The Righteous Gemstones think they’re in an action movie. They’re right
Jesse Gemstone epitomizes Danny McBride’s take on American men
TV Features The Righteous Gemstones
Jesse Gemstone (Danny McBride) thinks he’s in a movie. On HBO’s prosperity gospel action-comedy The Righteous Gemstones, Jesse’s every deed, every word, feels like he’s punching up his own life on the fly. He stumbles over his one-liners in hopes of leaving the room on the perfect note: “Bye, Felicia.” Among his televangelist family, Jesse fancies himself a Vin Diesel surrounded by Tyreses, rising to the occasion and cracking the case as firstborns have done since “olden fairy tale times.”
Except Jesse isn’t that. He’s an incompetent weirdo with Reed Richards’ tips and Ric Flair’s bluster. The most significant difference between him and every QAnon LARPer with an alarming amount of zip-ties: Jesse Gemstone is rich as hell.
McBride is no stranger to portraying and writing Call Of Duty veterans who see their lives as grand narratives unfolding for the world around them. He and frequent collaborators Jody Hill and David Gordon Green love to parody this type of modern American man, who thinks every problem needs a Van Damme to solve it: First there was Foot Fist Way’s Fred, then Pineapple Express’ Red, followed by Eastbound & Down’s Kenny Powers.
“A lot of the comedy started coming from the idea that [Kenny Powers] sees himself as this humongous hero when he has none of the qualities of any of that shit,” McBride told Grantland in 2013. “We’d come into something dramatic and try to figure out, ‘What movie does Kenny think he’s in right now?’”
McBride’s characters believe they’re Rambo at the beginning of First Blood Part II, waiting for a Colonel Trautman to call them into action. Emotionally, though, they stopped developing around, say, age 8 (if we’re being generous). When a blackmailer threatens his image in season one of The Righteous Gemstones, Jesse holds an “Avengers assemble” moment with his younger brother Kelvin (Adam Devine) in the Jason’s Steakhouse bathroom. “Don’t you remember when we were kids, and we wanted to be Double Dragons? We said we were gonna grow up and fight crime.” Jesse pleads: “Kelvin, you really don’t care if this cocaine sex party tape destroys the Gemstones once and for all?”
“Maybe it’s time for the Gemstones to be done,” Kelvin says with the pomp and circumstance of Captain America breaking up with Iron Man in Civil War.
This scene perfectly depicts the worldview McBride and company are satirizing, one that’s hypocritical to the values vocally espoused by the church. After all, the hyper-masculine perspective that fetishizes violence, weaponry, and grand moral wars isn’t exactly Christian. (Let alone a “cocaine sex party.”) And yet, it’s how the Gemstones solve almost every problem thrown their way. Aggression has become a default for the Christian right in America, why should the Gemstones be any different?
The Gemstones seem to take the cliche “on steroids” to heart. Everything in their world must be bigger, more explosive, and more representative of the 24-inch pythons they seem to think they have. The more Jesse and his siblings pose as capable humans, the more the show indulges and deflates them in equal measure. In season two’s “After I Leave, Savage Wolves Will Come,” the Gemstone kids roll up in their Tesla at the Airbnb of journalist Thaniel Block (Jason Schwartzman), who, as in the prior season, has dirt on the Gemstones and threatens to destroy them once and for all. It’s as if someone finds out the truth about the Gemstones, they’d lose their bond with God and more importantly their cash flow.
Set to an electronic Tangerine Dreamy score to hammer home the scene’s Michael Mann-liness, the Gemstones may arrive in style to “crack the case” and find out who’s gunning for them, but they can’t nail the dismount. Once they discover that they’ve stepped into an actual action movie—with Block in a pool of blood inside the rental and a melted man out front—they panic and try to escape. Unfortunately, running away isn’t in the Schwarzenegger guide to taking out dirty journalists, and the Tesla thwarts their exit.
The writing and editing highlight how foolish they look, cutting between the car’s interior, where Jesse and his sister Judy (Edi Patterson) panic and futz with the car’s touchscreen, and exterior shots of the car’s automatic, aluminum wings flapping and spreading and refusing to close. The Gemstones would choose to drive a vehicle designed to look like it’s from a movie rather than one that can handle the job. They’re the Gemstones. They’re not showing up in a Sebring.
