‘SMILF’: Rough around the edges
But the Showtime series has promise; review
There’s something about
SMILF that draws you in, even if it doesn’t keep you there.
The new Showtime comedy (Sunday, 10 ET/PT, ★★ out of four) is the latest in a run of melancholic half-hours from writer/ director/actors, in the vein of Aziz Ansari’s Master of None or Donald Glover’s Atlanta. This time the auteur is Frankie Shaw ( Mr. Robot), who based the show loosely on her life.
SMILF doesn’t reach the heights of either Master of
None or Atlanta. But, at least in the first three episodes available for review, Shaw has crafted a fascinating and complicated character, even if the series is messy in tone and plotting.
Shaw is Bridgette Bird, a single mother someone would like to have sex with. She lives in Boston’s Southie neighborhood, cobbling together a living by tutoring for a rich family (featuring a blissfully ignorant matriarch played by Connie Britton) and answering random ads on Craigslist while raising her son, Larry (yes, after that Larry Bird).
Bridgette has some help from Larry’s father, Rafi (Miguel Gomez), but he is mostly concerned with his new girlfriend (Samara Weaving) and maintaining his sobriety. She also gets occasional help from her mother, Tutu, played by an aged-up Rosie O’Donnell, who has mental-health problems and a tenuous relationship with her daughter. There aren’t a lot of laughs in
SMILF. The life Bridgette leads is hard, messy and bleak. She lives in a tiny apartment and shares a bed with her son. Her often-smiling face is a facade for a woman just barely holding on, who has not dealt with her own trauma: She talks openly about being sexually abused by her father as a child, and she has an eating disorder that lingers near the surface.
SMILF often feels like a collection of scenes more than a cohesive series, and its subject matter might have been more deftly approached in a pareddown film. And, in fact, the series is expanded from an earlier short film by Shaw.
There are moments that are daring and thought-provoking, as when Bridgette answers an ad and winds up connecting with the lonely man who paid her just to show up and talk to him (before he ruins the encounter). But other scenes seem designed to shock viewers or invite them to judge Bridgette’s choices, as when she hooks up with a former schoolmate while Larry is in her bed, covered with a blanket.
Bridgette is sharply drawn, and Shaw gives the character a lived-in feel with an entrancing performance. But her depth only highlights the weakness of the characters surrounding her. Britton’s Ally tends to fall back on stereotypes, and Rafi is a one-note ex-boyfriend.
What SMILF does well, it does really well. There are signs of a good series with the potential to improve.
And here’s hoping it does, because we’re definitely rooting for Bridgette.