Shrinking is one of those shows that's easy to love. It's an ensemble comedy from Bill Lawrence, the guy behind Scrubs and Ted Lasso, so of course the basic ingredients are there for something watchable. Throw in a cast led by Jason Segel, Jessica Williams, and Harrison Ford in a rare TV role, and even casual viewers can throw it on and expect to be reasonably diverted.
This is where I think the problem emerges when it comes to the show getting its due. Because it's easy to love Shrinking, it's also easy to take it for granted. Of course a show like this is pleasant. Why wouldn't it be?
But look past the names in the credits, the wonderful music choices, and the visually pleasing Southern California environs of the series, and you'll find something more. Yes, Shrinking is thoroughly, dazzlingly enjoyable, but it's also one of the most beautifully choreographed emotional dances you can find on TV right now. In its third season, premiering this week on Apple TV+, that dance finds new movements, new expressions, and continues Shrinking's run as one of the best things on TV in the last decade.
Therapist and single dad Jimmy Laird (Segel) has been through a lot since his wife's tragic death. Over the past two seasons he's re-learned how to be a parent to his daughter Alice (Lukita Maxwell), figured out how to be a better therapist with the help of business partners Paul (Ford) and Gaby (Williams), and even managed to form a bond with the drunk driver (Brett Goldstein) responsible for the accident that killed his wife. He has fostered tremendous growth for himself and the people around him, including his neighbor Liz (Christa Miller), his patient turned friend Sean (Luke Tennie), and many, many others.
And yet, even as everyone around him grows and changes and prepares to move into new chapters of their lives – Alice going to college, Paul dealing with the progression of his Parkinson's disease, Sean reconnecting with old flames and moving forward professionally – Jimmy is still stuck. He's not entirely unhappy, but he's also not ready to move on, leaving the people he loves to attempt to use his own method of confrontational, unconventional therapy on him. It's an interesting way to flip the narrative of previous seasons on its head while also advancing the growth of every single character in the ensemble, and as usual with this smart, incisive show, it works like a charm.
It works so well, in fact, that it asks longtime viewers of the show to step back and consider what makes this show tick, what keeps it working so well as it tries to wrap up several major arcs introduced all the way back in Season 1. As someone who watches Shrinking and simply has a wonderful time with each passing episode, I've been thinking about that a lot lately, and apart from the rock-solid craft of the show covering everything from casting (there are some legendary guest stars this season) to cinematography to music supervision, I think it all comes down to the show's consistent practice of thoughtful earnestness.
What do I mean by that? For so many shows of this kind, it's easy for the generally comforting vibes of the story to transform into a kind of firehose of treacle, a show that becomes all about warm and fuzzy and not enough about conflict, growth, and meaningful change. It's a trap a lot of episodic sitcoms fall into, but even Ted Lasso is guilty of it occasionally, and it's easy to see the moments where Shrinking could backslide into that kind of steady, platitude-driven feel-good narrative. Season 3, even more than the ups and downs of the story in Season 2, resists this not just successfully, but admirably. Shrinking is a show about people with deep character flaws in the realm of emotional expression, about people who are often startlingly honest about other people but never honest enough about themselves. It's about what happens when people see the tools for growth in front of them and either refuse to use them or use them clumsily, and the fallout – often hilarious, sometimes unsettling – that emerges from that. And no matter how charming, how lovely, and how warm its embrace, the show never forgets that. It's not an easy thing to keep that kind of delicacy in play for a show that often relies on big laughs, but Shrinking does it again and again.
Shrinking is one of the best shows on TV of any kind running right now. It's a successful comedy, a successful ensemble piece, a great character study, and a show that makes you feel good while never compromising its own narrative risks and challenges. If you're not watching it yet, you're missing out on something special, and it just keeps getting better.
Shrinking returns January 28 on Apple TV+.
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