The Hope That Kills You
Ted Lasso, Shore, and maintaining hope in the pandemic hell world.
Welcome to The Double Feature! Each week, I’ll explore two different, unrelated topics. Together we can find some meaning in the juxtaposition—assuming there is any meaning in the world.
Illustration by Isaac Benavidez.
I’m sorry if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but it sucks out there!
We’re surrounded on all sides by a deadly virus and the fascists responsible for the spread of said virus. And regardless of who wins in November (vote), we’ll still be stuck cleaning up the virus and the fascists for a few (lots of) years. Who do we turn to for hope in a time like this?
May I introduce Ted Lasso.
Ted Lasso is an Apple TV+ show about an American football coach who goes to England to coach a Premier League soccer team despite having no experience with the sport.
At first glance, Ted Lasso seems like a fake TV show that characters on a different TV show would watch, the way Community characters Troy and Abed watched Inspector SpaceTime. It’s probably because Ted Lasso the character was created for a series of NBC Sports commercials to promote the Premier League to an American audience. It might also be that it’s on Apple TV+, the streaming platform that Apple gives away like a Happy Meal toy with the purchase of new iPhones.
But Ted Lasso is real and thank God and Tim Cook that it is. That fake feeling dissipates minutes into the pilot, and it’s due in large part to Jason Sudeikis’s performance as the titular Lasso.
Ted Lasso the character could be the picture on the Wikipedia page for “Optimism.” (And if there are any good Fair Use images of Ted Lasso, let’s make it happen.) He sees the best in those around him and takes it upon himself to bring it out of them. Throughout the series, he reiterates that he doesn’t care about wins and losses, he prioritizes the growth of his players into their best selves. And almost always, their best selves only come out when they’re serving the collective good of those around them.
And if this all sounds cheesy, then don’t worry, because it is cheesy in the best way possible. Ted Lasso genuinely loves each of its characters, there’s no ironic distance here. Every show should dare to be this cheesy, because in a TV landscape that’s plagued with antiheroes and a real world that’s plagued with actual plague, it’s refreshing to watch a show that wears its heart on its sleeve as much as Ted Lasso (and the unitalicized Ted Lasso) does.
For all of its positivity, the show makes sure to keep its glass-half-full coach grounded in the real world. In an interview with Vulture, Brett Goldstein, a writer on the show who pulls double duty as the actor who plays Roy, noted that “[Ted’s] troubles are real. He doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The world of Ted Lasso isn’t a fairy tale.” But it’s the way that Ted handles those real world issues that truly make the character and show shine. He keeps going, he keeps trying to do his best and bring out the best in those around him, and that’s what’s so inspiring for both the other characters on the show and the viewers in real life.
I want Ted Lasso to come help me with my problems. I want Ted Lasso to run for President. I want to be the Ted Lasso I want to see in the world.
INTERMISSION: If you’re reading this on the website, subscribe now to get next week’s Double Feature delivered straight to your email inbox.
If you’re reading the email version, thank you! And sorry for the interruption.
Now for part two of this week’s Double Feature:
Last month, Fleet Foxes surprise dropped their latest album, Shore. With its sweeping, almost orchestral arrangements, the new record feels like a companion piece to their 2017 album, Crack-Up, which marked a return for the band after a seven year hiatus from releasing new music. But where Crack-Up is dark, lonely, and introspective, Shore leans toward hope, togetherness, and growth.
Listen to Shore: Spotify | Apple Music
It’s a slightly ironic turn. Not to say that everything was rosy in 2017, but since then, things certainly took a turn toward the darker, lonelier, and even more introspective (for some more than others). It’s easy to imagine a new Fleet Foxes record treading deeper down the same path, but Robin Pecknold, the primary creative voice in the band, saw an opportunity to look toward the light. The album sounds bright, open, and warm, like a cliche ray of sunshine through parted clouds.
My brother Griffin and I were talking about the new album (quick aside: if you have a brother, I highly recommend listening to Fleet Foxes with them/talking about it with them; as a band, Fleet Foxes are big on brother culture), and he mentioned that it felt like Pecknold saw the state of the world and released this album like a gift to say “it’ll be alright, listen to this.” And he’s right! That’s exactly how it feels.
But what’s really amazing about Shore is that in a year of eye-roll-inducing “we’re in this together” messaging from our friendly neighborhood big box stores and car manufacturers, Shore sticks the landing in a way that’s actually genuinely reassuring. Listening to the album feels like hanging out with an old friend, having one too many beers, and solemnly agreeing that “next year will be our year” in a way that, at least for the moment, you both actually believe it.
What Fleet Foxes understand that our friends over at Walmart and Toyota don’t is the acknowledgment of the difficulty involved with hope. On “Sunblind,” Pecknold sings about the death of songwriting legends, celebrating the lives and accomplishments of his heroes while hoping that he can one day meet the standard they left behind. He sings each of their names, lifting up the song to meet them wherever they are now. The country folk legend John Prine gets a shout out in the first few lines, which stings especially hard considering it was COVID-19 that took him from us. But despite all that, “Sunblind” is a major-chord (I don’t know anything about chords) anthem with a chorus about swimming in “warm American Water with dear friends.” Pecknold channels those losses into a call to cherish those around us and the moments we spend with them.
This grounded sense of togetherness permeates the album, pointing toward hope found in community while keeping one eye on our dark present/past. Even on “Featherweight,” one of the album’s few downbeat, minor-key (I don’t know anything about keys) tunes, Pecknold still finds hope as he quietly sings, “And we’ve only made it together, feel some change in the weather, I couldn’t, though I’m beginning to.” It’s a reassuring statement for our time: we’ll see our way through this eventually, even if we can’t right now.
Thanks for reading the first issue of The Double Feature! If you liked it, please consider forwarding it to a friend!
The art at the top was done by Isaac Benavidez. Follow him on Instagram here: @bienvenidez
Follow Reid O’Conor on Twitter: @reidoconor