6x21 Driving Miss Gilmore

[9.1/10] This is, to my knowledge, the first episode of the series credited to both Amy Sherman-Palladino and Daniel Palladino, and at the risk of over-extrapolating, it shows.

Because the episode has some of the trademarks of Daniel’s approach. It is, once again, more of a grab bag than a succinct and well-structured set of stories. And the humor runs broad, like Michel’s exercises and Jackson and Sookie’s weed caper. But it also reflects Amy’s style, with the sparkling dialogue, the great understanding of the characters and ability to compare and contrast them, and the way it lands the episode’s big emotional moments without overdoing them.

In some ways, “Driving Miss Gilmore” is a last meal. After this season, both Palladinos would depart the show, and while I’m curious to see what this show is without them, and even more curious to see what they did ten years later in the revival, it’s hard not to look at an episode like this one as their last stand. It’s fitting, then, that this episode features both of them, combining their talents and sensibilities into an outstanding hour of television. Let’s take their stories from least to most significant.

So I know I called the Michel, Jackson, and Sookie stories broad, and occasionally I use that term derisively, but I don’t mean it that way here. Maybe I’m just a sucker for Michel, but the way he freaks out at the knowledge that he put 2% milk in his coffee for weeks, and then surreptitiously does exercises behind customers’ backs is great physical comedy.

And as silly as it is, Jackson and Sookie freaking out over their collection of “pickles,” sneaking garbage bags full of pot through the streets while running into the troubadours and clergymen of Stars Hollow is plenty amusing.

Rory’s story is fairly slight in this one, but also good. I like that the accident has prompted her and Logan to go back to their comfort zone with one another, with Rory dutifully ensuring that Logan doesn’t overdo it and actually rests and recovers. The way she sics Paris and Doyle to make sure that happens in her absence leads to some great character interactions between characters we don’t see together very often.

And I appreciate her Mitchum-adjacent storyline too. Rory is the type of person who would be miffed at him basically taking credit for her nascent success in the Wall Street Journal, as a point of pride, and her trying to convince the author of the story to issue a correction for an “impression” is the sort of amusing, character-based comedy I like. Plus, it gives Logan the chance to be the voice of reason tell her that however self-centered Mitchum’s purpose is, it reads like an endorsement of her, and for practical purposes, is a good thing.

I also enjoyed the Luke storyline here. I have to admit, I was taken aback at the reveal that Liz was pregnant and that T.J. had left her, however much I was happy to see him off the show. That’s why it was an effective swerve to show that Liz was fibbing and had actually thrown T.J. out. It’s not especially subtle, but I like that Luke is the one who figures out Liz was projecting her own insecurities about parenthood after what happened with Jess onto T.J., and him who sets things right. There’s a “cobbler’s kids have no shoes” sort of irony to him being the one to coach T.J. up on the lesson that sometimes people, particularly people in relationships, say one thing but really mean another. It wraps a warm moment like Luke reuniting his sister and brother-in-law, and gives it the twinge of pain from his ability to help others while still missing the important things in his own relationship.

Which leads us to the piece de resistance, which is, as is often the case, the Lorelai-Emily story. For one thing, it is a nonstop comic treat to watch the two characters bounce off of one another under the Palladinos’ pen for the semi-last time. Emily having botched lasik surgery and playing the convalescent to Lorelai’s put upon helper is a great dynamic between the two, and the show’s wit is never so sharp as when Emily and Lorelai are slinging subtle digs and cultural references at one another.

But then the show gets touching, and sad, and serious. I had my suspicions, but it’s still a tremendously heartwarming moment when Emily reveals that she and Richard were not shopping for a home of their own in Stars Hollow, but were instead planning to buy her a house, “since I knew you wouldn’t let me give you a wedding.” It’s not just the size of the gesture itself -- it’s how thoughtful it is. Emily though about the size of the house being enough for family life, and for it having stables since Lorelai always wanted horses, and has a plan to change the zoning so that it’s legally in Stars Hollow, and even has a scheme cooked up to get Luke to accept such an extravagant gift. As much as Emily can sew chaos, sometimes she uses her formidable powers for good, and the results are so endearing, so revealing of her love for her daughter, that you see the warm person beneath her occasionally prickly exterior beam through.

It’s just too much for Lorelai though. In an expectedly great turn for Lauren Graham, Lorelai breaks down and admits to her mom that this wedding thing isn’t happening. Lorelai had her heart set on this date and on this situation and now it’s gone to hell, and only here with the last person in the world she would expect such kindness from, can she admit how her dream has fallen apart. It’s a powerhouse moment, and one that shows how in a season that has often been baffling and sad and almost unpalatable for that reason, scenes like this one, which earn that sadness, are so hard but also so great in what they achieve. Lorelai is beside herself, and it takes her mom, of all people, to make her accept that.

Emily, of course, is still hedging her bets a little, noting that Christopher is handsome and lonely, in a detail that I’m sure will not come up anytime soon. But still, as implausible as this whole setup is, it’s encouraging to see the show address it all head-on, like it did in “Vineyard Valentine” and salvage something touching and heartstring-pulling at the same time out of it.