Arguably, Lisa Kudrow has never been funnier than when she appears as Valerie Cherish on Hot Ones in the new season of The Comeback. Clueless to the format of the (very real) interview show (answering questions while eating ever-increasing spicy hot wings), Cherish’s exasperation, befuddlement, and visceral agony is a comic wonder to watch. It’s almost a throwaway gag — the scene literally runs behind the credits of a late-season episode — but proves that when Kudrow commits to the bit, she’s hard to match.
That’s important to remember, because over its two decades, The Comeback hasn’t always been discussed as a pure comedy. Instead, the series receives well-deserved props for its prophetic critique of the television industry. As it follows Valerie, an aging, self-absorbed sitcom star struggling to stay employed and relevant, The Comeback also lays bare the larger problems facing the medium.
Season One, which aired in 2005, focused on the coming creep of reality television, while 2014’s Season Two showcased the rise of streamers and prestige TV. Both seasons were painfully funny (often just painful), but the humor sometimes got lost as time has proven even its most over-the-top bits eerily correct. There is a moment in the Season Two premiere where Valerie accidentally-on-purpose runs into reality-TV majordomo Andy Cohen. Having blown her attempt to join The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills earlier because she wasn’t willing to be crazy enough on camera, she leans over to whisper, “I get it now, OK? I took myself too seriously.” Yep. That tracks.
Time will tell whether Season Three, which tackles the looming AI revolution, proves as prescient, but if it is, then the robot invasion isn’t going to go well. The premiere sees us back with Valerie, 12 years after she won an Emmy and now occupying a slightly higher caste in the Hollywood ecosystem. Her marriage to Mark (Damien Young) feels good. Her appearance on The Traitors has spawned a viral meme. To stay in the popular conversation, she’s got a producer handling her “socials,” a useless celebrity podcast titled Cherish the Time, and she’s about to start work on a new multicamera sitcom about a “woman of a certain age” for the NuNet network (not to be confused with the Net network — which, as her manager explains, changed over when “Comspot Communications bought them and their entire library, now they’re the NuNet”).
Valerie’s new show, How’s That?!, openly celebrates its back-to-basics concept, with a live studio audience, catchphrases, hokey jokes. Even legendary sitcom director James Burrows, who worked with Kudrow on Friends and has appeared as himself in each season of the The Comeback, is on board to make the pilot. The only thing missing from How’s That?! are writers. Instead, an AI program spits out corny scripts in hours — not weeks — because NuNet wants to create a show that is just engaging enough for people to “leave on while they’re doing… whatever,” as one network employee puts it. The goal isn’t to make something great but make something “good enough.”
It’s a compelling premise from creators Kudrow and Michael Patrick King (And Just Like That…). At the same time, the season works to deepen the stories of beloved existing characters and introduce new ones. Time is spent on Mark’s midlife crisis, the self-actualization journey of Val’s manager Billy (Dan Bucatinsky), the loss of her beloved hairdresser, Mickey (who was played by the late Robert Michael Morris, who died in 2017 and gets a lovely send-off in Episode Three), and her reunion with reality producer Jane (Laura Silverman), perhaps the most tragic figure of the series, an idealist who consistently sells out. Ella Stiller arrives as Patience, Valerie’s social-media guru, Jack O’Brien sweetly plays her new hairdresser, and Andrew Scott, doing the most to eradicate any lingering Hot Priest vibes, plays a wildly unctuous NuNet executive. It’s a lot for just eight episodes (ah, streamers and their low episode counts).
In a very crowded cast of talent, John Early and Abbi Jacobson steal some spotlight as the showrunner pair Josh and Mary, hired to babysit the AI — nicknamed “AL” — on How’s That?!, a job neither focuses on. To emphasize that new technology can’t change bad behavior, Josh mirrors many of the same demeaning and destructive traits of showrunner Paulie G (Lance Barber), the antagonist of Seasons One and Two. Like Paulie, Josh’s ego can’t the handle loss of control. This becomes an issue, since AL, in service to the “good enough” mandate from the network, gets final say.
Admirably, The Comeback’s debate over the merits of great vs. good enough isn’t one-sided. After all, television is a business where thousands of people work, and a mediocre show can employ just as many people (minus a few writers) as an Emmy-winner. That said, King, Kudrow, et al, show their cards by putting the heroic monologue in defense of writers into the mouth of Burrows, the most trusted and esteemed member of the cast. While reluctantly impressed by how efficiently AL can deliver successful jokes, he explains why that’s not enough. “I saw every one of those jokes coming, and so did you,” he tells Valerie. “‘Surprising’ only comes from a group of writers, huddled in a corner, beating themselves up to beat out a better joke. It’s the chubby guy who’s a secret alcoholic. It’s the gay guy who despite all the work he’s done still hates himself a little. Or the funny woman who’s been invisible for way too long. They turn all that pain into a joke. And Val, those beautiful, broken souls are what make something great.”
Leaning into the stereotype that only pain can create great comedy is a bold choice when trying to make the argument about what’s wrong with an AI program leaning into stereotypes. But the larger point remains — the need for humanity in the creative process. For all its gloom about AI — what one writer refers to an “extinction event” — The Comeback can’t hide its true colors. Over three seasons, as much as it teases the destruction of scripted television, what the series showcases best is the very human pillars of the industry that keep it alive. Both the good (talent, competency, collaboration) and the bad (ageism, sexism, stupidity). As every season goes by, Valerie excels at the former while being continually blocked by the latter.
Season Three takes this idea and runs with it. As problems arise around AL’s work — and more dramatically, everyone’s behavior around AL — the show bleeds staff. Turns out, Valerie is one of the few with the actual experience to make a sitcom. Given an executive producer credit on How’s That?! as a vanity, the role soon takes on a life of its own. Power loves a vacuum, and Valerie competently steps in to work with other professionals and guide the process to good, if not great, success.
It is no coincidence that Valerie, a woman of a certain age, only gets a grasp of power when everything has fallen apart. Tellingly, 20 years after the start of The Comeback, the decision makers with ultimate control over Valerie’s career remain men, and her need to defer and please them never changes. Perhaps the most bitingly honest example of this comes when Valerie, summoned to a Godfather-esque meeting in a darkened office, sits with a bunch of Dick Wolf-style male showrunners who have ruled the industry for decades (embodied, a little too well, by Bradley Whitford, Adam Scott, and Justin Theroux). These men, who never hired Valerie — or even, its assumed, considered her on their level — now need her help. And yet, their approach to asking for a favor is a combination of threats and douche-boy jokes. Valerie carries the power in the room, but no one — not even her — can transcend their assigned roles and acknowledge it; she always wants to please. As her sitcom co-star (played by the always wonderful Tim Bagley) puts it, “Why am I always defending people who don’t have my best interest?”
Does that all sound funny? Scene for scene, maybe not as laugh-out-loud as earlier seasons, but when the opportunities arrive, everyone brings their A-game. Kudrow remains glorious, and the (real) writers stuff every episode with little jokes and dropped asides — a successful show called She-R (about female ER doctors, naturally); a network Zoom call filled with Gen Z staffers named Lowen, Egypt, Arbor, and Ridley; Valerie struggling through the taping of Hot Ones. As Burrows explains at one point about his contract, “I have a fun clause. If I’m not having any fun, I’m out.” On The Comeback, he would stay.
