Rick and Morty, S03E02:
“Rickmancing the Stone”

Rick and Morty Makes a Proper Return, Remaining True to its Troubled, Hilarious Self

 

Back again (properly) at last, Rick and Morty re-emerges with a worthy addition to its canon. The pace, wit, creativity and irreverence are all in tact. Just as importantly, so is the show’s profound understanding of how fucked up we all are – and how flawed our attempts to deal with that can be.

Rating: 9.5/11

 

The new normal on this season of Rick and Morty is not some sort of alternate dimension. It isn’t even the regular dimension ruled by a galactic federation, as was hinted at in “The Rickshank Redemption.” No, it’s much less complicated and infinitely more relatable than that: Beth and Jerry Smith are getting a divorce.

No matter how old you are or the circumstances of your parents splitting up, the universal truth remains that it tends to fuck you up a little. Beyond the immediate realisation that you’re no longer a part of the family you once were, it’s a grim reminder of the finite nature of our world. Everything ends, whether it’s human life or the unions we forge throughout and – while it’s super nice to think so – love and commitment almost always fall prey to the dark entropy of the universe. Great fodder for an animated sci-fi sitcom, huh? Yet, as shouldn’t surprise us at this point, it appears there’s no deep-rooted anxieties or childhood traumas that Rick and Morty‘s writing staff can’t spin into comedic gold.

The episode begins with sad sack Jerry, standing in front of a van full of all his possessions, saying goodbye to his kids. Summer could care less and Morty, while more sympathetic, can barely conceal how much he despises his father’s pitiful display. From there on Rick, Morty and Summer find themselves on a Mad Max: Fury Road-style world, a setting that loses none of its vitality despite being a fairly dated reference at this point. As well-realised and darkly inviting as any of the dimensions we’ve already visited in R&M‘s two dozen episodes, this post-apocalyptic desert is full to the brim with solid gags and hilariously twisted philosophies. To wit, the dieselpunk inhabitants of this scorched Earth are all nihilists, who believe in nothing and speak in the absurd babble Tom Hanks uses in those deep future sequences of Cloud Atlas.

However, though devoid of compassion, there’s something grimly appropriate about the way these people live their lives and deal with trauma. When Summer kills their Immortan Joe-esque leader, the bucketheaded Haemorrhage (grittily voiced by a very welcome Joel McHale) vies to join forces with her. He recognises a stronger will and, rather than attempting to battle or run away from it, he seeks to unite with it. On its own, that’s a pretty great metaphor for the struggles inherent to a marriage, but it also acts as a kind of mirror of Jerry’s petty weakness and inability to do the same. This, in turn, explains why Summer soon throws herself at Haemorrhage.

Elsewhere, while hunting in “What used to be Seattle for what used to be people”, Haemorrhage offers a ludicrous but fitting explanation of why some become the predators and others the prey: it all depends on your ability to move on. Later, he finds an old billboard that, for a moment, seems to stir some long ago recognition in him, before he immediately reverts back to his “more evolved” self (Summer asks him if he wants to piss on it; his immediate response: “Get outta my head.”) Not only does his outlook match with Summer’s blasé attitude towards her parents’ divorce, Haemorrhage seems to have found a legitimate coping mechanism in order to deal with the fragments of what used to be. Nostalgia’s all well and good, but it doesn’t get you far in a post (or pre) apocalyptic world.

Meanwhile, in order to distract the dieselpunks and steal their giant orb of rarefied matter, Rick injects Morty with the muscle memory of a dismembered arm. Morty’s arm, in turn, becomes totally ripped and starts beating the shit out of people left and right, largely against his will. Well, that is at first, until Morty starts getting into the bloodlust as a form of dealing with his repressed anger at his dad. What’s crazy is how quickly this shifts to become a story of Morty’s now sentient arm, seeking revenge for his slaughtered family. It pairs nicely with the episode’s overall theme of moving on, showing an immensely violent example of what catharsis can look like under the right circumstances, but it’s also just a great excuse for the animators to find new ways for Morty’s engorged arm to tear people to shreds.

