American Classic Review – I dare you not to fall in love with the tender comedy of Kevin Kline and Laura Linney | television

AH, the roar of greasy paint – the smell of the crowd! Who doesn’t love theater? Or at least the idea of ​​theater. It’s not the reality of theater – spending a fortune on a ticket, getting dressed and going into town, either hungry or with an early dinner inside you, and trying to suspend enough disbelief to interact with the actors doing a big act in front of you when you’re used to the little act you’re watching from the sofa in front of the streaming platform. Then going home too late to recover properly before bed.

It’s not just me. I know it’s not.

But I challenge even my narrow-minded colleagues not to fall in love, even a little, with American Classic, a new light-hearted comedy created and written by Michael Hoffman and Bob Martin. It follows the return of Richard Bean (Kevin Kline), once considered the future of American theater (and now the subject of viral footage showing him drunkenly lashing out at a New York Times critic over a bad review of his current performance as King Lear), to his small hometown of Millersburg after the unexpected death of his mother. His brother John (John Tenney) broke the news about his mother. “Did you read the review?” Richard replied. Fortunately, John knows that his brother is an actor, and a long-time suspect has made the decision to love him anyway.

John resides in Millersburg with his wife, Christine (Laura Linney), to care for the boys’ father, Linus (Lynn Carrillo), who is now in the early stages of dementia. Together, they also care for the other remaining member of the family – the Millersburg Festival Theatre, which was established by the Binns and where Richard learned the rudiments of his craft. However, the modern small-town economy being what it is now means – Richard is horrified to learn – that it now offers dinner theater rather than original productions. John is the chef, his daughter Miranda is a waitress (though she dreams, of course, of becoming an actress in New York), and Christine is everything else. She’s also the mayor of the town (which includes the chapter on a book-burning summit for concerned parents) because Laura Linney’s character’s work is never done.

Disgusted, Richard packs his bags and plans to leave even before the funeral, until his agent Alfie (Tony Shalhoub, having the time of his life, as all actors do when they’re allowed to play agent) reminds him that he’s “still a meme” and needs to keep his head down. So he focuses on planning the funeral at the theater instead. Workouts get expensive. John points out the absurdity. “I’m sacrificing everything for a cheap spectacle,” Richard realizes. “I don’t trust the material.”

The line is pure Richard, the truth behind pure beauty. You may not have fog machines and lighting to play with, but who hasn’t been caught up in the intense need, brought on by grief, to let everyone know how much a person means and means to you? And what do you have to do in the end but trust the material – trust the memories, trust the love in the room, trust the common humanity of everyone.

This is what American Classic is really about. Richard (because he remains himself, though Cline always tempers his narcissism with enough self-awareness to – ultimately – keep us on our side) announces at the end of the eulogy that he will restore the theater’s fortunes by “producing, directing… and perhaps even starring in” Thornton Wilder’s classic play “Our Town.” Beneath the small-town comedy of manners, the Hoffman/Martin show becomes a meditation on… God, he’ll make me say it, I think… the power of art. It’s not a laborious film – the story, the people, and the jokes come first, especially once you start casting – but it’s a beautiful, moving film. It’s made all the more poignant by the genuine belief in that power, which fills the series, stacked (likely deliberately) with actors who are known at least as much in their native United States for their stage work as they are for their film and television careers.

The American Classic’s combination of charm, wit, and tenderness—especially its encouragement of tolerance for ordinary human foibles—is reminiscent of Ted Lasso and Schitt’s Creek. Its ancient metaphors could take us back to the plucky young men Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland who host the show here. Just as these endeavors took fans’ minds off the pandemic, Trump No. 1 and World War No. 2 respectively, the American Classic will undoubtedly provide its own relief now.

You could object, as with Lasso and the Creek, to the fact that there’s nothing entirely new here, but that would miss the point. Recombinant delights are how we know ourselves, and how society remains constrained. The only duty is to put things back together well, keep them fresh and funny and also comforting, and it’s all unpacked here over the course of eight brisk, sure-footed and never-northern episodes.

the curse. Maybe the play He is The thing.