100 Favorite Shows: #18 — Master of None
“You are like a woman, sitting in front of the fig tree, staring at all the branches until the tree dies.”
[Disclaimer: The situation with Aziz Ansari is very complicated. You can read more about the allegations against him in Vanity Fair. The New York Times also reported well on his response to those allegations.]
When Parks and Recreation ended in 2015, the highly talented cast had numerous projects in waiting, but none proved to be as creatively complete or affecting as the one with Aziz Ansari at the helm, Master of None. Ansari co-created Master of None with Alan Yang, another Parks and Rec staffer (creator Michael Schur also executive produced), and told the story of Dev Shah (Ansari), a single guy in New York City who navigated a flowering showbiz career and a tumultuous dating scene. Taking the series to Netflix, Ansari and Yang garnered instant acclaim for Master of None ahead of its November 2015 release of season one. The second arc of the show, which debuted in May 2017, was even more well-received than the first and it proved that Ansari was a seminal voice in his generation of thoughtful comedians. While a third season remains rumored (Ansari feels a major life event would be required to spark inspiration in another story), the first two are undoubtedly some of the best works of art ever seen in television.
(Spoilers for Master of None are found within this essay. If you don’t want to know them, but you read them anyway, you won’t get kissies.)
The first hint that Master of None was going to be an all-time special series came in the second episode of season one, “Parents.” Centered around a dinner party hosted by Dev and his friend, Brian (Kelvin Yu), “Parents” continued the legacy of stellar comedy episodes which revolve around a dinner party (The Office, The Mary Tyler Moore Show). However, it went deeper than simply mining the situation for laughs. Master of None invited Dev’s and Brian’s parents to the party as a means to assuage their own guilt for not being appreciative enough for them.
After all, Dev and Brian are first-generation immigrants and, as they detail, their parents endured many sacrifices to provide them the lives and childhoods they always wished for themselves. For Dev and Brian, though, it’s almost too easy to overlook the lengths their parents went to to provide for them in favor of only calling them once every two months or so. (It’s easier for them to label their parents as overbearing than to reckon with the actual consequences of their own unintentional disengagement with the people who gave them everything.)
The sentiment is profound, more profound than anything we’d experienced from Aziz Ansari’s previous comedy character, Tom Haverford. It’s a sentiment more likely to be expressed in literature (perhaps in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Agni Review short story, “Interpreter of Maladies,” for example) than on a Netflix series, but that’s just how thoughtful Ansari and Yang are. Like every episode, “Parents” deals with a fraught topic in a nuanced way, presenting understandable perspectives on both sides of the matter. The fact that Dev and Brian are striving for deeper connection and gratitude in the first place is a shimmering enough example of their appreciation.
It’s clear that the episode, penned by Ansari and Yang, as most season one installments were (credit is also due to Harris Wittels, Joe Mande, Sarah Peters, and Zoe Jarman), is quasi-autobiographical. Much of Master of None is, as it’s a series rife with authenticity (a vibe buoyed by the fact that Ansari’s real life parents, Fatima and Shoukath, portray Dev’s parents) and the persistent feeling that Master of None is a way for Ansari and Yang to work through the most uncertain elements of their selves.
As such, the structure of Master of None is that each of the two seasons (so far, hopefully) has distinct statements to make about being young, single, and generally directionless. Season one sees Dev yearning for a successful career and slowly realizing his long-term relationship with Rachel (Noël Wells) is not the sort of fulfillment he’s seeking. Season two sees Dev grappling with a flourishing media career and a crush on Francesca (Alessandra Mastronardi), whom he met while uncovering his passions Italy at the start of the arc.
