Review: Fleishman is in Trouble

Fleishman is in Trouble is about a newly middle-aged man, Toby Fleishman (Jesse Eisenberg), who has recently gotten an overdue divorce from Rachel Fleishman (Claire Danes). Toby wakes up one morning to find that his two preteen children have been dropped off at his apartment early in the morning by his ex-wife, Rachel, with no explanation. Toby, looking forward to experiencing his new single life, irately calls her, wondering what she was thinking handing off the kids during her week with them. Rachel doesn’t respond that day. Nor the next day, or the one after that. Little by little, and then all the sudden, Rachel has disappeared from both Toby and his children’s lives.

Where is Rachel Fleishman? I think it’s fair to say this show belongs somewhat in the Mystery genre, although ultimately not the one you thought you needed. The story of a missing Rachel Fleishman carries the viewer through most of the show, but doesn’t turn out to be the question that the viewer wants answers to. This is a story of something much deeper. It’s a story about stories. 

The show has a sophisticated creative direction that feels as if The New Yorker would have written it. It’s a tale about the upper class in Manhattan, yet its clean and beautiful narration makes it feel relatable. Toby Fleishman reunites with two of his college friends, people who he hasn’t been close with during his dozen years of marriage. There’s Libby, the bored housewife who lives outside the city and feels largely like she gave up her career as a writer and the life she wanted to live. And there’s Seth, the bachelor who chases money and women, and who has a child-like bluntness about him. And of course, there’s Toby, newly divorced, a father of two, and the head Hepatologist at a hospital.*

Toby is combing through the memories of his failed marriage with Libby and Seth, trying to solve the mystery of Rachel’s whereabouts, but more importantly the mystery of how things went so wrong. How the person he loved became the person (that represented the things) he resented. His ex-wife, Rachel, becomes the antagonist because we’re hearing Toby’s side of the story. The show explores how Truth is something we hold together, yet never fully agree upon. As Schroedinger’s equation shows, the truth is both correct and subjective, depending on one’s perspective. Each episode begins with a drone shot of New York City, but flipped upside down. At first I took it as an undisguised metaphor for Toby’s life being flipped upside down, but as I continued watching, it turned into a symbol of the many ways to experience reality.

Fleishman Is In Trouble is also a show about death. Death of relationship, of potential, of youth. The paradox of the Moment that is both endlessly passing us by, yet infinitely here. Something we are always in (at our best) or yearning for (at our worst). The past is something we feel as if we have control over, likely because we can nip and tuck, relight, and rewrite the ways in which things happened. The future is dark—not in a morose way, but more in an overwhelmingly possible way, like a room of Vantablack, a lightless void you must walk into blindly. Neither the past nor the future are places to create yourself, yet we so often convince ourselves that we can make a home there. As much as this show is about death, it’s also about growth. We see Toby’s character become a better father, friend, doctor, and human being. In fact, there’s growth in each of the characters. 

If you’re wondering how a show about wealthy New Yorkers could be relatable, the perspective actually proves its point: No amount of money or stability can stop life from moving forward. We live, we lose, we change, and we adapt. No matter one’s status.

This show was never really about Rachel Fleishman’s whereabouts (although this is answered). Fleishman is in Trouble is about continually finding one’s self, remembering that potential is the enemy of presence, and that without others’ perspectives, we are unable to find compassion. And a life without compassion, is a narrow life indeed.

5/5

* Note the irony of these roles being played by Jesse Eisenberg (The Social Network) Lizzy Caplan (Mean Girls) and Adam Brody (The O.C.), who seem to have not aged in their 20+ years of acting.

I'm glad i see the world the way i do

I woke up to 7 rolls of scanned film in my inbox and I’m blown away. The life I get to live, the people I surround myself with, and my instinct to capture the moments in the way that I do. I couldn’t be more proud of myself. I’m glad I see the world the way I do.

Photos coming…

you look at the tree and you allow it

“When you go out into the woods, and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever. And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree.

