Smash: “Bombshell”

After watching the Smash season finale “Bombshell” over the weekend, I started to think about Derek Wills in a new way. At one point in this episode, Derek overrules Eileen—the woman who’s supposed to be his boss—and insists that Karen is the right choice to play Marilyn Monroe, because she fits his “vision” for the show. That’s bold talk from Derek, and I’m sure that in the “vision” of Smash’s creative team, Derek is a genius who knows what he’s doing. But maybe it’s because “Bombshell” has forced me to grapple with Karen’s persistent deficiencies—and by extension Katharine McPhee’s—that the name “Simon Cowell” popped into my head. During his stint on American Idol, Cowell too seemed confident in a Derek-esque way, coming across as the ultimate arbiter of how a pop star should look and sound. But Cowell’s version of “brilliant” has always tended toward the safe and bland. He’s not partial to genuine eccentricity, or to musical genres that make some people uncomfortable. And maybe that’s who Derek is too. He doesn’t want a real Marilyn Monroe: an emotionally damaged, unnervingly sexy woman who both plays to and subverts male fantasies. He wants a pageant-winner in a platinum wig.
Look, the weaknesses of Karen Cartwright are not Katharine McPhee’s fault. Not entirely. I know that McPhee’s performances on Smash have frequently been audibly sweetened, but I remember McPhee well from her American Idol days, and she can definitely sing. And I know that her line readings have been mumbly and wooden, but that’s more a mistake of casting and writing. I can conceive of a Smash where McPhee is given a role more suited to her talents—where she’s not expected to shoulder such a melodramatic romantic subplot, or to be such a no-doubt superstar. Plus, McPhee was born and raised in show business, and as much as cultural commentators complain about the sexualization of young pop stars these days, we’re talking about a highly conceptualized kind of sexuality. This is the culture of plastic surgery after all, where body parts are scientifically designed to look right, but not so much to be passionately groped in the dark. So it’s no wonder then that McPhee can’t be credibly sexy when her Karen is lounging in bed in a Marilyn costume, cooing, “I’m lying here naked waiting for you.”
Still, as Smash ends its disappointing first season—with yet another episode that swings wildly from moments of real excitement and creativity to moments that are jaw-droppingly stilted and awful—I have to acknowledge, once and for all, that that the central, driving plotline of the show is flawed. Many of you, and many critics, picked up on this from episode one. I resisted this line of attack initially, but even I—an apologist by nature—have had to succumb. Karen Cartwright, as played by Katharine McPhee, has no business being the lead in a Broadway show, and that she finally gets to play that part in “Bombshell,” and apparently wows a paying audience to boot, strains credulity.
To Smash’s credit, “Bombshell” does put the show’s remaining Karen-doubters front-and-center at several points during the episode, even if it’s just to show how wrong they are. Ellis confronts Eileen, admitting that he put the peanuts in Rebecca’s smoothie to clear a path for Ivy, who he feels is the rightful star. Eileen responds by firing Ellis (at last!), though it’s clear that Ellis plans to take some legal action to retain his producer credit. Meanwhile, in public, Julia and Tom congratulate Karen and tell her she’ll be great, while behind her back they make silent “we’re so screwed” gestures to each other. But Julia and Tom are so busy trying to write a triumphant final song for Bombshell that their take on Karen isn’t so germane. The character whose skepticism matters most is Eileen, who keeps reminding people of this musical’s seven million dollar pricetag. But with her ex Jerry lingering in the wings, and with early backer Lyle showing up to return her Degas sketch, Eileen’s too distracted to stand up to Derek when he claims Bombshell—and Karen—for his own.
The largely unmotivated returns of Jerry and Lyle are examples of this finale’s raging case of wrap-up-itis. Even worse is the creaky resolution of the Michael/Julia/Frank love triangle, as the annoyingly dogged (and apparently dim) Michael tells Julia about his separation from his wife, right when Frank walks into the theater and catches the two of them talking in the dark. But surprise, surprise: Frank’s not mad, because he trusts Julia now. (And why wouldn’t he? She seems so sincere!) When she follows him outside to plead her case, the two of them talk about where they are now in their marriage, and how, yes, the bad times won’t be forgotten, but, hey, “Other things will be there too. Good things. That we created.” Cue Leo, walking up to say, “I got us lunch.” Great timing. Too bad the poor kid can’t even announce a meal convincingly. (Anyone else enjoy that?)
In further i-dotting/t-crossing business, Ivy finally makes her big play to knock Karen back to the chorus, by handing her Dev’s engagement ring and confessing what the two of them did. Sure enough, a rattled Karen flees rehearsal in the middle of a costume change, and a chipper Ivy rushes in, in full Marilyn regalia, saying, “You guys need me?” But alas, by then Derek has rallied Karen, by telling her to use her heartbreak in the performance, because it’ll bring her closer to Marilyn. Poor, poor Ivy.
As usual, Ivy gets some of the most poignant moments in “Bombshell,” even if they start to seem like piling-on after a while. It’s heartbreaking to hear her tell her mother, “They didn’t pick me, Mom.” It’s crushing to see Derek yell out, “Shadow-selves to the stage!” and to see Ivy take her place in her little box. It’s annoying that the episode ends with Ivy holding a handful of pills, but I’m going to hope during the offseason that the new showrunner will decide that the next shot of Ivy should be of her throwing those pills in the trash. It’s time for that character to make a comeback.