Facebook
X
LinkdIn
Copy Link
Tina Fey’s The Four Seasons is one of those shows you notice in the “Top TV Programs on Netflix” section, see it’s some kind of glossy romantic comedy starring actors you’ve vaguely heard of, and skip past quickly in search of something with zombies or subtitles. This would be a mistake though because, at least if you are of a certain age, you’re really going to enjoy it.
I think the litmus test is whether you’re old enough to remember the 1981 Alan Alda film on which it is based, which I do, just about, vaguely. It’s that kind of movie where a bunch of old friends who have been traveling together regularly since university – does anyone actually do this? – are discombobulated by and rebond over a traumatic event.
In this case, it’s that one of them, Nick (played in the Netflix remake by Steve Carell), has decided to abandon his wife Anne (Kerri Kenney-Silver) for a much younger woman, Ginny (Erika Henningsen). It opens, in Spring naturally, in hedge funder Nick’s idyllic lakeside retreat in upstate New York, where – excruciatingly – the blissfully oblivious Anne has decided to surprise her husband and guests with an impromptu ceremony where they will reaffirm their marriage vows.
By Summer, Nick has his new squeeze in tow. Being idealistic and in her early thirties, Ginny has decided that the perfect destination is an eco-lodge in Puerto Rico where you sleep in basic domes, there are no fresh towels, and you get eaten by mosquitoes. Everyone else has to pretend, for Nick’s sake, that this is acceptable – while sneaking off for recuperatory stints at the five-star resort next door.
Since at least Chaucer, January/May relationships have always tended to offer rich comic potential. The scriptwriters Tina Fey (who also plays one of the wives, Kate), Lang Fisher and Tracey Wigfield, mine this seam with deftness and unexpected subtlety. When, for example, Anne threatens to eclipse her ex by having a holiday affair with her younger surf instructor, you fear you are about to be given an uplifting lesson on the empowered elder woman rediscovering her sex appeal and enjoying her revenge served cold. Happily, the writers choose cruel, bitterly realistic humor over feminist point-scoring.
There’s a particularly well-observed scene where they all go off skiing (Winter, in case you hadn’t guessed). Nick is stuck with Ginny and her younger friends. The obvious joke would have been for Nick to be outclassed on the slopes by racy, virile, snowboarding youth. But no, these kids are Generation-Z frumpsters: dowdy, overweight, chary of risk or anything that smacks of competitiveness, lacking in basic skills such as skiing. Oh and of course they are all vegan teetotalers who don’t get any of his movie references.
Because it’s Netflix and because, unfortunately, it’s 2025, one of the couples has been rewritten so that they are gay. Normally, as you know, I’m wont to complain about the overrepresentation of gay characters in TV drama – because it’s unrealistic and I’m right. But here it works brilliantly, thanks especially to the bravura portrayal by Colman Domingo of Danny – black, gravelly voiced architect husband of maddeningly excitable stock Italian Claude (Marco Calvani).
If you’re under about 35, none of this will be of any interest to you whatsoever
In real life, Domingo is frequently nominated as the world’s best dressed man, so naturally the show’s designers have tremendous fun – as do you, the viewer – with the succession of immaculately curated male power couple outfits. But remember, everyone here is old, and even the glamorous gays are feeling their age. When they recruit a handsome lumberjack on Grindr for a quick threesome, it descends into farce and hysterics after Claude, rummaging in his health-impaired partner’s bag for some contraception, discovers Danny’s secret stash of forbidden cigarettes.
If you’re under about 35, none of this will be of any interest to you whatsoever. It’ll be a case of “Old people. Ew!,” as a teenaged daughter might say. But if you’re in the target audience, you’ll find much to enjoy and recognize, such as with one wife’s appalled reaction when her husband breaks the cardinal rule of proposing rumpy-pumpy while staying in someone else’s guest bedroom.
As the characters are relatively affluent, there is also the joy of lots of lifestyle porn, à la Big Little Lies and White Lotus. It prompted an interesting debate with my wife – well, I thought it was interesting – on whether or not the double beds in Nick’s weekend retreat would be that narrow. Surely when you reach that age and income level there’s literally no way you’re going to be able to tolerate anything less than a super king?
Leave a Reply