Shrinking Season-Finale Recap: The Act of Revelation

“We can get through anything if we have people to lean on,” Paul says. It’s at least the second time this season that his words have summed up one of the central ideas of this show — first was “fucked-up people are good at helping fucked-up people,” and now he’s getting at a broader idea about how humans rely on one another’s support to survive.

Maybe that’s a pretty basic idea, but like Jimmy’s speech at Brian’s wedding near the end of season one, it rings true from everything we’ve seen. Shrinking is a show about a support network of wacky friends, neighbors, and patients, and you get the sense that everyone in that group needs it, whether their problems are commonplace, life-threatening, or both.

It’s also satisfying to see a rare sentimental speech from gruff old Paul, a guy who rarely feels comfortable opening up about anything when he’s not using himself as an example of why someone else should get help. With Paul’s daughter and grandson off to a lacrosse tournament during the week of Thanksgiving, he’s looking forward to kicking back and doing “fuck-all.” But Julie knows he should be with people, so she takes him to Gaby’s dinner against his will. And before long, he’s looking around and reflecting on what these weirdos mean to him. When faced with your own mortality, it’s often a lot easier to get real — you don’t know how long you have left with these people, and you want to express how you feel while you still have the chance.

“The Last Thanksgiving” is a predictably sweet, enjoyable capper to a very consistent season, neatly answering most of the remaining questions while hinting at where the show could go from here. Take Liz, who has spent the bulk of this season (of this show, really) feeling aimless and unsure of where to go from here. She has filled the void by taking on numerous projects, many of them related to helping Brian and Charlie prepare for fatherhood four months from now. So it makes sense that with Derek’s prodding, the two ask Liz to step in and nanny on the two days a week that their new hire, Kellie, can’t come.

Liz can be a frustrating character, especially when the show fails to really take her to task, but it’s moving to see her embrace this new purpose, even if I’m still a little bummed she didn’t stay with the food truck longer. Maybe Derek is right: She loves raising kids, so why resist that? Society tells women that kids are all they’re good for, but that’s not a reason to set the desire aside if it’s still there. Liz might think she needs to find a pursuit that’s worthwhile, that allows her to be a strong and independent woman, but that doesn’t need to be a business venture. She raised three rambunctious but goodhearted boys, then she stepped in to raise Alice, and now she can’t stop herself from taking care of kids and animals that aren’t even hers. Maybe this is what she’s made for.

It goes back to that idea of leaning on your community when you need it. Gaby is still learning how to integrate people into her community in a healthy way — she’s sticking to her guns regarding her mom’s living situation, but she still wants to make her a bigger part of her life, and that means having her at Thanksgiving with everyone else. And that “everyone else” also includes Derrick.

Last week, I didn’t totally understand where Gaby was coming from in pushing her boyfriend away. But her conversation with Liz and Aliyah (her ex-husband Nico’s other ex) is exactly what I was hoping for: a clarification of how exactly the Derrick situation fits into Gaby’s larger character arc. It makes sense now: Gaby’s caretaker tendencies have led to her subconsciously seeking out men who are trainwrecks (Nico, Jimmy) instead of a man who wants her but doesn’t need her (Derrick). It’s scary to experience something, well, healthy and balanced.

Gaby does call Derrick and own up to her self-sabotage, but he’s still hurt. He makes the reasonable suggestion to work on herself and get back in touch when she’s truly ready for a relationship, but he also can’t resist showing up to Thanksgiving anyway with Phyllis and his own aunt in tow. Who could say no to Jessica Williams?

And then there’s Jimmy and Alice, the true heart of the show. I figured we were owed one more tear-jerking conversation between the two in the finale, a moment for the two of them to be honest with each other and move forward. But Jimmy isn’t keen on admitting the true depth of his guilt and shame to his daughter, no matter how much Paul tells him to do it.

This isn’t a one-way street, of course; Alice also has some forgiving to do, and Sean helps her get there. These two haven’t shared many scenes lately, but there’s something simple and warm about their friendship, and they can relate on a lot when it comes to their dads. Sean’s dad still has issues expressing himself — rather than saying “I love you too,” he can only emphatically point a finger at his son — but he’s really making an effort, and Jimmy is doing the same. “Real love is when you accept someone, limitations and all,” Sean says. Like a few quotes in this finale, it’s a cliché, but it works in context.

When Alice and Jimmy finally have that necessary conversation, she releases him from the responsibility of speaking to Louis. And he finally explains the root of his lingering issues: He promised Tia he wouldn’t fuck up with her, but he fucked up after her mom died when she needed him the most.

This version of Alice isn’t vindictive, though, even if her “ruined another birthday” line was harsh. She’s not holding anything over her dad anymore; she sees him for the good guy he is and has no problem running through some of the little good-dad stuff he does that goes unrecognized, even by him. Most affecting is an anecdote about a time she fell asleep on the couch after practice, sometime after Tia’s death. She woke up the next morning in her bedroom, meaning Jimmy carried her upstairs when he was depressed and grieving and quite possibly on drugs. That one gesture let Alice know that the dad she knew was “still in there.”

For Jimmy, talking to Louis isn’t just about doing the right thing or extending empathy to someone who deserves it, though Louis is going through a pretty hard time right now. (After finding out about Louis’s dark past, his coworker Eddy uninvited him from Friendsgiving, and Louis clearly feels like there’s no way to outrun his past, to the point that he’s considering ending it all.) It’s about healing part of himself, as Jimmy tells Louis at the train station. He’s the one who needs to heal, just as much as Louis does. Maybe there’s no path forward for either of them without each other.

“What a shitty couple of years, huh?” he remarks, and that’s exactly what bonds these two men, the same way it bonded Alice and Louis. These three people went through something major together, even if they were on opposite sides of it, and that event reverberated through this whole tight-knit community. Maybe it’ll take Jimmy awhile to let go of any lingering resentment for Louis deep down, and to let go of his own self-blame. But now he’s here, ready to talk, and that means the world.

Progress Notes

• In retrospect, Sean’s storyline this year was solid but a little undercooked, and I can’t help feeling like the Liz-Sean dynamic, in general, got abandoned when she got out of the food truck business. Let’s hope they got more screen time in season three.

• Funny scene with Jimmy picking up Summer after she tried to steal Plan B. (The condom broke with Connor.)

• At first, I didn’t think Derrick’s arrival at Thanksgiving automatically meant a romantic reunion between the two, but we do see them kissing later, so I expect to see Damon Wayans Jr. back next year!

• That being said … would love a decrease in jokes like this one for Liz: “Derrick’s the best. He’s just like my husband but Black, and honestly, that’s the only thing that would make my husband better.”

• “Well, if you have that power, can you make a woman fall for me?” “He’s not a wizard.” Imagine your ex-therapist roasting you like this.

• Harrison Ford on our TV screens really is a gift. I got a little misty at the phrase “lucky guy.”

• Thanks for following along this season!