A response to The Braiser’s Austin Wallace, from a fellow recapper (and yes, show dad)

In which I try to clarify why it helps no one to “recap” a show for which you have a sustained disdain

In the fashion of the CGI catpeople from James Cameron’s Avatar, let me begin by saying: I see you, Austin Wallace.

Yes, I sent the tweet below in your direction, calling out the fact that after eight episodes, the task you have been assigned of recapping Fresh Off the Boat has seemed to be endlessly excruciating:

You’ve since taken advantage of the fact that this past week’s episode was a rerun to write an essay in which you’ve mused about the reasons for your general negativity toward Fresh Off the Boat, prompted by the tweet I sent. The headline of your piece: “Fresh Off the Boat: Am I Hate-Watching It?”

Well, let’s take a look!

• In your recap of episode one, you began your recapping journey by questioning whether Eddie Huang’s dark and provocative original book could even be turned into a family comedy at all, but asserted that you were keeping an open mind. It must have slammed shut almost immediately, since after your eye-rolling synopsis of the show’s premise — “Let the hilarity ensue!” — you called little Eddie (played by my son, Hudson Yang) “rude and unlikeable” and pleaded with the gods of television to “just kill me now.”
• Episode two was no better; it seemingly caused you to gnash your teeth and tear out your hair while screaming “aagghhh! I don’t know what’s going on and why don’t I find this funny?”
• For episode three, as a backcheck, you decided to ask an Asian friend what she thought of the show. She said she found it very relatable and had a few laughs, but didn’t find it funny enough. This survey sample size of one — where n = your Asian friend — served as adequate confirmation to you that your “humor bone” isn’t broken. (Though if you need evidence that your humor bone might be just a hair out of joint, one could point to the scene in this episode that has prompted near-universal LOLs, the one where youngest brother Evan recounts his conversation with neighborhood women at the block party planning meeting. You found that scene not just unfunny, but inexplicably unfunny: “Little kids acting like adults — why is that supposed to get laughs? I just don’t get it.”)
• By episode four, you were projecting your belief that the show was a dud onto network scheduling, wondering if two weeks of back-to-back episodes was a sign of it being “burned off.” (It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Repeat After Me, the reality show that had been hastily developed to pair with Fresh Off The Boat, wasn’t ready to air yet, could it?) Meanwhile, your existential ennui toward the show apparently began to have an effect on your physical wellbeing: “I’m feeling tired — two shows in a row and I’m just not getting it.”
• Still, you managed to make it to episode five, though as usual you found the scenes that have been widely seen as its funniest — both of them Constance Wu’s — to be tasteless and painful exercises in gastrointestinal trauma: “Wow, uplifting way to end a comedy with date rape and mom guilt. I’m busting a gut here.”
• Episode six: You seemed on the verge of breaking down entirely: “I’m exhausted…How many more episodes are there again?” (I’m surprised that your editors have been so callously unresponsive to your repeated cries for help; The Braiser is a tough master.)
• Episode seven drew the closest thing you’ve been able to summon as praise: You called it “compact” and “succinct.” That is to say, your suffering seemed shorter than usual.
• And finally, your episode eight recap began with a moment of transparency: “Ugh, it’s back to an Eddie Huang-centric episode — keep an open mind, keep an open mind, keep an open mind!” Disclosure is always a good thing, so you should be praised for openly sharing your epic struggle to be objective. But the praise should be measured — after all, you ended the recap on a note of celebratory relief: “Eight episodes down, five to go.” It’s clear how the struggle ended: With your mind firmly vaulted shut.

Despite this eight-episode record, in your essay reflecting on whether you’re hate-watching the show, you claim that you aren’t — that you don’t in fact “hate” it, you “just want to be a entertained a little more,” and that “the show just needs some refinement.” And you use the explanation that recappers have a tendency to do so with “the snarkiest of ’tudes” as an explanation for the approach you’ve taken to writing about each episode. That doesn’t excuse the fact that your recapping so far has come off as a joyless, dismissive, lugubrious exercise in pop-culture masochism.

Look, I obviously have a stake in the game: I’m my son’s father, after all. But — removing the dad hat, and putting on the cultural critic cap— I want to remind you that the task of recapping a show is a new and unique one in the world of entertainment journalism. I’ve done my share of it, and it’s not easy: To do it right, you have to be deeply engaged in a show — you have to care about it in a way that isn’t a prerequisite if you’re just reviewing it.

Because while reviewers are talking to people who haven’t seen the show and want to know whether they should, recappers are writing for people who are actively watching the show already, and want to see it again through the discerning eyes of a critic. They’re looking for a smart synopsis of each episode’s happenings; one that calls out its highlights and lowlights and that exposes things they may have missed in their own viewing, while contextualizing the episode in the context of the season as a whole. Yes, evaluating each outing is part of it, but recapping is ultimately a service you provide to a show’s fans.

You don’t have to like every episode. But it’s a real problem if you don’t like all of them. Because it means you don’t have the passion and interest you need to bring the show to life, and to enrich the viewing experience for those following it. When I’ve lost interest in shows I’ve been recapping in the past, I’ve passed the torch on to people who care more; it doesn’t help me or my readers to force myself to go on. (I gave up after just three episodes of The Celebrity Apprentice, for example.)

I’m not saying that that’s what you should do. That’s totally up to you and The Braiser. But if you even have to stop to ask if you’re hate-watching a show you’re recapping…it may be worth wondering whether you’re providing your readers a service, or doing them a disservice.