A chatty podcaster falls in love with a rabbi

“Say something rabbinic,” a woman says playfully to the cute rabbi she has just spent the evening flirting with. It's been too long since the joys of banter gave a romantic comedy the enthusiasm of “Harry and Sally.” But in Nobody Wants This, one of the best Netflix series of recent times, it's omnipresent.

Kristen Bell plays Joanne and Noah alongside Adam Brody. They meet one evening at a dinner party in the Hollywood Hills, with a breathtaking view of the city. They're not so much opposites as people from different backgrounds, but both live in similar upper classes of Los Angeles, filled with spacious and immaculate homes and no worries about money. The cast has a meta quality; As actors, Bell and Brody embody a certain breed of LA TV millennial, having each starred in shows early in their careers (“Veronica Mars” and “OC”) where the Southern California setting was crucial to the storytelling. This feels like their natural environment.

She is humorously biting, unfiltered and agnostic (but a little Christian). During the day, she hosts a podcast with her sister where they talk about their dating and sex lives. He's a self-effacing rabbi (apparently in a Reform temple) who is newly single and has just broken up with a long-time girlfriend, much to the chagrin of his overbearing mother (Tovah Feldshuh).

The chemistry between them is palpable and they understand each other immediately. Is there really something there? Oh, Yes. You have sparks! They have a relationship! They're a two-person charm factory – they're attracted to each other and amused by each other – and Bell and Brody have an easygoing sensibility that gives the comedy real oomph. They know how to convey excited longings with a glance while leaving room for vulnerabilities and insecurities that feel organic to the characters.

The show was created by Erin Foster (daughter of Grammy-winning composer David Foster) and the premise is loosely based on her experiences with her now-husband (a Jewish talent manager instead of a rabbi), but it also feels familiar enough to it to underline how satisfying romantic comedies can be when done right. There's little on Foster's resume—failed attempts at an acting career, a short-lived mockumentary satirizing reality TV, and more recently, podcasting—that suggests she had what it took to make such a good series. That's not a backhanded compliment, but rather an argument for streamers to take risks on untested talent (hopefully including those who don't have a famous parent).

Scenes like the couple's first kiss play out with great attention to build-up and sequel, and there's confidence in how Noah handles the moment. The ice cream they are eating is placed on the sidewalk and quickly forgotten. He tells her to put her bag down too; There will be nothing other than their anticipation. He takes her face in his hand and lingers for a moment before going in, and all of these little gestures add up to something quietly arousing that appears on the screen. This is harder to achieve than you think, but if you look at the many mediocre efforts of late, you'll see that it is. The episode was directed by Greg Mottola and is more than I expected from the director of Superbad and Confess, Fletch. A reminder of what someone can do if the material is good enough.

The main couple is surrounded by funny family members who are sometimes well-meaning, sometimes sabotaging, including their sister Morgan, who is somehow snarky yet wonderfully fake-blasé (Justine Lupe, best known as Connor Roy's wife in “Succession”). and his brother Sasha (“Veep’s” Timothy Simons), an overgrown man-child who is forever attached to Noah’s laid-back charisma.

Foster never suggests that being single is something strange or unusual for middle-aged people, and in a time when too many comedies settle for mildly amusing humor, here's a series with jokes. Legitimate jokes, not just ironic or absurd moments, but jokes. When Joanne answers a call from an executive who wants to purchase her podcast, she puts him on speaker and he asks, “Should we grab your sister or doesn't it matter?” Morgan, right next to her, jumps in frantically: “Hi, I am important! Hello!” As the mothers in Noah's temple shout around him, eagerly bragging about their children, one believer tells him, “My son just finished his student film – it's a documentary about the history of documentary films.”

The show has so much to offer. There are also some terrible ideas about Jewish women that contribute to controlling and emasculating stereotypes. Why didn't anyone at any point in the creative process ask: Why do we write them all as harpies? It's a striking theme, especially in contrast to the men who are portrayed as being easygoing enough to tolerate and love these bullies in their lives. Trading in vile stereotypes in Hollywood is nothing new. You just hate to see it in an otherwise sparkling comedy.

But that's not where “Nobody Wants This” spends most of its time, and much else works, too. This is what a healthy relationship looks like, one that simultaneously has enough internal and external complications to make their interplay and the increasing seriousness of their relationship interesting enough for a 10-episode series.

The couple's problems, when they arise, seem reasonable. They don't lie or cheat on each other. They are not trapped by rigid expectations of gender roles. Their banter isn't about exchanging insults. She's afraid to open up, but she rises to the occasion. It's refreshing! Figuring out how and when to give grace to a partner is an ongoing process that tests all relationships. Joanne and Noah pull this off with emotional intelligence and emotional intimacy that is rare on television. “Lovers” doesn’t have to be written as immature or cruel to raise stakes or grab your attention. Joanne and Noah are fully realized characters who make great on-screen companionship.

You can imagine some doubting Netflix execs thinking, “Nobody wants this…” Foster proved them wrong.

“Nobody Wants That” – 3.5 stars (of 4)

Where to see: Netflix

Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.

Originally published: October 2, 2024 at 5:30 am