Modern Love

All involved have created a series that matches the tone of its source material; there’s a grace, a sweetness, a delightful vibrancy to these episodes.

Smart and funny and touching and lovely.

The world can seem awfully dark and frightening nowadays. Modern Love is here to tell us that now and then it’s fine to sink into a scented bath of unabashed optimism, which is what this opening instalment delivers.

Among the standouts are “Take Me As I Am, Whoever I Am,” a fine showcase for Anne Hathaway. ... Also good are Tina Fey and John Slattery, who demonstrate instant chemistry despite playing a couple whose marriage has hit a trouble spot. ... Like the best of “Modern Love,” the [first] episode is funny, sweet, and heartfelt without being schmaltzy. At a time when conflict rages across the media, there’s something appealing about pulling up the comforter and falling into “Modern Love.”

Like many an anthology series, it is a bit uneven, sometimes corny and clunky, sometimes wonderfully sweet and sentimental. But when on top of its game, “Modern Love” produces some magically romantic results. The touching first episode is enchanting proof of that. ... Another superb entry stars Dev Patel.

Like an unexpected present, “Modern Love” contains plenty of reasons to smile.

Almost all the choices in Modern Love are the right ones. It's a simple, endearing collection that makes for compelling television.

Despite its varying trials and travails, Modern Love strives for an overall feel-good vibe that isn’t always entirely earned. For the most part, it’s gentle on the mind and soothing to the nerves in times when The New York Times front page is a steady drumbeat of downers.

For the most part, the episodes do a remarkable job of presenting complete and compelling narratives in only 30 minutes.

It’s a pro job, though at times it feels professional in a Madison Avenue kind of way, as if you are being sold something, rather than told a story. Most feel minor, even when the subject is major, perhaps because they’re so faithful to spirit of the essays. I don’t mean that as a criticism. And I did choke up a few times.

Modern Love, when it works, provides the kind of soothing comfort supplied by an inviting armchair, a warm fire, or a mug of hot tea on a chilly night. It’s the TV equivalent of a hand-knit cardigan or an Instagrammable latte; a mood of transitory wistfulness appears to be the goal, not some chest-thumping artistic statement about Life.

OK, so there’s a bit of corniness here and there; the charm of the whole project makes its excesses tolerable, as does the swiftness of the storytelling.

If the stories can fall prey to “Wealthy Upper West Siders: They’re Just Like Us!” self-flattery, most of them are also sincere, thoughtful, and generous of spirit in a way that typifies Carney’s work (see also Sing Street and Begin Again). Not every installment works(*) — the Horgan/Slattery/Fey one is disappointingly one-note (and one of several that would have done well to ditch the original Times headline as its title) — but enough of them hit that narrow but satisfying target of being sweet but not overly saccharine.