you doing?

SAM. I’m winning. I’m cheating Death. This calls for a celebration!

DEATH. Not so fast. Look, half time’s over. Here comes my comeback!

SAM. You’re down by 21….

DEATH. Zip it.

(Sam stops the music and returns to the game, and thus the conversation.)

SAM. So, Death, I guess you know everything about the universe, right?

DEATH. Yes.

SAM. Can I ask you some questions that plague my existentialist mind?

DEATH. Sure.

SAM. Are there any restaurants in the afterlife? If so, how late are they open and what are their Yelp scores?

DEATH. Well, to put things simply, have you ever tried the KFC breakfast specials on a Tuesday morning?

SAM. Yeah.

DEATH. Afterlife food is worse.

SAM. Well, that’s great. At least I can finally lose some weight.

DEATH. Better late than never.

SAM. You know, a bunch of people think that the creation story is a myth, but is evolution really real?

DEATH. This is still quite a heated debate in the afterlife. However, let me put it this way: Evolution is the idea that we’re evolving, or, in other words, getting better as a species, and looking at you, clearly that’s not the case.

SAM. We sure are getting better at Madden though.

DEATH. Yeah, yeah…. You say as I tie up the game!

SAM. Marvelous.

DEATH. One minute left!

SAM. (attains a serious tone, while still focusing on the game) Hey, Death….

DEATH. (still focused on the game) What!?

SAM. (glances at her, but his priorities are still clearly the game) You’re… really sexy.

DEATH. I know.

SAM. I think… I want to take you up on that kiss.

DEATH. (drops attention to game) You know what’ll happen right?

SAM. (glances at her more, but still pressing buttons occasionally) Yeah, and after hearing about how great the afterlife is, how could I not kiss you?

DEATH. Come here, Sam. Kiss me as if your death depends on it.

(He inches his lips closer and closer to hers. Just as the lips are about to touch….)

SAM. And touchdown! (he celebrates) I ran out the clock and scored at the last second, look!

DEATH. You mischievous midget, I’m gonna kill you!

SAM. Nuh-uh. A deal’s a deal. I’ve won my life! I never lose!

DEATH. (giving him one last glance over) Clearly.

SAM. Buh-bye Death!

DEATH. I don’t get paid enough for this. My brothers and sisters are never gonna let this up! Agh! Farewell, kid. I’ve got other prepubescent boys who need their dreams fulfilled.

SAM. Are you referring to the kissing or dying?

DEATH. Exactly.

(She runs and dives through the window and crashes through the glass, forgetting she closed it earlier)

DEATH. (from outside and below) Ow! My pelvis!

MOTHER. (offstage) Sam! What was that?

FATHER. (offstage) I told you to stop throwing the controller when you lose, damn it!

(BLACKOUT)

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Story, Production, and Genius of “Arrested Development”

June 6, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

By Charles Schnell

Arrested Development is my favorite sitcom. With the release of the first half of season five on Netflix on May 29, I thought I would write a post explaining why.

To put it in the show’s own words, Arrested Development is “the story of a wealthy family who lost everything, and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together.” Enter the Bluths: a wealthy family who owns a real estate development firm named the Bluth Company. Not only are they a very wealthy family but they’re also an extremely dysfunctional family. After the CEO of the company, George Bluth Sr., runs into legal trouble, the family starts falling apart, and it’s all up to one of his four children, Michael Bluth–the “one son”–, to keep them from plunging completely off the deep end, all the while trying to keep the company afloat. So, why does keeping his family together pose a challenge for Michael? Well, once you see his family, you can understand why. His family includes a lying, lazy, selfish, indecisive twin sister whose favorite hobby is to crack open the company checkbook; an arrogant, foolish, self-centered older brother trapped within his hopeless dream of being a magician; a gullible, post-hemispherectomy younger brother who’s overly attached to his mother; and an oblivious, neurotic, ex-therapist of a brother-in-law who’s chasing his dreams of acting. These four are just a fraction of his family. And what happens when you place this dysfunctional family right in the heart of a highly satirized Newport Beach? Chaos, crime, romance, loss-of-limbs, death, and hilarity!

Arrested Development was created by Mitchell Hurwitz. The show originally began in 2003, airing on Fox. Upon the completion of its first season, the show was met with critical praise, winning six Primetime Emmys and a Golden Globe. However, due to poor marketing, the show received poor ratings. Thus, in 2005, its second season was cut from a planned twenty-two episode run to eighteen episodes, with which it was still able to garner eleven Emmy nominations and one win. A similar but more unfortunate event occurred in 2006 with its third season: twenty-two episodes became thirteen, and the show was ultimately cancelled by Fox.

