Natasha Rothwell's appealing Hulu comedy

Natasha Rothwell is So charming in Hulu's How to die aloneit's almost a problem.

The plot revolves around the idea that its protagonist, Mel, is largely alone in the world – so much so that after a brush with death, she has no one to pick her up from the hospital. This might be a little more plausible if the Mel we actually see on screen wasn't so obviously lovable and popular with colleagues and customers alike for transporting passengers at New York's JFK airport.

But that's a bit like complaining that the bespectacled nerd in a romantic comedy is too devastatingly good-looking to have ever gone unnoticed: that may be valid, but it's beside the point. Like the best of these heroines, Mel is both relatable and ambitious. And like Mel, Onyx Collective's dramedy is definitely great – warm, funny, and occasionally even life-affirming.

According to her own statement, Mel is nobody special at the beginning of the series. In the premiere, she vents her frustration to her likeable colleague Terrance (KeiLyn Durrel Jones) and compares herself to Lizzo – they are both 35, fat and black and have the same number of hours a day. But unlike Lizzo: “I'm broke. My family thinks I'm a lost cause. My love life is a joke. And the punch line is: I work in an airport and I'm afraid of flying.” Only when she almost loses her life – in a complicated accident involving crab Rangoon and kit furniture – is she finally torn out of her rut and finds a new determination to become a braver, bolder and better version of herself.

“An aimless New Yorker tries to pull herself together” is hardly an original premise, but Rothwell, also a creator, differs in her interpretation on a few points. While Mel fears she's sitting on the edge of her own life, her series is entirely situated in her perspective, right down to occasional flights of fantasy. A choreographed dance breaks out in a hallway to represent a Percocet high. A karaoke performance turns into a stroll through a city frozen in joyous celebration — and also gives Rothwell an excuse to show off her rich and resonant voice.

While How to die alone isn't exactly an ensemble comedy, but it surrounds Mel with the makings of a good comedy, populated by colorful characters like Patti (Michelle McLeod), Mel's Schrute-esque workplace nemesis, and Shaun (Arkie Kandola) and DeShawn (Chris “CP” Powell), goofy tarmac workers who are never short of silly but hilarious comments. Should the show be renewed, it would be good to continue to draw on these supporting casts.

And the airport is an interesting setting for workplace antics, because it's simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Gaining insight into the workings of the terminal through Mel and her colleagues makes it feel satisfyingly like you're in on a secret. I'm not saying that real TSA agents scoff that their real job isn't to prevent terrorism but to “humiliate people and tell them to get new socks,” or that real customs agents make charcuterie platters out of all the deli meats and cheeses they confiscated. But doesn't it kind of feel like that's what they're doing?

Despite all that, the show is a little unsteady in its first half-hour. Trying to find a balance between broad comedy, real-life snippets and earnest sensibility, the series sometimes seems to jump between modes rather than weave them into a single, consistent tone. But by the fifth episode, when Mel visits her disapproving big brother (Bashir Salahuddin's Brian) and passive-aggressive mother (Ellen Cleghorne's Beverly) for a cantankerous Thanksgiving, it has found enough grounding to extract both genuine pathos and hearty laughter from a bitter argument that ends with a cry of “The Lion King is a crown jewel of American animation!!”

Mel's mission to improve extends to all areas of her life. She enrolls in a management training program at work; she rethinks the boundaries of her friendship with Rory (Conrad Ricamora), her funny but unreliable best friend who ditched her on her birthday; and expands her circle of friends to include new ones. She even resolves to conquer her fear of flying by buying a plane ticket to Maui. But when she turns to her love life in the second half of the season, the series shifts into high gear.

That ticket happens to be for the wedding of her boss turned boyfriend turned ex turned boyfriend, the sweet and sexy Alex (Jocko Sims). As the date approaches, Mel's lingering feelings for the man who's been eluding her reach a breaking point, just as her down-to-earth pal Terrance begins to realize his own feelings for her. The familiar rhythms of a romantic comedy give the final episodes a delicious dynamic, and while the two guys aren't necessarily both right for her, Rothwell has such strong chemistry with both actors that either of them seems like an extremely attractive option. (Though my heart personally lies with Terrance — Jones has a way of staring at his leading lady like she's the only person in the whole world.)

But despite all this How to die alone remembers that the truest love story it tells is not the one between Mel and any of her suitors, or even any of her boyfriends, but the one she's rediscovered with herself. It's an extremely familiar cliche, even if this version of it is occasionally accentuated with clumsy bird metaphors from a mad falconer played by H. Jon Benjamin. But cliches often become cliches because they ring true, and their best use can make them seem simultaneously fresh and comforting. If the cliffhanger season finale is any indication, Mel still has a lot of growing to do. If we're lucky, we'll get to watch her continue to do it.