When you act like the world is one large Waterworld stunt spectacular, you’re going to need money. So the Gemstone patriarch Eli (John Goodman) picks up the bill for his kids. Eli pinpoints his eldest son’s worldview after the attempted murder of Jesse and his wife Amber (Cassidy Freeman) in the season two episode “Never Avenge Yourselves, But Leave It To The Wrath Of God.” “You think this is a fucking movie or something,” Eli says, dismissing the idea that the family is under attack from a roving gang of motorcycle assassins, whom Jesse christens “the cycle ninjas.”
But Jesse isn’t the only one guilty of this behavior. Most ineffectual, sad, and pathetic men on Gemstones act this way, like Chad and Levi (James DuMont and Jody Hill, respectively), who leave their everyday lives and cellphone belt clips at home to playact in Jesse’s David vs. Goliath reboot. Eli’s observation echoes a back-and-forth between Jesse’s son Gideon (Skyler Gisondo) and his season-one cohorts Scotty (Scott MacArthur) and Lucy (Virginia Gardner) as they attempt to rebuild their collapsing blackmail scheme. While filming a threat to Jesse, Scotty adopts an affected growl, but Lucy and Gideon accuse him of “trying to be a movie.” “It’s becoming a parody of itself,” Gideon says.
Gideon and Eli have a lot in common. They can spot a poser because they’ve spent a lot of time convincing people they’re violent. Gideon, a stuntman, and Eli, a former pro wrestler, embody the type of man that Jesse thinks he is. Gideon’s precision on the dirt bike fulfills Jesse’s dream of shoving a cattle prod through the spoke of a cycle ninja’s ride. And Eli is the heavyweight champion of Jesse’s world, providing for and protecting his family at all costs. Unfortunately, Jesse’s masculine ideal envelops him, and all he can do is nervously showboat. He lives in the “fake it” phase of “fake it until you make it.”
And yet, that’s the secret sauce of the show. The more Jesse presses the gas, hits the NOS, and tries to enter Beast Mode, the funnier his failures become. The narcissism that he and his siblings exhibit results from their father’s obscene wealth. “I’ve been very fortunate in this world to be born a Gemstone,” Jesse says in season one’s “But The Righteous Will See Their Fall,” just before he ruins his friends’ lives by coming clean about their video-taped sexploits. “It’s about as close to God as one can get.” (Ironically, Tyrese’s Fast And Furious character comes to a similar realization in F9, reflecting on the family’s failure to get killed across nine movies of dramatically escalating stakes.)
Jesse’s attitude reflects someone who wreaks havoc but rarely, if ever, pays the price for it. And yet, around him, an actual action movie is playing out. Through his ruthlessly efficient right-hand man Martin (Gregory Alan Williams), Jesse’s father has a private army at his disposal. But Eli’s willing to get his hands dirty if pushed. He viciously breaks his son’s thumbs at the hint of dissidence and has a secret criminal history that makes him Tony Soprano by way of Jim Bakker.
Eli’s on a closed loop of violence. Riding a rollercoaster ironically named “Exodus,” he weighs his options as the grave of his former manager and enemy lay beneath him. The outstretched arm of the Lord won’t free Eli from bondage. He is doomed to ride the peaks and valleys between killings.
In a world where conspiracy theorists attempt insurrections, the market on grown-men playing army guys is skyrocketing. But Jesse’s macho posturing wasn’t born in a vacuum. He does it to prove he’s ready to lead the Gemstone ministry—it’s just not time yet. Eli must be a predator and preacher to keep his prosperity gospel grift going. So from his compound, he runs schemes that enrich himself, overwhelming those who try to stop him with money or mercenaries. It turns out that the righteous Gemstones are in an action movie. They just don’t know they’re the bad guys.
30 Comments
I wouldn’t say they’re the bad guys. It’s not as if the people they’re fighting have any sort of moral high ground.
The absence of ‘good guys’ doesn’t mean they’re not ‘bad guys’.
