‘Four Seasons’ remake is not without its pleasures
It would seem a foolhardy endeavor to convert Alan Alda’s 1981 box-office hit, “The Four Seasons,” into an updated miniseries. But Tina Fey and her two collaborators on the eight-part Netflix project nearly succeed.
It helps immensely that Fey has assembled a terrific ensemble that includes herself and the likes of Steve Carell, Colman Domingo and Will Forte. They, along with the lesser-known Kerri Kenney-Silver and Marco Calvani, afford the series a level of authenticity. You believe all six are perennial close friends who spend their trimestral vacations together amid the great outdoors. Each actor plays off the other beautifully in their explorations of marriage, friendship and aging gracefully.
Where Fey and her team of Lang Fisher and Tracey Wigfield stumble is in the clunky, expository-heavy dialogue and the strained comedic situations they’ve thrust their six core thespians into. Yet, you’re powerless to retreat. All, with the possible exception of Calvani, are endearing and charismatic. You want to spend time with them and bask in their thousand-watt starpower.
As you might expect, the two standouts are fellow Oscar nominees Carell and Domingo, both playing restless husbands frustrated by the constraints of having to answer to spouses heedless of their desire for autonomy. Their arcs are by far the most compelling and relatable, as they struggle to reach a guilt-free compromise between fulfilling their needs and those of their needy partners.
There’s a different, but no less intriguing, estrangement brewing between Kate (Fey) and Jack (Forte). They are borderline obsessed with projecting as the “perfect couple.” But cracks are beginning to show, with Kate craving adventure and Jack content with the status quo. The one thing they still share is a warped sort of schadenfreude, as they hypocritically sit in judgment of the messy marriages between their dearest friends, Nick (Carell) and Anne (Kenney-Silver), and Danny (Domingo) and Claude (Calvani).
As the proverbial fly on the wall, we spend a year tagging along on their annual holidays, one per season, as the title implies. Two episodes are dedicated to each season, accompanied by the corresponding movement from Vivaldi’s classic symphony, which, like the series and the movie before it, begins in the spring. It’s Memorial Day weekend at the lake house, where amid the revelry, Nick confesses to Jack and Danny that he’s going to divorce Anne. At the same time, unbeknownst to Nick, Anne is planning a surprise vow renewal ceremony.
Let the hilarity begin, as the ceremony descends into calamity. We then fast-forward a few months to the group’s summer gathering, only this time, Anne has been replaced by the much, much younger Ginny (Erika Henningsen), a spitfire who instantly rubs the other four the wrong way. And what happened to Anne? Implausibly, she just happens to be staying at a nearby resort. Awkward!
It’s much the same in the fall, when the gang gathers in New England for Parents’ Weekend at the college attended by Anne and Nick’s and Kate and Jack’s daughters. Despite having no skin in the game, Danny and Claude are here, too, as is Ginny, much to the chagrin of Anne and Nick’s offspring, Lila (Julia Lester), who seeks to sabotage her dad’s romance with Ginny. Finally, we end the year at a ski resort, where it’s “Twixmas” and for the first time, Nick is away from his pals, spending the stretch in a separate location with Ginny and her much younger friends.
If you’ve seen the original, written, directed and starring Alda (making a cameo here), the plot and the various flare-ups and skirmishes that ensue will seem familiar. What’s different is the point of view. Instead of being written by a man, this time the script was penned almost exclusively by women, making for an interesting contrast. And, of course, there’s the introduction of a same-sex couple, an element that would have been taboo in 1981. Now, it feels perfectly natural, despite Calvani’s overly flamboyant turn.
The original – which starred Alda as Jack, Carol Burnett as Kate, Jack Weston as Danny, Rita Moreno as Claudia, Sandy Dennis as Anne, Len Cariou as Nick, and Bess Armstrong as Ginny – has never been a favorite of mine. And this new, extended version does nothing to alter that opinion. This one is just as forgettable as that one, which is disappointing, given Fey’s track record as an Emmy-winning writer on “SNL” and “30 Rock.” You’d rightfully expect material a cut above standard streaming fare.
Predictable, safe and inoffensive, it’s as bland as bland gets. The one exception is a third-act twist that significantly deviates from the plot of the original. It works, too, interjecting a bit of solemnity into the frivolity. It’s not enough to save the series, but it does prove moving.
The rest is merely a hodgepodge of observations on the agony of growing older and its effects on love and romance. The message being that when you’ve reached a certain age, the spontaneity of youth and the exciting possibilities of a rewarding future with your soulmate tend to fall victim to weariness and disillusionment. Fey and her co-creators seem to believe it’s a person’s character that informs their choices in these situations. No couple is perfect. And it’s your willingness to give and take that determines whether you can keep the spark alive. Or, as is the case with Nick, you suddenly realize your life has stagnated. In many ways, that defines a miniseries stuck in a similar rut, flailing away in search of meaning only to confirm the grass isn’t always greener.
Miniseries Review
The Four Seasons
Cast: Tina Fey, Steve Carell, Will Forte, Colman Domingo, Kerri Kenney, Marco Calvani and Erika Henningsen
Creators: Tina Fey, Lang Fisher and Tracey Wigfield
Runtime: Eight 30-minute episodes
Where: Begins streaming on Netflix on May 1
Grade: B-
