A Triptych of TV Reviews

A Triptych of TV Reviews     While I talk about television here at the blog every so often, I rarely review television or even talk much about what I’m watching. Which is crazy because I genuinely L-O-V-E television. Especially the dramatic stuff—with an eye towards mystery—and the occasional and often crass and utterly classless sitcom. The so-called reality stuff? Nah. So today I’m throwing something new into the interwebs with a look at three series I’ve watched over the past month. And it’s something I may do more of in the future if you’re receptive to the idea. The first, YOUR FRIENDS & NEIGHBORS (AppleTV+, 2025) is a funny and tart dramedy—what a stupid word that is, yeah?—about hedge fund trader Andrew Cooper (Jon Hamm). Coop, which is what everyone calls him, is at a crossroads. His wife Mel (played by Amanda Peet) cheated on him with one of his besties, his son and daughter hate him, he was fired from his job because his boss wanted his clients—and no one will hire him because he has a lengthy non-compete agreement—and Coop has a huge financial nut to cover every month. So Coop does what any good-natured guy living in Westchester County, New York, would do. He starts stealing from his well-heeled neighbors. What Your Friends & Neighbors lacks in originality it makes up for with zest and Jon Hamm’s simple watchability. Coop’s good nature is never overwhelmed by his quiet despair and the story is built with humor. A $30,000 toilet makes an appearance and the trunk of Coop’s Maserati won’t stay shut. Coop is something of a mash-up of Jay Gatsby and Fletch; a combination I liked. As one would expect from a show like this, the actors are all beautiful and there is a bunch of sex. I mean, too much sex for my easily embarrassed self. But boy did I have fun watching this one, even the sex!

LOUDERMILK (Netflix, 2017 – 2020), is a sitcom my wife and I originally watched during that first awful year of Covid. Much of what I watched in 2020 leaves me with a bad taste because it reminds me of how shitty life was and how helpless I felt watching civilization torch itself. And the pandemic was the least of the trouble. We took the risk of watching Loudermilk again and it was just as funny this time as it had been the first. It is centered on the cynical misanthrope and recovering alcoholic Sam Loudermilk, played perfectly by Ron Livingston, as he adjusts to his new post-drinking and -drugging normal. Loudermilk had been a high-flying music critic for Rolling Stone before a drunken automobile accident that nearly killed his then-wife scared him straight. Now Loudermilk makes his living shining a bank’s floors while spending most of his personal time leading an AA-type group in the basement of a local church. Every episode is centered around Loudermilk—he is a glowering and acid-tongued straight man to a litany of wacky side players from his roommates, who are both recovering addicts, to the almost men-only members of his recovery group, to whoever is driving him apeshit in any given episode. There are hipster neighbors, Loudermilk’s deadbeat but likable dad, a possible love interest that Loudermilk can never get right, and a posse of ridiculous and hilarious situations always made more uncomfortable by Loudermilk’s acidity. The series builds on itself over time—there are jokes that pay off in later episodes and the characters, especially the addiction support group members, are fleshed-out over time. But if you like a semi-raunchy Gen-X comedy with good acting and better writing, you won’t have any trouble dipping your toes anywhere in Loudermilk’s too short three season run of 30 episodes.

PARANOID (Netflix, 2016) is a single season British mystery series with a wobbly structure and more than a few unintentional funny moments. Paranoid is a hot mess—but a hot mess I enjoyed watching. When a GP is murdered at a playground in rural Cheshire County—southeast of Liverpool—the evidence and witnesses point to a schizophrenic man that wanders the neighborhood. The local authorities want the case closed quickly and the police are comfortable with their suspect. At least, until they notice someone claiming to be a detective questioning their witnesses and they, the actual detectives tasked with the investigation, receive an envelope from the masked man filled with evidence contradicting their theory of the crime. They give this unknown detective the silly moniker of “ghost detective” and follow the trail from Cheshire to Dusseldorf, Germany, where a pair of German detectives join the chase. The plot is a clunky conspiracy thriller with familial intrusions—one detective’s mother is associated with a rather nasty psychiatrist that seems to be everywhere in the investigation and another gets into a relationship with a wacky witness—an emotionally destructing detective (played by Robert Glenister with a bunch of twitching and without any subtlety), a wildly happy German detective (played charmingly by Christiane Paul), a giant plastic Jesus filled with colorful pharmaceutical pills, a Quaker, and… It just goes on and on. But for all that—maybe because of all that—I don’t regret a single minute spent watching the eight episodes of Paranoid. But your mileage may vary on this one.