Broad City: "B&B-NYC"

Completely reversing the audience’s opinion of a particular character is a sizable storytelling challenge. Those narratives that do so most successfully—“Harry Potter” and “A Song of Ice and Fire” immediately come to mind—tend to be sweeping, plot-driven tales that supply multiple perspectives on characters by dint of their scope. It is quite impressive, then, that an episodic comedy like “Broad City” has in its most recent episode made it almost impossible to hate Trey.

The show writers (one of whom, Paul W. Downs, portrays Trey) have executed this transformation at no cost to the show’s humor. Trey of Season 1 is the NYC fitness douchebag elevated to its comic pinnacle: “Do a 5k, take an ice bath, urinate as hard and fast as you can,” he advises Abbi when she fakes a cold. Trey of Season 3 responds to Abbi’s reluctant summons after she has been robbed and runs through the apartment with a baseball bat, shouting “Clear!” after he checks each room; the selection of DVDs he brings over consists of “The Hangover 3” (“Honestly the best one”), “Babe” (“Oscar nom”), and “Ratatouille” (“My personal favorite”). And so it’s cause for celebration when Abbi finally decides to make her move and sleeps with him.

The theme of the episode might well be described as “surprisingly likable men.” While Abbi and Trey watch Pixar, Ilana hooks up with NBA player Blake Griffin (playing himself), who, by virtue of his over-6’5” stature, constitutes for Ilana a “stamp in my sexual passport.” When Ilana discovers that Griffin’s genitalia are of similar stature, the pair are forced to get creative in what is likely the most wonderfully ridiculous sex scene ever shown on TV. Griffin further earns his keep when he and Ilana discuss the WNBA: “It’s just like the best version of basketball there is,” he says. Later, Abbi is concerned that Lincoln might be jealous, but the episode’s final scene—the best of the season so far—proves otherwise. With one of Griffin’s shoes strung over his shoulder by its laces, Lincoln excitedly explains to a hotdog vendor that he’s using Griffin’s shoe as a “murse” because they are now Eskimo brothers.

The episode’s smaller details are similarly brilliant: Abbi and Ilana’s spontaneous transformation of street clothes into club chic and Ilana’s uncomprehending Japanese subletters, who try to use their phone to translate what she is saying, land particularly well. By the end of the episode, however, Trey is what stands out by far. With three episodes left in the season, Downs will hopefully have plenty more opportunity to shine.

—Staff writer Grace E. Huckins can be reached at grace.huckins@thecrimson.com