The minute you get near humans, you lose all that. And you are constantly saying ‘You are too this, or I’m too this.’ That judgment mind comes in. And so I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are.”

Ram Dass

short sayings of love

Found on the inside of a book cover at the used book store

the floorboards

Sometimes love feels like the momentous, impassioned act itself, and sometimes love is the floorboards and the nails that make up the stage for which life happens on. The latter has always scared me— it’s so forgettable, the stage… the stage that’s there when the actors take their bow, the stage that’s there when the curtains close, when all go home. When all are already home.

thirty

It feels tempting on birthdays, especially at the edge of a decade, to reminisce on achievements. All the big moments. Artistic achievements, professional milestones, countries visited. Quantification. But today I feel grateful for the small moments. Particularly ones where I felt connected to the person in front of me, or the land under my feet. There’s no easy and clean way to bring these memories back, because truthfully they are mostly forgotten (there were millions of them, after all). But those moments are what became my twenties, and it’s safe to say they will be thirties and my forties and so on. That’s all for now. I’m going to see some people that I love.

Kaitlyn

Kaitlyn. We met in the first class of college. Communications 101 with Karen Cristiano. 11 years ago. A few weeks later I complimented you on your music taste. A few years later, as we were about to graduate, you invited me to go shoot photos around Philly. Then that spring we drove out of town to an abandoned school where they sent girls who “misbehaved.” That place was so scary. Then we graduated, I moved to Alaska, you stayed in Philly, then grad school in DC. Then one day in 2020, weeks after being stuck in Baltimore during the pandemic, you reached out. We were both in dark places. We Facetimed and realized we were living 40 miles apart. We decided to hike together. Then another one. And another. Finally, someone other than my parents to hang out with during those uncertain times. I usually brought the snacks, you’d bring the joints, and we’d explore the DMV area. Whether it was sharing our stories, or shouting “SNACK TIME” out onto the Potomac River, those days were very special to me, as it felt like the world wasn’t falling apart. Later that summer you came up to Alaska and you got to experience everything that words would fall short explaining. Hiking, cooking, macarons, free salads, a deep trip, camping, you sleeping in the back of a pick up truck, art nights, and good company. Many cherished moments. Happy Birthday, Kaitlyn.

Chris

Chris. Our friendship began with photography and excuses to get outside— a thread that continues on today. In the summer of 2019 we hiked 100 miles together in 6 weeks. We stayed in tents together and picked up each other’s rolls at Keller’s. We ate pho, thai, and hot pot with Tiff, and hung out with Bessie and Winston. I watched you follow a deep resonance that was pulling you from the path that you were on. You heeded the call. You send me poetry. You’re a wonderful writer. You’re open to change, to growth, something I admire you for. You’ve always told it to me like it is. Honesty that seems hard to find. That second photo, you probably don’t even remember that day. But I do. You helped me work a lot of shit out. Thank you. Happy 30th Birthday, Chris. I’m grateful for you.

already loved

today

I woke up i forgot that i was already loved. 

I went to work and suffered with me- ness

I started every thought with “I”

I shopped for food and felt separate

when I got home I took a walk to the coast.

focusing my attention on the icy path

until I found my balance.

on the way home, I saw a shooting star.

In the middle of Anchorage at 5:23PM

How many others saw it too?

At home I rested

and then I cooked myself a loving meal,

fresh vegetables. 

I cleaned my kitchen.

and then sliced open a pomegranate. 

then I remembered, so I sat down to write this.

just making it up

I would like to cultivate a charisma of uncertainty, a charisma of admitting that you’re making it up as you go along. I remember this funny thing. One day when we were working on the Passengers album with U2 in Dublin, Pavarotti came into the studio because he was singing on one of those tracks. We’re in the main room saying, Should we put the chorus here, no, let’s double that section, da da da. Pavarotti’s standing in the control room watching what we’re doing. Then he says, “You are making it up!” I think it was the first time he realized that, at some point, music is made up!

Brian Eno