‘Crisis In Six Scenes’ Recap, Episode 3: “A Stooge With Herd Mentality”

One small advantage of the third episode of Crisis in Six Scenes has? Woody Allen’s Sidney J. Munsinger finally leaves the house. We’re nearly halfway through this show, and our hero still has not left his palatial estate in “suburban New York.” This is of course a reflection of his creator, who is renowned for leaving his Upper East Side apartment only to make movies, watch Knicks games and occasionally get some soup. But it sure does slow down the action: Literally been almost two full episodes had gone by without the action leaving that particular set. It’s like a television bottle episode that lasts nearly the whole series.

Unfortunately, there’s not much spark once we venture out into the world. We’ve spoken before in these recaps about how Allen seems to have decided a television show is like a movie only longer and has thus padded individual scenes with so much flailing and excess vamping that it makes them seem endless, but we might have our worst one of the series here. In a Mad Men-esque television production office, Sidney and his writing partner Mel (played nicely, actually, by comedian Bobby Slayton) try to pitch a show about Neanderthals, or something, but the particulars of the scene – which I’ve watched twice and still am not sure I’ve nailed the details of – fade away until it is simply just an 80-year-old man waving his hands wildly and babbling incoherently into the camera.

As a longtime Allen fan, I’ve often defended him against criticisms that he is a weak actor; at times in his career, he’s shown a gift for physical comedy (particularly in Play It Again, Sam), along with a verbal dexterity that’s a direct descending of Bob Hope and Groucho Marx (most notably in Love and Death, which might be his funniest movie), and he can even plum some dramatic depths when he needs to. (He’s almost sinister in Anything Else, Deconstructing Harry and even, passive aggressively, in Crimes and Misdemeanors.) But man, is he rusty. There’s no clarity to his schtick here, and he just rambles on and on and on. He goes on certain comedic riffs that are so halfheartedly conceived and shoddily constructed that I found myself sort of embarrassedly glancing off screen. It’s tough to watch at times, like seeing Willie Mays flail in the outfield for the Mets. And I mean current 85-year-old Willie Mays.

As usual, the episode is stronger the closer it hews to Miley Cyrus, who actually has some mild sparks with Crisis‘s resident Woody Allen impersonator, this time played by John Magaro, a talented young actor you might recognize from The Big Short or David Chase’s underrated Not Fade Away. (I once ranked actors doing Woody Allen impressions in Woody Allen movies: First place was Michael Caine in Hannah and Her Sisters, last place was Jason Biggs in Anything Else. Magaro falls somewhere between Edward Norton and Ewan McGregor.) Cyrus’ Lennie gets Magaro’s nebbish banker Alan stoned, and they end up having a low-key, moderately charming conversation about political activism vs. passive resistance that has a few laughs. It’s also a clever conceit that Lennie the revolutionary who just wants social justice spends a large amount of her time worried about how comfortable the room she’ll be sleeping is and eating the Munsingers out of house and home. And she even gets a couple good lines out of Allen involving a blender and a waffle iron. Though no one should ever ask Miley Cyrus to say the words “strict Freudian” ever again.

The episode ends with Lennie encouraging Kay to read some of her more radical literature and even to introduce it to the book club we met back in episode one. This actually has some comic potential: The idea of a bunch of elderly suburban women suddenly spouting off Marxist rhetoric could be good for some legitimate laughs. But I have a feeling that’s just going to get us back in that damned house again. I’m not sure if Amazon wouldn’t spring for some extra sets or Allen just didn’t feel like writing anywhere for his characters to go – though I have my suspicions – but it’s starting to get awfully claustrophobic in here.s

Episode’s “Cosmic Embarrassment Level”: 7 (out of 10)

Seriously, you’ll need to immediately watch Manhattan, maybe twice, to wash the image of Allen’s “pitch” monologue out of your brain.

[Watch “Episode 3” of Crisis In Six Scenes on Amazon Prime Video]

Will Leitch is a senior writer for Sports On Earth, culture writer for Bloomberg Politics, film critic for the New Republic, contributor to Sports Illustrated, contributing editor at New York magazine and the founder of Deadspin.