Mrs. Fletcher

Mrs. Fletcher, though, is missing an opportunity to say something profound about people and the inconvenient discrepancies between what they want and what they need. The series benefits from two remarkably deft performers, who paint outside the lines of their characters. (All seven episodes are directed by women, including the veteran Nicole Holofcener and the performer and writer Carrie Brownstein.) But in the end, I wanted more—more insight, more illumination, more interrogation of the differences between sexual freedom and freedom itself.

The “Eve” segments of the show are funny and intriguing and involving, thanks to Hahn’s razor-sharp comedic timing and an excellent supporting cast. ... Unfortunately, we spend almost as much time at college with Brendan, and that’s when “Mrs. Fletcher” shifts tonal gears and becomes a downbeat melodrama about this irredeemable, snide and smug lout.

Is it so different from “Better Things,” or “This Way Up,” or “Shrill”? Or “I Love Dick,” which Hahn also starred in? Only in that it’s not as good as those shows. It is better than “Divorce,” “Casual” and “Togetherness,” for what it’s worth.

Overly cute-’n-sexy dialogue bathes you in college smarm before throwing you the toaster of midlife crisis cliche.

What it has to say is ultimately rather thin. Furthermore, since it takes its cues from the banal porn fantasies that Eve is inundated with, its imagery isn’t always that revelatory. ... For all of Hahn’s tremendous skill, her presence isn’t enough to paper over the cracks in the series itself, which struggles to find anything bold or new to say about women’s sexuality or coming of age later in life.