Jody Hill’s character is named Levi, not Victor.Mostly enjoyed this otherwise. I think it’s a little harsh on Eli, who I think was a true believer at some point before the growth of his religious empire subsumed that, but I liked the observations on stuff like the Tesla, and I appreciated the mention of Gideon having more in common with Eli than Jesse has with either one. Not only was that some incredibly difficult and dangerous stuff Gideon pulled with the cycle ninjas, but he seemed remarkably comfortable with it afterward. Like he was made for the violence and danger.
I was worried they were writing out Gideon’s character (maybe they are and the motorbike scene was filmed previously?). But I love his opening scene driving through the estate this season as well!
I keep wondering if Eli is going to hand over the reigns to Gideon after the scenes earlier in the season of him being competent and a good leader behind the scenes and now with him showing courage chasing down the ninjas. Add to that the personal journey of redemption (and maturity) in Haiti after he screws up in season 1, and it would make the most sense.It would also, obviously, make for some comedic conflict with the siblings.
I have no idea how “Victor” got stuck in my head, but thanks for correcting and reading! How do you feel about Eli in light of the finale?
Honestly, about the same. I don’t think he’s a full on con man or predator; I think, like all the Gemstones, he really does believe and, especially coming from his background, I think credits his faith and Aimee-Leigh for setting him on the right path. Of course, the salesmanship required to build a successful megachurch will always obscure that, to say nothing of how the wealth and power accumulated through it corrupts the values of trying to lead a Christian life.But nothing this episode surprised me; Eli, as he said himself, has the devil in him, too, and we’ve seen that before, certainly. What fascinates me about the show is how plausibly it portrays that these two things aren’t mutually exclusive; all of our characters have some sincere desire to do the right thing, that gets corrupted by their worst impulses, like selfishness or capacity for violence. (No surprise to me; I long ago saw the wisdom in Noah Cross’ words: “Most people never have to face the fact that at the right time and the right place they’re capable of anything.”And as far as things I could understand or empathize with or even forgive, tracking down two people who put a hit out on you (and shot your son-in-law, and all the rest) ranks higher than, perhaps, those things motivated by sheer greed or that prey on the innocent. Perhaps the godly thing to do is forgive and leave judgment to the Lord, but me, I’m only human, and when you cross a line that extreme, I feel justified in meeting you there.I want to add, this article looks even more prescient after that final scene– the Lissons literally get the cabinet-through-the-window idea from the movie they were watching when the Snowmobile Ninjas showed up. They really thought they could improvise an action-movie stunt. Lyle and Jesse are far more alike than they realize; Lyle is just more ruthless and willing to go to extremes to secure money and power.
I think this is a great take. Particularly love this:
“What fascinates me about the show is how plausibly it portrays that
these two things aren’t mutually exclusive; all of our characters have
some sincere desire to do the right thing, that gets corrupted by their
worst impulses, like selfishness or capacity for violence. Though, I can’t get over the cross cutting between the Lissons massacre and Eli singing “Some Broken Hearts Never Mend” with his big shit-eating grin. The ease with which he through that together, coupled with Martin’s mercenaries from earlier in the season, means he’s probably done this before. At the very least, he is way too comfortable throwing a hit like this together. That’s all head canon, obviously, but my read on the character is, as Jesse says, a monster.Also, great eyes on this. I totally missed it!
The Lissons literally get the cabinet-through-the-window idea from the
movie they were watching when the Snowmobile Ninjas showed up. They
really thought they could improvise an action-movie stunt
Sorry it took me a few days to get back to you.It’s an interesting question, because I tend to think labels like “monster” are too reductive, especially with characters as complex as these, but I agree with you that Eli is very comfortable with doing this. I do not doubt Eli’s capacity for violence or comfort with doing it— a comfort that, to be fair, he may have rediscovered this season, but it’s certainly there. I’m hesitant to call Eli a monster because I think he genuinely does believe in the divine and in redemption, but he also has a past that’s shaped him and made him capable of and comfortable with certain things, and it’s the struggle between the two— as it exists in everyone on this show; Eli’s position in the church and his real capability for violence being perhaps just the most extreme version— that drives these characters. (I did like the cross-cutting between the church services and Martin staking out the Lissons; I don’t think he was on Eli’s earpiece then, but I can’t be sure, and I think the effect you alluded to was intentional.) But I feel like a label like “monster” is limiting and condemning in a way that suggests one can never be anything else.I guess one reason I like the show is that I can empathize even with many of the terrible things the characters do— each thing Eli did, terrible as it is, is something I can understand and even see myself doing if I was placed in the same situation.(I also like how this lines up with the comments on Eli and Gideon’s similarities; like I said at the top, Gideon is very comfortable with this kind of violence as a part of / way of life in the way Eli is and Jesse isn’t.)
