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Broad City
It’s hard to review Broad City, if only because it’s so consistently fresh and funny. To analyze it is to risk undermining its silliness and spontaneity.
So I’ll be brief. Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer have introduced a brand of humor that’s exceptionally distinct and relentlessly relevant. Their spin on ideas such as technological dependence feels familiar until they go absolutely bonkers (in one episode, a day in which the two decide to go “off the grid” goes hilariously awry), while in other cases, they just have a whole lot of fun and look expert while doing so. From spot-on guest turns -- Susie Essman, Patricia Clarkson and Amy Ryan were all not only great to see, but were used to comedic perfection -- to perfectly-crafted banter, Broad City throws too many pleasures to count on an episodic basis. It’s a sitcom that jolts for its specificity, and for the fact that its language and vision of New York feels at once new and welcoming. But it’s also one that emanates comfort, the spectacular chemistry between its two leads resulting in an immensely pleasurable viewing experience week-in and week-out.
I could spend paragraphs writing about the depiction of the Abbi/Ilana friendship, which despite being devoid of conflict is emotionally, comedically and through any other prism completely engaging. It’s groundbreaking, unquestionably; Broad City, like dozens before it, is a comedy series centered on a friendship, but it presents its central relationship as completely functional and, perhaps, somewhat idyllic. I won’t say anymore on that matter, though: Broad City does so many things right and breaks so much new ground (which is not necessarily mutually-exclusive), and yet it’s the perfectly-pitched comedy -- and transporting nature of that comedy -- which must receive the bulk of the praise. I suppose it all might be interlinked. Warmly audacious and bitingly funny, Broad City’s second season is a thrilling exercise in (successfully) bending the limits of the sitcom. A
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia
The 10th season of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia pulls off a rather remarkable balance. It’s at once a reckoning with its own history, an experimental foray into different forms of storytelling and a good ol’ season of Sunny shenanigans. No element gets the short shrift, and the end result is a season of TV that leaves you breathless.
For whatever reason, Sunny has never galvanized critics in the way some other, lesser shows have. The show has churned out so many classics, and has through 10 seasons maintained a sky-high level of quality, that its perpetual under-the-radar status can be tiresome for ardent fans. But it’s also the show’s enduring appeal. Without a glut of awards attention or critical campaigns to keep the show comfortable, Sunny rolls on, vibrant and excited, eager to prove itself and willing to go to some hilariously politically-incorrect places in the process.
This season, Sunny gave us “Charlie Work,” which -- despite the “long take” gimmick beginning to overstay its welcome -- felt like an invigorating new way to tell sitcom stories (and to showcase Charlie Day’s immeasurable talent). The episode “The Gang Misses the Boat” brilliantly confronted Sunny’s -- not to mention every veteran sitcom to have ever lived -- gradual abandonment of realistic, low-stakes plots for more outlandish and extreme stories. Through its nasty guise, the show created a funny and insightful meditation on the sitcom that, somehow, managed to remain totally true to its core. And then “The Gang Goes on Family Fight” turned the theme episode on its head, again using Sunny's definitive sense of humor and perspective to hilariously riff on Family Feud (and give Keegan-Michael Key a superb guest role). Not every episode landed with so much force, but most did, and that’s an achievement any sitcom would take to the bank.
Truthfully, I’m not sure there’s ever been a time I walked away from a show’s 10th season so tickled and impressed. Through each season, Sunny gets a bit more reflective, a bit more experimental, a bit weirder. But within this show’s flexibly absurd construct, everything works; it’s all kept reliably, immensely funny. Dynamic, energetic and brashly hilarious, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia is as good as ever, a full decade after it began. Here’s to an 11th season. A-
Shameless
No, this isn’t a totally positive column. Last year, Shameless soared with an uncompromising, focused and tightly-crafted narrative to work with. It took the Gallagher family to new places, and illuminated deep, aching truths for the audience in the process. And after it ended, I could help but ask myself: Jesus, what now?
Shameless is often a funny show, but more often than not, its greatest successes come through its alternately tragic and profound dramatic lens. The family dynamics don’t blend comedy and drama as easily as, say, Six Feet Under; that tonal imbalance has always lent Shameless a frustrating, occasionally enthralling element of unpredictability. Last season, even with Joan Cusack’s cooky Sheila still around, Shameless went dark. And whether in the exploration of eldest Fiona and Lip’s relationship, or in the emotional reflection on Frank’s life as a failed father, the show reached extraordinary heights.
Season five, with so much tragedy behind it, worked as a reboot in many ways, and while individually some things were funny and/or moving, overall it was probably the show’s weakest to date. More to the point, Shameless lacked a sense of purpose, a problem I never really felt in the show’s first four years. It was a laundry list of the show retreading old territory: Jimmy came back, and left; Fiona got destructive and impulsive with guys; and Lip slept around while trying to figure it out in college. Dramatically, it felt like Shameless-lite, even if the comedy’s success rate was just-about normal. Plus, a promising gentrification storyline promptly died, and Frank’s exploits were rendered tone-deaf after he went through such a powerful, wrenching arc just a season ago.
I’m not sure if Shameless will ever again reach what it did in season four, but I do hope it can reignite. This season’s dramatic tension was too-heavily reliant on Ian; while independently effective, it’s not in the series’ best interests to keep Fiona and Lip removed from the central action. It’s why the season never felt cohesive, and why dramatically and thematically it ended up as such a come-down (especially since, previously, every season seemed to improve on the last). There are so many well-drawn and engaging characters on Shameless that it always compels recognition -- particularly, the marital strife between Kevin and Veronica was imbued with nuance and naturalism in a way that deeply resonated -- yet, sadly, this season really failed to grab me.
And since Emmy Rossum, Jeremy Allen White and William H. Macy all continue to do spellbinding work, you know that’s a serious problem. B-
Check out our coverage on the rest of 2015's winter TV here.