Running Point‘s fourth episode, “Doljanchi”, is named after the Korean tradition celebrating a baby’s first birthday – during which the child selects from a assortment of objects set in front of them, an action that is supposed to predict the future of their life. Though the titular doljanchi in this episode is for Ali’s daughter, it (at least in theory) serves as an undercurrent for the characters and choices placed in front of them – unfortunately, Running Point does nothing to bring these ideas to the surface in meaningful ways, rendering the episode a mess of of superficial character beats and half-baked plot elements, and leaving the young sitcom on unsure footing heading into the heart of its freshman season.
The most obvious parallel comes from Isla, who is attending her first owner’s conference (which is… in the middle of the season for some reason?), where the LA Waves and three other major market team owners are planning to secretly sign a deal for a new streaming service exclusive to their four markets. Smartly putting aside about how insanely ridiculous and stupid that would be (not to mention how none of it makes sense; the four owners can do this, but they need a 2/3 majority vote from all the owners for a regular broadcast TV deal? What?), “Doljanchi” mostly focuses instead on Isla’s supposed internal conflict over potentially damaging the other, smaller market teams in the league (Sandy, being the spearhead of the idea, does not give a single shit about any of it).
In theory, this is a great opportunity for Running Point to develop Isla’s character a bit, to help her separate herself ideologically from her brothers – which we saw in the pilot episode around the team’s philosophies on the court, but has not really translated into anything but “Sandy always disagrees with Isla” since then, a trend that continues in “Doljanchi”. But the allusions to Isla’s supposed morality are really only offered as suggestions; the entire plot is really a device to show us Isla’s schmoozing abilities, with a fun little montage of her chatting up the various rich, old white men that make up the majority of the league’s team owners, while she secretly negotiates a deal with ESPN to retain the supposed integrity of the league and its television rights (negotiated completely offscreen, I might add, which drains a bit of the intrigue from its reveal).
There’s really just not much of a conflict; in what becomes a pattern for all the plots of the episode, “Doljanchi” moves through its plot light as a feather, with most of its conflicts introduced and resolved in a bookending pair of scenes -hardly enough time for any of the stories to do anything of substance. Take Ness and Bituin’s marital conflict, which is really more about seeing the dynamic between Ness and Sandy when they’re forced to co-exist under the same roof; the conflict is introduced, we have a couple scenes of the brothers trading punchlines and jabs, and then there’s a swelling score where Ness and Bituin embrace; their strife is entirely performative, following Isla’s story in establishing a tone for the episode, where every conflict is dramatic but prolifically short lasting, making Running Point feel strangely disengaged with its own material most of the time, going through the dramatics of motion and dialogue, without revealing any of the passion or pathos supposedly imbued in the text of each script.
It’s incredible how much time is spent inside these two plots – introducing characters like the shrewd owner of the Boston team, and Sandy’s unexplained attempts to ignore his boyfriend – without Running Point drawing any real substance out of them. Ali’s titular event is a disappointment, as well; though the colorful visual palette of the doljanchi scenes are a welcome change from the parade of offices we’ve seen the past two episodes, the nascent bits of character we glean from her (she does not like her sister-in-law) don’t add any texture to the episode, and ultimately make Ali’s story more about Isla’s unflappable business acumen, rendering both of them fairly inert when taken in concert together.
There is a third plot in “Doljanchi”, and though it doesn’t get a ton of screen time, it is the first time the series has attempted to explore the inner team dynamic, and to give some definition to Dyson, whose character has been basically a cardboard cutout in the background since the pilot episode. “Doljanchi” makes the salient point about the imbalanced economics of professional sports; while the Waves’ first-round draft pick can pay for a $25,000 team dinner out of his massive bonus from being a first-round draft pick, Dyson is sweating out having to ball on the same level of his teammates, leading to Marcus paying for the next team dinner and changing the rules for the whole team moving forward.
Again, more illusion to interesting story this episode doesn’t explicitly engage with; there’s so many interesting directions this story could go; Dyson’s background, his journey to the league, how he’s been connecting with his team, how he feels about playing with stars like Marcus and Travis, or trying to fit into a team trying to find its identity in the middle of a disappointing season. Instead, we get a couple scenes of Dyson stammering and sweating over his empty wallet, and a scene where Marcus shows up to kill the whole “rookies buy dinner” policy permanently; it’s empty wish fulfillment at its best, and a criminally undercooked opportunity to develop a mostly-ignored part of its cast and universe (after all, what basketball show features a basketball team we know absolutely nothing about? It’s not like Running Point came out the gate explicitly not trying to be a show about basketball).
All in all, it doesn’t make for a very propulsive (or funny) half hour – hell, even the titular event of the episode is barely featured, a scene and a half punctuated by a lot of casually insensitive comments about Korean culture from Isla (I guess in this way she’s like her father?… I don’t know, man). “Doljanchi”, unfortunately, is a sloppy, poorly paced episode of underwhelming plot and emotional developments, a half hour of cutting corners that culminates in a series of unsatisfying – and more concerningly, unearned – endings.
Grade: D
Other thoughts/observations:
- Remember Jackie Moreno? Good, because he’s not even mentioned in this episode!
- One of the reasons Ali doesn’t like her sister-in-law: “She wears Audi clothes.”
- two of the owners are played by Utkarsh Ambudkar and Jim O’Heir – both nice cameos, but featuring as characters who are completely vapid and meaningless.
- Why does Isla hate Boston so much?
- There’s clearly conflict brewing with Sandy and Charlie… but does anyone care?
- “Nepo recognize nepo”… nope, that’s not a line anyone should ever say.
- We learn that Bituin is from an extremely wealthy family – this adds a bit of texture to her marriage with Ness, a sip of water in the desert that has been character development in these first four episodes.
- I understand this is not the NBA, but Dyson’s $55k salary is off in a way that annoys me; G-League players only make $40k a year, but players on two-way deals (or those who sign NBA deals) make at least $530k a season. Even pro-rated, Dyson’s doing better than having a $1,000 credit limit (though his reactions to hearing his new interest rate is great).
- Not only does the opening VO continue, but we get a random insert of voiceover monologue in the middle of the episode. Another reason why this show is all over the map tonally.
- the only television show that doesn’t confuse Ness is The Golden Bachelor. Related note: Scott MacArthur is doing a whole lot with a little in these first four episodes (him eating McDonalds, In-and-Out Burger, and Wendy’s during the same depressed-in-bed meal was the episode’s one moment of hilarity).