Streaming on: Apple TV+
Episodes viewed: 9 of 10
Ready for another ‘sadcom’? In the last few years, shows such as Fleabag or BoJack Horseman have taken morbid pleasure in offering silliness with a side order of sadness, a tragicomic balance Shrinking now embraces. Along with star Jason Segel, it’s co-created by Bill Lawrence and Brett Goldstein of Ted Lasso fame — a sitcom itself unafraid to take on potentially depressing storylines.
This feels like an American cousin of the largely British Lasso: it is essentially a cadre of decent people trying to understand their own psychological flaws, with lashings of whimsy and warm-hearted wit. At the heart of Shrinking is an effort to understand the paradox inherent in therapists — that they are fallible humans too, that the people trained to understand their patients’ minds might not always understand their own.
It’s a solid premise, though you wonder what actual therapists watching might think of a show that depicts one of their own going rogue, throwing decades of best practices out of the window. What are the ethical considerations of a “psychological vigilante”, as Segel’s character Jimmy anoints himself? What happens when you preach radical honesty to mentally unwell people?
To its credit, the show shows the consequences of Jimmy’s unorthodox and occasionally reckless methods. To its detriment, though, it slightly forgets that high-concept idea as the season progresses, morphing into a standard, sort-of-single-camera workplace sitcom, where everyone is deeply involved in each other’s personal lives.
The rare show that understands humour is a vital lifeline in the bleakest moments.
Still, as a sad dad, Segel is great. It’s a delight to see him back in the goofy-galoot-type role that made him famous (see: Forgetting Sarah Marshall), while tapping into his more vulnerable side (see: Forgetting Sarah Marshall again). There’s a great ensemble propping him up, with newcomers like Luke Tennie and Lukita Maxwell showing as much spark and comic timing as experienced actors like Jessica Williams and Christa Miller.
But it’s Harrison Ford who is the biggest surprise. It might seem strange to call an iconic 80-year-old A-lister a “revelation”, but this is only his second TV gig, and — his bizarre werewolf-based Anchorman 2 cameo notwithstanding — arguably his first purely comic role; as it turns out, he has an aptitude for LOLs. Cannily, the writers lean into Ford’s own reputation for grumpiness, lending him deliciously blunt material while speaking the therapeutic language of love and respect (“Grief’s a crafty little fucker,” he grumbles). He is also gifted a glorious two-episode arc of physical-comedy brilliance, off his tits on weed gummies, which must be seen to be believed.
As the show advances, it can feel a little overly cosy and Californian — therapy, after all, is largely the domain of wealthy, privileged people. Like Lasso, it’s mostly gently funny and unashamedly schmaltzy. But at its best, it’s the rare show that understands humour is a vital lifeline in the bleakest moments. “That plant is deader than your dead mom,” is the kind of line you will hear here. Freud, you suspect, would approve.