In the sitcom world, the disastrous dinner party is a rite of passage. In we had the infamous Thanksgiving episode, where Rachel accidentally makes a trifle crossed with a shepherd’s pie. In season two of , Hannah serves pad Thai to an ill at ease group that includes her best friend Marnie, Marnie’s ex-boyfriend Charlie, and his new girlfriend Aubrey. In the first season of , the Disney+ sitcom executive produced by comedian Nick Kroll, our gang of 20-something New Yorkers – this time Billie, Samir, Anton, Issa and Paul Baker – attempt to throw a “grown up” dinner party, so that Billie (Lucy Freyer) can prove to her 40-something teacher boyfriend that, at 25, she has her life together – at least enough to roast a chicken.
Only, “Mr Teacher”, as the group has christened him, has taken enough ketamine to take out an army. The chicken is raw. Julia Fox, guest starring as herself, vows never, ever to return to Queens, where the friends are squatting in Samir’s family home while his parents are travelling. The night ends on a glum note of acceptance: they don’t have their lives together at all.
Amita Rao as Issa in .
Which was the over-arching message of those predecessors, too. And while as an offering it is very distinct from both, following the release of its second season last week does feel like a proper contender to become a classic for a new generation. It’s silly but well acted, puerile but clever, and I defy you not to come away charmed by these characters and their sincere bonds of affection. It’s genuinely laugh-out-loud funny, but doesn’t try too hard to impart lessons. It’s my favourite new comedy of the year.
was the blueprint for the “eternal hangout” sitcom, and while is far removed from its sanitised and sexually vanilla vision of New York (there is pegging, for a start, and I refer you back to the ketamine use in the opening paragraph), millennial viewers might find themselves inadvertently wondering which character is the Joey (for me it’s Jack Innanen’s Paul Baker, the granola bro with a heart of gold, who must always be referred to by his full name), or the Phoebe (Issa, who makes “I Dreamed a Dream” her own in season two, and demands to know, “When are they going to realise I’m more than my personality?!”), or Rachel (the desperate-for-approval Billie, who upon being told by a child that she looks his mum responds with, “Is she… happy?”).
Traces of the DNA of , which offered something more raw and real for millennial viewers a decade after left the air, can also be found in , which mines the inevitable humiliations of 20-something hedonism for its comedy. But while those hapless heroines embodied the Girl Boss energy and hustle culture of the 2010s – Hannah Horvath had her heart set on being the voice of her generation, while Marnie longed to be a musical sensation – career aspirations rarely factor in . The workplace does not hold the magic they seek, which is true to life: recent stats found that 49 per cent of Gen Z view work as central to their identity, compared to 62 per cent of millennials.
TikTok is currently brimming with millennials sharing throwbacks to the Obama-era, post-Tumblr/early Instagram hipster aesthetic of their mid-20s (lots of moustaches drawn on fingers, American Apparel disco pants and the Lark filter). It’s been dubbed the “millennial optimism” movement, and life did feel good back then, hopeful despite the aftermath of the financial crash. While is very much a show for now, I can’t help but feel it embodies some of that millennial-style hope, with its celebration of friendship and love (even the theme tune, “Bad Advice” by bby, feels like a throwback to indie sleaze).
The cast of .
A show like this reminds its audience that they’re not alone in having nothing figured out. The post-grad houseshare era is fun precisely because you have endless time to spend with your friends talking about nothing, or getting drunk on a Wednesday afternoon, or sending ill-advised texts to an ex. , like and before it, is a glorious celebration of those years when you still have no real responsibilities, the last chapter of freedom before you sign mortgage or marriage contracts and start filling your brain with thoughts about what colour bins to put out on what day. And for us viewers who are firmly outside of the Gen Z bracket, it’s a chance to relive those gloriously aimless days, and remember who we used to be.
With season two already a hit, a third season seems likely, and there is already talk of a Mayor Zohran Mamdani cameo. A Mamdani/Paul Baker collab? What could be more hopecore than that?