Fun Shelly Earring Alert: Anchovies!

Finally, someone in-universe acknowledges something I’ve been pointing out all along, when Ed compliments Shelly’s anchovy earrings. He’s looking for the subject of his next film–answering a magazine ad to make a documentary about art so rare only one person in the world knows how to do it. A “vanishing breed.” Shelly’s earrings won’t work, unfortunately. They’re just fishing lures she repurposed. Neither will Holling’s pies (recipe off the back of a Jell-o box) or Marilyn’s bag (Bloomingdale’s catalog). Ed continues the search.

[Cue moose strutting to funky jazz music.]

Ed is dutifully filming Joel as he makes a sandwich when Joel explains to him that he’s not an appropriate subject for his film, as Jewish people are not exactly a “vanishing breed.” But even he is surprised at how few Cohens, Greenbergs, and such are in the phone book. He sees a glimmer of hope, however, in a village named Velachiske on a state map. Perhaps it was settled by Jewish refugees from Russia?

Ed’s changing a lightbulb at Ruth-Anne’s when he gets his big break. A man named Ira Wingfeather comes in to sell duck flutes “hand-carved, one-of-a-kind.” Ed chases him out to his car to ask if he can film him making his flutes. This afternoon. Mr. Wingfeather admires his pluck. (I’m not making a feather pun.) Ed learns that Mr. Wingfeather worked in Hollywood for a while, as an extra in westerns. “But you know Hollywood; it’s a fickle business. One minute it’s cowboys and Indians. Next thing you know, Dr. Kildare.”

Holling gets a letter with some bad news. His uncle Charlie is dead.

That night, he digs his silver shot glass out of a box of old memorabilia (which includes some truly creepy puppets from his childhood). He tries drinking a toast to his uncle, but he finds he’s run out of “the good stuff.” So the next day, he’s disappeared, along with all the potatoes. Chris puts two and two together and finds him in a shack in the woods, operating an old still. Holling’s in a bit of a funk, comparing Uncle Charlie’s exciting life of travel to that of his own homebody self.

In between not quite glamorous Hollywood stories and tales of his failed marriages, Ira shows Ed how he makes his flutes. It’s a slower process than the younger man is used to, and one based largely on intuition. He slowly crafts his flutes while talking, as Ed films. But eventually Ed puts the camera down and simply watches.

Maybe out of a sense of Alaskan pride, or perhaps just to keep his Jew doctor from New York happy, Maurice takes Dr. Fleischman on the hunt for Jewish heritage in the Last Frontier. He tells him about the mark the Hebraic people have left on the map–Mount Ripinski. Mount Goldberg. Mount Applebaum. But when they get to Velachiske, they find a ghost town–and hardly even one at that. Joel feels alone.

Holling reasons that he must finally be having a midlife crisis. In the world of Northern Exposure, a midlife crisis comes at the actual midpoint of your life expectancy. So Holling, of famous Vincoeur longevity, is having his at 63. And Chris, whose family members don’t often live past their 40s, had his in his early 20s. Chris does not recall a day of his 22d year. “I hope I had fun.”

A drunk Holling storms back into his bar and tells everyone to get out. Shelly wisely pulls him into the kitchen to talk some sense into him. He blows her off. Miss Northwest Passage. What does she know? She’s what, 19? Shelly has a great response: “Old enough to know when someone’s being a jerk.” She kicks him out, then the next day she comes to Dr. Fleischman with her concerns. Fleischman visits the still and tries to give Holling a little pep talk, but Holling drags him down with him. The two end up depressed and drinking vodka together.

Back at Ira’s trailer, he microwaves enchiladas and tells Ed about the cultural significance of the duck flutes and the music they make. Ed asks if it bothers him that once he’s gone nobody will know how to make them. “Nah,” he says. Lots of things used to be here but aren’t anymore. Species of animal. Native American tribes. Eventually everything goes away. “Things become extinct.”

Chris reads Dante over the radio. The midlife crisis is nothing new, and perhaps it’s only natural to look back at the midpoint of our lives and reflect on how far we’ve come. And perhaps it’s perfectly healthy for this reflective period to be a bit transgressive. Chris pours himself a toast to his “lost” year, “in many ways, friends, the best year of my life.”

A very hungover Fleischman sits in The Brick and reflects on what it’s like to be so culturally alone. Intellectually he’d always understood that Jews were a minority, but it certainly didn’t seem that way in New York. But now he’s the only one in the Burrough of Arrowhead County.

Ed’s finished his film, and while it’s “really good,” he’s not satisfied. He gives the film to Ira. “It’s just like the condors” he says. “Which would you rather see? A picture of a condor? Or a condor?” He asks Ira to teach him how to make duck flutes. He happily agrees.

Marilyn goes to the sill and tells Holling to go home. I guess when Marilyn of all people comes to get you, you know you seriously need to go. He walks back into a darkened Brick, where his young almost-wife gives him an adorable little puppet show about his life. Holling is brought almost to tears, and the two walk upstairs together.

Miscellaneous notes, quotes, and anecdotes:

– Ed knows the populations of seemingly every Alaskan city, town, or village off the top of his head.

– Marilyn has ostrich figurines on her desk.

– A young Ira Wingfeather, or rather Bryson G. Liberty, did indeed do some minor work in westerns.

– Fun Shelly Earring Alert: Fruit on a cutting board(?) I couldn’t get a good look.

– Lots of classic clothing repeats in this one. Joel’s Columbia sweatshirt is starting to look a bit worn.

– Biggest Laugh:

Ed: (Looking at an old photograph of young woman) She’s pretty.

Ira: Wagon Train. 1957. My tribe scalped her entire family. Sweet girl.

– Most of the Alaskan Jewish mountains Maurice names are real.

– Ed, on the phonebooks: “Oh, I read ’em once. They’re pretty good.”

– This very appropriate song plays in The Brick when Holling barges in drunk:

– Marilyn gives a very hungover Joel “hair of the dog,” an expression which she seems to have taken literally.

– Shelly can be frustrating at times, but in this episode she is an absolute saint.

– It seems like the duck flutes are a serious craft one would have to dedicate much of their time and effort to over the course of many years, whereas I can’t remember if the flutes ever come up again in the series. But even if the duck flute tale unrealistically begins and ends in this episode, I like the message here. Sure, things become extinct–animals and cultures alike. But if we work really hard, we can save some now and then. At least for a while.