You may not have asked for a political comedy seven days into 2021, but Mr. Mayor is here anyway.
From 30 Rock creators Tina Fey and Robert Carlock, the NBC sitcom stars Ted Danson as Neil Bremer, a former “billboard king” in L.A. (“For your consideration: Nurse Jackie“) who runs for mayor on a whim to impress his jaded teen daughter — and wins. Neil now finds himself stuck in a job for which he is unqualified, relying more than ever on his staff (Vella Lovell, Mike Cabellon, and Bobby Moynihan) and nemesis-slash-deputy mayor (Holly Hunter).
The first few episodes bank on Danson’s old-school TV charm and some classic Fey-and-Carlock joke structure, but what the show lacks from the outset is its creators’ signature weirdness. It feels like a classic sitcom and a safe bet for NBC’s Thursday lineup — which is not the compliment it once was. Still, the show may have yet to show its true colors; Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt started out completely whacky, while something like 30 Rock began relatively tame compared to the level of eccentricity it would eventually achieve (Great News is their most tame outing before this one, but still amply odd and much more charming).
Mike Cabellon and Vella Lovell relaying the general excitement level of “Mr. Mayor.”
Image: Colleen Hayes / NBC
The only noticeable humor choice Mr. Mayor makes in its early episode is the cringey position of mocking woke culture — not excessively, but enough to catch a pattern of choosing this path in situations where punching up was just as viable. Fey and Carlock comedies have a history of mocking “youths” (a term popularized by Liz Lemon herself in 2008), but you can only lampoon adolescent progressives for so long before the teens themselves grow into adult consumers (incidentally, Mayor Neil is Fey and Carlock’s oldest protagonist to date).
When the characters do express PC fatigue (“it was a different time, 60 seconds ago”), they ultimately — if somewhat begrudgingly — choose a (somewhat) empathetic path. Mayor Neil implements a straw ban on his first day in office and pledges to provide metal alternatives to everyone who needs them. There’s no further delving into this or any other issue that his teen daughter Orly (Kyla Kenedy) or Arpi are passionate about, so we coast at the surface of deeper story like napping in a wave pool at the local water park. Punching down on woke culture isn’t as edgy as most comedians think it is — it actually never was — and gives us little to work with from the main characters after two episodes.
It’s unclear where Mr. Mayor is meant to land. On one side of the political comedy spectrum we have Veep, a fanged behemoth with a barrel of Emmys to its name. On the other is the sweet comfort of Parks and Recreation, a show that won audiences over with unapologetic warmth. Mr. Mayor seems to want to be the latter, but once again it will take time to invest in the characters that way (recall Parks‘ first season. Or maybe don’t).
The only character who gets any real motivation is Neil, who’s doing everything for his daughter Orly. But right now Orly is the show’s most dissonant feature, doing some version of Tracy Flick in a post-pandemic (and coup) world. The characters aren’t all at the same party (political or social), yet the creators are beyond that level of amateur. It’s telling that the show’s most relatable characters are two minimally fleshed-out aides who would rather be somewhere else.
Mr. Mayor airs Thursdays on NBC.