5. “Teddy Perkins,” Atlanta
FX
“Teddy Perkins” is one of the most disturbing episodes of television I’ve ever seen. That said, you have to watch it. With each episode, Atlanta moves away from its constrictive categorization as a “comedy,” venturing into uncharted genre-related territory. “Teddy Perkins” is evocative of various genre-spanning works, from Get Out to Sunset Boulevard. It also draws on the true story of the Jacksons. But from these many influences comes a wholly original, defiantly ambiguous, and supremely terrifying work of art. When Darius stops by a creepy mansion to pick up a listed piano, he steps into – at homeowner Teddy Perkins’ insistence – one of the most intriguing and horrifying television bottles yet.
As the eponymous Perkins, Donald Glover dons white face, eats ostrich eggs, and drifts around the mansion like a ghost. He recounts tales of his talented musician brother and their abusive father. He confuses exploitation with love: “My father used to say, ‘Great things come from great pain.’” Trapped alongside Darius in Teddy’s dimly lit, labyrinthine mansion, we are plunged into a masterful concoction of dread and curiosity. “Teddy Perkins” uses the bottle format to deliver a poignant wallop of horror – a work of art that is uncomfortable but necessary viewing.
4. “American Bitch,” Girls
HBO
Girls is often generalized as a shallow, privileged exploration of white womanhood – and this characterization is usually correct. But every so often, an episodic gem will transcend the show’s exclusionary context to strike a universal chord. “American Bitch” is one such episode. Penned by creator Lena Dunham, it is a crucial addition to the relatively recent conversation about sexual violence. The episode plays carefully with ambiguity while still delivering a searing indictment of men who abuse their clout to exploit vulnerable women. When Hannah meets with author and accused sexual predator Chuck Palmer (a masterfully slimy and truly revelatory Matthew Rhys), they don’t just engage in some thought-provoking (and excellently written) sparring, but they reveal in real-time how toxic and exploitative dynamics are created in the first place.
Without delivering a clear-cut conclusion, “American Bitch” considers the professional dynamics, power differentials, and manipulative tactics that facilitate sexual violence. In this way, the episode is Girls at its most universal. On the unfortunate universality of sexual violence, Dunham told Vulture: “The way men who have amassed a certain kind of capital think that it’s a fair trade for someone else’s sexual favors is just a really dark and complicated part of being female.”
3. “17 People,” The West Wing
NBC
Here’s one easy way to know “17 People” is a truly exceptional hour of television: one West Wing fan named Jon White created an entire website, aptly named seventeenpeople.com, that deconstructs, analyzes, and venerates the episode. With endearing illustrations, beautiful layout design, and remarkably clever presentation, White breaks the episode into five fundamental components: intrigue, persuasion, drama, comedy, and romance. And it’s true – over the course of one evening, “17 People” elegantly weaves together multiple narrative threads: Hoynes secretly plans to run, Sam and Ainsley debate the ERA, President Bartlet foils a terrorist plot, Sam and Josh write jokes for the Correspondents’ Dinner, Josh and Donna flirt, and – in the titular storyline – Leo reveals to Toby that Bartlet has MS, and only 17 people in the world know it.
It’s a lot to pack into just one hour, but the bottled nature of the episode lets Sorkin’s spectacular writing take center stage. It’s a damn near perfect episode of television, hilarious one minute and heartrending the next. Most of all, it delivers the shocking diagnosis that propelled the rest of the season’s drama. Stuck inside the White House, it’s exhilarating to watch each character fizz and spark and they collide with each other; The West Wing was practically made for the bottle format. And if you don’t believe me, just take a look at what Jon White has to say about it.
2. “Remedial Chaos Theory,” Community
NBC
Yes, Community has two list-worthy bottle episodes. “Remedial Chaos Theory” is, without a doubt, the most ingenious of the episodes in this list. Twenty-one minutes, seven characters, six timelines, one apartment. To decide which member of the study group will get pizza, Jeff roles a six-sided die. In doing so, he creates six parallel realities, where small differences have a big effect on the outcome, a la Run Lola Run. “Remedial Chaos Theory” is so densely packed, it often feels ripe to burst. When the episode finally does – in the climactic Norwegian troll doll moment from Troy’s timeline – it delivers an explosive, chaotic kind of funny that remains inimitable.
Complex and whip-smart, the episode gets to the heart of each character at lightning speed. And despite its high-concept plot and airtight execution, the thematic core of “Remedial Chaos Theory” is earnestly heartfelt. When Jeff is found out and made to go get the pizza, Britta can erupt freely into her awful rendition of “Roxanne,” and the gang can break into some silly dancing. It’s the by far the best timeline because everyone is being themselves and having fun, even if that fun is decidedly uncool. And really – between the games of Dungeons and Dragons, the paintball fights, and the pillow forts – that’s what Community is all about: the power of being uncool.
1. “The Suitcase,” Mad Men
AMC
I’ll cut right to the chase: “The Suitcase” is as close to perfect television as it gets. It feels cheapening to try and write about a work of art that borders so closely on divine. But God is in the details, so the details I will recount. It’s Peggy’s birthday, and she’s off to go meet her boyfriend for dinner. Everyone else has left the office to go watch the big Ali vs. Liston fight. Everyone except Don, who is burying himself in his work and dragging Peggy with him. Soon, it’s the middle of the night, Peggy has abandoned her birthday plans, and the two are divulging their secrets to one another at a cheap diner. They spend all night in the office, seeing each other in a way no one else can.
The episode subverts romance entirely for something so much more meaningful: total, authentic understanding. Their relationship is flawed, but perhaps the healthiest connection either of them has had. The episode is quietly stirring and occasionally explosive, full of ghosts and fisticuffs and one of Mad Men’s most iconic lines. Every moment of “The Suitcase” – every word, every frame, every silence – is beautiful. There is little more to say without doing a disservice to this transcendent work: how can mere words capture perfection?
Related Topics: Atlanta, Battlestar Galactica, Breaking Bad, Girls, it's always sunny in philadelphia, Mad Men, Master of None, Star Trek, Update The Lists
