‘Stick’ Review: Owen Wilson’s Endearing Apple TV+ Golf Comedy Is Ideal Summer Comfort Viewing

by

Stick, the fresh golf comedy from Apple TV+ featuring Owen Wilson, doesn’t require the slogan “For those who enjoy Shrinking and Ted Lasso.” It doesn’t need it because: With its warm yet thoughtful atmosphere, the family-like cast, emphasis on fallible yet essentially good male figures, and overall ‘Dad TV’ feel, it’s evident for whom its intended audience is.

Familiarity may not always be a disadvantage when it comes to comfortable viewing, especially for beginners who can play as skillfully as seasoned veterans. Although it might not seem as daring as its slogan (“Take a big swing”) implies at this stage, its confident tone, concise narrative, and above all, talented cast could make Stick the perfect candidate to become the next popular hit on the platform.

According to the script, Jason Keller’s series focuses on a main character, Pryce “Stick” Cahill, played by Wilson, who despite appearing cheerful on the outside, harbors a heart that’s secretly shattered. Once a star in his field, he experienced a devastating public breakdown that ruined his career. In the pilot directed by Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton, we find him 16 years later, using his damaged reputation to sell expensive golf equipment to amateurs and occasionally scamming drunk locals with his former caddy, Mitts, played by Marc Maron. The money earned isn’t sufficient to maintain his home once his divorce from Amber-Linn (Judy Greer) is finalized.

However, hope unexpectedly comes in the form of Santi (Peter Dager), a 17-year-old prodigy who captivates Pryce’s dreams of discovering “the next Tiger Woods.” Despite his skepticism and deeply personal motivations, Pryce decides to mentor the young talent. Possibly due to unresolved fatherly issues, Santi, with his mother Elena’s (Mariana Treviño) cautious approval, accepts this guidance. Thus begins a thrilling series of qualifying tournaments, as Pryce, Santi, Elena, and eventually Santi’s love interest Zero (Lilli Kay) embark on a journey to help Santi secure a spot in the U.S. Amateur.

In terms of sports narratives, the show “Stick” might be perceived as a bit tame. Keller skillfully simplifies golf jargon for beginners and lavishly delves into the characters’ passion for the game. However, he falls short in conveying what truly sets golf apart – what makes it distinct from other sports or uniquely capable, as Pryce expresses, of “unraveling the mysteries of the universe if one is open to it.” Instead of instilling awe for golf’s unique athleticism, the show mainly depends on swift camera movements and actor expressions to indicate whether Santi’s swings are impressive or disastrous. The golf course functions more as a stage for portraying internal emotional struggles, and even by fairy tale standards, Santi’s rise through the ranks appears too neatly packaged, with obstacles so foreseeable they seem obvious from afar (or rather, episodes).

Despite some minor irritants here and there, I find myself utterly captivated by the charm of this series. “Stick” excels in its laid-back comedic atmosphere, where the camaraderie between characters feels natural and effortless, making even ten episodes seem like a fleeting moment. Creator Keller skillfully avoids turning his characters into caricatures, instead deriving humor from the banter and occasional spats among them. The undercurrent of sincere affection they have for each other adds depth to the narrative, resulting in a show that doesn’t always elicit uproarious laughter, but consistently brings a smile to my face.

Dager is a true find, for Santi gracefully manages the teenage oscillations between sullen defiance and innocent curiosity, childish antics, and angry despair. Interestingly enough, he’s at his most sincere and exposed in his interactions with Treviño. Her character, Elena, constructs a strong protective persona around her that stems from both the aspirations and apprehensions she hides within herself, as well as those she expresses more openly.

The film Stick skillfully employs Wilson’s beloved character, initially presenting him as a smooth-talking charmer, only to gradually reveal the underlying sadness that lies beneath. His character is derided by his rival (Timothy Olyphant) and acknowledged by Pryce himself as a “loser, a degenerate, a failure” – yet one with enough goodness that we find ourselves cheering for him regardless. Wilson’s charm is counteracted by Maron, who gives Mitts an expected dose of grumpiness but also an unexpected hint of melancholy.

Not every actor receives an equal level of development. Zero, with their flexible pronouns and self-important anti-meat and anti-capitalist proclamations, often seems like a Gen Z stereotype that older cast members such as Pryce and Mitts use to vent their “kids nowadays” frustrations – no fault of the appealingly sharp Kay. I find myself longing for Greer’s character more than Amber-Linn’s two-dimensional portrayal of an annoyed wife, even though the actress comes close to surpassing the cliché with her sheer charm.

However, the charm of the Stick group is so potent that they seem more like characters we haven’t spent enough time with rather than those the series neglects. They are enjoyable companions who make us overlook their imperfections and grant them leeway. It’s hardly groundbreaking to mention that endearing characters typically result in enjoyable shows, and Stick isn’t breaking any new ground in this aspect. Yet, why should it? At this point, this might just be the most delightful summer adventure you’ll embark on.

Read More

2025-06-03 23:25