Colorado's calling again, and this time, ask Alexa to answer! The 21st rendition of the Comedy Central classic irons out some of the issues from 2016 while retaining a handful of keystone threads.
Season 20 fell on hard times. Equating the effective and humorous 19th batch was a lofty proposition. Worse yet, funny was sacrificed for the progression and contemplative nature of exhaustive storytelling. There weren’t any chapters that could be considered stand alone to an appreciable mark. All ten steps relied heavily on the last. Creations like Member Berries and continued President Garrison shenanigans were adamantly effective, but those were exceptions. And with roughly 22 minutes of runtime availability per episode, isolated attempts at comedy were in shorter supply than in years past. Fortunately, that tale saw its entire arch revealed, leaving a clean canvas for the next round.
Last fall’s batch was more attributable to the proven Park method. Certain aspects of burgeoning and cultivated character progression are still observed, but in large it’s to establish a firm base for branches of comedy to flourish. The majority of this bushel contains episodes that are more palatable in singular servings. Right out of the gate, “White People Renovation Houses” utilizes an SP trademark to lampoon a current trend. A large swath of the townspeople are fixated on the voice activated digital assistant craze. Creating shopping lists for convenience and juvenile humor’s sake can be done by asking Alexa to OK Google then say hey Siri. Of course the automation trend doesn’t appeal to the conservative sect of the Park, as said progress is taking their jobs. Here you have a recognized example of series’ tradition that plays a part in targeting a topical discussion and finishes in 20+ really well done minutes. Events don’t get shoe-horned into succeeding episodes just of the sake of keeping it going. It’s introduced, milled into fodder, and shot away all by the closing credits of ep. 2101. Great stuff!
All ten stanzas are worth observing, but a handful stick out as especially entertaining. Tweek is, well, tweaking about the fate of the country in “Put It Down.” North Korea seems closer than ever to ignite a global disaster via nuclear missile. In hopes to allay their presumed intent, Tweek sends a batch of cupcakes as a adolescent olive branch. Problem is, President Garrison seizes the opportunity to twist the kid’s gesture as a proverbial middle finger through a salvo of tweets, bringing us ever closer to the brink of war. “Franchise Prequel” has the boys playing super hero again, only this time the intention is to have a Netflix series developed as the flashpoint for an extended Coon & Friends universe. Everything seems good to go, until the “evil” Professor Chaos incites a fake news smear campaign via facebook, derailing the proposed media empire. And when the town hails Mark Zuckerberg to explain the prolific spread of falsities, he remains undaunted by use of his signature defensive “style.” My favorite from 21 is “Sons A Witches.” South Park’s fathers have a yearly tradition observed the week leading up to all hallow’s eve: dress like witches, drive up to a mountain lookout point, drink Jack Daniel’s, smoke crack, and allow buffoonery to ensue. The festivities are going per usual, then Chip Duncan reads a seance from a spellbook he picked up in Salem, Massachusetts. Said enchantment turns him into an actual witch, hellbent on capturing the town’s children. Whilst malicious broom rides by Chip, the rest of the participants are left to defend themselves against the deservedly irate town citizenry in what they claim to be a witch blame “thingy.” Each of these examples are adeptly done one-offs that expresses the show’s short run narrative tempo at its best.
In conjunction, there are a few developmental holdovers from the past few years. Cartman’s drama with girlfriend Heidi reaches a fever pitch, escalated by her turning the tables on Eric and assuming the role of domineering bully. Another love interest is abound, and this time it’s PC Principal in Cupid’s crosshairs. South Park Elementary has a new vice principal in the form of Strong Woman, a no-nonsense feminist intent on continuing the town’s politically correct imbuing. Her conviction, intellect, and proximity proves too much to handle for PC, and he begins battling his basic instincts against ostensible personal and professional respect. And of course the previously mentioned President Garrison is still running amok. He’s become more comfortable with his considerable power and influence, proliferating erratic behavior with little to no regard for consequences or outcome. The IRL comparison to the US’ current Executive Office chief will make some viewers laugh harder at the satirical takes while others may be made more exacerbated.
Definitely a step up from 2016. A refocusing on traditional sitcom style writing and editing returns most of the comedic edge missing from the previous outing. Consistently witty, relevant, and outrageous, the cured product of two decades returns to proper form while leaving room for constructive character movement seen in recent years. This coupled with the usual home release extras of mini documentaries and #SocialCommentary creates a set deserving of Park fan acquisition.
