Lisa Johnson Mandell & Tandy Culpepper Review Two Dramedys With Heart: Shrinking & Nobody Wants This

Apple TV+ | Created by Jason Segel, Brett Goldstein, and Bill Lawrence
Starring Jason Segel, Harrison Ford, Jessica Williams, Lukita Maxwell, and Christa Miller

By Tandy Culpepper and Lisa Johnson Mandell

What if your therapist stopped following the rules—and actually started telling you what they really think?

That’s the high-concept (and high-risk) premise of Shrinking, a surprisingly tender and sharply written comedy from the team behind Ted Lasso—Jason Segel, Brett Goldstein, and Bill Lawrence. But while Shrinking shares some of its predecessor’s DNA (warmth, irreverence, emotional healing through found family), it also walks its own messy, mournful, often hilarious path.

Segel stars as Jimmy Laird, a grieving therapist who’s recently lost his wife and has emotionally checked out from both his work and his teenage daughter Alice (Lukita Maxwell, a breakout). One morning, he decides he’s had enough of professional boundaries and begins giving unfiltered, brutally honest advice to his clients—and even taking an active role in their lives. What starts as a rogue experiment in radical transparency becomes a strange kind of therapy, not just for his patients but for himself.

The show’s secret weapon, however, is Harrison Ford as Dr. Paul Rhoades, Jimmy’s mentor and the gruff, Parkinson’s-diagnosed senior therapist in the practice. Ford—playing against his usual stoic type with a razor-sharp wit and world-weary warmth—steals every scene he’s in. It’s a joy to see the iconic actor stretch into a comedic role that doesn’t make him the punchline but rather the emotional backbone of the ensemble.

The supporting cast is uniformly strong. Jessica Williams shines as Gaby, a fellow therapist navigating her own heartbreak, and Christa Miller (Lawrence’s real-life partner) adds subtle bite as Liz, Jimmy’s nosy but well-meaning neighbor. The interplay among these characters gives the show its lived-in texture, with storylines that deal with grief, parenthood, boundaries, and the unpredictable nature of healing.

What makes Shrinking so effective is its willingness to let characters be flawed and occasionally unlikeable. Jimmy’s behavior—though well-meaning—can be ethically questionable and personally destructive. But the writing keeps pulling him (and us) back toward redemption with smart dialogue and an emotional core that feels hard-earned rather than saccharine.

The show falters slightly in its middle episodes, occasionally veering into sitcom tropes or letting side plots meander. But it finds its rhythm again by season’s end, offering satisfying payoffs and plenty of potential for a second season.

Ultimately, Shrinking is a gentle argument for compassion—toward others and ourselves. It’s about how we stumble through the wreckage of our lives, often doing the wrong things for the right reasons, and sometimes finding grace anyway.

Bottom line: Shrinking is smart, funny, and emotionally rich, anchored by Jason Segel’s earnest performance and an unexpectedly brilliant turn by Harrison Ford. Come for the therapy hijinks, stay for the humanity.
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Nobody Wants This, the 2024 Netflix romantic comedy series starring Adam Brody and Kristen Bell, is a sharply written, refreshingly adult look at love, faith, and second chances. Created by Erin Foster, the show centers on the unlikely relationship between Noah Roklov, a soft-spoken, newly single rabbi played with subtle charm by Brody, and Joanne, a brash, agnostic sex podcaster portrayed with sharp wit and vulnerability by Bell. On paper, their pairing sounds like a setup for broad laughs or sitcom clichés, but Nobody Wants This defies expectations at almost every turn.

The show begins just as Noah’s engagement implodes, and Joanne, ever skeptical of monogamy and religion, stumbles into his orbit. What follows is not a “will-they-won’t-they,” but a “they-will—but-how?” The show skips over drawn-out misunderstandings and instead zeroes in on how these two very different people try to sustain something real in the face of culture clash, emotional baggage, and intrusive siblings. Brody brings a soulful steadiness to Noah, and Bell is at her best when her character’s bravado gives way to flashes of raw honesty. Their chemistry is effortless, the kind that feels lived-in and electric all at once.

What elevates the series is its willingness to play with form and tone. Each episode is framed by Joanne’s podcast, a recurring narrative device that adds structure and insight without feeling gimmicky. The writing is funny but not frivolous, and while the premise sets up the interfaith tension between Judaism and secularism, the show often resists the urge to mine those differences for easy conflict. Instead, it explores the messy emotional terrain of adulthood: how people grieve, how they evolve, and how they occasionally sabotage what they most want.

Still, not every critic is convinced the show goes far enough in its exploration of faith. Some argue that Judaism is treated more as a flavor than a fully integrated identity for Noah. While Brody’s performance lends the character depth, the scripts sometimes retreat from the more complicated implications of his vocation—particularly in scenes involving his family or synagogue duties. That said, it’s also worth noting how rare it is to see a romantic lead who happens to be a rabbi portrayed with such nuance and emotional resonance on mainstream television.

The supporting cast rounds out the show with warmth and bite. Justine Lupe as Joanne’s overachieving sister and Timothy Simons as Noah’s aloof brother are particular standouts, adding texture to the protagonists’ lives and highlighting the family dynamics that both help and hinder their personal growth. The world of Nobody Wants This feels lived-in and current, its stories anchored in emotional truth rather than sitcom logic.