‘The Curse’ is the Funniest Show You Won’t Laugh At

By Chris Revelle | TV | December 20, 2023 |

By Chris Revelle | TV | December 20, 2023 |

Maybe you’ve heard this one before: we don’t make comedies anymore. The symptoms of this condition that people point to have varied over time but usually include how many comedies produced today are no longer purely comedic. The hot take machine that makes up much of media commentary these days somewhat flattens and dilutes this observation, but it holds some water. We don’t make as many comedies without some kind of dramatic, dark, or even anti-comedic element involved as we did before.

I Think You Should Leave is a tremendous example of a hilarious comedy series that’s also a series of surreal stress dreams about modern life you can’t wake up from. While not exactly a comedy and maybe more of a dramatic satire, Succession is capable of being extremely funny despite being a portrait of the not-Murdochs in the twilight of their empire. I point this out not to criticize this turn (because media and the audience will always change over time, and this is neither the first nor last time that expectations about genre will shift) but to set the table for discussing how the fabulously pitch-black satire-comedy The Curse on Showtime/Paramount+ fits into this milieu and speculate on why this sort of cringe comedy can be so appealing.

The Curse is a show that’s much funnier if you’ve watched a lot of HGTV. I know I have! It started with my dilettante-level interest in interior design, but over time I developed a certain bile-fascination for the aggressively fake world of home renovation shows. The lavish home improvements with property taxes hiked off-screen, the careful avoidance of acknowledging gentrification, and the stilted producer-prodded interactions with the local community that carry the energy of forced icebreakers at a corporate retreat, all of these are found in The Curse’s dead-on impersonation of the genre. The Siegels (Emma Stone’s Whitney and Nathan Fielder’s Asher) are a scathing take on the “married house-flippers” types that you can find on Hometown or Bargain Block, but they seem to be most pointedly referring to Chip and Joanna Gaines of Fixer Upper.

Instead of the Gaines’ creepy religious zealotry, shiplap, and barn stars, the Siegels give us mirror-clad passive homes, poorly bridled privilege, and stiff smiles. I cringed so hard during the episode entitled “It’s A Good Day,” in which the Siegels are desperate to sell a house for an episode of their show Fliplanthropy after their abrasive and overbearing antics drive a couple of buyers away. Whitney taps her “close friend” Cara, a local artist and American Indian activist who seems to enjoy needling Whitney. Coming in hot with glamorous shades and a rich bitch act, Cara clowns from room to room of the house as cameras roll, laying down back-handed comments as the Siegels stare napalm at her and wear rictus grins. Eventually, they drive to another town to cast “buyers” to walk around the house pretending to be interested as they’re directed by producer Dougie to play-act joy, hesitation, or concern. The layers of falseness pile up around you until you’re at the bottom of an oubliette of cringe, watching a blue-lives-matter type played by Dean Cain buy the mirrored home.

In the following episode, “The Fire Burns On,” we see the Siegels each cross their own thresholds of sanity. Asher, convinced that young girl Nala cursed his not-HelloFresh chicken penne, attempts to test Nala’s potential supernatural abilities by holding nails in his closed fist and asking her how many he holds until his hand is bleeding and Nala is disturbed. Meanwhile, Whitney spirals about how boring the show is and decides with Dougie that the only way forward is to turn Asher into the “village idiot.” She even pitches a new title (Green Queen) for this new vision of the show: she’s a stylish eco-warrior and he’s just Ken a doofus sidekick. This not only echoes the dynamic we see with the Gaines, but it illustrates in quick and chilling order what Whitney’s priorities are and how Asher is well under having a successful TV show on the list. For such hollow prizes, Whitney sells her husband.

One of the pleasures of HGTV is looking for the seams in the production. Friends and I would muse about what was just out of the frame and what voltage of cattle prod they use to make awkward normies speak during open house scenes. It’s fun to wonder what the hosts really feel about one another, whether a designer is screwing their contractor in secret, or how much the Wayfair bill was for the staging of the house. To see a show like The Curse send up HGTV, a body of work that’s over-ripe for parody, with an absurdist, unrelenting eye is a delight. I’m usually cringing too hard to laugh and any giggle is a nervous one, but it’s hilarious nonetheless.

As for why this kind of cringe comedy works so well, I think it comes mainly down to taste. Similar to how I enjoy a horror film knowing it will disturb me, I seek The Curse for how uncomfortable it will make me. Even if you’re not a scholar of home-reno TV, The Curse has Fielder’s influence all over it. If you’ve seen Fielder’s earlier work, especially Nathan For You and The Rehearsal, you’ll know what you’re in for. Additionally, if you’re intrigued at a merciless examination of how home-reno media perpetuates gentrification and functions as propaganda for it, I can’t suggest this show heartily enough. Whitney’s crinkling smile that seems to pain her might as well be the new face of white girlboss feminism and as hideous as things are under that mask, that uneasy frisson The Curse serves is the finest cringe I’ve had in a long while.