A lesson that most comedians know is that if a joke requires an explanation, it isn’t funny. Although this doesn’t mean that all comedy should be aimed at the lowest common denominator, jokes that require work are likely to inspire admiration, if not laughter. This makes it confusing why so many shows about the inner-workings of comedy have failed, as the people involved should’ve theoretically known better. Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip proved to be too “inside baseball” for an audience that didn’t already know the ins and outs of Lorne Michaels’ early career, and the short-lived Mulaney series turned one of the world’s funniest living comedians into a boring schlub.
Some of the strongest shows about comedy are only about the world of standup in the abstract; the segments about Jerry’s routines are generally the least entertaining aspects of Seinfeld, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel was more interested in women’s issues of the 1950s than the facets of a routine, and Barry quickly transformed into a darker show, in which the world of improv was used simply as a launching point. The few legitimate successes, such as The Larry Sanders Show and 30 Rock, existed within a strange alternate reality in which celebrities and notable figures could’ve appeared as fictional versions of themselves.
The Max comedy Hacks already had weight on its shoulders because it’s entirely fictitious; not only is the character of Deborah Vance (played by Jean Smart) a true original, but it’s difficult to determine if she was specifically inspired by a real female standup. The additional hurdle the show faced is that it’s an examination of the interiority of comedy, as Smart’s screentime is shared with Hannah Einbinder’s Ava Daniels, a comedy writer in need of a new employer. It’s hard for audiences to accept that comedians don’t write their own jokes, in the same way that it’s easier to imagine that every famous musician has written their own lyrics.
There was a lot of potential for Hacks to be a broader examination of the generational divide, and to the show’s credit, it has offered commentary that’s more complex than “you can’t make those jokes anymore.” However, the age gap between Deborah and Ava is only one component of a show that’s also focused on booking, residency, framing, and employment. The realization that comedy can be just as taxing as any other profession is just as evident to the audience as it is to the main characters. Hacks is a drama about caustic, selfish characters who work within a predatory industry; in the same vein as HBO epics like The Sopranos and Succession, it's exhilarating and disturbing to become invested in characters that would be deemed “villains” in almost any other scenario.
The best comedy is the expression of pain, and Hacks didn’t take long to establish that its characters were backed against a wall; although the series notes how sexism has made it harder for women like Ava and Deborah to find sustained work, it doesn’t excuse their ignorant, combative attitudes. Both women are victims of their own egos; Deborah’s belligerent treatment of her colleagues made her career stagnant, and a series of controversial social media tweets led to Ava’s termination. The best scene in the show’s pilot is a distillation of their unhealthy relationship; although Deborah’s unimpressed by Ava’s resume, she’s gradually convinced to make her a protege after the two have a heated argument filled with creative insults.
The title’s ironic, as Hacks is interested in the self-fulfillment that comes with comedy, and not the success. Deborah doesn’t lack work, but has found that being a tourist attraction in Las Vegas is a pathetic conclusion that began with subversive, challenging performances. Ava could apologize and own up to her past mistakes, but her goal is to be so undeniably talented that she’d instantly be forgiven for any controversies. What neither character is willing to admit is that they want to be loved; comedy doesn’t exist in a void, and the only way that comedians can improve is through the assessment of what jokes appeal to a live audience.
Hacks doesn’t necessarily show pity for comedians, as its assumption is they’d be unhappy doing anything else; for both Ava and Deborah, the notion of a stable profession and intact family life would be a detriment to the sensibilities that make their routines so venomous. The women require friction to be enthusiastic, but a consistently argumentative outlook has led them to destroy personal relationships. Hacks is grounded in enough emotional authenticity that the more serious moments aren’t incongruous with the episodes focused solely on the big events. It doesn’t hurt that there is a terrific group of guest stars that have elevated these critical roles into scene-stealing characters; Jane Adams has the self-serious sentiment of Ava’s mother, and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia star Kaitlin Olson is unforgettable as Deborah’s loathsome, yet tragic daughter DJ.
Most comedy shows eventually run out of steam when the dynamic grows stale, but Hacks has thus far avoided writing itself into a corner through the escalation of stakes. Any gains made by Deborah mean that it’ll be even more crushing if it should disappear, and Ava’s growth as a writer has threatened to eclipse the necessity of her mentor. While not serialized to the point that it would seem routine, Hacks has enough momentum to stand out within the streaming landscape. A show about standups has succeeded because it has encouraged it audience to laugh at its characters, and not with them.