Tim Robinson, Zach Kanin and the rest of their colleagues on I Think You Should Leave return with another impressive six-episode run that blindsides audiences with weirdness before you recognize how high-level this conceptual comedy truly is.
Every premise starts out familiar enough, riffing on everyday human interactions like office meetings, group tours, white lies told by parents, parties, dates, parking lot irritations and various forms of pop culture that we all consume (advertising, reality shows, movies). And, in a way, few of the set-ups lurch right into absurdity: the tension in these sketches stems from how they lure in you with normalcy (or what we've come to accept as normal), hold you there, and then devolve into chaos, blasting you in the face with surrealism.
This was true of the breakout, debut season, and it's the case here — though an argument could be made that the true payoff comes after a second viewing. When confronted by a choking-on-hotdogs-at-work motif that recurs over more than one episode, or a bizarre franchise opportunity to take part in a Little Buff Boys corporate roadshow, or seeing one of our jolliest paternal figures appearing as a Charles Bronson-esque action star with a foul-mouthed tagline ("You fucking suck!"), one can be forgiven for being initially taken aback.
But after the shock comes the joy. In-the-know guest stars like Sam Richardson, Bob Odenkirk, Tim Heidecker, Conner O'Malley and Mike O'Brien are all veterans of what might be called "awkward" comedy, and the relish they have for their parts is obvious (even 12 year-old Once Upon a Time in Hollywood co-star Julia Butters goes all-in on upselling a dangerous doll called Tammy Craps). They each bring their respective gifts and idiosyncratic penchant for "Oh, so you think this is going to be normal?" vibes to the party. Elsewhere, the casting of lesser-known and culturally diverse actors in key roles heightens the "reality" aspects of the I Think You Should Leave universe.
Of course, all of that convention is upended by beautifully designed plot lines and an almost poetic use of profanity and childish, scatological terminology — which the performers recite with perfect nuance, incredulity and outrage, depending on the scene at hand. For his part, Robinson either steals every scene he's in with manic energy and honest-to-goodness great acting, or else he disappears completely, letting other performers bring ideas home without him.
With a disciplined devotion to brevity and abrupt conclusions, the second season of I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson enters your home subtly, gets all up in your face and then gets out of your life before you even know what happened. But then, if you reflect upon the experience or try to explain it to someone else, your face melts from laughter and the sense that no other scenario could ever be more enjoyably bizarre.
(Netflix)Every premise starts out familiar enough, riffing on everyday human interactions like office meetings, group tours, white lies told by parents, parties, dates, parking lot irritations and various forms of pop culture that we all consume (advertising, reality shows, movies). And, in a way, few of the set-ups lurch right into absurdity: the tension in these sketches stems from how they lure in you with normalcy (or what we've come to accept as normal), hold you there, and then devolve into chaos, blasting you in the face with surrealism.
This was true of the breakout, debut season, and it's the case here — though an argument could be made that the true payoff comes after a second viewing. When confronted by a choking-on-hotdogs-at-work motif that recurs over more than one episode, or a bizarre franchise opportunity to take part in a Little Buff Boys corporate roadshow, or seeing one of our jolliest paternal figures appearing as a Charles Bronson-esque action star with a foul-mouthed tagline ("You fucking suck!"), one can be forgiven for being initially taken aback.
But after the shock comes the joy. In-the-know guest stars like Sam Richardson, Bob Odenkirk, Tim Heidecker, Conner O'Malley and Mike O'Brien are all veterans of what might be called "awkward" comedy, and the relish they have for their parts is obvious (even 12 year-old Once Upon a Time in Hollywood co-star Julia Butters goes all-in on upselling a dangerous doll called Tammy Craps). They each bring their respective gifts and idiosyncratic penchant for "Oh, so you think this is going to be normal?" vibes to the party. Elsewhere, the casting of lesser-known and culturally diverse actors in key roles heightens the "reality" aspects of the I Think You Should Leave universe.
Of course, all of that convention is upended by beautifully designed plot lines and an almost poetic use of profanity and childish, scatological terminology — which the performers recite with perfect nuance, incredulity and outrage, depending on the scene at hand. For his part, Robinson either steals every scene he's in with manic energy and honest-to-goodness great acting, or else he disappears completely, letting other performers bring ideas home without him.
With a disciplined devotion to brevity and abrupt conclusions, the second season of I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson enters your home subtly, gets all up in your face and then gets out of your life before you even know what happened. But then, if you reflect upon the experience or try to explain it to someone else, your face melts from laughter and the sense that no other scenario could ever be more enjoyably bizarre.