Ansari himself did live in Italy for a period of time in 2016, further blurring the line between him and Dev. Essentially, the lead of Master of None is as much a stand-in for Ansari as Curb Your Enthusiasm is for Larry David or The Larry Sanders Show was for Garry Shandling. Whereas those comedians sought more jaded, pathetic depictions of themselves on screen, Ansari imbued Master of None with warmth, relatability, and drive. After all, he’s the actor who wrote Modern Romance, a treatise on dating, and pays endless attention to food, as if he’s being perpetually interviewed by GQ. (Many scenes on Master of None are dedicated to foodie passions, as Dev rolls pasta and snacks his way through cities with his best friend, Arnold (Eric Wareheim), and his hungry “tum tum.”)
While the vision of Master of None is so clearly Ansari and Yang’s, there are also plentiful influences on the style and structure of the series, which often feels like a connective string of vignettes. “New York, I Love You” comes across as a much more empathetic and artful depiction of the 2008 rom-com anthology movie of the same name. Twin Peaks is clearly alluded to in season one’s “Nashville.” And, of course, most obvious is the first episode of season two (a total, all-time favorite of mine, as Master of None was my favorite series of 2017), “The Thief.”
Right from the jump, it’s apparent that “The Thief” is derived from Vittorio De Sica’s 1949 heartbreak, Bicycle Thieves (Ladri di bicilette in Italian). Bells are ringing, the shots are in black and white, a precocious child, Mario (Nicoló Ambrosio), turns up at Dev’s side. Not many comedies would pay homage to a timeless, dour depiction of post-war poverty, but that’s what makes Master of None so special. It’s as reverent to the art that came before it as it is determined to cement itself among the great character studies.
While Bicycle Thieves was the story of a father who had his bicycle stolen from him, though, “The Thief” updates the tale by forcing Dev to attempt a retrieval of his stolen cell phone from a local pickpocket in Modena. On Dev’s phone is the number of Sara (Clare-Hope Ashitey), a woman he met in adorable meet cute fashion and had secured a second date with, and the photograph Mario took with his favorite soccer player, Matteo Godardes (Nicola Marzano). It’s an obvious illustration of how much we rely on our phones for every little detail of our lives, even details that would have previously existed on little scraps of paper.
Throughout “The Thief,” Dev observes many Modenians using their own handheld devices, even if Mario doesn’t have one (Dev laments that all American kids are spoiled enough to have them). A couple poses for a selfie, a man kisses his cell phone. We rely on them a lot, but Dev depicts a healthy relationship with his cell phone. The reason he wants it back from the thief (Daniele De Maio) so badly is because it has a potential romantic connection pinned into it, not because he’s desperate to check Snapchat. (Even though he “snaps a pic” of Sara in front of a historical building that might as well be a McDonald’s PlayPlace to Dev, he still never acts like Tom, who was inseparable from modern technology.) Dev does know more about technology than history, but it never comes across shallow — just authentic.
After all, Tom Haverford is a character who would have made an entire display about his birth month, let alone his birthday. But Dev feels like it’s awkward to mention it’s his birthday to his newfound Italian friends. He’s just not a superficial, narcissistic kind of person. Dev’s the kind of guy who enjoys saying, “allora,” and has such an easygoing demeanor that he can easily build relationships with others.
From “The Thief,” Francesca is clearly smitten with Dev’s charms, but he also makes a number of impressions across Modena. When he arrives at a restaurant for his “reservation for one” meal for his birthday, that’s when he meets Sara, who booked the wrong day for her own reservation. Offering his table to share with her, the host of the restaurant (Romina Filipetti) scoffs at him and Dev perceives this to be a challenge to woo this woman. Like Francesca, Sara is also charmed by Dev’s gentle sense of humor and extended kindness, prompting the host’s beliefs to falter and Dev’s first flirtatious connection in a while to manifest. For as easy as it is for Dev to make friends, he still feels personally lost, unsure of which relationship is right for him.
