NETFLIX – ON DEMAND – SERIES
Looks like the platforms have decided to take our education into their own hands, with some sense of method. Their summer school offers a sociology course on the New York gay community. After studying precarious young adults through the feature film Fire Island (on Disney+), here are their elders, the wealthy fifties who live in Gramercy Park or Chelsea, (barely) bohemian and (completely) overpriced neighborhoods of Manhattan, and populate Darren Star’s new series (Sex and the City, Emily in Paris), Uncoupled.
The insolent luxury in which the characters move is above all the setting for their abyssal solitude.
In this world which knows no other crisis than that of fifty, lives an ideal couple. Colin (Tuc Watkins) is the manager of hedge funds, Michael (Neil Patrick Harris) sells apartments, and each commission earns him enough to acquire a private mansion in a French regional metropolis. To celebrate the half-century of his companion, Michael organized a surprise party. But barely crossed the threshold of the huge living room where the party is organized, Colin announces to Michael that he is leaving him, and he begins to learn how to survive after the breakup.
Uncoupled Although it may be a comedy (which sometimes manages to be funny, because Neil Patrick Harris is gifted with physical burlesque), the series surprises with its bitterness. We know to what extent Darren Star (who worked here with Jeffrey Richman) is fascinated by all that glitters, whether in the window of New York shoes or at the stall of Parisian bakers, but here the insolent luxury in which the characters move is above all the setting of their abyssal solitude.
Unexpected complexity
It is impossible to separate the writing and the interpretation in the construction of the character of Michael, but this one, in eight brief episodes, breaks down and recomposes in a process of unexpected complexity. Neil Patrick Harris, who was the embodiment of conquering male heterosexuality in How I Met Your Motherfirst draws a conservative character, perfectly preserved in its routine, before patiently exposing its impulses, fears and weaknesses.
There is enough to build a comedy in the best sense of the word. But the format – that of the sitcom divided into half-hour episodes – and above all the plastic tone, the painting of the secondary characters hold Uncoupled quite far from this ideal.
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