

And even if you weren’t particularly a fan of his stand-up or his stints on Howard Stern, it’s hard to come away from it without feeling like you finally understand him-or, at the very least, that you just want to see him get better. In Lange’s scattered appearances throughout the first season, he’s funny, pitiable, and tragically human in a way that even his bluntest interviews haven’t always conveyed. Even still, it takes a lot of bravery to immortalize his problems the way he did on HBO’s Crashing, where Lange played himself-a troubled comic whose life is perpetually one temptation away from tailspin, which makes him an unusually sympathetic mentor to Pete Holmes’ struggling wannabe. įor years now, comedian Artie Lange has made his intensely personal struggles inextricable from his public persona, talking candidly about his drug addiction and his gruesome 2010 suicide attempt in his memoir, on his podcast, and in his act. We should all be so lucky as to have an Arthur. Urbaniak brings immensely likable soul to this reserved little man. He doesn’t just put up with Julie’s madcap flights of fancy: He encourages them, and is there to pick up the pieces when they blow up in her face. From enduring her demands for a three-way to putting her on the air during a pledge drive, Arthur’s steadfast good nature is played as a charismatic and funny twist on the usual mopey “yes, dear” beau. The superhumanly patient boyfriend to Julie Klausner’s self-involved whirling dervish of drama, Arthur is a mild-mannered PBS employee who can think of nothing better than coming home from a long day of work and acceding to Julie’s every whim, no matter how outrageous.

What makes James Urbaniak’s version of the character type work is just how much he embraces his lot in life and rejects the idea that there’s anything wrong with being the put-upon doormat.

The long-suffering straight-man role rarely gives its actor a chance to shine. Every time Furlong and Will drop by, Veep becomes its best worst self the day we get bored of it is the day Will gets tired of glory holes. Together they comprise a comedy duo of Rabelaisian grotesquery, popping by to deliver some of the series’ sharpest, sickest, sperm-and-abortion-filled stings in a splenetic venting of both Furlong’s career bitterness and, as season six’s “ Qatar” revealed, all the profanity he’s forced to keep bottled in front of his Christian wife. Even on a show whose dialogue is 90 percent verbal abuse, Furlong distinguishes himself through sheer nastiness, most of it directed-and occasionally outsourced to-his hapless aide, Will (Nelson Franklin), who’s often forced to fill in the blanks of Furlong’s metaphorical barbs about his own appearance, his incompetence, and his zeal for sucking off truckers. As the aptly titled Minority Leader of Veep’s House of Representatives, Congressman Roger Furlong (Dan Bakkedahl) provides a strong voice for all of television’s tertiary characters-a hectoring, disgusting, invective-filled voice that burns through every scene like a condom filled with fire ants, to quote just one of Furlong’s most memorable insults.
