HBO's newest satire "Silicon Valley" is likely to be one of the most user-friendly comedies of 2014. Centered on a bumbling bunch of 20-something techies trying to make it big in Palo Alto, Calif., "Silicon Valley" mercilessly lampoons the Google-centric culture that the Internet-generation uniquely understands.
Richard Hendricks (Thomas Middleditch), an awkward, reserved programmer who resides in a "hacker hostel" and spends his days writing code, embodies the show's charming quality. Hendricks is polite but scruffy, smart but incapable of writing a business plan without having to look up instructions online. These qualities are what make it so endearing when he must decide which direction to steer Pied Piper, his unmarketable music program that just so happens to have a built-in file compression algorithm valued at $10 million - an entirely unintentional invention.
Hendricks and his friends (Martin Starr, Kumail Nanjiani, Josh Brener and T.J. Miller) work at Hooli, a fictional tech giant akin to Google, Twitter, Apple or perhaps an amalgamation of all three. Hooli is more like a colorful, chrome-laden playground than a business, providing lighthearted opportunities to poke fun at the eccentricities of Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. The office is rife with ridiculous inventions, TED talks and people who despise college - and all the employees, of course, believe they are only working there until they stumble upon a life-changing tech innovation. It is these elements of the "Silicon Valley" culture that provide the show with ample comedic fodder - and the writers don't hold back. Even would-be motivational posters are lampooned. Examples include "We can only achieve greatness if we first achieve goodness" and "It takes change to make change."
It's sufficient that "Silicon Valley" makes this group of discomfited, sweatshirt-clad nerds interesting enough to come back to after the pilot episode, but what's particularly impressive is how the show uses inoffensive humor that is both subtle and accessible. It's like finding a diamond in the rough in today's comedic TV-scape, where most comedies are either wildly inappropriate, aggressive and obnoxious, or too off-the-wall for a mainstream audience. Here, instead of following the usual joke-a-minute formula, "Silicon Valley" slips in its funniest moments seamlessly to compliment a plot that could otherwise stand on its own.
In this way, the show's creators have to do very little to poke fun at situations that are already quite humorous. The first episode opens with a raging launch party in a lavish California mansion; however, the guests are too awkward to pass it off as their natural habitat. They drink "liquid shrimp" from test tubes and attempt to speak up over an out of place performance by Kid Rock, who is supposedly the poorest one there. It is pointed out that every guest over a "seven" was probably paid to attend. And every time someone mentions the nebulous new website they're celebrating, it is played up as the next big thing to change the world.
Watching newly minted adults with extravagant wealth is always entertaining, but it's even more so when they have no clue what do to with the riches being funneled their way. This mash up of new-money extravagance and young adult bewilderment is amusing in and of itself, with each of the programmers racing to the top of the Palo Alto food chain as awkwardly as humanly possible.
Hendricks showcases this kind of new-age success best. The protagonist has two luxurious paths laid out before him: sell his $10-million algorithm to boss Gavin Belson (Matt Ross) or run with an investment from larger-than-life venture capitalist Peter Gregory (Christopher Evan Welch). But when it comes to actual adult decisions, Hendricks is a loveable fish out of water. At one point he conspicuously sips from an empty mug in a business meeting because it is "just something to do," one of many moments during which palpable discomfort makes this show all the more charming.
Each character on "Silicon Valley" shares this geeky, relatable quality, whether he is struggling to find the right hoodie to wear or conveying sadness by simply saying, "This is displeasing." They navigate the superficial landscape of excess affluence and absurd, cutting-edge technology like clumsy outsiders. Once it seems like Hendricks and his band of coding cohorts have it all together, the next episode holds an entertaining plot twist to trip them up again. For a series based on stereotypes that could easily come off as trite and overdone, "Silicon Valley" exceeds expectations, promising to be one of the freshest mainstream comedies to debut this year.
Over the years, I often have found myself wanting to point out to young women that if they get blind drunk they run a very serious risk of being raped. But I know that the advice will be misunderstood and misused.
So I leave it unsaid because some listeners will inevitably conclude that I am blaming women for being raped, rather than their assailants for raping them.Those listeners will think that by telling women to stop drinking I am ignoring the need to redesign criminal law so that it stops the rapists from raping.
Rather than advising women that they are entitled to drink as much as men, we should condemn this behavior in both genders, and put safety first.
It’s true that victim-blaming has long been part and parcel of the criminal law’s acquiescence to rape. Over the years, rapists have been let off the hook because of their victims’ failure to fight them off, sexual experience, reputation, demeanor, clothing and – yes – drinking.
Feminists are working to change a culture and a law that have vilified women for the very same conduct that we tolerate, if not celebrate, in men. Until those changes fully take hold, we should be wary of saying anything that will reinforce the sexual double standard that has made it difficult to prosecute even the most violent rapes.
But, until that change fully takes hold, women remain vulnerable to forms of sexual violence against which the criminal law does not adequately protect them. Since that is so, it is essential – in some spaces, at some times, for some audiences – to make sure that women are told how to protect themselves.
We also must begin asking whether we should be defending anyone’s right to get blind drunk in the first place. Whose equality interests are served by insisting that, because men have long been valorized for binge drinking, women must be valorized for it too? The conduct is dangerous for men as well as for women, leaving members of both genders vulnerable to all sorts of injuries, including rape.
Rather than seeking to achieve gender equality by advising women that they are entitled to drink as much as men, we might consider condemning this behavior in both genders.
