Halloween is five days away, IT: Welcome To Derry just debuted tonight, and yet the most disturbing sights and sounds available to HBO subscribers this week land at minute 21 of The Chair Company’s latest episode. When Ron Trosper and Mike Santini enter the home of suspected former Tecca employee Steven Droyco, there’s no telling what they’ll find—but the nightmares and mysteries mount with each new room: a kitchen mess that would never fly at the Trosper residence; a washer and dryer kept next to the TV stand (cue a pitch-perfect sarcastic “Okay” from Tim Robinson); and then, shrouded in the darkness of the next room, unseen until she’s illuminated by Mike’s smartphone flashlight, Droyco’s Mom (Franca Schell), an elderly woman in a ratty sleepshirt surrounded by a hoarder’s hive of junk and junk food. The reveal alone is freaky—and then her chest starts heaving, and she issues a few bone-chilling requests for popcorn. Somebody get this lady in front of Jason Blum or James Wan, pronto.
Consider Droyco’s Mom The Chair Company’s equivalent of the man behind Winkie’s in Mulholland Drive: a sudden swerve that’ll make you question the nature of the dreamlike work you’re watching. Because for 50 seconds, give or take, “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids Little Bit of Hollywood? Okayyy.” will make you think there was monsters on the world. And that uncertainty is part of what makes the episode so beguiling, terrifying, and hysterical. Ron’s perception of his world versus what’s out there just beyond his view proves consistently useful and surprising.
It’s useful because the clashing realities onscreen open up all sorts of creative possibilities, allowing different genres and filmmaking techniques to bleed into each other, just like Ron’s world and Mike’s world do. And it’s’ surprising because in that porous boundary between cringe comedy, workplace sitcom, domestic drama, psychological thriller, and surreal horror, anything could be waiting for us around the next corner. “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids” settles The Chair Company into some weekly rhythms—Ron pulls at the threads of the Tecca sweater, Mike pulls him further into a head-scratching underworld, a mystifying cliffhanger keeps us waiting for the next installment—but it still kept me guessing. The uncertainty serves the humor as well as the terror: Open one door and you might find a guy crouching in the darkness, texting a picture to the wrong number. Open another, and you’ll startle Ron into cueing up a few seconds of a Christmas carol on his computer.
Our protagonist would really like some certainty. That’s what sent him back to Fisher Robay and it’s what he lost after the chair gave out from beneath him. In his continued, heedless quest to regain control, he’ll pay out the nose for a system of security cameras. He’ll stay on hold with Red Ball Market Global and listen to their bouncy jingle for upwards of five hours. He’ll click every last link and pore over every word of empty corporatespeak on Red Ball’s website if it means getting a hold of someone who can tell him why that one Tecca product fell apart.
That such an insignificant event would open Ron’s eyes to a vast web of interconnected companies and shady figures is amusing. It’s central to Tim Robinson’s entire comedic style. And it’s so important that The Chair Company plays stuff like Ron’s manic googling jags straight. In “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids” especially, the quick cuts and extreme close-ups of the monitor take on an epic, urgent feel, as if he’s the guy in the chair feeding Ethan Hunt all the information he needs to sneak his way past sensitive security systems and armed guards. There is no cut away to portray what’s actually going on in that office, no objective view of a middle manager hunched over a keyboard after hours, muttering about faceless executives and the big red ball he saw once. Instead, the evening zips by in time-lapse as Ron races toward The Truth.
Those disappearing hours also show what Ron’s missing because of this commitment. All sorts of things transpire while he’s not paying attention in “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids,” ranging in importance from the backlash to Ron’s offhand remark that Canton Marketplace at Bear Run will have no football theming (despite sharing a home with the Pro Football Hall Of Fame) to the bug that crawls into the connector on his phone during a meeting. He can’t hide the fact that he’s distracted from Barb, and it’s even affecting his powers of persuasion: After excusing himself from a different meeting to confront a trespassing Droyco, his rousing defense of the original Canton Marketplace plan falls flat—Alon (who’s played by the episode’s writer, Gary Richardson) convinced everyone to do a football thing while Ron was in the hallway. It’s a motif that “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids” puts to good comedic use, too: Douglas not inviting Ron to his “mistakes party” means we can only imagine what depraved shit went down at that particular HR minefield. (Whatever it was, I doubt a single pizza is enough to make up for it.)
I feel like I’m possibly underselling how funny this episode is. I got a big laugh out of that shot of a contrite Jim Downey, as well as the moment when the whispered conversation that looks like it’s going to sink Ron’s efforts at the recorder’s office is revealed to be the supervisor telling her employee that she has to go home and take a shower. And the script is dotted with quotable lines, too, stuff like Jeff asking Ron “Could you please not lean on my wall? This is an office” or Mike’s satisfied reaction to knocking the Droycos’ doorknob off with a rock: “I love rocks.”
With Ron’s ability to keep a lid on things slipping, the tension mounts. “@BrownDerbyHistoricVids” plays around with the “only Ron is noticing this stuff” framing and scenarios of the series premiere: Brenda goes looking for him while he’s talking to Droyco, but can’t find him; while Seth comes clean to his father about his secretive drinking-and-thinking-about-Abbott-and-Costello sessions, he becomes the first Trosper other than Ron to meet Mike. I love that the garage-wrecking encounter with Mike and LT at the beginning of the episode comes back to haunt Ron, with the spilled “JEEP TOURS” box raising Barb’s suspicions about why her husband keeps sneaking out of the house. Ron may be increasingly over his head, but he can still be a little savvy: The truth about Seth and the beers provides just enough cover that he doesn’t have to straight up lie. For now, at least.
Because whatever strings Jim X is pulling and how much he’s paying to pull them, Ron’s worst enemy is ultimately Ron. He’s the one ignoring his actual work to do deep research on the board of Red Ball Market Global; he’s the one jabbing broomsticks into closets and standing sentry on the couch until dawn. That Jason Voorhees cosplayer at the door could be another fakeout—last week’s cliffhanger didn’t wind up posing any threat to the Trospers—but you never really know with this show. What’s for certain is that Ron is responsible for bringing the goalie-masked ghoul to their front door. He’s made his bed of dirty comforters, hampers, and chip bags, and he has to lie in it. Better pass him the popcorn while you’re up.
Stray observations
- • This week in “Ron trying to justify his strange behavior to Brenda”: “So cold, I gotta keep my bag on my belly.”
- • I’m hoping HBO puts out that full Red Ball jingle in some form. I’d love to hear the rest of that “Christmas is here” song that momentarily blares from Ron’s speakers, too.
- • Speaking of songs: Could anybody recognize the one that plays over the credits? Googling the lyrics didn’t bring up any useful results. Whatever it is, the “When loneliness meets liquor / Time moves so much quicker” couplet feels appropriate for this episode.
- • Ron’s conversations with Mike and Seth yield some funny details about the characters: Mike’s ex-wife tried to make him OD on “stamina pills” that made him “smell like a duck”; Seth’s dalliance with underage drinking is largely about unlocking the mechanics of comedy. There’s some interesting information about Ron in there, too: He talks fondly of his dad, who had a bridge named after him. Seems like maybe he’s trying too hard to live up to that example and that Canton Marketplace was his version of the bridge.
- • I wonder if we’ll ever find out what Barb’s company Everpump does, or if it’s just another addition to The Chair Company’s wonderful tapestry of specific-yet-vague business names. (Another one from this episode: Runyan Bear Cafe.)
- • Barb and Ron have “a cup of wine,” Droyco’s Mom needs her popcorn—sounds like they all have something in common with one of the investors in…The Capital Room.
