Let's talk about Richard Hendricks.

Since the first episode of the series, Thomas Middleditch has been the sturdy center of Silicon Valley, the neurotic straight man for the absurd world around him. Middleditch is never offered the inspired buffoonery of T.J. Miller's Erlich Bachman. Unlike the always amusing pairing of Martin Starr's Gilfoyle and Kumail Nanjiani's Dinesh, he doesn't have a consistent sparring partner. He's not prone to startling revelations like Zach Woods' soft-spoken Jared Dunn, whose miserable history is hidden by a mask of almost psychotic calm. Richard Hendricks (and Middleditch) has a far more thankless and difficult task. He has to be just straight-laced enough, just real enough, to make everyone else around him funnier. A Richard reaction shot is one of the most dependably amusing things in a show filled to the brim with dependably amusing things.

HBO

Richard is the lead character on Silicon Valley, our tour guide and our leader in this sea of crazy, which means he can't be a pompous clown like Gavin Belson or an impenetrable android like Laurie Beam. He must be recognizably human. He has to be the guy we can always return to, the guy whose triumphs and flaws make us care. Erlich's ludicrous plan to form a company with Big Head is silly and it's funny, but by design, it doesn't carry the pathos of Richard's quest for the CEO position at Pied Piper. His desire to sit in that chair, to call the shots for his own company, genuinely feels like it matters in a way that "Bachmanetti" never will.

While a handful of subplots swirl around Richard's storyline in "The Empty Chair," MIddleditch is the main attraction in this episode. Allowed to cut loose and frequently separated from the rest of the regular cast, we are allowed to witness a good guy flirting with poor decisions. Ask someone after the end of the previous episode if they think Richard should sit in the CEO's chair and they would probably say yes. Ask them when the credits roll here, and they may have a different reaction.

Richard must be recognizably human. He has to be the guy we can always return to, the guy whose triumphs and flaws make us care.

Sure, Richard wins. He's victorious when the dust settles. He even gets "Action" Jack's old chair, but it's no accident that he can't sit down for more than a few seconds before he literally falls out of it. Silicon Valley likes to remind us that Richard is a legitimate genius, an unparalleled coder and maybe even a visionary, but he's also a bundle of neuroses wrapped around an inner kernel of barely contained rage. He's got to learn how to be a leader the hard way. He's got to learn how to sit in that chair. It's a testament to the storytelling on Silicon Valley that a slapstick pratfall tells us so much about the man falling on his ass.

HBO

Richard literally wipes out only after he's metaphorically wiped out, spilling his guts to a reporter who he thinks is the PR person who was assigned to tell him exactly what not to say to the reporter. It's a scene that tells us everything we need to know about Richard. Under that sensitive and quiet inner shell is a passionate and opinionated guy. His shyness masks self-confidence, maybe even arrogance. He's smart enough to design the world's fastest compression system, but he's too aloof to even clarify who he is speaking with before he proceeds to insult every single person with the capacity to improve his career and his company. It's also a scene of pitch-perfect cringe comedy – we realize who Richard is speaking with long before he does and watching him continue to dig his own grave is trainwreck comedy that belongs in the same conversation as the original British version of The Office.

And at the center of the most layered character on a show intentionally filled with lovable cartoon characters is Thomas Middleditch, ably carrying an entire comedy on his shoulders without letting anyone see the strain. Gilfoyle and Dinesh get quoted. Erlich gets the biggest laughs. But Richard Hendricks? He makes sure that Silicon Valley sings.

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