First Impressions: The Goldbergs ‘The Circle of Driving’ – Don’t Poke The Bear

What’s most disturbing about The Goldbergs is not how unfunny it is or how broad and obvious its 1980’s references are, but in just how mean it is: and knowing its based on the true story of creator Adam F. Goldberg’s childhood, makes the pilot a sad tale of a family story twisted by disturbingly misogynistic, self-serving male characters (hardly the touching portrait of his childhood and loving family Goldberg probably intended to make). By the end of the pilot, I just felt sad for the females on the bleach-white cast: although all the characters on The Goldbergs fit easy, upper middle-class stereotypes, the males are given a lot more attention than the women, dismissing their needs and desires as mere afterthoughts in their quest for complete dominance of the household, relegated to their status as homemaker and boob-havers.

‘The Circle of Driving’ revolves around three storylines: middle child Barry’s (Troy Gentile) 16th birthday; Grandpa Albert losing his license (hence the “circle of driving” metaphor); and empty nest syndrome, as embodied by overbearing mother of three Beverly (an enthusiastic, though overperforming Wendi McLendon-Covey). In reality, the metaphor the pilot reaches for never connects, spending its time having a 11-year old babble endlessly about boobs, and showing the father of the Goldberg clan, Murray (Jeff Garlin), openly ignoring his wife (“I have to admit… I wasn’t listening”) and dismissing his children as morons, idiots, and the like.

The show tries to glean a lot of laughs from Murray’s character: but he’s just a bitter asshole, a character who eats and snarls in every scene, dismissing every member of his family in turn, as he pursues a life of non-participation in the upper middle-class problems (fighting over Cadillacs) of an upper middle-class family. It’s just not very funny, especially when the show uses “translated” subtitles to turn his dickish stream of remarks into redemptible turns of phrase: when the best thing Murray says to any of his children is “maybe you’re not a total idiot”, no amount of text on the screen can act as a useful scapegoat.

It’s a very thin gimmick (like Beverly’s overexaggerated screaming, or the predictable fashion pieces), and reveals the bigger problem of The Goldbergs: it’s a family comedy with no heart, somehow comparing Beverly watching her children grow up and leave the nest to Albert losing his license because he’s a senile pervert – something that only exists to further marginalize the feelings of the one character who felt somewhat human at points in the pilot (ignoring the gawkishly overdone “80’s” makeup, which reduces her on-screen presence to that of a beautiful clown), and further some misconceived notion that Murray is someone we should care about (“at least you have me”, he tells her moments after saying he doesn’t listen to her, or think she’s right about anything). 

Told over Patton Oswalt’s over-stuffed narration (the amount of exposition and emotional explanations he has to make in tight windows is staggering, and makes it all feel rushed at times), The Goldbergs is yet another cast of well-to-do white people dealing with their well-to-do white problems, absent of real human emotion, instead feeding the audience the typical emotional cliches, dashed with some nice misogynistic touches to keep the audience in stitches (the grandfather’s obsession with making Adam a young porn addict are alarming), and a few obvious shots of Cadillac logos thrown in for good measure.

Grade: F

The Goldbergs 

Airs Tuesday nights at 9pm ET on ABC, beginning 9/24

Created and written by Adam F. Goldberg

Pilot directed by Seth Gordon