Kevin Can F**k Himself

Valerie Armstrong’s smart show imagines one of those wives breaking free of the sitcom structure in a show that’s half-sitcom and half something much darker. In the first four episodes, some of the momenta sent to press drag after a fantastic first episode, but this is never a boring show, and it’s often incredibly clever.

Kevin Can F**k Himself quickly moves past its high concept to show the picture of a woman in crisis, and we’re excited to see how she tries to improve things through the first season.

I would hesitate to deem “Kevin” a triumph or a disappointment on the basis of what’s been made available for review, but it’s conceptually ambitious and never dull. Certainly it has been intelligently conceived and acted with commitment and spirit. Taken individually, the drama might feel too familiarly dreary, the comedy too drearily familiar, but their juxtaposition and synthesis does produce something original, and definitely worth a look. And Murphy is terrific.

Kevin Can F**k Himself hopscotches between filmmaking styles and tones, but does so with an assurance that makes each episode feel cohesive.

The semi-experimental format requires a bit of getting used to, as it toggles back and forth between two radically different styles; but ultimately it works in a jagged, and therefore appropriate, way.

“Kevin Can F Himself” has already earned our attention. Now we wait to see what the show has to say beyond its explicit, primary message.

Murphy is extremely good navigating between the two worlds, taking delight in minor acts of defiance, while the conceit dreamed up by series creator Valerie Armstrong represents a playful commentary about not only gender dynamics but television in general.

A watchable, engaging oddball.

It’s fascinating to see this series toggle back and forth between two vastly different genres — but that also means we have to spend a lot of time inside the profoundly unfunny sitcom world. ... Things might get even more interesting if Kevin steps off the sitcom stage at some point and has his own single-camera storyline. Maybe there’s something deep and disturbing lurking behind that man-child exterior.

It’s a credit to those tasked with bringing Armstrong’s vision to life that the first half of the season screened for critics nails it more often than not — especially once Allison starts finding ways, however small or significant, to push back against her restrictive narrative.

The conceit – a happy facade in front of friends and family, bleak realism when she’s “off” – is a good one. ... The problem comes as the series unfolds. ... We end up watching two increasingly unrelated narratives – the better of which keeps getting interrupted by a clunking 90s sitcom, complete with dull storylines about get-rich-quick schemes or the boss coming to dinner that neither illuminate nor complicate Allison’s story, nor create any thematic symbiosis.

The execution doesn’t always match up to the ambition, but in its best moments Kevin Can F**k Himself walks a brilliantly uneasy line between comedy and drama.

It's a ghoulishly brutal, stunningly creative, and utterly Pyrrhic send-up of blue-collar domestic sitcoms, way too effective to be entertaining.

The self-awareness is smart, and the series as a whole will change the way you look at the next Kevin Can Wait-esque tomfoolery. But it’s an experiment with diminishing returns. After a couple of episodes, you won’t want to be trapped in the sitcom world any more than Allison does.

When it works, the jarring tonal discordance is “Gone Girl” levels of darkly humorous. ... But at a certain point, the show’s experimentation might end up as a distraction rather than a creative expression. ... “Kevin Can F*** Himself” would be better off if it eventually focused on their lives and the overlaps between them instead of focusing primarily on the sitcom gimmick.

The writers do an excellent job making the "sitcom" scenes authentically hacky and unfunny; unfortunately, that means about 30 percent of each episode is… hacky and unfunny. ... Halfway through the season, I'm still seeking any feeling that the main characters aren't just misshapen archetypes.

Sure, there are tangents for “Kevin Can…” to explore, including a clean-cut guy (Raymond Lee) Allison knew in high school who’s returned to town. There are also hints of her attraction to a bad boy mechanic. But the main story feels limited and quickly stretched beyond a point where the concept ceases to be novel.

Petersen's Kevin is an outstanding living cartoon of a man, but has no redeeming qualities. You won't wonder why Allison wants him out of her life – you'll want him gone too. If only the gray-toned dramatic side of her existence offered respite. No such luck. ... Murphy's strong performance and the solid enough premise hold the possibility of some kind of turnaround.

While the execution can't be faulted, the real problem with Kevin is that once you get it, there's not much else to get. The mock sitcom, with a dimwitted neighbor and other conventions, is just numbing. And Allison's journey from wistful dreamer to calculating and hapless schemer, though authentically played, is a downer. [21 Jun - 4 Jul 2021, p.11]

The pilot is a promising start. The next two episodes, whether they’re focusing on the bad multi-cam or Allison’s budding friendship with former flame Sam (Raymond Lee), feel flat. The fourth episode begins steering the show toward something darker and more potent. ... There’s a series here. I’m just not sure if it’s worthy of the premise.

Kevin Can F**k Himself is a series about rebellion with a format that feels rebellious in only the most superficial sense, an effective visual statement that ultimately doesn’t do much more than very slowly mash together two eminently familiar TV staples, the bland sitcom and the escalating problems faced by a character who breaks bad.

There’s a good TV show to be made about a sitcom wife’s secret double life. (WandaVision explored similar ideas with much greater success.) But here, the concept turns sour and curdled, and we end up as miserable as Allison is.

It’s a bizarro centaur with a horse’s head and a man’s hairy ass: the concept is there, but the assembly is all wrong. ... Murphy seems lost. This is supposed to be Allison’s show. Why does it feel like the joke is on her?