When Dev channels Diane Lane (think more Under the Tuscan Sun than Unfaithful) and moves to Italy, it’s a decision he made because of a mid-youth (citation needed) crisis. With Rachel, he was happy, but he also felt that if he stayed with her, he’d be settling into a romance that was rooted more in pleasantries than a genuine sense of joy and certainty of belonging. Holding onto the last stages of his youthful adult stage, Dev moves to Italy while Rachel moves to Japan, affirming that she felt unhappy, too. There’s always a romance at play on Master of None, but through this agency from Dev, the series also becomes a steady personal reconciliation creation from Aziz Ansari (and, by extension, Alan Yang).
Because of the formless nature of Master of None, though, it can also serve, occasionally, as a platform for other talented, budding actors. Wells joined Master of None soon after she was let go from Saturday Night Live. Yang parlayed his creative prowess into the co-creation of Forever and his 2020 debut film on Netflix, Tigertail. But the biggest revelation from Master of None was definitely Lena Waithe, who plays Dev’s childhood friend, Denise. Initially conceived as an open-ended character, Denise was reworked as a black, lesbian woman to reflect Waithe’s own real world identity (similar to Ansari as Dev). For most of Master of None, Denise operated in a supporting capacity, but in the season two episode, “Thanksgiving” (which Waithe co-wrote with Ansari and won an Emmy for), she catapulted to stardom. (Waithe has since created The Chi, Boomerang, and Twenties.)
In the streaming era of television (and with the binge model of Netflix), it’s not uncommon to be asked, “Have you seen the sixth episode yet?,” for example. When season two of Master of None dropped in spring 2017, the critical world was abuzz with questions about the eighth episode. This was “Thanksgiving,” which was at once a holiday episode, a coming-out episode (for Denise), and an episode that revolved around Denise exploring her own identity in a manner that was removed from the expectations others had for her.
Of course, Thanksgiving is a holiday that always comes with expectations (both minutely, in terms of cooking, and on a macro-scale, in terms of familial and generational anticipations) and we see those unfold over the course of two decades as the episode jumps between the Thanksgivings of 1995, 1999, 2006, 2015, 2016, and 2017.
There are a ton of fun, innocuous elements to “Thanksgiving.” For one, Dev always attends Denise’s family Thanksgiving, as his own family bears no connection with the holiday (and he’s comfortable enough to use the word, “thot,” with Denise’s mother, Catherine (Angela Bassett), aunt, Joyce (Kym Whitley), and grandmother, Ernestine (Venida Evans)). For another, there are slight cultural touches that help ground the holidays in their present times (and provide for nostalgic reflection when the characters recall their past Thanksgivings), like discussion of the O.J. Simpson trial, a poster of Rachel Green from Friends, and a John Starks Knicks jersey.
But ultimately, “Thanksgiving” is a moving depiction of Waithe’s own coming-out story, which she told Buzzfeed News she would only tell once. In 1995, Denise begins to unpack her own sexuality while watching dancers in the “Brown Sugar” music video from D’Angelo. By 1999, she’s ready to come out to Dev, around whom she feels comfortable will take it in stride. Prodding her to come out to her own family, Denise insists she’ll do it on her own time and Dev relents, offering a joint instead.
While Denise’s family is open enough to including Dev in their festivities, it’s clear that there is more hesitance to accepting her sexuality. As Denise tells Dev, “Some black people think that being gay’s a choice,” a generational sentiment that clearly weighs on her. She draws a comparison between trophies and black children, citing that black parents view their kids as a testament to their own accomplishments. Unfortunately, she also feels that her mother would see her homosexuality as a smudge on the plaque of the trophy and it’s not until 2006 when Denise finally musters the courage to reveal her true identity to her mother.
In this scene, Waithe deftly balances the frustration that Denise has over her mother refusing the bait of the clues to her sexuality with the nervousness of finally revealing a crucial aspect of herself to her mother. Bassett, too, is excellent when depicting Catherine as a woman desperate to say the right thing and settles on her tearful insistence that she doesn’t want Denise’s life to be any harder than it already is. (“It’s not like it was my choice. This is who I am,” Denise replies.)
