A lot of Tig Notaro’s talent lies in what a disarming performer she is. She has a knack for making the monologue of stand-up comedy feel like a dialogue, and it’s in her relaxed manner, the casual feel of her writing, her tendency to emphasize through repetition. (“I’m just a person”; “It’s serious, it’s serious, it’s serious.”) That comes across even when Notaro is making fake radio broadcasts on One Mississippi, the rhythms of her anecdotes and asides projecting an air of invitation as if she’s telling the stories specifically to you, even if Tig Bovaro—her TV alter ego—is actually speaking to hundreds of imagined listeners and who knows how many real-life Amazon subscribers. There are all of these people who want to talk with Tig in “I Want To Hold Your Hand”—though she only really wants to talk with Kate (Stephanie Allyne)—and the show does an excellent job of showing why.
It’s the unforced nature of those moments that make the forced ones in the premiere stand so far out. And I’m not talking about the fantasy interludes, which can be hit-or-miss on One Mississippi, but definitely hit in “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” (The single-shot whirlwind that Tig and Kate go on at the top of the episode is just lovely.) It’s more when the heavier material is broached: When Tig and Kate discuss the nuances of getting “almost molested” on the air, or when Remy (Noah Harpster) is called out for letting his friend’s racist comments slide. Having watched additional episodes of season two, I can see where these scenes are headed, and how they’re handled later on, but here, they just feel so, for the lack of a better term, written. They don’t mesh with their naturalistic surroundings, which, as we know from season one, are well-equipped to deal with (and even find the humor in) traumatic experiences. But I couldn’t escape the feeling that those scenes were talking to me, not with me.
But “I Want To Hold Your Hand” is not its most didactic scenes. It’s defined more by the way it welcomes us back to Bay Saint Lucille, catches us up with what what’s been going on since Tig moved back home, and starts laying out threads for future episodes. She’s doing her radio show from home now, for a run-down station with no running water and an AWOL owner. Remy’s still hung up on his Civil War reenactment buddy Vicky (Adora Dei), while stepdad Bill (John Rothman, divine as ever) is either too oblivious or too uninterested to notice his own lady caller. The callbacks to season one are laced into the proceedings nicely, whether they’re a gentle reminder of the late Caroline or Tig jogging our memory about Kate’s crappy hugs. It’s the disarming tone that the show shares with its creator that helps all of this along, as some One Mississippi characters display ignorance about racial insensitivity, and others display ignorance about proper dishwasher procedure. (Or both, when that character is Remy.)