It’s no great pleasure to talk about Togetherness in such a way, given the affability it proved capable of last year. The series, created by Mark and Jay Duplass, built up a low-key head of steam by the end of its first season, which was best viewed as a double feature-length indie movie. Such a label would seem simplistic, were it not encouraged by the show’s pedigree, production values, and subject matter. Following an unsatisfied married couple and their complementary pal or sibling as each deals with white, upper middle class L.A. problems, Togetherness earned no points for novelty of premise; the medium has always been pretty flush with damaged, well-to-do West Coasters.
But the first season of the show did find amiable company within the familiar setup, and season 2 shakes things up for everyone. Schlubby charmer Alex (Steve Zissis) finally making it as an actor comes at a bad time for his best friend, Brett Pierson (Mark Duplass). Early in the season, Brett learns of a big mistake his quietly distressed wife, Michelle (Melanie Lynskey), made recently. And when Michelle’s woman-child sister Tina (Amanda Peet) finds herself taking responsibility for the Pierson kids, the gang’s warped quadrangle of co-dependence only gets messier.
The Duplass brothers, who write each of the season’s eight episodes, are often able to ford the shallow stakes and class trappings of Togetherness through sheer empathy. It can be wearying to have so much of the show’s storytelling surround gifts and expensive possessions (no show has ever got this much plot mileage out of an electric car’s battery life), but this is the material world these characters belong to and struggle to find emotional comfort in. Everyday frustrations lead to heated blowouts between characters, usually at the end of the episode, and you can always clearly see where each person is coming from. These people can be simultaneously right, wrong, sympathetic, and off-putting with a specificity that helps justify the narrowness of the show’s vision.
Togetherness usually nails its important emotional beats, thanks in part to the performance-first shooting of the Duplasses as directors. It’s everything surrounding these moments that leaves too little of an impression. Much of season 2 puts the relationships between the central foursome in limbo, and the show suffers for its newly disparate focus. Characters and storylines of initial importance disappear in unsatisfying fashion, and slack editing balloons some episodes to needless lengths. The Duplasses do get some lovely imagery out of their ability to shoot around and beyond L.A., but little of consequence comes from the frequent detours, such as an episode-long escape to an ‘80s-trapped Detroit (featuring a cameo from fellow Broteurs Josh and Benny Safdie).
The second season of Togetherness often feels similarly stuck in the past, especially once it comes to revolve around a hokey “save the school” plot and a Dune puppet show. Five years ago, this is a series people might have talked about, but now there are so many other shows that scratch this particular itch while also accomplishing more. Togetherness is a likable enough show about likable enough characters portrayed by very likable actors. Lynskey and Zissis, in particular, portray mundane and exhausting sadness so believably that you want to reach into your screen and give them a hug. But the same can’t be said of Togetherness as a whole. It blends in with HBO’s Sunday night block party just fine but warrants a “Maybe Attending” response on its own.