Also, I only noticed the Lissons stealing the cabinet idea from the movie (other commenters say it’s Young Guns II) the second time I watched.But I also like the idea, not expressed and possibly I’m drawing a thin implication but I like it anyway, that in their own crackpot way they thought the movie scene was a sign from God giving them a plan of what to do. And so we never see all those guns they have come into play (other than Lindy’s one wild firing into the air after stumbling out of the cabinet).
I totally agree, the Lissons would think that Young Guns II was a message from God.
As for my calling Eli a monster, I totally agree with you. It is reductive. I was just using some shorthand. Everyone’s motivations are so much murkier than Good vs. Evil, and it’s what makes thes how so fascinating. I mean, these kids were raised thinking their Gods, it’s no wonder that Kelvin would start a muscle man cult that looks straight out of a mid-90s Van Damme movie. Their line of logic is so funny and exciting and weird. I really love it.
But Eli does have monstrous tendencies. He physically abuses his sons, which is what I inferred by Jesse calling him a monster. In season one, he slaps Kelvin at Sunday brunch, and in this one, he breaks his thumbs. This isn’t just some guy who owes him money, it’s his son! So Eli’s motivations, I think, really come down to self-preservation and preservation of his empire. I wouldn’t be surprised if he attempted to sacrifice one of the boys at some point.
I think this is where we differ. I don’t think Eli is a true believer. He might say he believes in God and he might preach God’s word, but his actions do not reflect this. To my mind, he really only cares about his empire and uses God or the Devil as justification for his actions. He’s presented as violent, short-tempered, and controlling. Perhaps, it was the death of Aimee-Leigh that did this to him, but when reduced to his base feelings, he kind of just acts like the kids (I’m thinking of the scene in season one when Aimee-Leigh dies and the four Gemstones just stomp around like children, thrashing the hosptial room). He also broke that guy’s thumbs in front of his family. That is some cold-blooded shit.
I’d also like to thank you for your comments! They’ve been so enlightening and truly have me thinking about the show in new ways.
I think the interesting thing here, and it’s come up in the show although I don’t remember where exactly, is that Eli really admires Aimee-Leigh and gives her a lot of credit for setting him on the right path. You’re right that he does have monstrous tendencies, and I think it’s no coincidence we’re seeing them more and more now that she’s died. But I also think it says something about Eli that he knows he was on the wrong path and wanted to set that right. That gets to what I mean when I say I’m reluctant to call him a monster: I think a monster would have no qualms about his violence, would fully embrace his violent side, wouldn’t have a conscience about the things he’s done and wouldn’t try to make amends afterward.That also gets to why I think Eli really does believe; I think he was headed down a monstrous path until he met Aimee-Leigh, and their union and faith really started setting him on the right one. Or, at least, I think he believes that and really does want to live up to what she saw in him. But it’s probably been a lifelong struggle for him and one that’s definitely gotten harder in her absence. (Let alone with how the kind of money and power you get from running a megachurch will corrupt any kind of spirituality, and really any motivation outside of the continued growth and maintenance of that money and power.) And that’s what I like about the show; I can believe that he really does believe and knows he can be better, while still struggling with the demons within him (and increasingly failing to keep them at bay).And as fucked up as it is, I can empathize with him over breaking Kelvin’s thumbs. Kelvin physically attacked Eli, not the other way around. And instead of submitting, Kelvin then said— to Eli, in front of everybody— that he was too much of a pussy to do it. Well, from a certain perspective, that looks like “I won’t respect you if you don’t go through with this,” and we want our children to respect us, right? (Of course, the truth is more likely that Kelvin, being a Gemstone with all the privilege and coddling that entails, never thought there would be consequences for acting childish and lashing out.)I do think you’re onto something that he can be as childish and ill-tempered and violent as anyone when the rest is stripped away. But I do think he believes he can be better, even when he fails. Although maybe he’s becoming more comfortable embracing his violent side and living the contradiction. I’m very curious to see in season 3 how these events have affected him, one way or the other.Appreciate that, and thanks for the article and all the responses, too. I’ve been a big fan of this creative team for a long time and this might be their best work. The show’s given me a lot to think about, and these characters are so complex they merit a lot of analysis. And your comments and article have given me other angles to think about, too. It’s always good to hear other thoughtful perspectives on these characters— what in them is real and what isn’t; what they are when they are reduced to their instincts and most core motivations. Yes, I do think Eli deep down is a violent person. I also think he believes he can be better and has tried to be better, but ultimately when confronted with violence (which, to be clear, is what happened in all of the present-day sequences we’re talking about— the guy at the diner, Kelvin, the Lissons; all of them initiated the violence with Eli), he is just as comfortable using violence in response.
