‘Your Friends & Neighbors’ Review: Jon Hamm Anchors an Apple TV+ Crime Dramedy that Plays Things Too Safe

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In John Cheever’s short story “The Swimmer,” the main character, Neddy Merrill, decides to swim from a social gathering to his own home, using only the linked swimming pools found throughout suburban Westchester County. At first, it seems like a fun idea as he enjoys drinks and friendly greetings along the way. However, as the story progresses over 12 pages, it becomes clear to both the reader and Neddy that his life has suffered significant setbacks, though the exact reasons remain vague. He’s in debt and has grown distant from those he once cared for. By the end of his journey, the home he was aiming for is discovered to be deserted and abandoned, adding a symbolic and somber tone to the tale.

Does Jonathan Tropper’s novel “Your Friends & Neighbors” appear to be influenced by the works of John Cheever? I’d like to affirm that it does, as I find this possibility more intriguing than simply mentioning the high-end TV dramas and dark comedies that might have inspired this Apple TV+ production. The story opens with Jon Hamm‘s character, Andrew Cooper, or “Coop” to most but his sister Ali, waking up in a luxurious foyer of a mansion filled with blood, part of which is his own and from an initially unknown deceased person. In a panic, Coop tries to clean up the crime scene, only to stumble into the backyard and then fall into a pool, which he explains is symbolic and literally true.

The narrative arc of the series revolves around Coop, a high-profile hedge fund manager resembling Jon Hamm, transitioning from being a prominent figure in the suburban elite to leading a desperate existence where his family is no longer his, his home is no longer his, and his Maserati lacks a properly functioning trunk. This transformation isn’t depicted as moving from one swimming pool to another, although swimming pools are significant in multiple scenes; instead, it’s portrayed as progressing from one walk-in closet to another, accumulating symbols of extravagant consumption as he goes along.

If there are genuine connections between the characters in “Your Friends & Neighbors” and “The Swimmer,” it’s highly unlikely this is mere coincidence. This is because “The Swimmer” was reimagined as a full-length film with Burt Lancaster, and Hamm’s celebrity has often had a somewhat Lancaster-like quality, frequently serving as a humorous critique of over-the-top masculinity.

Could I rephrase this for you? Here’s one way:

Is Your Friends & Neighbors also a subtle critique of over-the-top masculinity and privilege? At times, which suggests my mixed feelings about the show, as it features a solid performance by Hamm and boasts an impressive ensemble. However, this series can be quite a few things at different moments, such as a letdown in the longstanding Middle-Aged White Guy Involved in Crime genre and an inconsistently gentle critique of that same genre, but never truly delivers on its potential. Each time it attempts to explore deeper themes, it falls back into familiar TV cliches that are still enjoyable to watch, yet feel dated, being at least a decade or more out of touch with current cultural trends.

Critics have received seven out of nine episodes so far, and the seventh one seems to set up a shift, possibly requiring an entire new series. However, I’m unable to reveal what this change might entail or how skillfully it could be executed.

To recap the central plot of the series: At the outset, Cooper (Coop) is a hedge fund manager who’s recently divorced from Mel and estranged from his children, Tori, a promising high school tennis player aiming for Princeton, and Hunter, who always wears noise-cancelling headphones. He’s been forced to downsize from his spacious suburban home to a smaller one he now shares with his troubled musician sister. Coop still keeps in touch with some of their mutual friends, such as Barney, his business manager, and Sam, his secret lover who is also going through a divorce. Despite the hardships, Cooper can take solace in his wealth.

Later, for reasons that seem somewhat puzzling, unrelated, and random, Coop loses his job. Despite his delicate emotional state and strong attachment to his professional status, he refuses to acknowledge this change or make adjustments like downsizing his home or letting go of his luxury Maserati. Instead, in a manner typical of disheartened and emasculated television characters, Coop resorts to a life of illicit activities: burglarizing the homes of friends and neighbors, stealing their pricey watches and trinkets. With assistance from Lu, the morally questionable pawn shop owner portrayed by Randy Danson, he then sells these valuable items.

