God Bless Judy, Our Most Precious Gemstone

 

Photo: Jake Giles Netter/HBO

How can any single television character be expected to face off against both Megan Mullally and a devious primate at the same time? It seems unfair, really, both for the character who is trying to navigate two formidable adversaries and for the human who has to share the screen with them. That’s what The Righteous Gemstones put in front of Judy Gemstone in its final season: a legendary comedic talent with a history of deranged character work, and a monkey with bad intentions who is growing fat on fajita meat. God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers. So does Danny McBride, apparently.

The fact that these comedic showdowns worked is a testament to Edi Patterson, the actress and writer who turned Judy into a juggernaut over four seasons of television. Actually, the fact that Judy as a character worked at all is a testament to Patterson. It’s easy to imagine this performance falling apart in lesser hands. Judy is one of three children, with an older brother played by the show’s creator and a younger brother who is a church leader in a same-sex relationship with a former Satanist. She goes big, all the time, often profanely and sexually charged, with a middle-child energy not seen on television since Succession ended and took Shiv Roy with it.

There’s an alternate universe where Judy scans to an audience as an off-putting or divisive character, or even just one who takes up time better allocated elsewhere — and yet, nope. Patterson has made Judy into a dynamo, a standout on a show of standouts, and arguably the most unpredictable character in a world where Walton Goggins plays an elderly religious showman with a cocaine problem and a love of riding Jet Skis naked. Patterson threatens to steal every second she’s on screen, her body language, line delivery, and manic energy spilling out in every direction. Watch her in the background of a scene when someone else is talking. She looks like she’s going to explode, as if even two seconds of attention spent somewhere other than on her immediate needs is causing Judy physical discomfort.

But definitely watch her when she’s talking, too. And listen. Characters on The Righteous Gemstones often use words in combinations and sequences that have never been attempted before in the English language. Examples of this are littered throughout every episode, but Patterson has been imbuing Judy’s line deliveries with a singular something since the instant-classic speech she gave at Outback Steakhouse in the season-one finale, when it looked like her relationship with BJ was on the rocks. Let’s all take a minute to watch it again. Maybe put your headphones in first.

There’s a lot going on in this monologue, including what appears to be an assault and kidnapping. You could use it almost word-for-word in a psychological thriller about obsession gone wrong, maybe a Fatal Attraction remake with fewer dead animals and more Jeep Grand Cherokees. (Please make this, and cast Patterson in it while we’re at it.) It’s also one of the rare moments when we see Judy let her guard down. She’s showing actual vulnerability to a person she cares about, letting someone see who she really is instead of the abrasive spitfire she shows the world. But amid all that insight into a deeply insecure character with a history of committing horrible acts, Patterson never loses sight of what makes this scene outrageously funny. Some of that is the phrasing, as it often is on Gemstones — see: “makes my bird twitch,” “snail trail,” etc. — but mostly it’s the distinctive oomph she throws behind those words. The way she utters “damp” has stuck with me for years. I suspect it won’t be leaving anytime soon.

This is why she’s been able to hold the screen with Mullally and that monkey, by the way, the former playing her father Eli’s new romantic interest, Lori, and the latter as BJ’s new service animal after a fall from a stripper pole resulted in a spinal-cord injury. Of course Judy was going to get jealous that the people she cares about are receiving comfort from new sources. Of course she was going to lash out with a white-hot fury. What’s impressive is the way Patterson gets to the same place in different ways. With the monkey, it’s mostly stares and pouting, maybe a frustrated harrumph or two, because even Judy realizes you can’t intimidate a primate with words. With Lori, it’s … I don’t even know how to describe their bedroom confrontation in episode four. Mullally is no slouch when it comes to going big in the name of a laugh, but she mostly just stands there as the straight woman while Patterson empties out her full comedic clip on Judy’s poorly executed plot to frame Lori for pretty much the same thing Judy did in that Outback monologue. A Judy Gemstone tantrum is never about the destination. It’s about enjoying the journey.

That’s what I’ll miss most about Judy in a post-Gemstones world: having a true wild card to marvel at on the television screen. Making a character like this work is tricky business, a combination of writing and performance that reacts in a special way. It’s chemistry, and not just the kind actors talk about when they discuss working together. It’s more like actual chemistry, the kind that mixes together a bunch of combustible elements over an open flame, where one false move could result in a big hole in the ceiling. That is the Judy Gemstone experience, a constant low simmer with occasional flare-ups that could result in property damage at any moment. It’s a lot, all the time, with potential destruction always around the corner, and yet, here I am staring down the end of the series and still wanting more. It says a lot about Patterson’s talent as a comedian. It also says a lot about her skill as a scientist. Why yes, I would also watch a show where she plays a maniacal chemist. The monkey can come along, too. Let’s get to work on that next.

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 No one does it like Edi Patterson. 

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