There are moments in this week's episode where everything I think Brothers & Sisters [Sundays at 10 pm/ET, on ABC] should come together perfectly; comedy and tragedy coexist — just like they do in real life, turning, dancing with each other in perpetuity. The episode has it all — male passions run amok, female passions threaten to cause thermonuclear war, farce, drunkenness, sorrow and laughter. In my humble opinion, a great episode.
There are moments of acting in "Grapes of Wrath" that took my breath away when I saw it. One in particular stands out. I don't want to say too much, but it takes place in a kitchen during a showdown between Nora and Holly. Both actresses, Sally Field and Patty Wettig are real and funny and frightening in a way that brings to mind some of the great turns that John Cassavetes managed to capture on film — I'm thinking of Gena Rowlands in A Woman Under the Influence in particular. The camera comes close in so as to deprive them of any privacy, and the two great actresses clearly have interest only in the moment and the truth it contains. It's delicate, intimate and totally surprising. Anybody who has been in a fight will recognize the admixture of love and rage — and even humor — that go into a true brawl. I will say no more on that subject....
Two of the authors of this week's episode come out of the theater (one of the writers and the director). David Marshall Grant is a playwright. I lured him into writing for B&S around the time I thought we might be picked up. The timing was good; he had just had a production of a new show at Playwrights Horizons in New York, and after five years of working on the thing, he was spent and, like me, wondering, "What now?" You work for years on a play and then that's sort of that. I equate being a playwright to being an arugula farmer whose crop is so odd and peppery that only a few people have much appetite for it. Another story, that. David's first play, Snake Bit, was a gorgeous chamber piece about the entwining strands of mortality, aging, loving and living in Los Angeles. I thought that television would be a hospitable place for him — you know, a break from the gulag of writing plays. It has proven to be a most felicitous marriage. Also, his writing partner on "Grapes of Wrath," Sherri Cooper, has brought a great breezy twist to the writing, a mordantly funny and off-centered take on the assumptions and privileges of the Walkers. At our offices, she often comes to visit me with perfect stories and perfect comic timing; they sometimes involve men, food and affronts to her dignity. She's hilariously wry, and slightly... deadpan. She can be Kitty-like.
Now to the director, also someone I dragged into this mess: Michael Morris. Like David and me, he comes from the theater. An Englishman, he's sort of absurdly good-looking in a schoolboy-goes-to-Paul Smith sort of way, and he's brilliant. And he's married to the prodigiously talented actress Mary McCormack. And about to have a second baby. Michael directed my last play, The Paris Letter, in its world premiere, and he also helped develop this show with me and Ken Olin. We all sat together through the summer and fall of 2005, talking and battling, and I would put something down on paper. Michael was there the whole way, and when we were picked up, he came on as a producer. He has spent a lot of time on the set being a constant, a voice of the show for the guest directors, and a lifeboat for the actors, who trust him implicitly. As do I, as does the studio. He will be directing many more, and he is a genius.
So, there you have it — the Walkers are heading to the end of their first season. The cast is already eager to come back, and the writers are already making plans. We have such plans. A new play, as it were, for 22 weeks each year... for a lot of years.
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