An ensemble comedy about relationships that’s actually funny, “Maggie” on Hulu follows in the footsteps of so many sitcoms that have come before it, from “Living Single” to “Friends” to “New Girl.” But it is “How I Met Your Mother” that comes to mind most insistently, because there are constant hints of a future outcome placed like a breadcrumb trail.
So much so that the first season of “Maggie” is a better successor than the official spinoff “How I Met Your Father,” which is aggressively fine and also on Hulu, ironically. Who knows why these things turn out the way they do. But when comparing the two, “Maggie” is superior in look and execution.
And it has jokes upon jokes. When a character brings home a guy she’s dating and introduces him to her parents (“So, this is my mom”) her mom bashfully replies: “Oh, please — Mom was my mother’s name.” It’s small, it’s silly, but it made me laugh. Those kinds of comedic grace notes are fundamental to the show’s sensibility.
Rebecca Rittenhouse stars as the title character, a young woman in Los Angeles who receives psychic visions. When she gives a reading to a cute guy named Ben (David Del Rio) she unexpectedly sees herself in his future and they hook up. The next morning she gets another vision: Of him marrying somebody else. So she ends things, awkwardly. Sometime after, and completely by coincidence, Ben and his longtime on-again, off-again girlfriend Jessie (Chloe Bridges) move into Maggie’s duplex.
Let the humorous complications begin, fueled by a will they/won’t they tension throughout the 13 episodes. Maggie, you see, has later visions that suggest maybe Ben is the person she ends up with.
I wasn’t initially sold on the premise — I’m not really into magical whatever — but show creators Justin Adler and Maggie Mull (who previously worked together on the CBS comedy “Life in Pieces”) have fun with the comedic possibilities inherent in Maggie’s psychic predictions. The show’s tone is what I’d describe as warmly sarcastic. And it’s biggest strength is that it’s not only the story of Maggie and Ben, but a true ensemble comedy that includes Maggie’s best pal and fellow singleton Louise (“Superstore” alum Nichole Sakura, very funny here). There’s also Ben’s tightly wound sister Amy and loosey-goosey brother-in-law Dave who have the most stable relationship in the group (a goofy-charming couple played by Angelique Cabral and Leonardo Nam). There’s also Maggie’s mentor, a fellow psychic who used to be her high school guidance counselor named Angel (Ray Ford), who understands her anxieties the best and also refuses to indulge them.
Maggie’s psychic talents are accepted as fact by her friends and family and I would go so far as to say it’s a very light metaphor for the value of accepting people for who they are, even, or especially, when they deviate from the so-called “norm.” (And not everyone believes she can see the future; at least one guy she dates does not.)
Much of the action is centered around the duplex, with its spacious courtyard that’s perfect for dinners and drinks. It’s owned by Maggie’s parents, played by comedy veterans Kerri Kenney and Chris Elliott, who find a nice middle ground between loving and overly involved.
There are a few things you can’t help noticing. The six primary actors are ethnically diverse but visually similar in that they’re all slender, extraordinarily good-looking and conform to all the usual beauty standards. “Maggie” isn’t alone in these kinds of choices, and the cast has terrific chemistry. But it remains a boring reality that Hollywood has such a narrow conception of who can be considered desirable and worthy of starring in a romantic comedy. And while L.A. may be one of the most expensive cities in the country, no one here is particularly cash-strapped. Again, the show isn’t alone in these kinds of choices. But as people are increasingly feeling the pinch, does this weird middle-class (but really wealthy) fantasy bother me now more than in previous years? Yeah. It does.
Even so, I found the show unexpectedly smart and funny and self-deprecating. Maggie’s mother suggests a blind date: “My meat man’s disease-free son just moved to town — he’s 30 and owns a bed frame, so I gave him your number.” When someone offers Maggie tequila shots, she declines because she’s “not looking to go through the Wendy’s drive-thru on foot tonight.”
I found it a particular thrill to see Nam in a comedy, coming off a far more grim performance in HBO’s “Westworld,” where he played one of the park’s miserable custodial workers. As Dave, he’s put his own spin on the blissfully out-of-it archetype, playing a Korean Australian transplant to L.A. who is part stoner finance bro, part golden retriever. He’s a delight every time he’s on screen. When Amy realizes he misses his family in Australia, she tries to comfort him: “Sorry honey, I wish you had more of a community here.” I have you, he tells her happily. I know, she replies, but I’m not your cultural touchstone. Dave: “I don’t know what a cultural touchstone is.” Nor does he even care.
What a perfect response.
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'MAGGIE'
3.5 stars (out of 4)
Rating: TV-14
How to watch: Premiered Wednesday on Hulu
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