There’s another great example of the show’s ability to mine humour from human truths back on Earth. As Beth begins to worry about the impact her divorce is having on the kids, Rick creates replicants of them that are designed to put her at ease. What follows is a dinner sequence where the fake versions of Morty and Summer assure their mother that nothing about the divorce is bothering them in the slightest, while Rick gives instructions like, “Dial it back Summer, by 15%. And increase dynamic movement by 3%.” It starts off fine, but Beth eventually breaks down as she realises that maybe she’s projecting and her split with Jerry is really affecting her more than the kids. It’s a funny, sad little scene that serves as a reminder of why you can’t push away pain and emotional fallout while there’s still at least one human being present in the room.

Using the nihilistic dieselpunks as a point of comparison against the Smith family, the show’s philosophy emerges as steadfast and self-reflexive as ever. The people in the Mad Max world appear to be doing relatively well for themselves, right up until their their ideology falls apart. It makes sense to be a nihilist in a world such as theirs, but when Rick lends them the ability to generate electricity and restore some form of civilisation, Haemorrhage becomes mired in the same ennui and existential boredom as everyone else. Dealing with the inevitably of change is one thing, but when you stop caring about everything in a comfortable environment then… well, you’re kinda fucked.

Because it’s so often referred to as a dark or cynical show, people tend to overlook the nuggets of hope and profound desire for happiness that inform the heart of Rick and Morty. It finds ways to examine the pointlessness of existence, but not necessarily in order to argue that nothing matters. The infinite possibilities and avenues open to us in every facet of our lives are something to be cherished, not scorned at. Saying anything could mean everything isn’t the same as saying nothing means anything, and it takes a planet of nihilists to show the kids that.

Of course, because it’s a deeply intelligent show that recognises how hard it is to justify sentiment, every point R&M makes swivels on the precipice of disproving itself. At the end of the episode, Summer brings her dad the skull of the first alien mutant she ever killed, which made the mistake of looking back. Halfway through her speech, she realised that the act of keeping the skull as a souvenir or a reminder contradicts that very notion. Jerry accepts it and – in his most keyed in moment of the whole show – agrees with her: “Everything’s bullshit, right?”

It’s an unbeatable philosophy, if you can utilise it for good. Put another way – that I’m sure Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon would gag at – it’s not all that different from Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And wisdom to know the difference.

 

Quotes & Random Thoughts

 

• Jerry’s “divorced middle-aged dad” look is on point, matched in hilarity only by the wind whispering “Loooser” at him.

 

• New additions to the intro: a world where faces are butts and butts are faces, with weird porn; several versions of Morty escaping what looks like a Morty Academy; Rick and Morty strapped to the inside of a mad man’s giant piano, about to have their faces crushed; and Rick shopping for a new and improved Morty, sealed in its packing at a supermarket of some description.

 

• Sum Sum, Rick’s new nickname for Summer, is strangely adorable.

 

• “Did the boomy-booms blow up all your wordy-word books?” “You mean dictionaries?” A+ joke.

 

• “MY BODY IS CHROME! MY BLOOD IS GASOLINE!” Shrieking hysteria is always funnier when it’s immediately followed by violence.

 

• The reveal of Haemorrhage’s flat, pale face – complete with blonde moustache – is a killer sight gag, made even better by his self-conscious monologuing about whether he should shave it or not.

 

• Morty calls his new giant arm “Armathy.” This. Show.

 

• “The longer you wait, Morty, the more it’s gonna feel like committing a whole murder.” Nothing else on television can play with dark shit like half-drowning someone and make it so hysterical. It’s even more impressive when followed by Rick helping Morty finish drowning the dude, throwing in the hilarious, weirdly touching comment, “Now we’re both accountable.”

 

• Apparently Eli – Summer’s neighbour who’s a bit of a stickler about which bin the scrap metal goes in – is voiced by Tony Hale, aka Buster from Arrested Development. You could’ve given me 2,000 guesses and I never would’ve gotten that.

 

• Android Morty’s glorious final words deserve to be printed in full: “I wanna be alive. I am alive. Alive, I tell you! Mother, I love you. Those are no longer just words. I wanna hold you, I wanna run in a stream. I wanna taste ice cream, but not just put it into my mouth and let it slide down my throat, but really eat it. [Beth’s response: “…what the fuck?”] Remote override engaged. No! Yes. Bypassing override. I AM ALIIIIIII–! Hello.”

 

• Just as a side note, it’s genuinely refreshing to see that, for the first time, a female staff writer (Jane Becker) is credited with this episode. Additionally, the next two episodes are also written by women. Way to woke up, R&M.