Why the return of Gilmore Girls is the perfect… | Little White Lies

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Why the return of Gilmore Girls is the per­fect rem­e­dy for 2016

25 Nov 2016

Words by Ella Donald

Three women in colourful dresses and coats standing together outdoors.
Three women in colourful dresses and coats standing together outdoors.
Netflix’s revival of the hit com­fort food dra­ma couldn’t have come at a bet­ter time.

With the abject uncer­tain­ty of 2016, a basic fear for the future was made all-too real in a sin­gle day this Novem­ber. As such, the return of Gilmore Girls, set in the the snark-free Con­necti­cut sub­urb of Stars Hol­low, couldn’t have come at a bet­ter time. After all, it’s a show where the cen­tral con­ceit is con­cerned with the opti­misti­cal­ly nos­tal­gic rit­u­al of a week­ly fam­i­ly din­ner, usu­al­ly based on an attempt to repair some­thing or some­one that’s broken.

The fam­i­ly in ques­tion are the Gilmores – father Richard (the late Edward Her­rmann), moth­er Emi­ly (Kel­ly Bish­op) and daugh­ter Lore­lai (Lau­ren Gra­ham). Rory is Lore­lai junior, who has inher­it­ed her mother’s affin­i­ty for caf­feine and end­less sup­ply of wit­ti­cisms on every­thing from Paul Thomas Ander­son (“She had a bad reac­tion to Mag­no­lia. She sat there for three hours scream­ing I want my life back’,” Rory says when asked why her moth­er won’t watch Boo­gie Nights) to Broke­back Moun­tain and Don­na Reed.

Richard is a suc­cess­ful insur­ance bro­ker and both he and Emi­ly enjoyed the high soci­ety life that comes as a result. This left Lore­lai to grow up with­in the rar­i­fied trap­pings of débu­tante balls and din­ner par­ties. It was a sti­fling world, and one that saw her leave when she fell preg­nant at 16. She remains estranged until her daugh­ter is the same age and she wish­es to send her to the Ivy League breed­ing ground of Chilton and achieve her dream of being a journalist.

Exist­ing near­ly alone for 16 years, Rory and Lore­lai have a rela­tion­ship that, ini­tial­ly, is easy to envy. They’re so in tune they’re mis­tak­en as sis­ters. After grow­ing up in a house built on pleas­antries, rules, and appro­pri­ate behav­iour’, Lore­lai is deter­mined to be open in a way her par­ents nev­er were. Their bond is test­ed over the sev­en sea­sons of Gilmore Girls as Rory exists between the high-class world of Chilton, with fren­e­my Paris (Liza Weil), and home, with best friend Lane (Keiko Agena).

They’re both torn between war­ring love inter­ests – Lore­lai on admit­ting her feel­ings to Luke (Scott Pat­ter­son) who owns the din­er they vis­it for their dai­ly cof­fee fix, pur­su­ing Rory’s teacher Max (Scott Cohen), or rec­on­cil­ing with Rory’s father (David Sut­cliffe). Then there’s Rory, sand­wiched between the impul­sive Dean (Jared Padalec­ki), sen­si­tive but unpre­dictable bad boy Jess (Milo Ven­timiglia), or trust fund baby Logan.

Two women in winter coats carrying coffee cups, standing near a news stand in a snowy city street.

Lore­lai realis­es her per­son­al ambi­tions, open­ing her own inn with best friend Sook­ie (Melis­sa McCarthy), and Rory pur­sues hers and reflects on whether it’s what she real­ly wants. When Rory attends Yale in sea­son four, their mutu­al deci­sions see her and Lore­lai grow apart almost beyond repair. Rory even tem­porar­i­ly lives with her grand­par­ents and assumes the life Lore­lai didn’t want. Over the com­ing sea­sons, their sep­a­ra­tion is almost unbearable.

But even in the chaos of the lat­er sea­sons, as the show goes off the com­fort­ably melo­dra­mat­ic rails, there’s a cer­tain­ty to Gilmore Girls that makes it irre­sistible. It’s a show built on nos­tal­gia and reli­a­bil­i­ty. Stars Hol­low is small with­out being oppres­sive (nev­er mind that in a real town, every­one would be way too involved in each other’s busi­ness). Walk down the street and there’s always some­one to recog­nise and always some­thing to see, whether it’s an enter­tain­ing town meet­ing or the pres­ence of Tay­lor Doose, the town’s most involved citizen.

Then there’s Luke’s din­er and the reg­u­lar din­ners, and the reg­u­lar town eccentrics; com­fort­ably stock fea­tures that give the show an opti­mistic rou­tine. Amy Sherman-Palladino’s end­less snap­py and ref­er­ence-fuelled dia­logue is infec­tious­ly, joy­ous­ly lit­er­ate and a chal­lenge to keep up. But Gilmore Girls works like gang­busters when it cap­i­talis­es on this easy relata­bil­i­ty: Lorelai’s desire to live a more open life free of her par­ents; the small rit­u­als with Rory of cof­fee; junk food; and movies that the show is remem­bered for; con­ver­sa­tions about insignif­i­cant things.

When Gilmore Girls end­ed abrupt­ly in 2007, it was with hope for the future. Rory (Alex­is Bledel), hav­ing grad­u­at­ed from Yale after much soul-search­ing and heart­break, lands a job cov­er­ing Barack Oba­ma on his pres­i­den­tial cam­paign. It undoubt­ed­ly set the tone for the world the show was leav­ing behind, one where change and hope were in the air. It doesn’t need to be said that the mood of Gilmore Girls tri­umphant return is quite the oppo­site, one of divi­sion and sad­ness. When Rory and Lore­lai return to their lit­tle cor­ner of the world” cour­tesy of Net­flix, for once, it’ll be like noth­ing ever changed.

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