Young Sheldon is the pallbearer of the last wisps of The Big Bang Theory nostalgia.
It will keep you glued. But, so does your plate of momos. You relish it as long as it lasts. The satisfaction is, however, short-term.
While your momos leave you stuffed, Young Sheldon leaves you with a nine-year-old who is a social misfit.
He tries hard to make some method of the madness. You gush at his quirks, you adore his pet peeves, you let out a tender-hearted sigh every time he falters.
The narrative weaves you in and makes you sympathise with Sheldon. But, does it, at any point, make you put yourself in his shoes?
If Sheldon is the outsider, are we celebrating him and telling ourselves that it is okay to be so. Or are we constantly trying to integrate him with normalcy?
The grappling nerd can be entertaining. Can he be emancipating to every one out there who feels like an outsider?
The spin-off prequel to The Big Bang Theory is the effortless Pied Piper to your curiosity. You take the bait because you’d love to see more of Sheldon Cooper. And you just go with it.
Against a backdrop of rugged mountainous terrain, the nine-year-old stands tall, his slick hair brushed to one side, chin held up with a tinge of adamance. He wears a bow-tie, carries a suitcase in hand, and ushers in the opening credits with a flash of extravagance.
The little boy is the outsider. And shall remain so, years from now.
The narrative bumpily treads down a beaten path, only to partially unfold at peeking milestones. Each milestone marks a fresh new episode in young Sheldon’s life and makes you stop in your tracks. Until, of course, you realise that all the milestones read the same.
The precocious nine-year old has an inability to pick up social cues.
He is a tightly-wound ball of convictions that are set in stone. The nine-year-old is a prodigy who’s skipped grades, probably read more books than the average 20-year-old Texan, and has as much difficulty reconciling ‘’science’’ with ‘’religion’’’ as he does making friends. He is forthright, plays by the book, and is clueless about social etiquettes that would require one to call friends over for dinner.
Zoe Perry, a young Mary Cooper, plays brilliantly to her character’s strengths. She dons motherhood like a second skin and stays true to it throughout, even if it means doing so at the cost of the expectations piled on her by her husband and other kids.
George Cooper Jr, Sheldon’s older brother, and Missy Cooper, Sheldon’s twin, draw the perfect outline around Sheldon’s quirks. You know what lies on the other side. They take the household irregularities in stride and munch them down with Coke and french fries. Or are, at least, made to.
The show doesn’t bear the burden of character establishment. The Big Bang has already done that. What you get are younger versions of the characters, while you are drawn into the everydayness of their lives.
Ian Armitage pulls off a young Sheldon Cooper to the T and keeps you asking for more.
To keep things short, Young Sheldon doesn’t disappoint, at least, while you are watching it. It is only when you are done that you sense the questions elbowing their way in.
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