Arrested and Waiting

There once aired a comedy television series featuring the recurring motifs of a manchild with an Oedipus complex and not so implicit “cousincest.” Ridiculously funny, or perhaps largely ridiculous, apparently when it was initially on television, the show did not quite resonate with American audiences — it was cancelled after three critically successful seasons. If you do not recognize the infamous phrase “There’s always money in the banana stand!” then you probably have never seen Arrested Development.

Please experience it for yourself:

Despite the show’s untimely demise, it was a critic’s darling; they practically worshipped at the series’ altar. Additionally, it gained admiration amongst a certain sector of society. The fervor from the fans has catapulted a fourth season on Netflix for the coming year. Unlike contemporaries of Arrested Development, rarely was there a television show that was able to subtly meld both the tragedy and absurdity that is human life. The Bluths are a modern family in a post-modern medium. We might even go so far as to say that Arrested Development has redefined what we expect from television. Perhaps a similar revolutionary vehicle in its medium, Waiting for Godot, spoke to the rejected vagabonds of the 1950s. One of the early, and now quintessential, absurdist plays was a hit amongst the intellectuals, just as Arrested Development was and is. Still, more surprisingly it gained a large following among prison inmates who found meaning in the utter meaningless of it all.

Wait, Man. You mean to tell me that Godot never came? Did Godot ever even exist? Like, woah…

Just as the American audience has found value in the acceptance of the chaos and utter nonsensical nature of the modern-day family, Waiting for Godot too found its niche.  It was famously performed by inmates at the San Quentin State Prison, leading to a long-lasting arts project at the prison. Its popularity in prisons might have been because of Beckett’s willingness to address the notion of time and existence as seemingly futile, something of which prisoners could recognize the value because all of their time behind bars was spent doing just that. Although this was likely not the direct intention, by performing Waiting for Godot, the prisoners were allowed some form of diversion from their own “waiting” – like that of Estragon and Vladimir, but more concrete. This brings a whole other meaning to the phrase “don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” 

Speaking of prisons, this is the exact location where George Bluth Sr. finds himself at the start of Arrested Development. The deterioration of a wealthy, extravagant and essentially dysfunctional family lies founded in the main plotline of a fraudulent and self-serving CEO who becomes incarcerated. What’s a family to do when their source of income goes down the tube? Of course the most reasonable option is to live in one of George Bluth Sr.’s company’s model home and work several odd jobs such as the family’s banana stand. What emerges is a wacky family full of nonsensical stories in the vein of Seinfeld. Like Waiting for Godot, Arrested Development has its fair share of repeating motifs and phrases. For example, instead of the enigmatic Godot figure, there is Ann.   

Who is Ann? 

This is the question commonly on Michael Bluth’s mind. He should know Ann. She is a constant presence, especially in his son’s life and she is also periodically mentioned throughout the show. Yet, he never seems to figure out (or remember) who she is. Ann’s character provides one of the several absurdist elements of the program, and Michael Bluth’s interaction with her also draws a parallel to Estragon’s poor memory in Waiting for Godot, like the several junctures in which he forgets if they are where he and Vladimir are supposed to wait (9).

Also, this chicken... dance?:

Beyond the silly, flamboyant and nonsensical actions that take place in both works, there is a sense of heart. In Waiting for Godot, Estragon and Vladimir are fairly dependent on each other. They count on each other for comfort and company while they are waiting for the mysterious Godot even though they argue at times for no apparent reason — the moment in which the two argue about a carrot and radish, inevitably making no significant difference either way (16). Such is also the case with the Bluths. They have seemingly inane and useless arguments, yet still care about each other and rely on each other for support. This reliance provides a means for living on; it’s a reason to care in spite of all the meaningless.