100 Favorite Shows: #15 — Gilmore Girls
“I just hope it’s everything I imagined it to be.”
Set in the fictional, idyllic town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut, Gilmore Girls told the story of a single mother and her daughter, Lorelai (Lauren Graham) and Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel), and the loves, friendships, and complicated family members with whom they surrounded themselves. Created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, life and love was the focal point of the show, which has become a beloved source of nostalgia for millions. Its original run lasted from October 2000 to May 2007, switching hands by the end to air on The CW, rather than The WB, before eventually being revived for four feature-length specials by Netflix in 2016.
(This essay contains spoilers for Gilmore Girls and its subsequent Netflix sequel series, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life.)
I watched Gilmore Girls for the first time during the fall semester of my junior year of college. It was crazy kismet timing that, in the same semester, I heard a podcast discuss the series in depth. Typically, The Watch (Andy Greenwald and Chris Ryan’s television podcast for The Ringer) tends to focus on new shows and episodes. But in their December 10, 2018 conversation with Jason Mantzoukas, a talk about The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel led to a Gilmore Girls reminiscing session. In that rabbit hole, Mantzoukas remarked that Gilmore Girls was the ultimate television comfort food for him; it was something he could flick on in the background for a Thanksgiving marathon at a family member’s house. No one has ever described the comforting appeal of Gilmore Girls better.
It’s a show that gave me a road map to better understand how to connect on a deeper level with family members and people in my community and to become a more thoughtful person and friend. With its seamless blend of gleeful comedic moments and sobering dramatic turns, Gilmore Girls managed to appeal to fans of all genres and people of all ages. The show was filled with colorful characters that gave all viewers someone to relate to. You could dismiss it as romantic schmaltz or just another teen show, but it was more than that. Too much a teen show? Well, it was more Lorelai-centric than Rory-centric. Too much of a romantic show? Well, the Lorelai-Rory relationship is vastly more important than Luke (Scott Patterson) and Lorelai or Rory and any of her three beaus (Jared Padalecki’s Dean, Milo Ventimiglia’s Jess, Matt Czuchry’s Logan).
Even if it was primarily concerned with love and high school, so what? Those are vital, pulsing aspects of the human experience and they were rarely treated with as much reverence on television than they were on Gilmore Girls. I don’t know why I feel the need to so ardently defend the show, either. Most people I’ve met love it. Maybe I just feel defensive because the characters feel like family to me, too, even though I’ve only known them for about two years. I want them to be happy and I don’t want anyone to deride them. The show was rife with exposed feelings at every turn and I worry that even the slightest derision would wound Rory, Lorelai, and the rest of Stars Hollow. Lord knows they’ve gone through plenty of drama already.
For Rory, her drama became increasingly severe over the course of the show. For the most part, it stems from her love life. Dean is overly sensitive, Jess is manipulative, Logan engages in some pretty nefarious behavior. It was actually kind of frustrating to see Rory have such electric chemistry with so many deeply flawed men. I’m used to stories with the Gilmore sensibility eventually devising a character who is a perfect match for the protagonist. For Rory that never happened. At first, I thought it was because the perfect match was still waiting in the show’s future. But eventually, I realized it’s because the Gilmore sensibility was like no other show. It was an idyllic depiction of Stars Hollow, a small town in New England (filled with white people, privilege, and AP tests) that, as my aunt said, “threw the best parties.” But the drama faced by the characters was far from idyllic; it was incredibly real.
If I’m really honest with myself, too, Logan might actually be Rory’s perfect match because the Rory we see by the end of Gilmore Girls is not the Rory we knew at the beginning. In the early seasons, Rory was far and away my favorite character. Team Dean or Team Jess? No way. Not for me. I was Team Rory through and through. But when she eventually breaks Lorelai’s trust and runs away from Yale, it’s clear that the pressures of her youth have kind of broken the Rory we used to know. It’s valid character development and it doesn’t make her any less worthwhile of a human being, but it’s still hard to see her fail, even if it’s necessary to see her grow. In this way, Logan syncs up completely with the post-Yale version of Rory. It’s not a fairy tale romantic coupling, but it’s unquestionably realistic.
Throughout Gilmore Girls, I kept waiting for Rory to complete her arc and return to the lovable person we all knew from the series’ outset. And it just never happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it didn’t (it would’ve come across as cheap to just revert her to factory settings). I just wasn’t used to a show ever committing so deeply to those kinds of arcs.
Like when Lane (Keiko Agena) moved out. The entire show, I predicted a tearful reunion between Lane and Mrs. Kim (Emily Kuroda) because that’s how those kinds of stories usually go. Lane would move back with Mrs. Kim and all would be well, but the characters would’ve learned a little something along the way. Not on Gilmore Girls, though. Lane just doesn’t go back. And by her third season away, I realized her story was not going to be made whole by being accepted by her mother. It was about Lane’s own self-actualization — and that didn’t require going home.