Reluctantly, Catherine allows Denise to bring her various girlfriends with her to Thanksgiving (as long as she doesn’t tell her grandmother who they are, suggesting that even though she’s come out to her mother, she’ll always have to remain a little bit in the closet, sadly), but it also requires adjustment on Catherine’s part. Denise’s first girlfriend, Michelle (Ebony Obsidian), is a perfectly kind woman, but Catherine is hellbent on finding faults in their relationship. Taking her into the kitchen alone on Thanksgiving 2015, Catherine scolds Denise for being “too lesbian” with Michelle and accuses her of phantom acts of PDA. It’s a pointed statement Catherine makes in the name of “respecting her house,” but is actually a clear example of her lashing out because she feels her whole life has changed, even if Denise is exactly who she was during every other Thanksgiving.
The next Thanksgiving, Denise brings her new girlfriend, Nikki (Erica Mena), to the table. But with Nikki’s Instagram handle (nipplesandtoes23) and her general dismissiveness of the holiday traditions, Catherine understands what true disrespect looks like and she wants Michelle back. Fortunately, Michelle does return for the final gathering of the episode (framed with a beautiful overhead shot of the table and its various dishes) and Catherine is able to connect with her better than she did the first time. It’s not perfect, but it’s also not Denise’s worst case scenario. The revelatory episode shows us that every Thanksgiving is a new chance.
Crucially, “Thanksgiving” is an episode episode. It’s not just your average installment that is part of an “eight-hour movie,” as Netflix likes to describe its slate of series. No, it is a shimmering example of how Master of None is able to consistently shift and bend and shape itself to what each individual episode calls for it to be. The lengths of the installments vary (from 21 to 57 minutes), they each have their own distinct vibe, and they’re not always about Dev. Instead, with the opening credits playing out over extended opening sequences, Master of None feels almost like a collection of twenty individual short films that just happen to share the same cast of characters.
The best way to describe Master of None is cinematic, after all. The direction changes with each episode (from Yang to Ansari to Melina Matsoukas, who each have excellent eyes for stunning shots), but it is always incredible and consistent. A tracking shot following Dev and Denise to their Thanksgiving table, wide shots of Italian corridors and characters walking, talking and eating gelato. It’s all so gorgeous; Master of None is beyond visually sumptuous, always imbuing its romantic affection for culture into the direction. In that sense, Master of None is like a narrative version of the same themes we saw in Anthony Bourdain’s travel programs, especially the idea that beauty can be found anywhere.
The most prepossessing episode of Master of None is also my favorite (and the longest), season two’s penultimate, “Amarsi Un Po.” (This translates to “To Feel in Love.”) Obviously, through the series’ direction, camerawork, and cinematography, it’s very easy to make Italy beautiful in episodes like “The Thief” and “Le Nozze.” But when Francesca comes to New York City to visit Dev instead, the American mecca takes on a different kind of gorgeous — one that comes from the heart.
After all, the creative team of Master of None clearly possesses an authentic connection to the five boroughs, so even though the settings Dev and Francesca walk through are initially drably urban, there’s a beating heart beneath each framing from Ansari’s direction. Italy is shot through the awe-inspired perspective of a tourist or a vagabond or a temporary transplant. New York, on the other hand, is shot through the bucolic predisposition of filmmakers who buy into the vendors who proclaim it’s “the greatest city in the world.” (If you live in the northeast, you’ve probably convinced yourself it can be pretty to cross the street in winter apparel, too.)
However, “Amarsi Un Po” succeeds most vividly in how it marries Ansari’s homely affection for New York with the fact that it’s Francesca’s turn to provide an outsider perspective to the setting. (For example, she adores pharmacies, while Dev finds them trite.)
Electricity has percolated beneath Dev and Francesca’s friendship all season and it finally comes to a head in this episode, as she grows more and more distant from her long-term boyfriend, Pino (Riccardo Scamarcio). With this dynamic at play, eventual conflict is assuredly promised, but the double-length episode allows viewers plenty of time to luxuriate in the idyllic friendship/romance that unfolds against an autumn, leaf-clad, upstate field and the snowy streets of Manhattan.
