The Generation Y dichotomy on screen.
I recently read a Huffington Post article by Christine Hassler about the warring camps in the generational cohort, the Gen-Y-ers. Actually, I prefer the term “Millennials” because Gen-Y sounds like the direct-to-DVD sequel to Generation X. Anyway, they are the babies popped out between 1983 and 2001 and who happen to have very bad timing. You may or may not have noticed this little economic slump that we’ve been in for the past few years. Apparently this is a really bad time to graduate from college, which is exactly what the elders of this group are doing.
The article breaks the under-employed and over-educated of our ranks into two groups: Generation Y and Generation Why Me. Hassler writes that she is concerned that our once famously optimistic selves are allowing the current economic Armageddon to get us down. She says we shouldn’t do that, that we should use this challenge as an opportunity to show the world how awesome we are. I can’t say that I disagree, but at the same time, I’m really sick of eating ramen noodles for dinner every night.
I can’t help but wonder if creators Michael Patrick King and Whitney Cummings considered the bipolar sentiment of the current wave of 20-somethings when they came up with Max and Caroline.
Max, played by Kat Dennings, is most certainly a card-carrying member of Generation Why Me. She is cynical and sarcastic, working several jobs to pay the bills. The harshness of reality has dampened any big dreams she may have had and taken a good chunk of her self-esteem with it, illustrated by a closing conversation in which the more optimistic Caroline, our Gen-Yes counterpart, brainstorms ways for the girls to make additional money to fund aspirations of a high-class cupcake shop. She says, “we could be marketing assistants or…” and Max interrupts with, “Drug mules.”
Caroline, brought to life by Beth Behrs, is the complete opposite of Max in every way: looks, attitude, and background. She was, until recently, the ideal that most Why Me members think of when considering the Yes-ers: well-educated, well-connected, and well-funded. In a word: privileged. She is brought down to Max’s level through her father’s scandalous activities, monetary misdeeds that scam the City of New York out of quite a hefty change purse.
And yet, despite losing it all, she remains optimistic and enthusiastic. When an upset and hurt Max bails on her shift at the Brooklyn diner where both women work, intending to screw over the new girl and watch her fail miserably, Max later returns and we are pleasantly surprised to see that Caroline is haltingly working her shift, even without the more experienced Max’s tutelage. She’s not great at it. She screws some orders up. But she’s trying as hard as she can. She doesn’t crumble beneath the pressure. Later, it is Caroline who points out that Max makes amazing cupcakes, eyes the sign on the counter selling the colorful confections for $1.50 each and points out that she could take them across the river and easily get $7.00 apiece in Midtown.
When Max doesn’t believe her, she empties a small cache of crumpled bills from her purse, implying that she has already tested the market.
At the core of 2 Broke Girls is the tried-and-true odd couple trope, which is entertaining and appealing on its own to an extent, but I found the real treat to be in the personality traits of our lead protagonists, a cross-section of a cohort near and dear to my heart and one that I think is misunderstood by no one more so than ourselves.
Oh, and the dialogue is pretty hilarious too.
This review originally appeared on TV Geek Army.