[rating=4.00] “Raise Up”
“It was luke warm, small, and covered with a few extras that were all pretty much a mush of stuff.” That line would serve an apt review of the Mark Wahlberg-produced Ballers, a show that struggles to find it’s way. It happens to be a Yelp review of the Mark Wahlberg-produced restaurant, Wahlburgers, which, like this show, is flashy, overpriced, and leaves you wondering why you wasted your time when you could get the same level of entertainment from say, a 10-second YouTube video of a monkey drinking his own urine.
The entire premise of the episode is Spencer getting his football-playing superstar/friend Vernon to sign with his financial firm. Which is exactly as enthralling as it sounds. Spencer tells his boss/co-worker (a glaring oversight of clarity that seems to be the show’s defining characteristic), Joe he’s signed him, but didn’t actually sign him. There’s a side-plot over the agent, Jason, flying to Dallas to work on a contract for Vernon with the Cowboys.
Vernon, however, has had 40 total seconds of screentime across two episodes, mostly regarding the fact that he borrows $300,000 from Spencer (which more or less bankrupted him) so he can continue to fund the never-ending party with his crew. It’s… difficult to consider this a compelling plot point.
Meanwhile Ricky, another character we’re presumably supposed to care about without given any discernable reason for doing so, starts his training with the Miami Dolphins. Another character built with only broad strokes, his second chance is tested by, of all things, another player wearing his number, 81. He bargains his new teammate for the number, offering more money than most Americans make in a year for it. After his offer is declined by the other player, his lack of overreaction is presumed to come off as some kind of character growth. It doesn’t
The show then tries to validate the legitimacy of this by having Ricky look longingly at a poorly-Photoshopped image of (presumably) him as a child and a father wearing the number 81. While Ricky has had considerably more screentime than Vernon, he’s spent all of it being completely unlikable, which makes it extremely difficult to form any sort of empathy for him.
The primary plotline aside, Charles, in his first year as a retired player, begins to settle into civilian life at the Chevy dealership. While being pressured into returning to pro-football, he struggles to convince himself that he’s happy with the life he’s chosen. He also remains the lone character worth even trying to identify with, giving it’s the closest thing to a nuanced and isolated performance while the other characters bask in bullshit swagger and freak out elderly white people eating brunch.
Narratively, Ballers still ends up being the show that won’t leave the shallow end of the pool, either because it’s unwilling or, more likely, just doesn’t know how to swim, as it seems to be confusing garish opulence with compelling, relatable storylines.
Lines worth noting:
“Stop playing small ball.”
At least this show is starting to gain limited momentum from the interaction between Johnson’s Spencer and Corddry’s Joe, like a smarmy, hairless yin to the other’s yang.
“You worm-faced fuck!”
Reg, another entitled, unlikable character who feels threatened that his position as Vernon’s… guy who throws money around in front of a mariachi band (I guess?), calls Joe that before demanding he pay their tab. I’m going to use it for the next time I get cut off in traffic.
