‘Government Cheese’ Review: David Oyelowo in an Apple TV+ Period Comedy That’s All Build-Up, No Follow-Through

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Despite the golden age of television, known as “Peak TV,” the decision-makers often hesitated to fully embrace surrealism and absurdity in their productions. Nevertheless, some peculiar and fascinating works have managed to slip past the gates and find their way onto our screens.

Over the years, we’ve seen popular series like Fargo, critically acclaimed shows such as I’m a Virgo, cult classics like Lodge 49 and Baskets, and numerous lesser-known oddities such as Apple TV+’s Hello Tomorrow!, The Big Door Prize, Sunny, or Amazon’s Mammals. These unique shows, which often don’t conform to the norm in an industry aiming for mass appeal, haven’t typically been blockbusters. However, each show I mentioned likely found a niche audience that felt fortunate to discover a series that resonated with them, along with perhaps just a dozen others. It’s essential to have art that varies from typical genres like Law & Order or medical procedurals; otherwise, we might miss out on a captivating tale about a 13-foot-tall Bay Area teen navigating capitalism.

At its best, the Apple TV+ series “Government Cheese” seems to have the potential to join the collection of oddities in Peak TV’s scrapbook of the unusual, playfully exploring an intriguing, eclectic mix of ideas. While it maintains a connection to the real-world setting of 1969 at times, it also frequently strays from the rules and logic of that era, creating a show that tantalizes with glimpses of a distinct perspective, thanks to the creative minds of Paul Hunter and Aeysha Carr.

Regrettably, by the time we reached the finale of the initial 10-episode season, I found myself unengaged with any of the continuing plotlines, suggesting that Government Cheese excels in generating intriguing concepts but struggles to deliver on them.

1967 finds me locked up in Chino State Prison, serving time for check forgery. After a brutal prison riot that leaves many lives shattered, I’m released two years later. Returning to the tranquil suburbs of Chatsworth, California, I’m met with less than warm welcomes from my family. My wife Astoria (Simone Missick) swiftly assigns me the garage as my temporary abode. My son Harrison (Jahi Di’Allo Winston), a passionate revolutionary with a fascination for Native American culture, chooses to ignore me. Even my generally friendly genius son Einstein (Evan Ellison) shows some affection. My family has grown weary of my grand promises and unfulfilled dreams.

Hampton harbors grand expectations that this time around will mark a departure, along with ambitious aspirations to peddle his groundbreaking creation – a drill that auto-sharpens – to a nearby aeronautics corporation.

However, Hampton finds himself in a tough spot: A disastrous riot led to his unexpected release from prison, all thanks to his friend Bootsy (Bokeem Woodbine) pulling some strings with a local crime network consisting of seven French-Canadian brothers. Now, Hampton is indebted to them for $2,000 that he doesn’t have. The only way to clear this debt is by returning to the criminal lifestyle he once abandoned. Luckily, Bootsy has devised an intricate scheme to burglarize a local synagogue, a plan involving Hampton and his expertise with the drill known as the Bit Magician.

The synagogue isn’t just an arbitrary spot for Hampton to be requested to commit a crime. In prison, he developed a casual curiosity about spirituality and the intricate role humans play in God’s complex design, a fascination that led him to delve into the Book of Jonah – a tale more commonly recognized as “The story where the man is swallowed by a whale” or, among Jews, as the reading closely tied to Yom Kippur and thus the Bible text most of us have encountered most frequently.

Hunter and Carr find the Book of Jonah an intriguing ingredient for seasoning their themes about the irrationalities of faith and destiny. They enjoy incorporating elements from the story that are only loosely related to the actual account of Jonah. For instance, suggesting Hampton go to Nineveh or organizing a fishing trip with an unexpected twist mirrors the peculiar ways they see in the original text. Similarly, linking the Hebrew term for a bound Torah scroll to the indigenous tribe of Southern California (Chumash) amuses them. However, these connections are primarily seen as entertaining rather than profound or insightful.

As a gamer, diving into “Government Cheese,” I found myself immersed in a world directed by none other than the music video colossus, Hunter. The visuals are a whirlwind of quick, evocative ideas and trippy aesthetics. For instance, each episode starts with parodies of commercials and public access shows that introduce us to an array of subjects, such as Judaism, French-Canadian mobsters, and a unique coffee brand, in a way that’s more fleetingly amusing than coherently realized, much like the series itself.

I consistently criticize excessive content in streaming TV, but the 30-minute episodes of Government Cheese often fall short of realizing its grand intentions. This series takes on significant themes – adapting a Bible story isn’t done lightly – yet it doesn’t quite deliver the impact one might expect. It has an abundance of quirky elements, but lacks the necessary humor, zaniness, or depth to truly shine. The potential is evident and scattered throughout, but unfortunately, it hasn’t been fully realized.

I found Sunita Mani’s character Edith, who is employed at the local Elks Lodge and adds a captivating dose of peculiarity when she first appears trapped in a vent, somewhat disappointing as it seemed to mainly serve to deliver exposition rather than develop further. One episode that stood out for me was the one featuring Katie Aselton as the eerily robotic neighbor woman residing across the street, who introduced Astoria to the subtle despair of the neighborhood’s Stepford wives. However, she primarily acted as a catalyst for Astoria’s interior design aspirations. Roles like Woodbine’s Bootsy and Louis Cancelmi’s Jean-Guy, a menacing mobster, appear frequently but seem more like brief appearances than fully fleshed out supporting characters.

I find Hampton to be consistently optimistic, and Oyelowo portrays him as a man who’s comfortably navigating God’s plan for his life, thereby maintaining the series’ overall positive atmosphere without evoking deep emotional responses. Missick delivers the most authentic performance in this show, embodying the only character who seems genuinely puzzled and annoyed by the extraordinary circumstances unfolding around her. Astoria appears to be a genuine woman yearning to escape the series’ idealized portrayal of late-’60s suburban life, and the show seems unsure about how to fully utilize her character.

If you’re wondering, the title of the show is connected to Hampton’s mother, who according to Astoria, prepared delightful sandwiches using just white bread and government cheese. This symbolizes resilience and inspiration that Hampton sees in himself too. Is it a fitting title? Yes, but quite the opposite of the series itself. Unlike creating something extraordinary from basic materials, Government Cheese boasts a variety of high-quality ingredients, yet never manages to create anything appealing or tasty.

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2025-04-15 16:55