Ansari and Mastronardi have unparalleled chemistry throughout each of the scenes, which are overflowing with subtext and subtle flirtations. They pretend to have arguments in Central Perk, convincing others they’re a real couple. They share a blanket to watch L’Avventura together. They have a “pajama dance party” when they’re unable to fall asleep after Francesca is snowed in at Dev’s apartment. It’s such a warm, soothing, charming connection to watch unfold and it could make even the most cynically hearted people dream of an idyllic bond with the person of their dreams.
There’s still room to be funny in “Amarsi Un Po.” (Most of the humor is derived from the kitschy vernacular between Dev and Arnold. “Boo,” “Cozyville,” and “kissies” are all terms they use earnestly with one another. In the best moment between the two, Dev shares his feelings (and Francesca’s texts) with Arnold to get advice from him. The message contains two emojis (one of Francesca and one of Dev only) and Arnold responds, “I don’t see no Pino emoji. Just my little bud!”) But Master of None is clearly most concerned with a bleeding-heart romance and the ache Dev feels about one day running out of meetings with people who could be “the one.” Especially when he’s so head-over-heels enamored with Francesca.
The culture divide between the two is also key in “Amarsi Un Po.” Francesca was Dev’s occasional translator while he was in Italy, allowing her to engage in fun-loving bits with one another as they traipse through the city as pensively and wanderingly as Jesse and Celine. However, her language is occasionally broken, which prompts her feelings to be more direct towards Dev, even if the signals she sends are occasionally unclear. (For as much as their bond develops naturally, Italians are more prone to be affectionate with their platonic friends, suggesting Dev could make one misstep and kill his “fantasy” and his friendship.)
Over the course of the episode, Dev does attempt to make his feelings known to Francesca. On his list of celebrities he could sleep with if he was in a relationship, he includes exclusively Italian women (including Rossella Falk from 8½). When she suggests getting Italian food for dinner together, he calmly suggests tapas instead (displaying a restraint of anxiety I will never possess). But when the inflection point arrives and Francesca either has to return to Italy with Pino or stay in New York, Dev lays it all on the line. Like he felt at the end of season one, she is conflicted about what to do with Pino, believing that getting married is the right thing to do after ten years of dating, even if she doesn’t feel a spark anymore. (We never forget her engagement, as the camera focuses on the ring around her finger just as much as it focuses on the pair’s clear lust for one another.)
But Dev knows how it feels to resign oneself to a relationship they’ll be unhappy with and just as he sprang into her feelings when she didn’t expect it, he springs into her mind on their helicopter tour, confessing his desire and defending himself as a lover who would spark only joy and never regret or resentment. Even her somewhat surprising instigating text message evoked realistic relationship dynamics between uncertain crushes.
How does Francesca decide? It’s not known by the episode. It’s hardly even known by the end of the season, as “Buona Notte” ends with ambiguity that will remain eternal unless Ansari is actually filming a third season in London right now. Ultimately, though, I’ve come to peace with the idea that it doesn’t matter if Dev and Francesca do end up together.
Francesca will make her decision, yes, but Dev confessed his truest self and will never have to wonder what would have happened if he didn’t play it safe. And even if they don’t end up together, at least they both loved one another and felt that true love, which is more than anyone should expect from a life. For as much as the moments between Dev and Francesca restore faith in a non-cynical dating scene, they are also key for helping us understand what it means to be alive and how we should be grateful for any moment that reminds us how special and fleeting it is. Life is long, but our twenties and our thirties are shorter. And they only happen once. It’s not wise to waste them on phony dreams and manufactured love. In life, we must only chase that which makes us most fulfilled. (And even if we’re no longer in our thirties, each decade provides new opportunities, just like each Thanksgiving does). For Dev, Ansari, and Yang, it’s food and culture, beauty and love.
I wonder what it will be for me — and I wonder what it was for you.
