How long can you cling to the belief that you’ve been treated unfairly? And how long should you hold onto that emotion? Tim Robinson, Zach Kanin, and a top-notch team of former Saturday Night Live writers have been exploring these questions throughout an entire season of The Chair Company. Despite the countless dead ends and peculiar corridors Ron Trosper stumbles through, at the core of his journey is an event (or perhaps multiple events) that a more resilient person wouldn’t dwell on. And with the season finale, “Minnie Mouse Coming Back Wasn’t On My Bingo Card,” now behind us, it’s clear that this inability to let go is crucial for the series’ continuation.

You might have realized that from the beginning. To risk sounding repetitive: Stubborn persistence is a hallmark of Robinson and Kanin’s collaborative efforts. What continues to amaze me are the myriad ways they’ve expressed this theme—in “Minnie Mouse,” it’s not just Ron who can’t leave well enough alone. In Lou Diamond Phillips’ expressive eyes and the absurdity of HR-approved videos of RC hobbyists, we see Jeff caught in his own loop of humiliation and desire for revenge. In the brutal violence that introduces and possibly bids farewell to Jeff’s flamboyantly named friend Stacy Crystals, we witness The Chair Company’s most vivid portrayal of a grudge so intense it explodes. And in the episode’s final moments, a scene that clarifies everything and nothing, we encounter the years-old perceived insult that triggered this bizarre and captivating chain of events.

If we take the words of the eternally youthful-looking man behind the Jason mask at face value, Amanda is to blame. The coworker who seemed to be just another casualty in the chair debacle is allegedly the architect of the entire scheme. And if we’re to truly believe this eccentric—and he’s shouting loud enough to seem earnest—she orchestrated it all with her mind, as revenge for something Ron has long forgotten.

This revelation is a genuine surprise in a show that seldom shows its hand. Earlier in the finale, I was almost convinced we would discover Douglas was the mastermind behind Ron’s downfall: His quick and harsh actions to take control over Canton Marketplace—and the wheelchair he’s using to navigate it (as long as he chooses)—might have been a malicious way to rub Ron’s defeat in his face. But as often happens with The Chair Company, the truth (as much as we know it) is much stranger.

If I seem uncertain, it’s because a) I am, b) the story from Jason about the fight, the gummy bear, and Amanda’s involvement could be dismissed in the opening moments of season two, and c) just last week we were led to believe Barb’s investor Alice was the puppet master. This constant barrage of twists might become exhausting, and a Chair Company where characters continuously deceive could eventually damage the narrative that supports all the humor.

But if Robinson and Kanin aim to share some of Ron’s paranoia with us, then the scene with Lynette certainly did the trick. As she tells the unbelievable story of Mike claiming he is her father (and then some) because her real father’s heart is in his chest, I chuckled at his outrageous immorality—but also wondered, “Doesn’t this further isolate Ron, playing into the conspiracy?” Sure, the man chained in Mike’s bathroom (is he the same one from last week’s hot tub complaint?) shows we don’t know Mike as well as we thought. But we don’t really know Lynette, either.

The Chair Company reconnecting with its Blue Velvet/Mulholland Drive/Lost Highway influences gives us some reason to believe Jason. How else could you explain that shocking vampire-face jump scare from Baby’s real owner? Sure, you might attribute it to Ron taking more hits to the head in “Minnie Mouse,” but that would restrict how far the show could stretch its supernatural themes in the upcoming season. Besides: The Chair Company is just too skilled at crafting an eerie atmosphere to abandon such elements. The way the camera follows Ron into the dog owner’s garage, the dog owner’s “new shape”—the mastery of these Lynchian techniques defines The Chair Company.

Consider the scene where Ron grabs a drink with Jeff and his friend Grego. It buzzes with the Fisher Robay men’s diverse and conflicting pathologies, but the real tension is in Grego’s overly-friendly, sinister demeanor. (The lighting enhances this effect, too.) It delivers laughs and narrative—both thanks to Jeff’s interest in yacht rock and other smooth, commercial-ready music—but it also highlights a significant aspect of this season and this show: The Gregos, Minnie Mouse owners, and Stacy Crystalses are always lurking just outside Ron’s comfort zone. If he were able to leave things alone, he’d never encounter any of them.

