Better Things

Season three is as good as the show has ever been — even better, really.

We get little snapshots of moments in Sam’s life, yet each glimpse is so fully realized and emotionally rich that you see whole story lines immediately—whole lifetimes, really.

Season three of Better Things continues to be exceptionally great without him [Louis C.K] — precisely because this is Adlon's experience and POV via a TV show that mirrors aspects of her own life and conveys what she fearlessly wants to put out in the world about being a woman, being a mother, being a daughter. And all of that is keenly evident in this new season, with even more development of her directorial skills.

A series that’s funny, empathetic, and experimental all at once. The eight episodes made available for review also seem to think about the inevitability of change, and what it means to handle change with grace. ... The magic of Better Things is that Adlon is telling, and making something striking in the process.

As the confident new season unfolds starting Thursday on FX, you see the number of themes the premiere has casually established: aging, growing up, freedom, dependence, mortality, responsibility, the flowering and wilting of life, all at the same time. That’s all — just human existence, the labor of love. And there is nothing on TV today that represents it better or more gorgeously.

Adlon is more concerned with character and truth. Better Things has that element that commonly comes with great fiction in that it feels like we’re dropping in on lives that existed in the months since this show was on the air. It’s like visiting old friends — some of it is funny, some of it is dramatic, some of it is silly. And we can’t wait till the next time we get to drop in.

Season 3 is an evolution inspired by many but guided by one constant voice. Adlon packs her series with touching moments, hilarious set-ups, thoughtful reveries, heartbreaking choices, and relatable circumstances, all explored through unique, perceptive perspectives. ... Better Things is the best of us, and even in February, it’s likely the best TV series of the year.

With just eight episodes as evidence, this third season appears to be flawless.

Everything about Better Things feels personal, and yet somehow vastly relatable to anyone who has ever loved a child, agonized over a difficult parent, endured an unsatisfying job, or wondered whether pushing their own personal rock up the hill yet again was really worth it.

The third season of Pamela Adlon’s Better Things is the best the show has ever been. Even when the characters are hurting themselves, being petty and hypocritical, and otherwise making a mess of things, it’s a pleasure to watch because so much care and thought have gone into each frame and line.

The eight brilliant episodes provided to critics suggest the show is better off for the upheaval. Better Things’s energy is stronger, clearer, and even more seductive, wrapping its viewer up in the hairy details of life with real people.

Ms. Adlon’s Sam Fox—former child star, working actress, single mom of three, plaything of a perverse and wrathful universe—remains one of the most original and daring female characters in the annals of TV comedy. ... As regards the question of whether to watch, the answer is a resounding yes.

It’s an experimental season, one whose subtle shifts seem more suited to film than TV—and might be easier to appreciate on a streaming service than in 12 episodes spread out over three months. .... Like [John Cassavetes, she’s making choices bold enough to alienate some viewers—ones that introduce a voice strong enough to stand on its own.

Each episode feels like a compelling short story, or a collection of theme-linked tales, toggling between topics both deep and juvenile...And the atmoshere feels so lived-in and inviting - even when the girls are being awful, which is most of the time - that this newfound emphasis on plot feels like a bonus for getting to spend time in Sam's company. [Feb 2019, p.88]

Better Things feels a bit freer to be its most audacious self this season. Making the show under extraordinary pressure has, in the end, allowed Adlon to throw up her hands, say anything she wants, get it all out there and succeed entirely on her own terms.

It’s most resonant when it treats its heroine as a moral mixture. When, a few episodes in, it begins to dive into Pamela’s messy unconscious, it deepens, hitting on disconcerting themes about sex and loneliness. The show’s moody, jazzy style, its reliance on the unexplained image, can border on pretension, as jazzy things so often do, but it lingers in your mind, agitating in a good way.

While the supporting cast is always very solid, the show rests entirely on Adlon; when the story or the camera ever move away from her, it becomes less engaging.