Oh dear. This episode of Mr. Sloane is not for the feint of heart. Bodily functions are played around with like someone was checking them off a list. The episode opens with two of them and its not a pretty sight. It’s easy, crass humour and the pilot proved this series can be a lot smarter. I’m not saying they can’t be used or that they aren’t hilarious, it’s just that so many in one episode can make the show seem low on ideas; which is never a good thing for the second episode to communicate to the audience.
Fortunately there are several moments that remind us of that fantastic opening scene in the pilot or that Bob Weide gave a discussion about different kinds of nut the kind of energy and excitement we expect from a Tarantino scene. The ending of the program showed us that irreverent edge, the humour that pushes the boundaries of taste but, does so with a wink and a smile that demands your shocked laughter.
Weide also shows a masterful understanding of the traditional British sitcom. There’s a sequence where Sloane ponders who he will take to the opera, that is reminiscent of the sitcoms of the 70’s, with a performance by Frost that could put Sloane among the great British self-obsessives such as Basil Fawlty or Rupert Rigsby. The awkwardness is played to the maximum level, past the point of no return, but has the intelligence to bring it back from the brink, to give Sloane the moment we all are rooting for him to have.
A bit more of this and little less shit. Literally. No more fart jokes please.