Speaking of destructive presences, Adam’s sister Caroline is still around and is a bomb just waiting to explode. There’s no explosion this episode, but there is some chemistry between her and Laird, Hannah’s ex-crackhead downstairs neighbor (played by the always-hilarious Jon Glaser, a.k.a. Councilman Jamm from Parks and Recreation). Hannah, Laird, and Caroline go on a Harold and Maude-esque romp through a cemetery, which culminates in Caroline telling Hannah a tear-jerker of a story about a neighbor with muscular dystrophy whom Adam took to a dance at great personal expense to satisfy her dying wish.
The response from Hannah to this story? Nothing. While Laird sobs uncontrollably, snot streaming down his face, Hannah shows not a hint of emotion, much to the astonishment of Caroline. It doesn’t matter that the whole story was made up, a test by Caroline to see how Hannah would react. (“Just because it’s fake doesn’t mean I don’t feel it,” says Laird.) She didn’t react, thus reinforcing the general opinion everyone seems to have that she is an utter sociopath.
Hannah has always been upfront about her emotions, though, or lack thereof, so despite the fact that society expects her to be in mourning for this peripheral character in her life, she can’t bring herself to fake it. At least, that is, until she finally does fake it. Obviously worried about how aghast Adam has been at her seeming callousness, Hannah puts on a show for him in the last scene, explaining that it just took time for her to process her emotions.
It’s possible she fooled Adam, but we’re privy to a bit of knowledge he isn’t: the sob story Hannah tells him about her dying cousin who had muscular dystrophy… is the same made-up story that Caroline had just told her a few scenes ago, minus all the parts about Adam of course. Hannah is breaking new ground by doing something she had not done before: pretend to be someone she isn’t for the sake of maintaining her relationship with Adam. She may not have been affected by her editor’s death, but like a serial killer whom everyone swears was just the perfect neighbor, she has learned to put on a mask of real human emotion.
What we’re left with at the end of the episode is the bleakest view of Hannah yet: someone who is not just self-centered, as all the characters in Girls are to a pretty heavy degree, but truly emotionally detached to an almost pathological degree. It calls to mind the 2012 film The Comedy, which was about a disaffected Brooklyn hipster who has become so emotionally detached that he is similarly unable to process the emotions surrounding death. That movie was considerably bleaker than this episode, which still managed to get in a few laughs, but the general idea was the same: build up a big enough wall around you, and you risk nothing and no one getting through.
All in all, this was another fine episode in what has arguably been the most focused and consistent season of Girls so far. Granted, there are still quite a few episodes to go, so that could certainly change, but if Dunham and crew can keep up this level of quality then season three could end up being the best one yet.