‘Party Down’ is a revival that doesn’t try too hard
OPINION
Most sitcom revivals stink. Even when they include the exact same cast, there’s a whiff of embarrassing fanfic about them. They repeat old formulas when they aren’t overexplaining where everyone’s been, require actors to take on the faintly humiliating project of re-inhabiting their younger selves and invite fans to pretend the circumstances reuniting the gang aren’t spectacularly contrived.
The whole enterprise tends to put viewers and actors alike in a mode that’s a little more reverent than funny. It’s supposed to be a party, with everyone gathering to re-create a fond moment, and yet the undertaking is fundamentally uncool and so freighted by the shadow of past success that a haunting question arises: Are we having fun yet?
For the third season of Starz’s “Party Down,” the answer — despite a 13-year gap — is yes. Of the five episodes made available to critics (there are six total), all of the foregoing is true: The pretexts for getting everyone in the same place are slim. There are repeated jokes aplenty (Martin Starr’s Roman on drugs! Ken Marino’s Ron Donald gets injured!) and even whole recycled scenarios. But the cult comedy about a rag-tag group of Los Angeles caterers pursuing (or recovering from) their showbiz dreams doesn’t feel dated.
And it still works. Lizzy Caplan’s absence smarts (she was busy with another project), but the show was always casual about swapping people out, and the new additions are solid. Zoe Chao is particularly good as Lucy, a chef who regards food as high art. (One of her creations prompts Ron to ask “Is it food?” “Exactly!” Lucy replies.) She more than holds her own opposite guest star Nick Offerman in a memorable scene that, despite featuring no regular cast members, feels like the same ol’ “Party Down”.
That might be at least in part because the scrappy comedy doesn’t have any glory days to relive. Created by Paul Rudd, John Enbom, Rob Thomas and Dan Etheridge, “Party Down” failed to attract an audience despite being packed with talents that have since become household names, including Adam Scott as Henry, a failed actor whose biggest success was a commercial, Caplan as Casey, an acerbic comedian still trying to make it (and Henry’s love interest), and Jane Lynch as Constance, a daffy raconteur whose total lack of success in Hollywood has in no way dampened her spirits or hopes. They formed part of a loose ensemble of caterers who don’t care, even a little bit, about the job.
Despite a small and dedicated cult following while it was on the air, ratings were abysmal. The comedy developed a much bigger fan base after it was canceled, when streaming services gave it a second life. That the actors never got to experience the show’s success as an ensemble means the pleasure they take in it now feels more fresh than nostalgic.
The show took a dim but affectionate view of human effort: Everyone hosting an event in this world worked hard to professionally produce a good time, and it never, ever went well. The house-proud suburban couples were as bad at it as the campus conservatives and the guy trying to throw an orgy. No one was having fun at a “Party Down” fete (except for a couple of employees) because fun in the series is formal work.
The jokes were good, but its skepticism toward the business of pleasure was what made “Party Down” great.
The show’s third season doesn’t gloss over the lameness of reunions and revivals. The most moving moment features two characters bonding over the problems a prom doover couldn’t fix. Maybe that’s what makes this particular revival work: the plot contortions don’t make much sense, but the show isn’t really trying to convince you that they do. That lack of effort is very “Party Down.”
So are the differences: Constance, for instance, resented Lydia (Megan Mullally) in their one joint appearance in the original show because Lydia “replaced” her (a joke about Mullally joining the cast when Lynch left), but they get along famously now as the peppiest ex-Party Down-ers. Ryan Hansen’s Kyle gets less to do than he should because Roman’s rivalry with him — a structuring element of the original series — has gone slack. Roman’s a small-time YouTuber now, so his new target is co-worker Sackson (Tyrel Jackson Williams), a young Tik-Toker type who gives the show some upand-comer energy. Through Sackson we learn, in the kind of incidental update the series needed, that Roman’s fans — unbeknownst to him — are incels and Gamergaters.
The most interesting move, however, was softening Henry. If the 2009 Henry defined the show’s tone the Season 3 version has lost a lot of that armor. Henry’s budding (and improbable) relationship with a studio executive played by Jennifer Garner is strangely sweet. It has none of the barbed complexity that characterized his dynamic with Casey. That fits: This guy, at this stage of life, facing yet another crushing disappointment, would chase happiness hard. He’s goofy, wry, even playful.
Thirteen years later, Henry might be finally having fun.