The same was true for Rory. Her arc was not defined by her ability to be sweet and studious once again. It was defined by finding what made her happy and accepting the fact that, along the way, there were going to be a multitude of mistakes. There is no status quo or resetting; there’s just moving forward. That’s life and that was Gilmore Girls. It was messy throughout.
By the end, Lorelai had definitely become my favorite character, but I was still defensive of Rory. To be honest, it’s impressive that Rory didn’t crack more underneath the massive pressure she was under. It started with a D at Chilton and eventually manifested in outright failure when she went to the Ivy League. Chilton, with all of its stuffy, self-serious, A Little Princess/School Ties aesthetics, was not an educational facility designed for student success. It’s a miracle Rory came out of that institution relatively unscathed. For all it prepared students for academically, it failed them emotionally and as human beings.
It was actually kind of heartbreaking to go back to one of my favorite episodes of Gilmore Girls and see those early cracks start to form when I knew how they developed. “The Deer Hunters” is the installment of Gilmore Girls that features the D grade on Rory’s essay. The D eventually results in Rory missing the hard deadline for her next test, compounding her academic stresses into an outright disaster. It’s not enough to have consecutive missteps for someone who’d never dreamed of that being a possibility. (Rory’s the kind of kid who can offhandedly reference The Fountainhead. Maybe this shows how academically driven she was or maybe it shows that she was too young to be so enamored with higher learning.) She then has to be chewed out by Chilton’s headmaster (Dakin Matthews) mocked by Paris (Liza Weil), and hit by a deer.
The linguistic structure of that list bit is key, though. She was hit by a deer. While at a stop sign, a deer hit her. She did not hit the deer. When she explained, “I got hit by a deer,” everyone asked, “You hit a deer?” (Lane hilariously asks, “Was it a four-way stop?”) She would then have to clarify, “No. I got hit by a deer.” The only one who has a different response to this statement is Lorelai, of course. She replies, “Got what?” Lorelai doesn’t ask if Rory hit a deer. She gets it; it was a kamikaze deer.
It never occurs to Lorelai to think Rory is lying (making it all the more gutting when the lies explode between seasons five and six). Instead, she marches right into the headmaster’s office and unleashes a lengthy, dense rant against him, Chilton, and the entire educational system. However, the true heart of Lorelai’s tirade is clear before it’s over. “The Deer Hunters” is only the fourth episode of the show, but by now, it’s clear to fans that Lorelai and Rory have a codependent relationship. And if it wasn’t, then Lorelai exclaiming, “We have stretched ourselves as thin as possible without going completely postal! My God, we’re just one person!” seals it. She’s completely projecting. Not only is Lorelai dependent on Rory, but she can get so worked up she hardly sees the difference between the two.
For Rory, it’s fine. A daughter is meant to be dependent on her mother. But for Lorelai, her latching onto Rory as a lifeline and a barometer of self-worth is incredibly damaging to the pair of them. In Lorelai’s mind, she becomes less of a failure with the increased amount of success Rory experiences. Rory tries to convince Lorelai that Harvard was an independent dream she held, but there’s no denying that it’s what Lorelai wants for Rory because she was never able to have it herself. In real life, there’s no way this sort of codependency ends well. It goes the Gilmore route with broken bonds and shattered hearts.
Eventually, though, Lorelai and Rory do reunite. (The show was too light to ever keep them apart permanently.) And despite what we know about their dynamic, it still can’t help but warm our hearts to see them happy together again. For all the unfortunate elements of their relationship, there was still so much good that came from it.
Look back to the end of “The Deer Hunters.” Lorelai and Rory return to the spot when the latter was hit by a deer. Instead of bemoaning her failures and cursing the deer, Rory gets out of the car and looks for the deer to see if it’s hurt or if it needs help. By now, the deer is long gone, but Rory can’t help but see for herself. She cares so much for others and has such a big heart. Would this have still been the case if she wasn’t so close with Lorelai?
Or think about the entirety of “The Lorelais’ First Day at Yale.” Yes, I understand the irony of bringing up this example because the title alone speaks to codependency. But sometimes, you need to be codependent with the people you love. It can truly be healthy in moderation and that’s evident in this episode. My heart just swelled seeing the lengths Lorelai went to with the goal of protecting Rory and making her feel happy and comforted and safe.
