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Though it's taken a few years for everyone else to realize what I've been screaming from any and all available rooftop: Catherine O'Hara as Moira Rose on Schitt's Creek is the embodiment of perfection.
The Pop TV show has garnered a cult following over its five seasons, helped greatly by streams on Netflix since the Canadian network is all but impossible to find. Sadly, the shenanigans of the once-wealthy Rose family as they try to make the best of their newly motel-bound life in the titular town are coming to an end with the sixth and final season.
As a fan of Beetlejuice, all the Christopher Guest films, especially Best in Show, and just virtuoso comedic performances, I was already fully onboard when Schitt's Creek premiered in 2015. Eugene Levy and Kitty O'Hara back together again? What else did I need besides Jennifer Coolidge? (But honestly, when don't I need Jennifer Coolidge?)
Following in the boozy, pill-popping, high-heeled footsteps of Christine Baranski's Maryann Thorpe, Wendie Malick's Nina Van Horn, and Megan Mullally's Karen Walker, O'Hara's Moira Rose is the kind of shitshow with a passing acquaintance with reality, whose charming elegance belies her heart of gold—the kind of shitshow gay men have always had an affinity towards.
Think Margo Channing sloppy and heartbroken at a piano after trampling all over the guests at her own party. Think Mame Dennis sliding down a bannister before taking her young nephew under her wing. Think Liza "Reality Is Something You Rise Above" Minnelli, for god's sake.
Beneath all that fashion finery is a pretty decent mother when she's lucid. Just check out how tender and supportive she is with her emotionally-stunted son David (series co-creator Dan Levy) during the entirely too sweet serenade from his boyfriend Patrick (Noah Reid).
Like all of those great ladies, Moria is also a fashion plate, serving haute couture that the townsfolk of Schitt's Creek don't even know how to fully digest without openly gagging.
And we haven't even gotten to the wigs. The wigs, David!
Moira Rose brings it to you every town council meeting, why y'all gagging so?
Unlike the TV divas before her—Baranksi, Malick, Mullally—O'Hara has yet to be even recognized by the Emmys, despite Netflix's best-ish efforts.
It's like, Dear Television Academy:
O'Hara's Herb Ertlinger monologue from season one is one of the finest pieces of comedic acting I've ever seen and all aspiring thespians would do themselves a solid by learning all of its muskmelon goodness.
It's the brilliant timing, it's that beautifully off-kilter accent, it's—in short—pure genius. So pull it together, Academy, you've only got this and the next season to throw some trophies in Catherine O'Hara's fully deserving face.
Give the queen her crown while you still can.