The following is a spoiler-free review for the first season of Close Enough, which is now streaming on HBO Max.
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So many entertainment stories this year have centered on anticipated shows getting delayed for months or years, so I’m especially happy to see HBO Max’s Close Enough bucking the trend. Created by J.G. Quintel of Regular Show fame, the comedy was originally supposed to land on TBS’ adult animation block in 2017, but this week it made its debut on a streaming service that’s better suited to its brand of adult humor.
It looks a lot like Regular Show, even if the main characters now consist of weary millennials rather than oddities like an anthropomorphic raccoon and blue jay. But it also borrows much of Regular Show’s template for this more realistic tale of folks enduring the transition from their 20s to their 30s, and so in some ways, the show itself neatly complements the central theme of adults trying to cling to the crazier days of their youth. It largely works, too, which is probably a good sign for anyone living through that transition.
Here we have the story of 30-somethings Josh (Quintel) and Emily Ramirez (Gabrielle Walsh), who live with their five-year-old daughter Candice (Jessica DiCicco) in Los Angeles. Josh is a former game designer who now works for a Geek Squad stand-in and Emily has a nondescript job at a big company. But wait, it’s a little more complex than that! Josh and Emily are actually living as roommates in the home of recently divorced couple Alex (Jason Mantzoukas) and Bridgette (Kimiko Glenn).
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Close Enough works in part because they’re all so dang relatable, particularly for us in the age group in focus. It sure as hell hits home for me, a man approaching middle age living with a roommate in California — and two of my neighbors have that “married couples with roommates” thing going on. When I learned that Alex had a Ph.D. in anthropology with a focus on the Vikings, I positively winced.
Still, there wasn’t a single character I didn’t enjoy seeing appear on the screen. Perhaps it’s because I know these people. I am these people. Close Enough is an ode to people caught in that period of life where a mid-life crisis still feels miles away, but when the regrets start settling in and you wonder what your life might have been like if you’d made some different choices. It’s dealing with the changes wrought by having children. It’s the period when you’re acutely aware of debt and luxuries that may never be yours, or when you’re finally dating after a divorce and find yourself appalled by how many people on Hinge and Tinder go on and on about their trip to Machu Picchu. (Ahem.)
But this also means that its comedy is aimed at that very specific, if wide, demographic: One that gets Weezer jokes but can also laugh at references to Teddy Ruxpin and the Simon memory game. If you’re older or younger, it’s probably not going to hit as hard. These in-jokes are funny, but they also keep Close Enough from elevating to the wide appeal of a show like King of the Hill, which drew in viewers for the relatability of a wide range of characters despite its setting in small-town Texas. Quintel’s show isn’t without moments of relatable emotional impact, although some of these merely repeat themselves in different forms throughout the season. Josh in particular struggles with the belief that he’s a failure and needs constant reminders that success manifests itself in different ways.
This is the kind of heady animated stuff that made Bojack Horseman so great, and in fact, that show’s Diane Nguyen (Alison Brie) would have made a great roommate for Josh, Emily, Bridgette, and Alex. But Close Enough never gets close to that show’s excellence, perhaps in part because seven of the eight episodes follow Regular Show’s lead by consisting of what are effectively two 11-minute mini-episodes. There’s never much time to care too deeply about their situations, save for the season finale that extends for almost a full half-hour. It seems weird to put such a story at the end, too, as that episode illuminates the dynamic between the four characters in a manner that was only hinted at before.
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But Close Enough isn’t really for pathos: Much like Regular Show, each episode kicks off with fairly mundane circumstances, such as Josh and Emily going clubbing on one of the rare nights when someone is babysitting their daughter. Those events always morph into something much wilder and crazier — in this case, a club that takes a cue from the 1976 film Logan’s Run and executes any visitors who happen to be over 30.
Each episode is like a fuse burning down to an explosion of dynamite — and often with light but effective social commentary — which is appropriate considering the occasionally shocking violence that befalls the Ramirez family and their cohorts. It works, though: When Quintel tries to extend to these antics past 11 minutes in the final episode, they lose some of their power. Episodes of Close Enough are best appreciated like good, short jokes: A deadpan buildup followed by a sharp punchline.
That also means they’re best appreciated in small samplings: I don’t recommend binging Close Enough in one sitting as I did for this review. The reliance on similar themes becomes too apparent. It feels best suited to being enjoyed in the rare moments of free time the characters themselves get to enjoy, and as a reminder that we’re not alone in our doubt and misery. Yet it’s also good if you need a dose of hope or just to laugh at the craziness of their period of life. Close Enough does poke fun at the trend of talking about people in their 30s as though they’re hitting 80, but it’s also a celebration of the quiet joys of those years.
Like its lovable characters, though, Close Enough feels as though it’s still in a transition. Despite its excellent voice acting and crazy mix of the mundane and manic, it never does any one thing better than the mass of other adult-oriented animated comedies out there, but it’s entertaining enough that all eight of its episodes went by like a breeze. If Close Enough manages to score a second season, I’d love to see how it matures.