Master of None – Interpretation vs. Reality
Even affluent 30-somethings become middle-aged.
In some ways, Master of None on Netflix represents the true horror of linear time. This show feels modern and new to me, yet it debuted in 2015. Which was six goddamn years ago1. The phenomenon of thinking TV shows and films came out much more recently than they actually did isn’t unfamiliar to most people—everyone has had a moment when they literally turn to dust when they realize just how long ago Pyromania by Def Leppard or Ten by Pearl Jam or The Fame Monster by Lady Gaga was released2.
But few TV shows have demonstrated the kind of radical departure from their original premise that Master of None’s third season has. Released four years after the second season, Master of None Presents: Moments in Love is not only an entirely different show, it arrives in an entirely different world. In 2018, co-creator and star Aziz Ansari was accused of coercive and misogynistic behavior by a woman he’d slept with, and he dipped out of the public eye for a while as a result. When Master of None returned for a third season, it was a vastly different show, and it’s difficult not to see the creative decisions on display there as a direct reaction to Ansari’s situation. For one thing, Ansari, whose character Dev was the focus of the first two seasons, barely appears3. For another, the whole tone of the show is different—somber, serious, and sad instead of goofy and food-porny4.
As a result, there are two ways to look at Master of None Presents: Moments in Love. One interpretation is that it’s a desperate reset to salvage a streaming deal. One is that it’s a purposeful recalibration of the overall premise. And we may never know the truth of it.
The Case For: Desperate Reset
Master of None seasons one and two was a show mostly focused on Dev, a 30-something C-list actor living a pretty sweet life in New York City. Dev is clearly affluent—despite being, in the first episode, an actor whose most famous role was in a single yogurt commercial, he lives in a nice apartment in one of the most expensive cities in the world and spends his time eating nonstop in its many, many expensive restaurants.
Dev is the child of immigrants—but his father is a doctor at a major hospital. It’s easy to see that Dev hasn’t suffered much in his life, and as a grown-ass man he can pursue a flagrantly non-lucrative career without sacrificing his love for wines and cheeses. Dev is also the center of almost every story in the first two seasons, the major exceptions being one episode that follows a day in the life of a group of cab drivers and an episode which fore-fronts Dev’s friend Denise (Lena Waithe) and her experience growing up and realizing she’s gay (but in the latter, Dev is a big part of the episode, just not the focus of the episode). And every story has something to do with Dev’s love life. Dev is a modern boy—he’s on dating apps constantly, and dates a lot.
Whenever a work of fiction centered on a specific character highlights their dating life, that character is always the North Star of Normal, and most of the people they date are presented as weirdos. And that’s how Master of None plays it. Dev meets a lot of gross weirdos as he dates in Manhattan, including one woman who clearly dates him just for the free dinners he buys her and one who refuses to acknowledge a blatantly racist cookie jar in her apartment.
This becomes a little problematic when your star and co-creator is credibly accused of being, at the very least, a bit of a creep5.
Snap to: Master of None: Moments in Love, and suddenly Dev is barely there. The story jumps a bit into the future (the show seems to basically track whatever year it’s released in), and focuses entirely on Denise and her wife Alicia and their troubled relationship. Gone is the carefree dating and humorous tone. Instead we have a committed relationship and serious grown-up problems. It’s simply impossible to see this as anything other than an acknowledgment that all the fun had gone out of watching Aziz Ansari date his way through the female population of Manhattan.
The Case for: Purposeful Recalibration
What complicates this hot take is how profoundly different Season 3 of Master of None is, and how precisely it’s been shifted. Appropriately, the fulcrum for the show’s pivot is Ansari’s character, Dev.
As noted, Dev’s only in Season 3 for a few minutes, but his presence is crucial because of his status as the former focal point. As Dev goes, so goes the show—in previous seasons, the tone of an individual scene or an entire season was set by Dev. When Dev was happy, the show was light and cheery. When Dev was having relationship problems or career crises, the show could get somber. So when he shows up in Episode One of Season 3, his sad, angry demeanor tells you everything you need to know about Master of None: The show is all grown up, and going through a midlife crisis6.
In the first two seasons, Master of None was a hip show about hip young people. Inexplicably affluent young people, sure, but these were folks who dated around, had dynamic careers, went to great parties and restaurants, and generally enjoyed disposing of disposable income7. It was a show where Dev could simply decide to fly to Italy in order to spend several months learning pasta-making from a real Italian grandma, with, like, zero financial considerations8.
In Season 3, things are different. While Denise remains affluent—she is, at the outset, a bestselling author who owns a nifty house in upstate New York9—Dev has fallen on hard times and is living with his parents. Everything goes wrong: Jobs are lost, pregnancy plans don’t work out, follow-up novels tank10, houses get sold. Season 3 is the splash of cold water many of us experience when we wake up one day and realize we might be creeping into middle age11.
And if you could put aside Ansari’s situation, that would be a perfectly acceptable interpretation, an attempt to explore how the enthusiasms of youth sometimes curdle into the complexities of maturity. But, of course, we can’t set aside what we know, and that will forever color how we think about this show. Assuming we think about it at all, which is really something I ought to start considering before I start writing these essays12.
Of course, all writers struggle with the gap between intention and interpretation. For example, I always intend for these essays to come across as erudite, perceptive discussions, but people tell me they’re received as the inebriated ravings of a crazy person. Such is the writer’s curse.
Next week: A beautifully nasty indie movie gets late-stage capitalism right.
This phenomenon is exacerbated by streaming, which allows you to delay watching a show for 5 years and then become amazed that the show is 5 years old. It’s also why 15-year olds are running around quoting The Office, because time has no meaning in streaming.
Yesterday I made the mistake of looking up when Band of Brothers first aired and I immediately transformed into the Matt Damn in Saving Private Ryan Ages 50 Years in Two Seconds meme.
Someone clearly told Ansari he’s adorable, becauase his acting style on this show could best be described as “Aggressive Mugging.”
Seriously: Hearing a 30-something man refer to his “tum-tum” is more horrifying than anything on the Chiller channel.
The psychology of Master of None’s approach is intriguing, yes. That being said I am the man who once published a collection of essays called The Freaks are Winning in which I complained about the freaks who assailed nice, normal me, so maybe I should stop writing.
As I can tell you from bitter experience, midlife crises are, in fact, very sad and angry. Also: Existentially terrifying. It’s like … whatya mean HALFWAY THERE?
In classic TV fashion it remains mysterious how most of the characters actually earned their living. It’s one of those shows where assuming everyone is secretly the heir to an old-money fortune is the simplest and most logical explanation.
This is also a show where the moment Dev’s kindly pasta-teaching Italian grandma has a hot daughter, you absolutely know with zero doubt what direction the story will take.
I can add this to the list of fictions that have a VERY different idea of what life as a published author is like than I do <bursts into angry tears>.
Ah! That’s more like it.
Not me, though, because I am Jeff-Ra, the Ever-Living.
Something else to consider: Not drinking so much before Noon.
Honestly? You’ve kinda hit the sweet spot between erudite, perceptive discussions and the inebriated ravings of a crazy person. That seems like a win to me, old man.