Heartbreaking Netflix series manages to make a midlife crisis fun

If you tuned into The Four Seasons the first time around, you might expect the laughs to be on the lighter side after the off-screen demise of Steve Carell’s silver fox Nick.

Season two does take a moment to get going, as we return to the friendship group on a spring vaycay to commemorate Nick. 

But then Danny (Colman Domingo) describes the spot they’re staying in as ‘the town Tracey Chapman sped away from’ and we’re right back in the thick of it, even if the resultant eight episodes feel less joke-dense than the last batch.

Back is the Vivaldi-inspired premise of both season one and the 1981 film. Spring, summer, fall (they’re so American) and winter are parcelled out two episodes a piece. It’s a pleasing, if simple structure.

Co-created by Tina Fey, Lang Fisher and Tracey Wigfield, the dramedy returns little over a year since we last saw it, putting much of the rest of the prestige TV biz to shame. 

The gang still have enough cash and disposable annual leave to take a trip with each new weather system. These holidays are a more sombre affair, given the healing process post-Nick. 

Fey, who is sort of playing a midlife version of her 30 Rock character Liz Lemon, is spectacularly failing to support her husband Jack (Will Forte), who is flailing in his grief.

Meanwhile, Ann (Kerri Kenney-Silver) is trying to get Nick’s affairs in order. These now include his far younger girlfriend Ginny (Erika Henningsen) and the baby she is planning to name Cove. The show doesn’t entirely know what to do with Ginny.

Batting above the rest of them is Domingo, who directs certain episodes while still nailing his turn as Danny, who is trying to figure out if he wants children.

His hubby Claude (Marco Calvani) has been made much less of an Italian caricature. He is a joy. I came away from the show feeling we should all be more like Claude. He loves football, his man and life – good for him!

In reality, I suspect we are all more like Fey’s Kate, who has a chronic case of midlife melancholy, which she combats with trademark snark. No wonder she wants to hang out with Danny all the time; she’s probably trying to siphon off some of his joie de vivre like she’s one of the nighttime monsters in The Boroughs.

At first, the absence of Nick is keenly felt. His clichéd midlife crisis provided much of the narrative momentum of the first season, as well as the comic relief. Plus, it’s just nice to have Carrell around, even if his character was a bit of an ass. Look how poorly The Morning Show has fared without him.

The Four Seasons finds a mid-season salvo to this problem. I am Netflix-mandated not to say what it is, but get to episode four and you’ll find out. It’s necessary because the episode before is a big ol’ bummer.

I also can’t divulge much about the finale, but there’s a later reveal that will tickle Brits in particular. Whether it is a neat way to tie up the whole series or a stepping stone to season three will likely depend on how well the show does on Netflix in the coming days.

Much of the comedy comes from the canny observations on midlife (inertia over what to watch on Netflix; the sudden urge to run a marathon; marital stasis). You have to assume 50-somethings are the target demographic, even if Ginny’s early parenting woes take the average down a touch.

But everyone can likely relate to the niggling fear that happiness is eluding you. It doesn’t sound hugely funny, but Fey finds a way.

When it isn’t making you laugh, The Four Seasons will break your heart, only to put it back together again when the clime next changes.

The Four Seasons season two is available to stream on Netflix now.

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