Jon Hamm makes this comedy of suburban wealth and burglary worth following. The ensemble keeps the relationship drama lively, though the commentary on privilege rarely tells us anything we have not heard before.
Your Friends & Neighbors is an enjoyable crime comedy whose complaints about the wealthy are considerably less interesting than its thief. The premise gives a disgraced hedge fund manager a new line of work: burglary. Jon Hamm makes Andrew ‘Coop’ Cooper worth following, even when the series settles for reminding us that money does not prevent unhappiness. We recommend it for his performance and the caper, with modest expectations of the social criticism.
Hamm’s sardonic manner suits a man who still expects to be taken seriously despite his disgrace. He makes self-pity funny without asking us to regard it as an especially noble affliction, and he is particularly entertaining when Coop gets on with stealing. We laughed at the burglaries because Hamm makes the man’s dignity look faintly ridiculous while still encouraging us to hope he gets away with it. His charm makes his entitlement bearable, though it remains possible to enjoy his company and think he deserves his difficulties.
Amanda Peet, as Mel Cooper, and Olivia Munn, as Sam Levitt, help the relationship drama compete with the crime story. Their presence gives us reasons to pay attention when Coop is not the immediate concern, and the ensemble’s chemistry makes the gossip enjoyable. These people can be good company without becoming particularly admirable. The limitation is the script’s determination to keep returning to Coop’s dissatisfaction when the people around him seem at least as deserving of the attention.
Cinematographers Justin Charles Foster and Zachary Galler, together with production designer Anu Schwartz, give the wealthy suburban setting an appeal that makes spending time there easy. The comfortable surroundings make Coop’s concern with appearances comprehensible, even when it is hard to feel sorry for him. That attractiveness also makes the satire’s job harder. The series lets us enjoy this affluent company for long stretches before remembering to disapprove of it.
The editing team, which includes Andy Keir and Tatiana S. Riegel, does its most satisfying work when the crime plot supplies a clear reason to keep moving. Dominic Lewis’s music fits the entertainment without making the series feel any more dangerous. The narration feels unnecessary alongside a performance this readable. It adds to the programme’s tendency to explain points about status and misery that the acting has already made, slowing the pleasure of watching Hamm negotiate them.
The affluent male antihero is familiar television territory, and writer Jonathan Tropper does not find much new to say about him here. What works is the comedy: Hamm can make Coop entertaining without requiring us to believe that his misery matters more than anyone else’s. The programme is less disciplined about that, giving his unhappiness more attention than its observations about wealth can support. Its criticism of privilege is too gentle to make this familiar setup feel uncomfortable for long.
For a crime caper with a sociable cast, this is worth following. There is enough pleasure in Hamm’s company to make the qualifications bearable. Just allow for some complaining between burglaries.
