‘The Righteous Gemstones’ Goes Out in Filthy, Raunchy Glory

PRAISE JESUS

Plus, there’s a capuchin monkey who may be giving the comedic performance of the year.

Edi Patterson, Danny McBride, and Adam DeVine.
Photo Illustration by Thomas Levinson/The Daily Beast/HBO

A star is born in the fourth and final season of The Righteous Gemstones—and no, I’m not referring to the A-lister whose performance in its origin-story premiere is a hilarious surprise. The standout player of the HBO hit’s swan song is a capuchin monkey named Dr. Watson, whose service-animal talents are almost as great as his devotion to misfortune-prone BJ Barnes (Tim Baltz).

Following orders, threatening violence, and indulging in the basest of impulses, be it smoking cigarettes or pleasuring himself in public—acts greeted with joy and disgust, respectively, by his human compatriots—he’s the single most memorable aspect of the comedy’s home stretch. Sorry, Oscar-nominated actor not to be named here—you’ve been upstaged by the year’s funniest primate.

The Righteous Gemstones could have easily sailed off into the sunset following its third season, which ended things on a conclusively happy note. Nonetheless, it finds new ways to drum up dirty humor and sweet pathos in this latest installment, which premieres March 9.

Danny McBride.
Connie Chornuk/HBO

Once again charting the crazy and combative ways the televangelist clan grapples with insecurity, jealousy, ego, need, tragedy, and love, Danny McBride’s wild religious saga goes out on top, as uproarious as the comedian’s prior Eastbound & Down and Vice Principals, and quite a bit more moving. It’s an amusing marvel that manages to both mock these grifters and convincingly believe in them as true believers.

The Righteous Gemstones is brimming with storylines, all of them pivoting around the appearance of Lori Milsap (Megan Mullaly), the best friend of deceased Gemstone matriarch Aimee-Leigh (Jennifer Nettles), whose son (Seann William Scott) considers Jesse (McBride), Judy (Edi Patterson), and Kelvin (Adam DeVine) his surrogate siblings.

Lori is a divorcée who’s still grieving the loss of Aimee-Leigh, and that bonds her with Eli (John Goodman), who’s spending time enjoying one-night-stand sex on his boat in the Florida Keys. Eli is reluctantly brought back to the Gemstone compound by his children, who are preparing for a telethon in their mother’s honor, and the highlight of that gala event involves Jesse, Judy, and Kelvin taking flight courtesy of jet packs—devices that, unsurprisingly, prove quite tricky to operate for the goofy trio.

That’s not the only difficulty faced by the Gemstones. BJ is expressing his masculinity by pole-dancing—perhaps the silliest sight in the show’s history—and Jesse is fuming over the failure of his “Prayer Pods” (which users have repurposed as masturbation chambers) and Kelvin’s nomination for the illustrious prize of “Top Christ Following Man of the Year.”

Arden Myrin, Walton Goggins, and Valyn Hall.
Arden Myrin, Walton Goggins, and Valyn Hall. Jake Giles Netter/HBO

The awkwardness of that award’s title is an extension of Jesse’s ridiculous habit of adding an “s” to words that don’t need it (as when he expresses pride that one relative “can still do c--s”). The accolade pits brother against brother, not to mention Kelvin against Jesse’s nemesis Vance Simkins (Stephen Dorff), who’s vindictively building mini-mall churches in Gemstone territory.

Kelvin has received this honor because of his work with “Prism,” his rainbow-hued progressive church movement, but he’s reluctant to be fully out and proud, preferring instead to take a Siegfried & Roy-style approach to his sexuality—a decision that disappoints his loyal and freakish soul mate Keefe (Tony Cavalero).

As Kelvin and Keefe deal with the former’s budding celebrity (and renovate his opulent treehouse, because the Gemstones are inherently childish), Judy copes with BJ’s unfortunate circumstances and growing bond with Dr. Watson, as well as her lingering grief over her mom’s death—an unhealed wound for everyone in her family.

Baby Billy (Walton Goggins), meanwhile, is fixated on stardom, this time via his plans for a TV show about Teen Jesus. Given that he’s a buffoonish cocaine-addled maniac, he naturally decides that this program should be called Teenjus and that, regardless of his advanced age and snow-white hair, he should play the lead role. Amidst a collection of inspired performers, Goggins continues to be the series’ wild-card highlight, and his turn this season is a revealing riot—literally, as Baby Billy has no qualms about letting it all flap in the wind.

There are numerous additional threads laced throughout The Righteous Gemstones, from Jesse’s bitterness over son Gideon (Skyler Gisondo) seeking mentorship from Eli and Gideon feuding with his rebellious skater brother Pontius (Kelton DuMont), to Baby Billy snapping at his towering karate-master nanny and Eastbound & Down legend Steve Little popping up as the host of the Top Christ Following Man contest.

John Goodman.
John Goodman. Connie Chornuk/HBO

There’s also a flashback episode featuring J. Gavin Wilde, Emma Shannon, and Tristan Borders’ pitch-perfect mini-me versions of Jesse, Judy, and Kelvin, as well as more potty-mouthed insanity than any show since McBride’s last, much of it dispensed by Patterson, who has a peerless gift for eliciting shocked laughter via references to “fit slits,” “mashing pubes,” and her “clitty cat.”

Judy is an impressive fount of filth, and so too are her immature, resentful, and clownish brothers, and they’re in fine foolish form throughout. The Righteous Gemstones has considerable empathy for its idiots, who despite their innumerable transgressions are sincerely dedicated to Christ, and whose bad behavior is an outgrowth of their fear and hurt.

For all its ribald nonsense, McBride’s series cares about its televangelist cretins and their bedrock love of family, and that affection bolsters its out-there action, whether it’s a duel to the death between two Cape and Pistol society members or a climactic fight against a homicidal enemy at a backwater gator park. It mocks them mercilessly for their flaws, and yet compassionately comprehends that, at heart, they’re morons whose titanic awfulness is just a mask designed to cover up their failings.

As its opening episode underlines, The Righteous Gemstones has always been a comedy about unrepentant hucksters who, deep down, buy what they’re selling—or, through their misadventures, are shown the light. That makes it both satire and celebration, and McBride strikes that canny balance all the way to the finish line, making sure to poke fun at the Gemstones and their unabashed greed, selfishness, maliciousness, and perversion while maintaining their basic humanity.

They’re sinners on an unlikely path to salvation, and as they recognize in the series’ fitting finale, that’s only achieved by staying true to themselves and, more importantly, to the loved ones who make this life heavenly.