0
0
As it continues its push into original programming, Netflix has dipped into a number of different genres. And with the Judd Apatow-produced Love, the subscription service wades into the murky waters of post-modern romantic comedy. At least, I think it’s a romantic comedy. There’s humor and there’s some genuine insight into human nature and the search for connection, but the two leads are so distinctly unlikeable and the pace of the series so uneven that, by the end, I found myself wishing these two walking disasters would simply go their separate ways.
The first hot mess is Mickey (Gillian Jacobs), a radio call-in show producer with a number of addiction and personality issues. She’s loud, rude, self-centered, and the complete opposite of Gus (Paul Rust, who co-created the series, along with his wife, Lesley Arfin, and Apatow), an irritatingly nice nerd who works as an on-set tutor for a CW-style supernatural soap opera while dreaming of writing for the show. The first season charts their meet-cute, their haphazard flirtations, and the ticking time-bomb that is their mutual tendency toward self-destruction.
It’s not that flawed characters can’t make for good drama—or even great comedy—or that dysfunctional relationships can’t be compelling and funny at the same time. FXX’s recent comedy, You’re the Worst, somehow managed to make the unintended relationship of two terrible people completely watchable. But it takes careful calibration to pull that off, and Love just can’t find a way to make it work.
Of the two leads, Jacobs fares best. Episodes that really delve into Mickey’s various additions and the reckless way she emotionally careens into the people that enter her orbit can be surprisingly effective. The show tries something similar with Gus, poking holes in his “nice guy” facade to reveal massive insecurity alongside a hero complex, but it ends up making him even more unsympathetic. I can’t fault the performances here, as both actors have some truly great moments, but, as characters, I just want them to go far, far away.
Partly, that’s also due to the series’ odd pacing, as the freedom of Netflix allows for longer episodes than a traditional broadcast or cable series. Apatow has always been famous for letting scenes play and packing them with cameos, and this format maybe gives him too much leeway. Scenes run longer than the jokes can maintain, and the whole first half of the season, which takes place before Gus and Mickey even go on a date, seems to drag on and on with little sense of destination. Meanwhile, the constant stream of “oh, hey, it’s that guy” cameos distracts from the main plot, even as individual performances can be welcome additions.
Netflix has already renewed Love for a second season, and the first ends on a note that could portend either real hope or just another nosedive into impending disaster. With that in mind, it’s hard to know whether to recommend this series or not. Like any relationship, you’ve got to find the right match. Love and I didn’t work out, but you know what? We did have a few good times together, and I wish it all the best going forward—just not with me.