When Rory gets dropped off at Yale, Lorelai shares, like, eight goodbyes (even after spending the previous day having one last mother/daughter extravaganza) before she’s left alone in her suite. There’s a different vibe than when she first entered the bedroom, a moment Lorelai told her to savor. It’s lonely. It’s the first day at school and there’s no routine developed yet and it feels like the day should be over, but it’s only five o’clock and oh my goodness. Everything’s different now! As such, it doesn’t take long for Rory to contact Lorelai and ask her to come back. She needs Lorelai because her life has been her and Lorelai and it’s unfathomable what a separation would look like. She needs Lorelai to find where the good coffee is on campus. She needs Lorelai because she’s undergoing a dozen panic attacks all at once. And Lorelai comes back — no questions asked.
Is it the best decision? I’m sure some psychologists would say, “No. You have to let the baby cry and get through the night on her own.” But the big softie inside of me feels like Laurie viewing the March household for the first time in Little Women. It’s a home that is brimming with love and affection and it’s a delightful bit of escapism to just watch these two women care for one another and do whatever it takes just to be there for each other. That manifests in big gestures, as well as the minute diatribes that are so frequent they’ve become only slightly amusing to each other.
I admire Lorelai. Even though she projects a lot of insecurities onto Rory, she never does it consciously or maliciously. She’s a complicated person whose personality is not limited to one track. You know what other great TV characters are like this? All of them. Yes, Lorelai is flawed, but her innately good qualities vastly outweigh the troubling ones.
She’s ambitious and resourceful and makes her dreams happen for herself, along with Sookie (Melissa McCarthy, in my favorite performance of hers). She’s confident and self-assured and not afraid to ask for what she wants. She loves snow and coffee and old Hollywood (and every conversation she has is either about snow or coffee or featuring rat-a-tat dialogue akin to His Girl Friday or Bringing Up Baby. Her quick, flashy debate with Luke about Rory’s dorm mattress is a personal favorite). She’s every Zodiac sign rolled into one.
It’s far from an easy character to play, though. Lauren Graham has been widely praised for her portrayal of Lorelai and it’s the role that will always define her career as an actor. In spite of this, I still think what she achieves in Gilmore Girls is underrated. She’s called upon to do so much and to memorize so much dialogue (and every line is delivered with even a one-degree difference in tone) and to play someone who puts up defense mechanisms to protect others, rather than herself — because she’s perfectly content to express her feelings at any moment. Every line delivery that Graham unleashes is filled with such heart, humor, and passion that I can hardly believe her purpose on this planet wasn’t to deliver Amy Sherman-Palladino’s breathtakingly smart dialogue. I remain awed by Lorelai and by Lauren Graham for bringing her to life.
I love and am fascinated by the Lorelai and Rory relationship so much that I considered making that the focus of this entire essay. But I’d be remiss if I got out of here without giving some love to the merry band of Stars Hollow residents who operate in the orbit of Lorelai and Rory’s lives.
Michel (Yanic Truesdale) is delightfully misanthropic at every turn. Sookie has the ability to cook a magic risotto and then fixate on that same risotto. I loved whenever Christopher (David Sutcliffe, a guy who is chill with domestic terrorism), Rory’s father, turned up, even though I had complicated feelings about his persistent reappearances. (In a way, I imagine I mirrored Rory’s sentiments about the same idea.) Emily (Kelly Bishop) was a Gilmore Girl, too, damn it! Even the, like, twentieth-billed harp player in “The Deer Hunters” is a ton of fun.
We know people like all of them. Everyone has an Emily in their lives or a Christopher. Everyone definitely has a Paris in their lives, too. Yes, Paris started out as an outright bully, but she grew right alongside Rory to the point where it was actually a relief to see the initials, P.G., on one of the doors in Rory’s suite at Yale. (Rory quipping, “Of all the gin joints” when Paris turns up at Yale with her southern exposure-focused life coach Terrence (Mitch Silpa) is a fantastic moment.) You had to be a special person to love and be loved by Paris. Not because she’s high-maintenance, but because she only lets certain people into her heart. Even then, Paris is still the kind of person who’d say, “Why does my head feel so light and not float away, Paris?” to someone she loves.
Fortunately, Gilmore Girls launched with so many stellar characters that it never really mattered how much of a hard time they had introducing new ones. (We need not mention April (Vanessa Marano) here.) When Rory and Lorelai meet Tara in “The Lorelais’ First Day at Yale,” it was kind of representative of that holistic problem. Rory gives a perfunctory “Hi,” to which Tara replies, “Hi.” She hesitates and then continues, “I’m adopted.” Rory turns to Lorelai: “You’re up.”