But now, Ron is past the point of return. He has witnessed things he can’t unsee and heard things he can’t unhear, replaying in his mind in “Minnie Mouse.” Tim Robinson does a remarkable job conveying Ron’s true feelings in the finale, his face and voice betraying every assertion that he’s finished investigating Tecca. Much of his dialogue this week involves him talking around what he’s been doing, but his tones and expressions reveal his deep desire to continue. If only to impress his family or his ex-boss and that boss’s intrusive friend. If only to claim Barb’s victory as his own.

The content for Barb and the kids this week reflects Ron’s self-destructive longing for something beyond what Jeff sarcastically refers to as his “nice, simple life.” The investigation might have cost Natalie her relationship, but it’s hard to feel too sorry for her because Tara seems somewhat harsh and dismissive and she’s filling their apartment with the smell of fast food. Seth’s internal struggle is explained, but it also culminates in a humorous twist about a hidden passion for stop-motion animation. (“Like Rudolph?” “They’re not all Christmas.”) The Trosper family serves as a stabilizing force for the show, but the most apparent struggles of season one are tied to their stories.

It seems significant that both kids escaped their unsatisfying situations before ending up like their father. Between Ron and Jeff, there’s more than enough of that kind of sentiment to go around. For Ron, it’s placed him in the sights of multiple, unpredictable foes. Stacy Crystals may have been in the business of destroying nice, simple lives, but the simmering fury in Lou Diamond Phillips’ face and Ron’s proven dominance as the CEO paint Jeff as the more menacing of the secretive Tecca leaders. Mike’s already resorting to extreme measures to avoid a Scrooge-like fate; for all we know, Amanda could literally blow Ron’s mind.

The mark of a good season finale is that “Minnie Mouse” leaves us anticipating any of these developments. It’s a testament to the destabilizing, maddening effects of holding a grudge for days, weeks, or even years that The Chair Company promises at least another season of surreal humor and genuine excitement.

Stray observations

• • Is The Chair Company the series that has best utilized yacht rock since the web series that coined the mock genre? I could easily write an entire essay (with an expected readership of exactly zero) on how the middle-aged regrets and fools’ laments embedded in the slick professionalism and smooth melodies of songs like “Ride Like The Wind” (Yachtski score: 93.75) and “How Much I Feel” (Yachtski score: 60) perfectly align with the discontent and isolation of Ron, Mike, Jeff, and others. The music team is also delving deep into yacht rock’s essence: Jeff’s karaoke choice this week is Bill LaBounty’s “Livin’ It Up” (Yachtski score: 87.75), a tune that bounces to Doobie rhythms and features David Sanborn’s signature sax, penned by LaBounty with the prolific songwriting duo Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil.
• • This week’s I Think You Should Leave connections: Stacy Crystals appears to be running a similar scheme to Robbie Star of Super Star Tracks Records, and the voice Ron uses to mock Seth about discarding the tiny plastic hat echoes the Edward G. Robinson (no relation) impression Tim Robinson performs at the end of the Stanzo fedoras sketch. (“Hey, who took my cigars?”)
• • I’ve been pondering Jeff’s comment “Could you please not lean on my wall? This is an office” all season, so I’m thrilled that this seemingly incidental remark turned out to be a clue to Jeff’s involvement with Tecca.
• • If the guy at Mike’s is the hot tub guy from last week, then it’s darkly humorous that he’s now confined to a bathtub.
• • If I’m reading everything correctly, Alice is involved with the chair conspiracy, just not on the Tecca or “embarrassing Ron” side of things. What a complicated web this show weaves!

• • That concludes The A.V. Club’s coverage of The Chair Company’s first season. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I just smoked 10 cigars, so I’m going to sit down for a while and chat with my new acquaintance Stacy Crystals. He says I have what it takes to be a professional songwriter! He knows people in the movies!

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Avery Sandridge

Avery Sandridge has an unmatched love for storytelling and the screen. From detailed analyses of your favorite shows to behind-the-scenes scoops, Avery offers a fresh and engaging take on everything TV series.