Alan Alda’s 1981 The Four Seasons is the ideal film to remake as an extended series. Despite moderately positive reviews and strong box office, The Four Seasons lacked cultural stickiness, as even its admirers could admit that Alda had created a softer, less insightful version of a Woody Allen relationship dramedy. Nonetheless, the basic structure, which involved a group of couples that dip into each other's lives over the course of four vacations, had the potential to work better as an extended series. Alda’s film didn’t have the nuance to present anything other than occasional hijinks, but an eight-part Netflix show could provide greater interiority on each couples’ marital disputes.
Outside of a brief cameo by Alda in an early episode, Netflix’s The Four Seasons is divergent enough from the 1981 film, to the point that a vast majority of its viewers will assume that it's an original story. Set over the course of four vacations, the series examines three troubled couples whose disputes grow more contentious as they speculate about the future. Kate (Tina Fey), who has a minor drinking problem, has grown exasperated by her husband Jack (Will Forte), who she perceives as having no passion. Danny (Colman Domingo) and Claude (Marco Calvani) are in an open relationship, but often fail to communicate issues of gravity to each other.
The most scandalous of the three marriages is between Nick (Steve Carell) and Anne (Kerri Kenney-Silver), whose daughter Lila (Julia Lester) is about to graduate from college. Despite having renewed their vows within the first episode, Nick and Anne’s relationship has grown stagnant to the point of irritation; frustrated that his wife of over two decades has refused to step outside her comfort zone, Nick is abruptly divorced, and reintroduced alongside his much younger girlfriend, Ginny (Erika Henningsen). Nick’s divorce is a wake-up call to the other couples, who now fear that the sanctity of their own relationships are under threat; given that The Four Seasons is a comedy, Ginny and Anne are forced to interact with one another in a series of bad set pieces.
While there wasn’t substantial nostalgia for Alda’s film, the notion that Fey was a co-creator of the series did elicit anticipation, given her notable efforts on 30 Rock and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. It’s easy to see why Fey may have been attracted to The Four Seasons as an act of defiance; with no laugh track, no flashy guest stars, few physical gags, and a narrative that would never be misperceived as “high concept,” The Four Seasons gambled on whether audiences would be interested in a grounded, realistic story about middle-aged relationships. Unfortunately, The Four Seasons is proof of why this approach has disappeared from the modern television ecosystem; while all the performances in The Four Seasons are charming, none of the characters are interesting enough to justify such an old-fashioned aesthetic.
Forte and Fey have the most nuanced dynamic, as there isn’t one inciting incident that inspires Jack and Kate to lose faith within one another. Rather, they each recognize that they’ve had to subdue their passion in order to appease the other, and that “marriage” feels like “work.” However, Forte and Fey are too good-spirited to ever paint each other in a caustic light. While their disputes grow irritating, The Four Seasons never made the case that they’d be better without one another.
Domingo’s recent work in Rustin and Sing Sing suggest that he’s easily the best actor within the show’s cast, as it's made consistently clear that he’s overqualified for the straightforward material. As Danny, Domingo created a free-spirited, yet compassionate architect whose insights are limitless, even if his own livelihood is under threat. The strength of Domingo’s performance, and the depth he added to a potentially stereotypical character, created an imbalance within his on-screen relationship with Calvani; Claude’s role in the show is only to react to others, as any scenes with Calvani that lack Domingo’s presence are dull.
The Four Seasons may have intended to offer a less idealized portrayal of marriage in comparison to Alda’s film, as its portrayal of divorce is substantially more articulate. While divorce is a reality that any show that claims to be “authentic,” The Four Seasons introduces the marital split too early; with no time to learn about the merits of Nick’s relationship with Anne, it's difficult to understand why divorce is such a dreaded notion. Carell, a likable actor, has done his best to identify Nick as a sincere, yet ignorant man in the midst of a middle-aged crisis, who isn’t prepared for the judgment cast upon him. Carell’s performance is strong, but endless scenes of Nick’s justification for his abrupt divorce are too realistic to be undercut with humor.
Nonetheless, Carell’s portrayal of Nick as an oafish, yet well-intentioned character is made worse when he’s paired alongside Kenney-Silver. It’s hard to imagine a recent television character whose personality is this mishandled; despite the sympathy that a viewer may have had for Anne, Kenney-Silver’s performance is spiteful, nasty, and irritable. As a result, Henningsen is a “deer caught in headlights,” as Ginny is a character unprepared for the cruelty she will experience at Anne’s hands.
In the four decades since Alda’s film was released, audiences may have reached their capacity on stories dedicated to wealthy people’s disputes over the course of privileged vacations. While there are the occasionally insightful moments about what marriage looks like, The Four Seasons is too frequently unpleasant to ever feel like escapism.