But we didn’t need Tara or April or Finn (Tanc Sade). The show was already dominated by the Gilmores and, of course, by Luke Danes. He’s such a wonderful character, honestly, and one of the best examples of a tough guy with a heart. (His last line in the finale, “Take all the time you need,” still chokes me up.) At first, it didn’t register for me that Luke was supposed to be any bigger than Kirk (Sean Gunn) or Taylor (Michael Winters) or Babette (Sally Struthers). Yet steadily, Luke’s role expanded and I realized that it was delightful to spend as much time in his diner as possible.
He had a tough exterior with his backwards hat and his flannel shirt, but it was so obvious how much he cared for Rory and Lorelai; I just couldn’t help but be charmed by it. He lets Lorelai borrow his truck to take Rory to Yale when she clearly has no idea how to drive a stick. He smuggles coffee in for them during the twenty-three hour dance (inexplicably done in high heels) from “They Shoot Gilmores, Don’t They?” He even opens his heart to Jess, who gives him every reason to turn is back. Luke never does. He can’t. He cares too much.
He just cares in a different way than the other characters. Lorelai’s love is shown through affection. Luke’s loves and passions manifest in anger and self-righteousness and rants. Of all the Luke’s rants, the ones about ‘jam hands,” needing space, and shopping malls stick out. But I just had to present my favorite (regarding what Luke wants in his divorce) in its full, unedited glory:
“Well, the first night on the boat we, uh, went to see an act that everyone was raving about. We go in, sit down, they close the door. Turned out to be a guy playing musical drinking glasses. You know, with the half-filled cups that give off different tones. He played Mozart and I swear I could hear Mozart banging on his coffin. Out of politeness, we stayed and there went an hour of our lives. Next night, the sign in front of the theater said the entertainment for the night was a guy singing the songs of Sinatra. We verified with the guy at the door, the songs of Frank Sinatra, right? Not Tina, not Frank Jr., not Bill Sinatra, but Ol’ Blue Eyes. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It’s like Frank come to life.’ We go in, sit down, they close the door. Then they announce that the guy singing Sinatra is sick and the glass-playing guy is filling in. Out he comes, there’s goes another hour. Next night, we meet a nice couple while walking the Lido Deck. Had some nice conversation, so we have dinner with them. Everything’s going great. Then they invite us to go somewhere afterwards and guess where they took us? That’s right: to see the glass guy. Three nights in a row, three hours total. Well, that’s what I want. I want those three hours back.”
Luke was the best. Stars Hollow wouldn’t have been the same without him because he was a necessary counterweight to the fanciful nature of a town that engaged in the sorts of activities that most local regions would be too apathetic to care about. Obviously, the big band/jazz/swing dance marathon stands out as a pantheon moment in the lunacy of the town’s endeavors. But this was also a town that had a troubadour (Grant-Lee Phillips), so flightiness was never far behind. Stars Follow had a unique vibe with these disparate personalities and the show was incredibly lively when it threw them all into the same place.
Like in “They Shoot Gilmores, Don’t They?,” there’s no jumping around from the Emily and Richard (Edward Herrmann) story to the Sookie story to the Lane story to the Rory story. They’re all in the same building and they’re all trying to dance for as long as they possibly can. It’s a perfect event for Stars Hollow and it allows for characters to clash and blend and go through major life changes with the knowledge and security that someone there is going to match their emotional needs. Need to vent? Luke’s nearby. Need a hug? Sookie’s in the corner.
In the episode (which is aptly directed by Kenny Ortega, of High School Musical fame), Dean is fed up with Rory for being enamored with Jess and he dumps her. It’s a tragic moment for Rory, who is still too young to be fully braced for heartbreak. But all the love she needs is still in that building. Stars Hollow never failed to rally around the Gilmores because the Gilmores always did everything they could for Stars Hollow.
When the show returned for its Netflix miniseries, A Year in the Life, it was held up to the scrutiny of fans who demanded perfection. Well, I guess it must have been pretty easy to forget that the original series was never perfect either. It was a show of the seasons with stories set against the backdrop of sweltering Connecticut summers or romantically snowy streets. The seasons changed and so did the Gilmores and the Danes and the Kims. But Stars Hollow never did. It was there to welcome us back for four episodes on Netflix (winter, spring, summer, and fall) with Dolly Parton crooning, “Here you come again.” After nine years, Stars Hollow was back with all of the change and familiarity that fans should have known to expect. You can’t have change without familiarity, after all. Or else, there wouldn’t be an awareness that anything had changed at all.
Change was good for Rory and Lorelai. Better than it was for people like Taylor or Babette, who were happy where they were. The show is a quest for happiness for the three Gilmore Girls. If they weren’t happy, then they needed to change the right things. Just like familiarity, there can be no change without joy — on one side or the other. And on Gilmore Girls, there could be no Rory without Lorelai. It works both ways.
