'Mid-Century Modern' Knows What a Bottom Is, But Not How To Crawl Out of a Comedy Hole

Mid-Century Modern is a sitcom from 1987 that discovered a time machine in its attic, accidentally stumbled through its glowing portal, and has come to the cursed year of 2025 to claim the lowest-hanging and most obvious fruit available on the joke tree. It’s the “fun aunt” of TV shows that wears tiny red glasses, can never have enough chardonnay, and will always order extra dessert. When it’s not rolling its eyes at the world today, Mid-Century Modern is working overtime to let you know that it definitely knows what a bottom is and can’t wait to stun you with its knowledge of Fire Island. The series is a bit too bemused by this crazy modern time, so it laughs too hard at its sweaty bon mots about a service dog attacking an emotional support chicken in the hopes that any boomers in the vicinity will flock to its call. Hulu’s Mid-Century Modern is a show for boomers who want to be coddled with stale Reagan-era jokes but feel edgy doing it.

Created by Max Mutchnick and David Kohan, who also created the extremely similar Will & Grace, Mid-Century Modern is about Bunny Schneiderman (Nathan Lane), Arthur Broussard (Nathan Lee Graham), and Jerry Frank (Matt Bomer), three old friends who reunite at the funeral of a mutual chum, George, who was discovered dead —in front of a Google search for butt implants— by a UPS worker. The three reminisce back at the enormous Palm Springs manse Bunny shares with his mother Sybil (the late Linda Lavin, in her final television role), and it’s not long until Bunny invites the two to move in so that they can do a C-minus riff on The Golden Girls together.

Bunny is the wealthy owner of the lingerie brand Bunny Hutch, who has filled his Californian mansion to the brim with the titular mid-century modern style. He’s lonely and single, partially trapped by a dependent relationship with Sybil and partially trapped by his insecurities. Arthur is a fashion maven, formerly of Vogue, struggling to make ends meet in New York. He’s the sharpest-tongued and tailored of the trio, usually cutting through every scene with a dry wit. Jerry is a himbo archetype so underwritten that I’m not sure he legally qualifies as a character, let alone a lead. He’s the hot one, the dumb one, the Chrissy-from-Three’s Company one who reliably misunderstands everything to middling comedic effect. Sybil is there to wear loud prints and mildly antagonize the boys with her Grand Dame shtick. No one’s really a person on Mid-Century Modern as much as they’re very predictable archetypes bouncing off each other. It could be fun if the archetypes being played weren’t so stale and underwritten.

As talented as the cast is, they strain against Mid-Century Modern’s blandness to bring some spark to their characters. Lane manages the best of the bunch by bringing a fussy warmth to Bunny that helps sell some truly lazy comedy. He musters his signature vaudevillian flair, but it’s mostly in vain. Graham serves so many delicious faces, whether he’s trading barbs or rolling his eyes, but Arthur is mainly just a vehicle for quips. He’s a fantastic performer who deserves a series with a spark that can match his own. Lavin was an old pro who could do this character in her sleep but is given scarcely little to do outside of being a prickly, overbearing mother. Sybil is talked up like a Mommy Dearest-style monster, but she’s written to be far too mild for that to work.

Bomer, an android with newly installed comedy software from executive producer Ryan Murphy, turns in the most wooden, dead-behind-the-eyes, going-through-the-motions performance I have seen in a long, long time. As the dumb hunk flight attendant Jerry, Bomer delivers all his lines with the flat affect of a child reciting words off a cue card. He seems by far the most out of his depth. The show tries to explain this with a backstory as a sheltered Mormon, but it does nothing to make any of the jokes land. A talented cast can elevate material, but the cast can only do so much with material like Mid-Century Modern.

The biggest problem with Mid-Century Modern is that it’s so predictable that it’s boring and often unfunny. It’s occasionally surprising how raunchy the jokes can get, but any potential bite is defanged by the paint-by-numbers sitcom writing. There is virtually never a subversion or twist or interesting turn; almost every beat is exactly the staid sitcom choices one might expect. It seems tailor-made for the boomer set, particularly those who love Chuck Lorre shows or miss Will & Grace. The campiness and occasionally spicy jokes probably make them feel edgy, even as they’re being served lumpy tapioca comedy.

If there’s one highlight to Mid-Century Modern, it’s the series’ fantastic taste in guest stars. Pamela Adlon and Richard Kind show up throughout to add some much-needed kookiness, and it’s a delightful surprise to see Vanessa Bayer, Rhea Perlman, and Cheri Oteri guest star to make everyone wonder why they’re not all in more things. All that aside, Mid-Century Modern is an underwritten comedy with half-baked jokes that aims for a time and a people at least a generation or two back.