Abe Weissman presents

In the period drama series The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel (Prime Video) we are introduced to Midge Maisel—a fictional comic (whose story is loosely based on the life of Joan Rivers) who with her former husband, Joel, and her parents Rose and Abe Weissman, move through the tumultuous late 1950s and 60s New York entertainment world, centred around Greenwich Village.

In a scene from the penultimate episode, Abe is joined at an upscale New York restaurant by two longtime male friends, each educated, wealthy, and privileged. Struggling to attend to the order of the day—what to order for dinner—Abe  ruminates about life, in particular about the roles of men and women, and his own behaviour over the years. He specifically reconsiders his relationship with his marvellous daughter, Midge.

Throughout the series, as Midge finds her voice and place in stand up comedy, both Abe and Rose cannot appreciate the gift that Midge possesses—until now.

Abe “I’ve just turned 64. And at a time when I should be comfortable, settled in body and mind, I’m not. At all. I suddenly find myself at a crossroads, and everything feels upside down.”

Man 1 “That’s because everything is changing at such an ungodly pace, Abe, especially for men our age.”

Abe (sotto voce) “Men our age!”

Man 2 “We were born in the 1800s, a different century. Before phones, before radio. My parents house had no electricity until I was seven. One can’t keep up.

Man 1 “And it’s physiological as much it is psychological, Homo sapiens crawled along playing the same roles for tens and tens of thousands of years, and now, suddenly, we are forced to adapt to this rapid-fire change, more change in a year than our predecessors experienced in a lifetime, in a millennium.

Think about it, change, to our predecessors. Change, to our predecessors were sudden exogenous events, earthquakes, floods, an eclipse, a saber tooth tiger lunging at you out of nowhere. They were things to be dealt with in the moment; then things, naturally, reverted back to the norm. But now, change happens over you, change itself is the flood, change itself is the saber tooth, change itself is the norm.”

Abe “My fear, though, is that the world is as it always was, and I just didn’t see it. That a lot of us didn’t see it. Us, men.

Man 2 “I had a feeling we’d get gender-specific.”

Abe “I’m serious. We can’t blame exogenous events. It’s too easy. Our collective blindness has caused a lot of harm. We controlled so much, meddled so much, and to what end?”

Man “That’s one man’s perception.”

Abe “Exactly.”

Man “And perception is tricky. We all interpret through the lens of ourselves. Man and woman. That’s natural. That we must have shared with the hunter-gatherers.”

Waiter “ Menus gentlemen? The fish tonight is a Dover Sole prepared one of two ways: traditional Meuniere or a citrus Beurre blanc sauce.”

Gabe “I’ve had the Dover sole before. It’s terrific.”

Arthur “You know, I had a moment the other day. I live in this big old apartment on Amsterdam. Bought it decades ago. Everyone thought I was crazy. All that money, now I look like a genius. And my wife and I, she, she’s passed, we spent countless hours outfitting it, decorating it. We took such pride, everything in the right place.

“And one day, not that long ago, I stood in the living room and looked around, and all I saw, was stuff. Just, stuff. It was the strangest feeling. As if I’d never seen any of it before. And so much of it was tied to the memory of my wife. We were together 40 years, but it didn’t matter. All I could picture was my children picking through it all, choosing what to keep, what to sell, what to . . . throw in the trash heap. My life. My wife. In piles [gasps]. It was a warm day, but I suddenly felt very cold.

Gabe “Look, I believe in free will. We are not robots. We can change. For the better. We do adapt. And sometimes what others perceive a meddling, Abe, is actually teaching. You were a teacher most of your life. We pass along our knowledge. That’s natural.”

Henry “My son. Bright boy. Warned me again and again that I was smothering him. I thought I was guiding him. Then he moved out. He stopped calling. He stopped . . .”

Abe “We teach, but we foist. I certainly do. I think I emerged from my mother’s womb giving advice on how to deal with the umbilical cord. I’m having one of your moments, Arthur. I’m seeing the piles of my life, and they’re foreign to me.”

Gabe “This is about your family, right? You tried to help, you tried to guide. Mistakes were made. Everybody makes mistakes.”

Man “I don’t like this wine.”

Abe “Everything I thought about the roles of men and women. I think is completely wrong. I have done exactly the wrong thing for both my children.”

Man “No, Abe. Not true.”

Abe “You know, my daughter owns the apartment I’m living in.”

Man “I thought you bought it. Didn’t you say that?”

Abe “My wife came up with that, our cover story. No, my daughter bought it. My daughter, my daughter was dumped by her husband, out of nowhere. That was her saber-toothed. Instead of collapsing from the weight, she emerged stronger. A new person, so I thought.

“But now I think . . . perhaps that was who she was all along. I never really took her seriously. My son, Noah, I took seriously. I would take him to Columbia with me every week so he could dream of what he could be. I don’t remember if I ever did that for Miriam. I don’t think it ever occurred to me.

“And as unfathomable as this career choice of hers is, she’s doing it on her own. With no help from me or her mother. Where did this come from? This strength, this fearlessness that . . . that I never had. That my poor son never had. What could she have been if I had helped her and not ignored her, ignored who she really is? My daughter is a remarkable person, and I don’t think I ever said that to her.”

[Pause]

Man “We should probably order.”

[To waiter] “Excuse me, I think we’re ready.”

I ask myself, how ready are they really? I wonder if Abe felt like Job, seated amongst the wise ones of antiquity, as he received streams of advice from wise seers, except the advice was empty and mostly irrelevant. In this 20^th century restaurant, how “ready” were Abe’s friends, to navigate the waters of change, to assess their own participation in and dependence upon social structures which in different ways served neither men nor women well. And what about the health and wellness of their own relationships?

Gender roles aside, through five seasons, Mrs. Maisel has taken us on a wonderful comic adventure, as stand-up moves beyond vocal wit—where timing and double entendre produce aha/haha moments—think Don Adams and Dick Van Dyke—to a more visceral, risky, and gut-wrenching physical comedy, a laughter that connects with essential life experiences hovering around the things that really matter—politics, religion, and sex. Midge finds fame and opportunity in the end, aided by her delightfully wild manager, Suzie. No spoilers here, but they end up doing what they really enjoy, from a distance, but together.

Wardrobe, props, music, the style and ambience of the day, all join well-crafted scripts to produce what will likely become a film classic. The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel is simply, marvellous. I would be remiss if I did not add my appreciation for the script writers, who with actors are currently striking to safeguard a creative process presently in serious jeopardy. AI could not have written The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel—It could only quote it. That is neither fair, nor enjoyable.

Fuck AI.