The problem is that, like Barry, it’s all based on a lie, a derivative one: Sally is finally pursuing her creative dreams, but she’s too guilt-ridden to enjoy them. It also affected her relationship with Barry, who once lashed out at her in front of the writers and made Fisher’s character tingle. However, the other women find all sorts of excuses to wave to Barry; he’s really cute, he just had a bad day, etc. «They’re adults and I love my job,» admits one.
This is the narrative focus of the third season of Barry, as Berg and Hader wrap each character in a cocoon of self-delusion that is both comforting and suffocating. Everyone on the show, including Barry, is on the run from some misdeed or another, desperate to prove that they are good people after all. Characters can point a gun at someone one minute and beg their forgiveness the next; some get the only way in life to break out of their conditions, but only greed or self-respect pulls them back. Take Fuchs, who finds two different occasions this season to escape his desire to get back at Barry and live a quiet life of peace and solitude, only to have his ego pull him back into the herd.
In fact, the most stable and happy of them all might just be Noho Hank (Andrew Carrigan, as delightfully clueless and exuberant as ever), now the head dog of the Chechens and who has found happiness in the unexpectedly sweet (and spoil the surprise) place. It’s such an interesting choice to make the show’s most anarchic, unpredictable character the happiest and most stable person on screen, and it changes his dynamic with everyone in an amazing way. Without losing, of course, Carrigan’s unstoppable delivery of self-confident jokes: «It’s like that line in The Shawshank Redemption,» he tells Barry in one episode: «Get rich or die trying.»