In the dressing room, Jane is unmoved by Beth’s announcement that she’s up for a big promotion, instead countering, “I always thought you would do something… bigger.” Beth questions, “Bigger?” Jane adds, “I mean like… more special. She’s not nearly as forgiving for their childhood traumas. This said to Beth when she joins her mother on a shopping excursion-far more of an attempt at bonding than Beth’s younger sister, Ann (Susannah Poole), would ever deign to do. Jane, likewise, declares she would overtly favor Matt in any breakup scenario. The one that’s much too friendly with her mother, Jane (Laura Benanti). Even with a “New York eight” like Matt (Kevin Kane), her boyfriend (who she chooses to call “partner” purely because she feels too old for the word “boyfriend”) of six years. It’s a telling mantra that plays up the impression we’ve already gotten of just how much Beth has settled in her life. This is the exact case with Beth, who can see flashes of her past in the present based on particular triggers.Īs we delve deeper into an average “day in the life,” we see Beth enter her quintessentially depressing Midtown office where a motivational poster reads: “Love the Wine You’re With” (along with a map of the “Jersey Shore Wine Region”). But on the inside, they’re still just the same child that they always were. In Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane, it’s said that the illusion of being an “adult” is masked by one’s exterior body. But Beth is starting to see that repeating her old patterns-ones established firmly in her youth-is the very source of all her agony. This is part of why the song explores the notion of how “doing the same shit” “again and again and again” feeds into the concept of history repeating through reincarnation (and the supposed according karma that comes with it). Even in the same life, if you play your cards correctly. (you only live once) via the Hindu philosophy: you always live again. Perhaps that’s why Schumer is calculated in her decision to play M.I.A.’s “Y.A.L.A.” after the opening scene-a song that rebuts the concept of Y.O.L.O. Which might be “enough” for other Long Islanders, but not for Beth. Because yes, believe it or not, there’s more to “success” than merely moving to New York City and just living there. Yet some part of her-the teen girl inside, if you will-can’t help but keep thinking she was made for something beyond this. On being a “people person.” Kowtowing to egos by listening to faux braggadocious stories all in the name of making a living.īeth, like many who are “barreling toward forty” (as she puts it), has accepted this fate. And it’s also in this scene that we’re made aware just how much this job-like many-relies on pretending to give a shit. She then says, “I mean this wine is just so drinkable, right?” It’s in this moment that we get our first glimpse of Beth’s middling profession: wine rep. Your instincts, your taste-the taste-because it tastes good.” At this point, she could be talking about anything, until the camera pans out to reveal two people in front of her that she’s drinking wine with. And everything that led you to this moment.
#SUSANNAH FLOOD TITS SERIES#
For the first scene starts out with a series of flashbacks from Beth’s (Schumer) adolescence before we see present-day Beth staring into the camera and soothing, “It’s so easy. With the first episode, “The Sign” (yes, named in honor of Ace of Base), we’re briefly made to believe it’s going to be more garden-variety depictions of millennial mediocrity and existential dread. Quite possibly because it isn’t making such a conscious effort to “be funny.” Instead, Schumer tries her hand at a wryer wit and a more blatant interspersal of drama. And, although the title is patently uninspired, it’s arguably the best thing Schumer has offered in her entire career. And no one hurts you like your mom.” This is the ultimate realization that comes at the end of Amy Schumer’s latest series, Life & Beth.
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