Initially, I found myself grappling with the show “Your Friends & Neighbors” for a couple of episodes. I was uncertain about its purpose, as it seemed to be yet another portrayal of a wealthy, good-looking white male character lamenting the disruption of his life of unending privilege due to circumstances he had largely orchestrated himself. The genre’s twist lies not in Coop using any pre-existing abilities (he’s not like Walter White, Marty Byrde, or even Nancy Botwin), but rather in his ability to swiftly learn from YouTube tutorials and exploit the gullibility of his victims. Despite being generally unlikeable, Coop is not so unsympathetic that we are supposed to dislike him; instead, we’re meant to simply like him. His approach to solving problems lacks genuine creativity, creating a frustrating situation where it’s unclear whether the series acknowledges this as a flaw.

Coop would make for an intriguing figure if he were among fifteen individuals spending a week at the luxurious White Lotus resort, with a chance that his story ends tragically.

It’s worth noting as the story of Your Friend & Neighbors unfolds, it increasingly appears that the authors are well aware that Coop may not be a particularly captivating central character.

By the fourth episode, Aimee Carrero’s character, Nick’s housekeeper (and Coop’s former friend’s current boyfriend), starts to take center stage. This shift enriches the series as it shows growing intrigue towards Mel and later Barney. It might be that Coop gradually realizes his story isn’t just his own. However, unlike some movies from the early ’90s where a bad character softens after a near-death experience, swapping theft for a brain tumor, this series doesn’t follow that trope.

In this narrative, Coop is the sole character given voiceover commentary. He interprets symbols such as the pool and often delivers witty remarks that could be seen as self-deprecating jabs at typical Cheever/Updike characters, although they may not truly be so. Despite the story suggesting that Coop should not take center stage, he continues to do so prominently. The tale struggles to let go of him or push him into the shadows, which results in many non-stereotypical supporting characters being relegated to little more than decorative pieces.

Elena is not given much focus despite her significant impact on Carrero’s series and the fact that her storyline has more weight than Coop’s. Similarly, Lu seems to be sidelined despite Danson’s electrifying entrance. Ali’s lackluster love affair with a married man also takes a backseat, yet the show makes an effort to highlight Hall’s award-winning vocal talents. Barney is not central, but the episode where he gets a well-rounded subplot might be my favorite from this early season.

Essentially, viewers generally won’t mind Hamm staying in his comfort zone in this series, as it suits him well. After an unexpected opening scene involving a pool accident, we find Cooper engaged in a playful chat at a bar with a young work colleague, Liv Cross from Kitty Hawthorne, whose character seems more like a prop than a supporting role due to her inconsistent presence. This interaction allows Cooper to subtly express that he’s too old for such romantic entanglements, yet it’s clear that both characters still have their charm and chemistry, as the youth might say, “can still ‘get it’.

In numerous situations, Coop’s age is often brought up and then disregarded due to the charm of Jon Hamm when he portrays a ‘master salesman feeling bored’. This blend of Walter White and Don Draper, which can be thought of as ‘Break In? Bad!‘, is the most enticing display of his talents we’re probably going to see, given that it seems unlikely there will be a complete Jon Hamm-focused ‘Fletch‘ series.

Hamm and Peet share a palpable connection, embodying the tender moments as well as the tension of a marriage that’s lost its spark, yet remains marked by its enduring effects. Both Peet and Munn deliver convincing performances as stressed-out individuals who, unlike Coop, can’t afford to crumble or act out in destructive ways due to their lack of masculine privileges.

Although the dramedy features some sharp dialogue, albeit excessively articulate, and offers glimpses of pertinent commentary, devotees of Tropper’s work on shows like Banshee and Warrior might find it somewhat tame and toned-down compared to his usual style. The series seems to lack the daring or adventurous spirit that one expects, often following a predictable television formula instead. It starts as an AMC show from 2008, then evolves into a Showtime series from 2011, and by the sixth or seventh episodes, it essentially transforms into a coastal adaptation of Big Little Lies.

Your Friends & Neighbors doesn’t necessarily require the gritty violence found in Tropper’s previous works. Instead of pushing boundaries, it opts for being more accommodating, choosing to blend elements of real estate showcase and a subtle satire of such shows simultaneously – making it easier for Apple to categorize it as a drama. However, I prefer it when it leans towards dark comedy. Going back to Cheever, the show seems too content to follow a conventional current, rather than challenging it.

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2025-04-02 16:25