RAMY

Ramy is essential viewing, a family TV show about a family that TV’s never fully shown, until now.

Ramy resonates because it treats its characters’ lives with the utmost compassion. Their struggles are universal, as are the jokes, and whether you’re a viewer excited to see a practicing Muslim leading a TV show or just a white guy looking for a good comedy to stream, Ramy delivers the goods. We need more series like it, in every sense of the phrase.

It's a portrait of an American Muslim family never before seen in a sitcom, because these kinds of characters are never allowed to be this complicated.

“Ramy” is an effective rebuttal to stereotyping for the same reason that it’s simply good TV: It’s a complex, funny series about messy and specifically drawn people.

Ramy is easy to watch, radically optimistic, and a groundbreaking portrayal of Islam on screen. ... Sometimes surreal, sometimes achingly realistic, Ramy will break your heart and build it up again.

"Ramy" ... takes the oldest of premises -- how to resolve commitment to one's culture and religion with the assimilating nature of the US -- and infuses it with situations that give the series life and depth.

Ramy is a funny and sharp and specific comedy, but what makes it shine is the way it starts with a story about a young Muslim man, but then pushes beyond a simple depiction of his life. Ramy is about Muslim representation, yes — but it’s also something stranger and more ambiguous and more mannered, so much more than just a mirror held up to one man’s life.

Excellent and thoughtful ... “Ramy” is a comedy, and it’s a good one, but its clear priority is to have the jokes emerge from the characters being so carefully drawn, and from the worldview so frankly explored.

The depth and diversity of perspectives on Muslim observance make Ramy a trailblazer, but it's already progressive enough as a show that is specifically and not just incidentally about religion. Oh and it's also able to be extremely funny, unexpectedly emotional and consistently eye-opening as something that's both operating within a familiar formula and utterly confident in its own voice.

The deeper explorations of Shadi and Maysa’s lives are welcome, but they’re too brief. The season might have had even greater impact had it focused more on developing its supporting characters, though one imagines Ramy will make room for that in its inevitable second season. But that’s a minor complaint, as the weight of Ramy’s journey is both significant and unforgettable.

If all this seems heavy and difficult, then so be it. “Ramy” is also moving and smart and genuine. The trade-off seems reasonable to me.

Ramy is an earnest exploration of Muslim identity that at times runs toward saccharine; one gets the impression that the show, mindful that the mere act of being Muslim in America is provocative, has carefully neutered itself of anger. But Ramy makes up for this with an unflinching, transgressive portrait of American Islam, one that holds both its traditions and its deviations from tradition in the same embrace. With squirming detail, Ramy pays attention to the bodies of its characters.

It’s initially a slow burn, but through it all, Ramy consistently subverts and redirects expectations, and doesn’t hide from tough contradictions, such as Muslim relatives who admire Trump or Ramy’s unsuccessful attempts to abstain for Ramadan.

The contemplative air that “Ramy” breathes may remind a viewer of other artistic, ruminative comedies such as “Atlanta” and “Master of None.”

Had this only succeeded in bringing an ignored perspective into a mainstream streaming-service show, Ramy would be still be one hell of an accomplishment. It’s a lot more than a mere triumph of representation, however; you’re so in awe of how Youssef has given the world the Great Muslim-American TV Show that you might miss the fact that it’s a great TV show, full stop.

As with any show that is absorbingly personal and refreshingly new, you can’t help but want to see more, know more.