“If you detect the bitter cynicism it’s because I knew men and women who wrote songs that actually changed the world.”
“Time to sell out!” booms Phil’s (Ron White) voice, and never has there been a more succinct opening. As Kelly Ann (Imogen Poots) mistakes her sixteen-year-old self’s naiveté for wisdom via a hard-drive she recovers, the band gears up to play a gig for the rubber company (ha, ha, but seriously, rubber like fake vomit and poop) Funco. Morals and personal beliefs are put to the test in the face of a butt-load of money, but the band can’t turn down the opportunity. Especially when David Spade, of the show within a show Dead Sex, is master of ceremonies, setting all hearts aflutter.
As there’s just the finale left, everything reaches a fever pitch in this episode. Puna (Branscombe Richmond), the intuitive Hawaiian head of security, intones that whatever it is, it’ll happen that very night, and true to his prediction, several “its” do come to fruition, beginning with Tom Staton (Catero Colbert). Thus far the lesser-seen of the eponymous duo, he puts his cards on the table by hitting up Shelli (Carla Gugino) to be the band manager. She’s overwhelmed and excited; this was her dream. When Tom tells her he doesn’t trust Bill (Luke Wilson), however, and to keep it a secret, the dream is a little sullied. Not that you can really blame Tom, though, because while Shelli may have personal and professional fuzzy feelings for Bill, he is definitely Christopher’s (Tanc Sade) man through and through. Why would Tom trust him? The ice sculpture of the band’s symbol, a bear, starts to melt during the pre-show.
Speaking of telling lies, sweet little lies, Reg (Rafe Spall) can’t disguise the fact that he’s fallen for this band, this crew, and all the quirky, crazy, un-showered bits that come along with them. He Skypes his own big boss in a desperate act to save the band and crew from outside forces, but unluckily for Reg, he’s already been reassigned and ready to be packed off to rebrand a canning business. Throughout the whole show, it’s Reg who’s definitely come full circle, with the visual proof to back his arc. From stuttery Hugh Grant with a stick-up-his-arse typical English staidness, to sincere Staton-House devotee, this life has allowed his heart to swell to post-Whoville Grinch sizes. Kelly Ann, sadly for the writers, seemed to have little to do with it. Their flirtation and near-misses have barely registered because it always seemed to be lacking something. Well, it’s clear now that what was missing was booze. A lot of booze. In his hopeless misery, Reg turns to drink, whereupon he meets an equally inebriated Kelly Ann and they finally have their most adorable, meet-cute exchange, ever. Before we get to that, let’s see why Kelly Ann has resorted to the demon whiskey.
Kelly Ann’s turning point is the realization that in a world that has gone entirely corporate, as symbolized by their present setting, she’s the lone music-loving ranger. Well, she and Phil. As she attempts to hit on another band’s video guy at the company party, he tells her she’s a relic from the past, because selling out is just what everyone does now. To be fair to the idiot who’s not returning her advances, she brought up the fact that corporate show-biz is a foolhardy concept. But ugh, his comment that no one claps at shows anymore because they’re all holding their phones is so infuriatingly true that he deserves a quick nod of agreement before a resounding slap to the face. It’s a moment rife with reality, but by this point we’re on Kelly Ann’s (and Cameron Crowe’s) side.
This side could delve once more into why music matters, why it will always matter but honestly dude? Fuck off with your reading a Neil Degrasse Tyson book at a party and telling a girl to smile more. He’s the reason the Friend Zone, if it was a real thing, would exist. He’s not even worth our time, but of course, Kelly Ann’s been having an identity crisis this whole tour, so when he completely negates the reason for her existence (and her choice to stay) she goes a little crazy. And loses her hard-drive. Enter Reg.
He helps her look for her hard-drive while telling her that all those things she wanted to be at sixteen have come true. She’s brave and true and strong. Kelly Ann counters incredibly graciously to this compliment by revealing his tour nickname Double D did not stand for due diligence but for Douchebag Dawson. Dawson, as in Jack Dawson in Titanic, which leads to the most teenage sweetheart scenes of night-time confessions and sincere hilarity. Reg flat out saying he’s never seen Titanic and never intends to. Kelly Ann telling Reg she’s never had sex sober. Reg blurts out that the European tour isn’t happening, but takes it back as a joke. Their fears and geekery over Billy Wilder movies bond them in a real way that their previous exchanges have not, all thanks to booze.
In other do-or-die moments, Bill declares that he’s in love with Shelli. When she returns it, the moment is just heart-rending. She didn’t stay for her father-in-law’s funeral, for god’s sake. Of course she loves him back, despite that pesky marriage. She wanted to be back there, back with the crew and band, back with him. She tells Tom Staton that she comes with Bill before he even tells her how she feels. While their romance has also been a tepid-to-cold subplot, the tearful confessions on both sides and the relief at the reciprocation gives us, the audience, a sense of settlement, too. Maybe now they’ll be allowed to develop as individuals.
Gathering up the momentum, Milo (Peter Cambor) is off Ted Mosby-ing with a mascot at the party, although he’s told by Rick (Christopher Backus) the bassist to get rid of Rick’s girlfriend/groupie-made-good Natalie (Jacqueline Byers). Natalie accepts her fate, eyes glittering with tears because apparently that’s when women are their most attractive: in abject vulnerability. But it’s okay because she can bow out with a Penny Lane twirl and the knowledge that she’s just going to keep dogging this damn band.
Meanwhile, David Spade panics that his TV show is going off the rails in the finale, and is overheard trying to talk his director into giving the fans (i.e., the crew) what they want. After all, what’s an episode without ham-handed symbolism disguised as comedy? Wes (Colson Baker) is also freaking out because Tom Staton’s demon child is no longer allowed to tour, thereby eliminating his nanny job. Finally, we hit the biggest crisis: Christopher House never shows up at the gig and instead Fedexes Tom a note breaking up the band. It would seem this would be the most pivotal moment, but as the CEO of Funco proves, it’s not the band so much as the stories that really matter. He corners Phil and promises extravagant fees in exchange for stories, but as a last peak before next week’s denouement, Phil dies. He whispers his last words to Kelly Ann and the torch passes.
The bear ice sculpture has lost his head, Puna’s prediction has come true, and Europe, it seems, is off. Unless the finale hints at a second season pick up?