This newsletter only has one rule (which I just made up and will change whenever I feel like it): I only recommend things that I have already seen/eaten/snorted/etc — no previews! So while this edition might seem like a preview of Fall TV, what I’m actually recommending is that you catch up on these shows, and I cannot (and will not) guarantee the quality of the new seasons — the danger to my reputation amongst this newsletter’s 75 subscribers (2 of which are me under different emails) is just too high.
A drama: The Morning Show
The pitch: The social commentary of The Assistant meets the aesthetics of Resse’s Book Club
Me gusta porque: TMS (as its characters call it) was Apple TV’s flagship series when it launched, which, combined with its star power, gave people the impression that this was a Very Serious Prestige Drama, leading to disappointment in the realization that its spirit lies closer to a Big Little Lies than a Mad Men. And sure, characters will say things like “America loves me, therefore I own America” or “Chaos — it’s the new cocaine.” But if you accept that (and in fact, learn to enjoy it), you will also get the best the show has to offer: a meditation on the banality of evil that permeates toxic workplaces. While fictionalizing the Matt Lauer ousting from The Today Show, TMS refuses to engage in clapter, and instead invites you to experience a situation where the “right” choices sometimes feel impossible to make. This is particularly true of its oustanding eighth episode (penned by playwright J.C. Lee), which takes us back to a pre-ousting time and paints a chilling picture of a place where terrible abuse lived side by side with love in a workplace that could often feel like a family. Also, watch out for Martin Short playing a Woody Allen-esque character in two brief but indelible scenes.
You had me at Jennifer Aniston: Indeed she reigns supreme #TeamJen4Lyf
How many seasons? Just one, on Apple TV+. The second season premieres today!
I’m all caught up! Then read one of my favorite short stories ever, Emma Cline’s White Noise, which follows a fictionalized Harvey Weinstein for the 24 hours before his trial’s verdict is announced.
A comedy-drama: Succession
The pitch: Pretty much the plot of Arrested Development except with much higher stakes (but with around the same number of jokes)
Me gusta porque: I wouldn’t call Succession a “dramedy” because that word makes me think of a show set in LA where someone’s trying to make it as an actor while navigating sobriety or some shit like that, but this show is often equal parts comedy and drama. Which, in the beginning, makes it hard to watch, as the show struggles to navigate its tonal shifts — the members of this fictionalized version of the Murdoch family often come across as heartless, not to mention wildly inappropriate, as they fight to take control of their patriarch’s media empire. My advice if you’re struggling to care (or look at the screen — this is a very cringe-y show) is to get to episode six (also penned by a playwright, Susan Soon He Stanton): by then end of that hour, you’ll either be reluctantly but fully invested in these assholes, or you’ll know this show is not for you. The season one finale is one of the most tragic things I’ve ever seen on TV, and by season two she show offers nothing short of brilliance.
But why would I wanna watch yet another show about tortured rich white people? Good point! My only argument is that this show is very good at the thankless job of reminding you that the even worst of us are still human, while never condoning their behavior. Plus it might (gasp) make you glad you’re not rich.
How many seasons? Two, on HBO. The third season premieres October 17th.
I’m all caught up! Then go watch Arrested Development to further get in the groove (I can only vouch for the Fox seasons, 1 through 3). Its running jokes are iconic, and speaking in Arrested Development references is a love language I share with my closest friends.
A comedy: Insecure
The pitch: Girls but if it took place in LA, centered Black women, and you didn’t hate every single character. So basically the opposite of Girls.
Me gusta porque: I’m including Insecure a little hesitantly here, because I didn’t enjoy its latest season as much, as it felt driven by a desire to hit plot points to the detriment of organic character development — but this Issa Rae comedy accrued a lot of credit in its first three seasons. As in most half-hours that star their own creators, the show is often nakedly honest and not afraid to have an imperfect protagonist, and Rae is great at self-deprecating comedy that still acknowledges the systemic issues she faces; her job as the only Black woman at an education non-profit geared towards public school students provides a lot of witty laughter. In a way, it mirrors and kinda excuses the only flaw I could find early on (a certain “Did you know this about Black people?” didacticism), because it’s a show about Black women airing in an overwhelmingly white network. But the heart of the story is in Issa’s relationship with her friends, particularly Molly (Yvonne Orji); their palpable love for each other in the face of awful men, thankless jobs, and sometimes just each other (“a bitch try a bitch,” as their friend Kelli puts it) will make you wanna call your bffs at the end of every episode.
You had me at Natasha Rothwell: If you liked her a lot in The White Lotus and thought “I wonder what she could do in a show that’s not about white people,” she is b-r-i-l-l-i-a-n-t here (season four’s biggest sin is not giving her much to do).
How many seasons? Four, on HBO. The fifth (and final) season premieres October 24th.
I’m all caught up! There are plenty of half-hour comedies starring their creators as protagonists who share their names, but I’ll single out Ramy, which is in my humble opinion one of the best shows in television right now, and Dave, which is somehow FX’s most successful comedy ever and a show that no one I know watches, though its second season was one of my summer’s highlights.