One more thing that’s come to me much later, since I’m still thinking about this show:I dunno if you’ve seen The Shield. (It’s my favorite drama series of all time.) But I’m going to use it because I think it makes a great example here. Vic Mackey, I would say, it’s fair to call a monster. But I don’t think he was always a monster, even at the start of the series. But he made the decisions step by step that turned him into one, that burned off everything else about him that he wanted to project or that he could have been, until all that was left was his total drive to get away with everything no matter what collateral (or intentional) damage he caused.Eli’s not there yet, I don’t think. There’s still more to him at this point than just his dark side. I can see how this season saw him taking steps back on that road. I can see how he could keep going in a direction that would eventually turn him into a monster. I can see how he’s going to struggle not to go down that road, and I can see how he might fail. But I don’t think he’s there yet.
The Gemstones don’t do prosperity gospel. They are rich, but it’s not the subject of their sermons.
I don’t know. The (relatively few) scenes that take place in their megachurch often include lines that directly tie the congregants’ donations to their devotion to God. That’s definitely part of the prosperity gospel shtick, the bit about “and because God will love you, you’ll have more money” just isn’t as spelled out explicitly.Maybe they figure the obscene wealth onscreen says that part loudly enough.
I CAN GET DRESSED UP
LET MY HAIR DOWN
https://postsnare.blogspot.com/
I’m enjoying Gemstones a lot, but I’ll admit that I don’t get what McBride/Hill are trying to say with this series compared to Eastbound and Vice Principals. Like you mentioned in this (great!) article, Eastbound was about a man who thinks he’s a hero constantly coming to terms with his own massive shortcomings. Vice Principals was about how a sense of entitlement can completely twist people around. Maybe Gemstones is trying to say something about family? I don’t know.
That being said, shows don’t necessarily have to have “themes” to be good, and Edi Patterson alone is enough to justify the show running for 8 seasons.
You make a pretty good point. I don’t think there is any over-arching theme about anything. I still really enjoy it but I had thought there was going to be more focus on the evangelical angle. Its not like its really a satire of televangelists, just more of a show about a bunch of goofy rich hillbillies.
I gotta say, that’s a very measured response from someone with the handle of Cunty McCunt 🙂
Can’t help it, it’s family name.
Of the Boston McCunts, yes?
Worse. Chicago.
“I’ve been very fortunate in this world to be born a McCunt”
Irish?
helps that both of those shows are in the rearview. i trust this creative team to eventually make a point, even if we aren’t there yet. in my mind the theme(s) seem to be whether or not people can change, whether or not good people exist, and the limits of belief.
Yeah reading my post back I think I wasn’t completely fair to Gemstones. Both season 1 and 2 have a big theme of owning up to past mistakes, with the blackmail plot/Eli vs. Junior/and Uncle Baby Bill.
Who doesn’t do things like car pranks with their friends?
Are we just borrowing from Gawker articles at this point?
That bike chase was amazing, the show is just crazy with a great cast. Which makes me wonder what people are going to complain about now.