Steve Carell Is Unbelieva bly Good in ‘The Patient’

New this week:

Steve Carell is acting his tush off.

The reason I won’t watch the new Lord of the Rings show.

There’s drama in the country music world!

Serena Williams <3.

Not this Winnie the Pooh…

Steve Carell: Great! The Patient: Also great!

It is one of our greatest failings as a nation, a garish blemish on modern society, that Steve Carell never won an Emmy Award for The Office.

There are endless examples of “it’s so outrageous that this performer never won an award!,” but it is unforgivable that he never took home the trophy. Especially as the series resurged in popularity during the streaming era—suddenly the youths are wearing t-shirts advertising the fictional Dunder Mifflin Paper Company—Carell’s brilliance as Michael Scott has only become more appreciated, and the fact he doesn’t have an Emmy trophy all the more egregious. (Having something in common with the youths has been entirely unnerving.)

Even just when seconds-long clips and moments show up on TikTok or Instagram Reels, it’s impossible not to laugh hysterically. To be so funny, so unusual, so wacky, and yet still so emotionally grounded: It’s so hard. That’s what she said.

This is all to say that it shouldn’t come as a surprise that, in so many roles since Carell’srun on The Office ended, he is often incredible. And yet, at least from my vantage point, there does seem to be shades of amazement each time he is, once again, very good. Case in point: his career-best performance in The Patient. OK, career-best dramatic performance. We just rewatched the “Dinner Party” episode of The Office. Nothing is ever topping Michael Scott.

The Patient is, in an almost unfathomable description, as if Misery met In Treatment. In other words, it’s kidnapping meets therapy. Or, “What if Stockholm Syndrome, but mentally healthy?” The first two episodes premiered this week on FX and are available to stream on Hulu. They’re riveting. Not since Dr. Melfi and Tony’s sessions on The Sopranos has watching two people talk in therapy left me so terrified.

The premise is that Carell’s Alan Strauss, an accomplished therapist, is kidnapped by one of his patients, played by Domhnall Gleeson. At first Gleeson’s character goes by the name of Gene and claims to need to talk through childhood trauma. When Alan wakes up dazed and groggy in an unfamiliar bed in a strange house, he later discovers that Gene is actually named Sam—and happens to be a serial killer. He kidnapped Alan and locked him in a basement in order to talk through those impulses.

On the one hand, it’s relatable. Like, sure, who among us who have been in therapy haven’t wished their analyst was at their constant beck and call? On the other hand, obviously this is deeply disturbing and horrifying to watch, as Alan grapples with the reality of the situation and must make (understandably) stressful decisions about how to react and handle this whole thing. It’s the best thriller that’s been on TV this year…and it’s about therapy. Who’d have guessed? (It’s from the minds of The Americans creators Joel Fields and Joe Weisberg, so we should have expected it to be surprising, dark, and gripping. But still!)

The series, refreshingly, abandons the trope where the serial killer is brooding, charismatic, and sexually mystifing. (Maybe there are just some characters that don’t need to be sexy!) Sam is certainly captivating, but he’s also pathetic, damaged, delusional, and unappealing—even at the moments when he is slightly empathetic. That you’re able to see him as all of these complex things is because you’re viewing him through Alan’s—and Carell’s—eyes.

Speaking of sexy: Hello, silver-fox-daddy era Steve Carell as a nice man who wants to talk about feelings while wearing sensible cardigans, and all the confusing thoughts accompanying that. But that’s besides the point here. The point is he has a challenging job in The Patient. The series flashes back and forth between his captive situation and ensuing therapy sessions with Sam—if you can call them that, when he’s being imprisoned against his will—and his life before they met, which happened to be right after Alan’s wife died.

The confidence and assuredness he has in sessions with other former patients is in stark contrast to the fear he feels with Sam. He is frightened, which he is tempering as a survival tool. But it also is too visceral to bury. His interactions with Sam are like watching a bomb expert trying to dismantle an explosive. Plus, he’s an expert at his job. Despite the outrageousness of the circumstances, he can’t help but to try to work through Sam’s problems. At times, there even seems to be a tenderness between them.

I’m not sure the reason that I’m so struck by how remarkable Carell is in this series is because it’s such a departure from Michael Scott or the comedy work that made him so famous. (Steve Carell, forever on the right side of history for screaming on screen, “Kelly Clarkson!”) He’s almost exclusively done dramatic work since The Office. I think it might be that, even in that space, his career choices have been so unexpected—maybe even strange.

Disguising himself both in prosthetics and with an eerie, breathy voice in an intense performance in Foxcatcher was something many people never saw coming—as was the Oscar nod that went with it. His earnestness in dramas like Beautiful Boy and Welcome to Marwen was as committed as his blowhard bloviating in Battle of the Sexes and The Morning Show, a TV series I’m still not sure I’ve watched as much as experienced as an acid trip I was unaware I agreed to go on.

There’s Gru in the Despicable Me movies, which is just plain fun, and then there’s the Netflix series Space Force, which is noteworthy for how bold it is to star in a comedy series that is not even in the least bit funny. And now, his great work in The Patient.

It’s hard to pin down who Carell is as an actor, or what a “Steve Carell role” might even be. We love an unpredictable performer. That’s what she said. (I’m sorry.)

My Sincerest Apologies to the Shire

I don’t think I’ll be watching The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power.

