SiftPop

by Jacob Kinman, Contributing Writer

“Admit that you were scared, that you hate yourself, that there’s some days that you think you don’t deserve to live… that the only thing that will make you forget is by being someone else.”

Monroe Fuches (Stephen Root) summed up the entire thesis of Barry in one speech to NoHo Hank (Anthony Carrigan), right before one of the most explosive and shocking moments of the entire series in the series finale. Fuches, in that scene, is referring to Hank’s denial about his role in the fate of Cristobal, but it could really apply to anyone on the series, especially the show’s titular character, Barry Berkman (Bill Hader). He was drawn to acting in the first place to try to avoid his true identity as a violent killer. He went so far down that path of denial that he is even willing to be an entirely different person completely just to justify all the awful things he’s done and find some sort of redemption. Barry has always been scared — scared that he was evil, or a bad person, or that he would let others down. He always just wanted to live up to the expectations of everyone in his life, and, as we’ve seen through the run of the series, will go to extreme, psychopathic measures to do so. 

Barry is a show that is both entirely consistent and in a regular state of change. It’s consistent in that it has always delivered top-notch comedy, from its skewering satirical scene of the inner workings of Hollywood, to some of the absurd and outrageous traits certain characters have — and it brings drama that is just as effective right alongside it. Its state of change, however, remains consistent as well. The show’s first two seasons have their share of very dramatic moments, usually stemming from Barry working for the Chechen mob, but it is mostly supported by a strong comedic tone. It never went too far from Barry’s work, his relationship with his handler and mentor —Fuches — his acting class, the Chechens, his relationships with fellow acting student Sally Reed (Sarah Goldberg) and his acting teacher Gene Cousineau (Henry Winkler), or the police. Seasons Three and Four, however, stand in an almost entirely different arena. All of the episodes were written in 2020; Season Three had been written before the show was scheduled to start shooting — March 2020 — and was then obviously delayed by the pandemic. Hader and his staff then began writing Season Four in the summer of 2020. All of this is to say that both of these seasons are so much darker in tone than the first two, and work really well together in balancing this tone with the absurd comedy that has always been a part of the show.

Season Four of Barry picks up right where we left off from season three: Barry is now in prison after a plan from Gene and Jim Moss (Robert Wisdom), the father of Janice Moss, who Barry killed in Season One, tricks Barry into coming to Jim’s house, where the police are waiting for him. Imprisoned with him is Fuches, who has a complicated relationship with Barry; in a matter of days, he betrays Barry by offering information about him to the FBI, then reconciles with Barry, then is betrayed himself when Barry offers his own information to the FBI. After an attempted assassination on Barry’s life, flubbed with an explosive pen in a hilarious cameo from Fred Armisen, Barry escapes from prison and goes to Sally. 

In the midway point of this season, Hader takes his show in a very bold and fascinating direction. After Barry goes to Sally’s apartment, she agrees to leave with him; we then immediately cut to black, then slowly fade in to see Barry and Sally raising a child together, a boy named John (Zachary Golinger), eight years into the future, under false identities, which is unveiled in full in the following episode. This was a divisive choice among fans of the show: Some found it jarring, but others, like myself, saw a subversive and original quality to this story turn. The truly tragic, yet somehow funny, thing about the future version of Barry is how little he’s grown after all this time. Despite claiming to have a newfound faith in God, and posturing himself as a hero to his son, he still has not taken any responsibility for his actions. To make matters worse, he’s roped Sally and John into his delusional world. 

Season Four of Barry is directed entirely by Hader, and he delivers. This show is truly the most cinematic thing on TV right now. There is so much masterful camera work; my favorite sequence of all of Season Four is from the aforementioned shootout. It’s just a two-shot, back and forth between Hank and Fuches, but the closeups used to convey the very strong emotions on each of their faces as Fuches digs right into Hank’s soul are so effective. Closeups have been a big part of the cinematography on Barry, especially in the latter part of the series, and they’re always executed so well. 

Hader has worked with several skilled directors in the past, but, in an interview with The Ringer on their The Prestige TV Podcast, Hader admitted that “…as the show progressed, I became more and more confident as a director… It just became very, very clear with how I thought things should be and look.”

Hader’s use of visual and audio motifs add another layer of depth that creates an environment for the whole series. In Season Three, Hader uses imagery of the beach multiple times when Barry is on the verge of death; we then learn in Season Tour that Barry grew up in a remote, sandy area, and see him meet Fuches for the first time in a flashback. After the time jump, Barry and his family are seen living in a very similar type of area. To supplement these, Hader adds the sound of wind blowing to several scenes to further illustrate the motif. Barry feels free and safe when he sees the beach, since it reminds him of home, and feels like he has to go back to be free from his past, at least in his own mind. Sally, however, is still haunted by the biker she murdered in Season Three; Season Four makes it clear that the trauma of this event will be with her forever, on top of the new trauma she faces in living her new life. 

Barry has always balanced comedy and drama well, but its culmination in the finale is truly a case of tragic irony. The real tragedy of the finale is the view of the cumulative wreckage that Barry has made of Gene’s life. Barry brings Gene all the way over the edge with his selfish and delusional behaviors, because he was constantly running from who he was, and leaving a path of destruction behind him. 

Season Four of Barry is so masterfully crafted and well-written. Any show that can keep up with the insane amount of comedy and drama that Hader’s show delivers, and execute it, especially in such a dramatic season like this, will truly go down as one of the best series ever made. 

Score: 10/10

Barry is currently streaming on Max

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You can read more from Jacob Kinman, and follow him on Twitter and Letterboxd