Fortunately, in 2013, Netflix, who had nabbed the rights to the show, released a fourth season. Many aspects were different about this fourth season. For instance, while all the main actors were able to come back, many crew members, writers, and producers did not return. Another thing is that almost all the actors had reached new heights of fame since the original series. Jason Bateman, Will Arnett, Michael Cera, and David Cross are all Arrested Development actors that have been in multiple movies and TV shows and have become more popular since the end of the third season. Because of this, Hurwitz and the rest of the creative team had trouble working around the actors’ schedules, especially without a film budget. Thus, the fourth season had to undergo a different writing and presentation style than the original three seasons. The original series was full of scenes of the characters being together, and what made the original so great was how cleverly the writers had the characters interact with each other. The fourth season had to go a different route, since the actors’ schedules were very limiting. Thus, while there are some scenes of the Bluths together, the majority of the fourth season was written with each episode being dedicated to one of the main characters’ individual adventures. The writers decided to turn this handicap into an advantage, as they used this to structure the plot of season four in a very complex way. Season four was not ordered chronologically upon release. Because of this, the writers ended up turning season four into an intertwining, complex, out-of-order story. This fourth season eventually unfolds into a mystery storyline. And this led to the controversy of season four. Some argue that much of the charm and wit of the original series was lost, as one of the reasons the original show was so great was because of how the characters played off of each other. Others praised season four, claiming that the complex plot of season four that gradually turns into a mystery made the show much more engaging and much more than “just a comedy.” While I would agree that the show is way more than “just a comedy” even if the fourth season never happened, I really like season four. The writing is extremely clever and well thought out. I think that about the original three seasons too, but the difference is that the first three seasons are clever in a comedic sense, while the fourth season is clever more so in its plot and storytelling, while still being funny.

After five years of little news regarding a fifth season, we recently received great news. About a month ago, Mitchell Hurwitz announced that not only was season five going to be released very soon, but that he had made the Season Four Remix: a recut of season four that not only put the fourth season back into chronological order, but cut and reordered all the scenes as well, putting the season into episodes that each contained multiple characters’ stories per episode. This recut, that turned the original fifteen thirty-minute episodes of season four into a new twenty-two-episode season with each episode being twenty-two minutes, has been positively received and generally recognized as better than the original fourth season. Some have even claimed it is just as good if not better than the original series. All the complaints of a convoluted plot and character-overdose per episode are taken care of in the recut. While I agree the recut is way funnier than the original season four, I still appreciate the original for taking its production circumstances and trying to do something bold with them. Plus, the writing in the original season four is still really organized and well-thought out. (Thankfully, both season four’s are available on Netflix. The original has been tucked away in the “Trailers and More” section).

Okay, enough with season four. I want to get to why I love this show. On May 29, the first half of season five launched on Netflix. Season five continues the mystery cliffhanger left by season four. But remember, it’s still a comedy first and foremost.

The writing is extremely clever, silly, intertwining, connected, organized, and hilarious. From funny one-liners to ridiculous physical mishaps, the script of almost every episode is non-stop laughter. Every line is delivered with the exact delivery it calls for. The actors all have great chemistry with one another and, also thanks to the brilliant scripts, can play off each other well. The pacing is very rapid and works beautifully; the only problem is sometimes your laugh from one punchline will extend over another punchline. Not only are the actors’ deliveries spotless, but their facial expressions and body language are always on point, sometimes even garnering more of a laugh than the line does. The soundtrack, while not the highlight of the show, is fitting and is subtly funny in its own way. Some of the tracks become their own on-running gags. Speaking of which, I hope you like on-running gags and inside jokes because this show is chock full of them and will never hesitate to use them time and time again, even when you least expect it. Another thing I will say about the writing is while Arrested Development is first and foremost a comedy, the storyline is not horrible. Unlike numerous sitcoms, a continuous storyline actually exists and has its own little surprises, twists, and turns. And, because of the continuous storyline, this is not a sitcom where you can jump around. In order to fully understand what’s going on in an episode and all the jokes an episode might have, you must have seen all the episodes prior to that episode respectively. The storytelling becomes much more of a focus with the Netflix seasons than the original series, which provides the story as a backdrop for all the crazy comedic scenarios that occur, as well as a relief from the otherwise non-stop one-liners and on-running gags. Finally, Ron Howard is the narrator. In the first season, he more or less acts as a normal omniscient narrator. However, as the show continues, Howard starts saying more and more witty one-liners and clever, comedic quips, and he gradually becomes one of the comedic highlights of the show.

Arrested Development is a hilarious, ridiculous, absolutely crazy comedy that also knows how to tell a compelling story. This show never fails to make me laugh, and with the release of the fifth season and the upcoming summer break, I hope you will give this show a chance. For those of you who already like this show, aren’t we glad that Netflix is keeping this show alive? And for those who do not like this show… we’ll agree to disagree.

Editors: Renée Vazquez and Leo Milmet