In Hollywood, there’s a colloquialism so prevalent it’s as likely to be spotted in its native habitat (advertising copy) as it is to be used by its intended targets (influencers and the like): “hilarious and heartfelt” — as in, “The new Netflix series, ‘A Man on the Inside,’ is hilarious and heartfelt.” The maxim’s roll-off-the-tongue simplicity makes it an easy one to let slip when you’re a PR rep writing plot synopsis after plot synopsis (which are all meant to sound the same anyway) or even a reporter writing blurb after blurb (which, after a few dozen or so, can’t help but sound the same). But “hilarious and heartfelt” doesn’t really mean “hilarious and heartfelt” — at least, not to people in the biz who’ve co-opted its alliterative, widely applicable power. Instead, it often means the opposite: that whatever is being described as “hilarious and heartfelt” is actually “not funny” and “probably a bummer.”
Drawing power from its conjunction, “hilarious and heartfelt” aims to lull you into thinking that because what you’re watching is so sweet and/or meaningful, it’s OK that you haven’t laughed since it started. Rather than “hilarious and heartfelt,” it should be “hilarious (for a movie that will emotionally wreck you) and heartfelt (for a movie that also has one (1) sex joke).” Like anything invented by the Don Drapers of our world, it’s meant to manipulate your reaction to better serve their client. And it sure sounds better than “depressing and dour,” right?
All that is to say: If you see “hilarious and heartfelt” pop up in a seasonal TV preview or flash across the screen during a movie trailer, be wary — odds are high it shouldn’t be trusted.
Except right now.
Joining a handful of exceptions that manage to be consistently funny and profoundly affecting, Michael Schur’s exquisite new comedy, “A Man on the Inside,” earns the infamous descriptor (which, to its credit, I’ve yet to see Netflix use, even if the words will surely surface from someone online once the social embargo lifts). Trusting that the classic structure of TV sitcoms has room for an honest assessment of aging and loss, the eight-episode first season deftly balances gleeful humor (in what has to be a “Bored To Death” callback, an early scene spotlights Ted Danson getting effervescently stoned) and considerable depth. (Did I cry watching the finale for the second time? Who’s to say?) “A Man on the Inside” never loses track of its fanciful premise or its serious subject matter. Norman Lear would be proud.
Inspired by the 2020 documentary “The Mole Agent,” “A Man on the Inside” follows Charles (Ted Danson), a retired architect who lost his wife a year ago and has been struggling to fill the ensuing days. Still sleeping exclusively on his side of a full bed, Charles dutifully rises, shaves, and dresses. He makes his morning coffee, does the crossword, and mails — physically addresses, stamps, and mails — articles of interest to his only daughter, Emily (Mary Elizabeth Ellis). He might go to the park, he might take a nap, he might read a mystery novel (in a fun homage to the master of spy stories, John le Carré, each episode title is inspired by one of his books), but Charles is all alone in his big, beautiful house. He needs new direction. He needs new connections. He needs… to go undercover at a local retirement community in search of a thief who’s stealing senior citizens’ priceless gems.
OK, maybe he doesn’t need to become a part-time private investigator, but that’s exactly what he does. Julie (Lilah Richcreek Estrada) — a legitimate, licensed P.I. — places a want-ad that Charles spots, and after a delightful interview montage, he’s tasked with moving into an assisted living facility, getting close to the people inside, and identifying suspects on behalf of her wealthy client (Marc Evan Jackson) whose mother just got robbed. Charles, in other words, is a mole, and like any Average Joe given a low-risk (and thus not-scary) undercover operation that makes them feel like James Bond (or George Smiley), he savors every second of his not-so-impossible mission.
With his slate gray hair and thick black glasses, Charles doesn’t require an elaborate disguise to fit in as a new resident at Pacific View Retirement Community. (He does, adorably, come up with his own.) That he gets to be himself, for the most part, only adds to the genial vibes of early episodes. His first night in his new apartment turns into a booze-soaked riot with his new neighbors. Virginia (Sally Struthers) and Florence (Margaret Avery) are the life of the party, whether there’s an actual shindig or the duo are just going grocery shopping. Elliott (John Getz) is a crab-apple whose rakish tendencies keep him from settling down (with his one true love, Virginia). Cal (Stephen McKinley Henderson) is the easiest fast-friend imaginable. There’s a strict and paranoid president of the residents’ council, a former costume designer to the stars, and plenty more friends and suspects who elicit plenty of laughs.
Just as important: None of them are the butt of the show’s many jokes. While Elliott may get prodded when his jealousy goes too far, and there are a fair number of bits about technophobia, “A Man on the Inside” doesn’t stereotype its elderly characters as silly old fools or perfectly sweet grandmas and grandpas. Nor does it build them up only to kill them off, prying easy tears from a heart attack or overnight passing. Some of them bring more to their scenes than others, but they’re real characters with distinct personalities, respected by the show and respected within it.
Didi (Stephanie Beatriz), the managing director of Pacific View, goes a long way toward emphasizing the latter. In an about-face from her breakout turn in “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” (which was co-created by Schur), Beatriz plays Didi with patience and warmth. She’s rewarded by doing the job well, even as she’s tested by a lack of resources and regular loss. Her relationship with Charles, as well as the rest of the residents, sets a reassuring, realistic tone for the series, without restricting its central spy’s adventurous fun.
Which brings us back to Charles and the towering talent playing him. To say “A Man on the Inside” wouldn’t work without Ted Danson may be overstating things — the show’s considered construction can’t be overlooked, from its characters’ unassuming yet elegant attire and the clean, handsomely lit cinematography, to the scripts’ unforced unfolding that almost always feels natural. But Danson’s considerable comedic skills, inherent, deftly deployed charisma, and detailed attentiveness to exactly what a given situation dictates makes him precisely the actor for this well-rounded role.
He can go big for the broad comic moments, like when Charles records (and re-records) rambling reports for Julie. He can dial it in, like when Charles has to have delicate conversations with struggling residents. He can carry scenes or support them, he can listen with such focused attention you’d think there was no one else in the room, and he can crush you when Charles’ little moments of repressed grief eventually overwhelm him — just as the story demands, and just as Danson has planned.
It’s a tremendous performance made to look effortless, much like “A Man on the Inside” is a sage, ambitious new series made to be painlessly, pleasantly enjoyed. Yes, you’ll choke up a few more times than your average 30-minute Netflix comedy, but you’ll be laughing through the tears before you can wipe them away. Many spy stories see their heroes confronting death on a daily basis. “A Man on the Inside” just brings that battle home (the retirement home… I’ll see myself out). Addressing fears ingrained with aging — be it parent-child role reversals or even dementia and death — may be difficult for some viewers. But Schur knows a healthy dose of humor can make even our starkest worries bearable, even beautiful.
Hilarious and heartfelt. This time, it’s real.
Grade: A-
“A Man on the Inside” premieres Thursday, November 21 on Netflix. All eight episodes of Season 1 will be released at once.