In my next life I am definitely coming back as an affluent American. Whatever the risk of being murdered in a White Lotus hotel complex or a beachfront property by Nicole Kidman, the benefits far outweigh it.
The Four Seasons follows a year’s worth of the can-we-really-call-them-travails of three well off, beautifully clad couples in their 50s. They have been friends since their college days and now go for weekends away together four times a year, as we all would if we had the money, time and wardrobes. The eight-episode series is a remake and update of the 1981 Alan Alda film of the same name, by Tina Fey, Tracey Wigfield and Lang Fisher. It’s a creative triumvirate that promises much and – to the delight of Fey fans, who may feel it’s been a long wait since anything approaching the joy and genius of her Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt series – largely delivers.
Fey plays practical, uptight (of course) Kate who arranges the quarterly mini-breaks and is solidly married (“complaining is their version of sex”) to the softer-edged Jack (Will Forte), who generally functions as the group’s peacemaker. The need for his presence increases when one sixth of the group, Nick (Steve Carell, reminding us what a fine and subtle actor he is, in addition to the comedy chops, tells them he is planning to leave his devoted wife Anne (Kerri Kenney-Silver) after 25 years of marriage. We follow the repercussions of this bombshell announcement as the seasons change. Rounding out the sextet are Claude (Marco Calvani, deepening the least-carefully drawn character – “excitable Italian” – quite brilliantly) and his husband, Danny (Colman Domingo, whose time for quality small-screen projects finally seems to have come), facing the group’s first real intimation of mortality, whose effects will also play out across the year.
The first two episodes mix farce and heartbreak, as Anne, in apparently blissful ignorance, secretly arranges a vow renewal ceremony while her friends furiously debate whether they should warn her about Nick’s intentions or not. “God,” says Danny, as Kate makes her opinion wordlessly plain, “your face is so loud sometimes”. All Fey fans will be able to summon the expression he is talking about. Probably all married people too.
The later episodes trace the tensions, faultlines and reckonings that come about as the pair divorce and Nick brings his new 32-year-old girlfriend Ginny (Erika Henningsen) along to all the get-togethers. Including, in the Fall episode, a visit to his daughter’s college to watch her in the play she has written. “Once upon a time my dad destroyed my family and started dating a stupid bitch,” it begins. At least she wasn’t there for the Spring vacation, when the group had to listen to the new couple’s sex noises because Ginny had taken the reins and chosen a yurt-based eco-resort instead of the usual five-star accommodation. Danny points out that in a May-December romance, the Decembers are supposed to haul Mays up to their living standards.
The Four Seasons is full of properly funny lines, rooted in properly middle-aged experience. In its comedy and its drama it captures the warm, weary affection for life and each other that only old friends and enduring couples really know. It understands that after a certain point, it’s not whether your other half ordered you the right sandwich from your favourite place, it’s that she did so at all. It understands that it doesn’t matter if you’d rather floss your teeth than have sex or use Tinder everywhere you go (“To discover the spirit of the town”) as long as both of you are happy with it. It understands that love is a gift and that marriage is work.
It’s unashamedly not one for the kids (though if you understand the wisdom behind Kate’s point that “even in a throuple someone’s got to clean the air fryer” you’re welcome to stick around) but it also evades the trap of carping at the modern world that many shows designed to appeal to the non-youth demographic do. When, after revelations about Ginny’s previous relationships, Nick begs Danny to explain to him what “fluidity” is, it is a cri de coeur rather than an ageing, raging fury at the world.
Part White Lotus without fatalities, part Gilmore Girls on HRT or Golden Girls with men, The Four Seasons is Fey and her writing and acting ensembles on fine form, everything informed by her rigorous intelligence, wit and experience. Rest your aching bones and enjoy.
