Return of the Lester's
Welcome to What We Watchin Wednesday, where maybe I help you guys decide what nonsense you should stream next
Welcome to What We Watchin Wednesday, where maybe I help you guys decide what nonsense you should stream next. This week, let’s get into Hulu’s Only Murders In The Building and HBO’s The Gilded Age.
Only Murders In The Building (Season 5)
Only Murders in the Building is a show where Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez solve murders—as they podcast together about solving the aforementioned murders—all of these slayings occurring in the building they live in.
Really says a lot about the cost of housing when no one moves out of their apartment complex—now going on its 5th consecutive homicide.
Or how we convince ourselves we are immortal to avoid facing the inevitable finality of our existence.
But mostly, it’s a clever, queeny, mystery—starring a man, who at one point in his life was arguably the biggest stand-up comedian on Earth—and a Disney Channel star who is one of the most followed people on Instagram.
And Martin Short.
But this 5th season has a special place in my heart—as the victim of this year’s murder was their doorman, Lester.
The Lester Community doesn’t typically get recognition like this. We’ve mostly lain dormant for generations—waiting for our triumphant return to common society—and this season feels like our reawakening.
I have never watched any TV show or movie that mentions the name “Lester” as much as this show has—only 4 episodes in.
In the latest episode, they introduce a Logic-Engineered Secure Tenant Robot aka, LESTR, as a replacement doorman.
My name is involved in a running gag.
This is groundbreaking.
In the 90’s, we had the creepy dad in American Beauty—played by the even creepier actor.
Oh, and “Worm”—a gambling addict in Rounders who got jumped by off-duty cops.
And sure, the Lester in this series was found bleeding out in a fountain—but I’m hopeful this show will finally do right by my people.
Get ready for a crop of newborns named Lester, coming to a nursery near you.
Renée Zellweger Iso
Renée Zellweger plays Camila White—a hotel magnate and interior design savant, earning her the nickname “queen of decor.”
Steve Martin’s character describes her as the “human incarnation of a Nancy Meyers kitchen”. I imagine this is how Martha Stewart behaves when the cameras turn off and she hasn’t had a Snickers in a while.
Zellweger is one of three billionaires suspected in the murder of Lester The Doorman, as well as the death of Nicky Caccimelio (played by Bobby Cannavale)—a mob-adjacent owner of the Cleaners next door who runs an illegal high stakes casino in the basement of the building where people always die—and where one of the most popular podcasts, about those death, records.
Odd location for a criminal empire.
Anyway, I love that Renée Zellweger understands her face no longer looks like a face and uses those recently-stung-by-a-wasp features to add extra sauce on lines like “oh, isn’t this an assaulting amount of everything”—as she walks through the door of Martin Short’s apartment in disgust
Very cool, a generation of strange kids who stream this mystery sitcom made for aging adults gets to have a year with Renée Zellweger in their lives.
She is a legend—her DNA now stitched within the seams of one of the most popular shows of the 2020s.
Long Live Renée Zellweger and more importantly, Long Live The Lester’s.
The Gilded Age (Season 1)
I could never get into Bridgerton.
You know the guy you work with who always complains whenever they hear anyone speak Spanish?
Yea, the guy with those bumper stickers.
That’s how I feel when I hear British accents. Like “Ew, do you hear these English people speaking English?? Not in my country.”
But The Gilded Age takes place in 1880s New York. Any accent you hear in this show is an actor making a choice.
As I sit through a show that demands I scroll on my phone—my full support and attention goes to Carrie Coon, playing Bertha Russell—wife of a “new money” railroad tycoon—who is desperate for acceptance by the old money women who control the social scene.
Honestly, reaaaaal boring show.
But if a streaming service aired, weekly, an hour of Carrie Coon talking to herself in a mirror—I’d be there at midnight every week for the initial release.
It would be appointment television for me.
Carrie Coon’s limited scenes—bathed in pettiness, jealousy, and a sickos determination to be on top—provide enough of the nutrients—from what is otherwise just a routine, run-of-the-mill drama about a teenage girl crushing on boys with bad intentions.
If you are a fellow Carrie Coon connoisseur—get your fork and knife out. Don’t forget to tie a cartoonishly large bib around your neck, too.
Or suppose you just want to hear background noise of old ladies talking slick to each other—paired with images of fancy 19th-century dresses—to distract you from the crippling self-doubt and omnipresent, vague, non-specific anxieties of daily life on Earth.
In that case, The Gilded Age is digestible, generic content for you.
Thanks for reading. All typos will be investigated internally.