It’s not because I find the sheer amount of money spent to make it to be borderline crass. (Give $1 billion to the causes or people who deserve it, like charity, student-loan borrowers, or me.) It’s not out of a moral protest of Amazon. (Though, screw Amazon. Well, screw Amazon, and also please leave my recent Prime order at my door. We’re all conflicted/complicit/lazy at heart.) It’s not even because, as is Fallon Family Legend, I have never successfully made it through an attempt to watch one of the original Lord of the Rings movies without falling asleep.

It is because I have an extreme aversion to TV shows and movies with characters that have pointy ears.

I don’t know why this is, but I do know that it has only escalated over the years. It’s become an extreme aversion. Whenever there are characters with these sharp razor blades on their heads, I get so preoccupied with staring at them—attempting to reconcile if I am actually put off by them, or merely confused—that I can’t concentrate on anything else. I don’t like to think that I am nauseated by a body abnormality, because that would make me, I believe, a terrible person.

Even though I know it’s fantasy, I can’t get over it. Sorry to the elves!

It’s not just while seeing the promo materials for The Lord of the Rings: Rings of Power that I noticed this. A recent attempt to catch up on the various Star Trek series on Paramount+ was a trauma. I can’t with the Vulcans. Good luck to James Cameron with Avatar 2 and all his future endeavors with the Na’vi. The elves in the Harry Potter Cinematic Universe fare no better than those in Middle Earth. You: Dobby is adorable! Me: Ah! Help! And don’t get me started on Yoda.

Then there are all those various devils, draculas, goblins, and other movie monsters for whom these kinds of ears are meant to look creepy, to which I say: a rousing success!

While I was shocked to find that my Google search for “fear of pointy ears” auto-completed with “in movies,” it turns out this is not an actual thing—and now I’m even more terrified of Google’s mind inception. The search engine did point me to the Wikipedia page for aichmophobia, which is a fear of sharp things. As a person who used to routinely prick his thumb with the end of a safety pin when he was bored in school, it’s not that. It’s certainly not aftiphobia, a fear of ears. I like most of y’all’s ears just fine.

It is an unsolvable mystery, I suppose. And now that it’s publicly out there, a solid excuse to get out of having to cover the new Lord of the Rings series for work.

THE DAILY BEAST’S OBSESSED GOT BIGGER

Obsessions were never going to be contained by an inbox: The Daily Beast’s Obsessed has a new site, with launch partner Paramount+, the streaming home for your great reality escape. All the odes to Ryan Gosling’s Ken, Jinkx Monsoon's Judy Garland impression, and more have a home. Feed your fascinations here!

Marren Morris Delivered the Greatest Insult of the Week

I don’t really follow country music, so that whole universe is a mystery to me. But, as is required in the “Being Gay” bylaws, I do follow Marren Morris, who has transcended into our universe. That is how I discovered a surprisingly juicy celebrity story and learned such things as what a “Jason Aldean” is—and that his wife is allegedly transphobic.

Tipped off by a headline I came across that said Morris had called someone “Insurrection Barbie” (!!!!!), I read all about a controversy in which Aldean’s wife, Brittany, shared a post that was, again, apparently transphobic. It immediately earned her backlash, including from Morris and fellow country star Cassadee Pope. It’s rare for major stars to publicly come after each other like this, even for such righteous reasons. The drama of it all! OK, country music!

Brittany Aldean posted a video in which she said, “I’d really like to thank my parents for not changing my gender when I went through my tomboy phase. I love this girly life.” Jason co-signed with the comment: “Lmao!! I’m glad they didn’t too, cause you and I wouldn’t have worked out.”

Pope expressed her dismay in hearing “someone compare their 'tomboy phase' to someone wanting to transition.” Morris replied to that: "It’s so easy to, like, not be a scumbag human? Sell your clip-ins and zip it, Insurrection Barbie.”

Insurrection Barbie references Aldean’s controversial posts about Jan. 6, and, beyond that fact, is an absolutely glorious read. Aldean responded to both stars, and now, apparently, I am a country music fan, because I desperately need to follow how this unfolds.

Loving All the Serena Williams Love

As someone who recently had a back spasm while dancing at a Lady Gaga concert and had to leave the stadium early because I was in so much pain, I am forever in awe of the athleticism and power of Serena Williams. (Not that the admiration needed that context, but it really underlined the point.) Her victory lap at the U.S. Open has been profound to watch, as has seeing her really appear to take in the celebration—and own her talent.

Case in point was her charming reaction when asked if she “was surprised” in herself for pulling off her Round 2 win earlier this week. Her cute smirk. The giggle. The roar of the crowd that followed. Then the way she says after, “I mean, I’m just Serena.” (Watch it here.) An absolute delight. Just a really fun moment in what’s been a really fun Serena Williams week.

Tubby Little Cubby All Haunting Your Nightmares

Winnie the Pooh is now in the public domain and a new horror movie is coming out based on the character. (Yes, really.) This is what Winnie the Pooh looks like on the poster. All the heffalumps and woozles in the 100-Acre Wood found shaking.

The Good Fight: My beloved kooky miracle of a show is coming to an end. I am sad! (Thurs. on Paramount+)

Honk For Jesus. Save Your Soul.: Regina Hall never misses. (Now in theaters and on Peacock)

Queen Sugar: Reliably one of the best acted—and forever undersung—series on TV. (Tues. on OWN)

Chef’s Table: Pizza: Netflix apparently now makes content explicitly for Kevin. (Wed. on Netflix)

Who Really Killed Michael Jackson: I can’t imagine a scenario where this is not in poor taste. (Tues. on Fox)

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