As one of the boldest and bravest new comedies this season (and, maybe, of the last few years), Fox's new single-camera sitcom Son of Zorn disappointingly falls back on a few expected sources of humor in a way that all-too-often negates the bravura, bananas premise of the show. Set initially in the far-off island land of Zephyria, Son of Zorn eventually migrates into the real world - California in particular - while keeping the animated sprites of anything related to Zephyria's Saturday morning, G.I. Joe day-dreamscape very much intact.
A back-to-back binge of Notaro's Netflix doc and genius standup will produce a funnier, more emotionally resonant picture of the comedian's fascinating backstory than anything in the first few inconsistent and drab episodes of One Mississippi.
Mary + Jane struggles to balance the strangeness of Broad City with the somber truth of Girls, and it leads to some tonal issues, but at its funniest this is a noteworthy, endearing, female-centric comedy with high potential.
Although it has the noblest of inclusive intentions, Loosely Exactly Nicole ultimately falls flat because it doesn't present its progressive ideas in intriguing ways and - most problematic - it just isn't very funny.
True "dramedies" feel like a dying breed. Some shows are great miniature 30-minute dramas disguised as comedies (as Julie Klausner would say), like Hulu's cute and compassionate show Casual. Others lean more on the straight-up humor side of things without diving too deep into dramatic weeds, a.k.a. anytime the bunker is brought up on Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.
There's a kernel of exciting unpredictability at the center of a series that refuses to be just one thing to one group of people. Halt and Catch Fire, in its freshman season, was a familial drama with a mean streak looking to please its home network's rudderless viewership that just wanted to watch another lousy schmuck break bad. Season 2 found the show in a thematically appropriate reboot mode: new plot, new characters, and a new upbeat, fizzy energy that gelled cozily with a female-centric, stick-it-to-the-man story arc.
Even though its final moments can't quite justify the confident, cerebral adventures that come before, Stranger Things is quintessential - and essential - summertime entertainment of the quality we've been too long denied.
There's not a lot left to do and say within the 30-minute, struggling creative-type, self-aware comedy genre. Shows like Louie and Girls honed in on the structure and voice of sitcoms like this over the past few years, letting replicators flourish (Broad City) or flounder (Flaked). There's always a downtrodden hero, a partner in crime, and a plan to somehow "make it," along with all of the other people who seem to be getting ahead. Some shows have slowly been pushing at the boundaries of what even defines this type of series, like You're The Worst's deeply dark second year, and the cool thing about Hulu's returning anarchic little sitcom, Difficult People, is that it knows this, and sets its sights on its peers with weaponized glee.
