Santa Clarita Diet

Netflix has been hit (“Master of None”) and miss (“The Ranch”) with its comedies. This one falls in the former category, and will leave you “hungry” for more episodes.

Once one gets past the gruesome goings-on in Episode One, it’s full tilt ahead in a crazily appetizing tale that’s easily swallowed whole.

The show's hilarious screwball spirit is so infectiously appealing, even at it's most appalling, that all 10 episodes fly by in a wacky, icky rush. [30 Jan - 12 Feb 2017, p.18]

The gore level is playful, not scary, and the idea that true love conquers all, even a craving for human flesh, permeates the show. Sheila, Joel and Abby can still live the American dream, it will just taste a bit odd.

Diet's giddy, bloody hyperreality toes an unlikely line between David Lynch and Desperate Housewives...then literally eats that toe, which is pretty fun. [Feb 3/10 2017, p.101]

Santa Clarita Diet is gross. It’s also very good.

How on Earth did creator Victor Fresco pull this crazy thing off? Even his best work, including “Better Off Ted” and “Andy Richter Controls the Universe,” didn’t quite indicate a mastery of the kind of droll, perverse humor dripping from his new Netflix comedy. The show really should not be as funny and likable as it is.

The plotting sometimes sacrifices sense in the name of comedy and provides easy targets you won’t particularly mind seeing killed and eaten, but it’s tight and propulsive, and because the action takes place over a short period of time, the series never turns into "Variations on a Theme of Zombie Cannibalism." And the performances are charming.

To be sure, the comedy is initially dark, but there's more to this series than gallows humor. There's a silliness that Olyphant and Barrymore brilliantly pull off with their simple, sweet characters.

Santa Clarita Diet is a charmingly goofy lark, revealing itself to be a comedy of remarriage hidden in zombie's clothing.

The scripts are solid, and the performances are spot on, especially the two leads, as well as Gisondo and Hewson as Eric and Abby. The only real question is whether the show can sustain itself beyond a first season.

Once everyone settles into a rhythm of absurdity, Santa Clarita Diet sharpens right up. It just takes a few episodes for everyone to figure things out.

The idea that it’s hilarious to splice a cozy marital sitcom with a gruesome, visceral (literally) zombie horror. And a lot of the time, it is, although it takes a while to warm up.

The high exertion of getting mirth and metaphor from the morbid often leaves Fresco's cleverer dialogue buried and forces the stars to play the same strained beats over and over. But like zombies themselves, the show is relentless, and by the end of 10 episodes, there was progress towards a happy creative marriage.

The satire isn't especially sharp, but the cast members throw themselves into the grotesque goings-on with full-on commitment.

Like so many Netflix comedies, Santa Clarita Diet is a slow burn, and the first batch of episodes doesn’t quite deliver the sendup of suburbanite foibles that it could. But the seeds are all there.

The premise and the bloodletting, however, might be too much for some viewers. Santa Clarita Diet is an acquired taste.

It might not be the type of thing you’ll want to feast on, but Santa Clarita Diet is good for a little snack here or there.

The first few episodes of Santa Clarita Diet suffer from an excessive amount of gore--as if Mr. Fresco was afraid we wouldn’t get the joke--and the last third of the season flattens out as the mystery and thriller elements take over. But there’s a stretch in the middle where Mr. Fresco and his writers have a lot of fun subverting the formulas of the suburban comedy.

The Netflix series just doesn't have enough meat on its bones.

Santa Clarita Diet is a project with its curiosity factor driven solely by narrative motion, not striking comedy or worthwhile performances.

As you binge along, you’ll notice that things seem to gel nicely around episode 4-ish through 7-ish, as Santa Clarita Diet finds a balance and settles down. Even Barrymore’s struggling performance takes on a certain charm. But that momentum falters as the series searches for a suitable climax.

Their charming, flirty interaction--Barrymore reaping bloody chaos, Olyphant doing his best to put a sunny face on it--makes Santa Clarita Diet worthwhile. Otherwise, its taste is all too familiar.

Santa Clarita Diet is a hit-and-miss dark comedy series that showcases room for growth and potential, if not consistency.

Comedy, while subjective, still necessitates connection, and Santa Clarita Diet severs the tether too many times. Such superficiality may be good for a quick jolt, but it won’t satisfy you when the meal’s over.

Maybe you’ll find this carefully crafted wackiness more amusing than I did.

The show seems to lack the courage of its minimal convictions. A lot of the creative choices are either half-baked (the sets are backlot-bland, practically bold-facing “The Tedious Sameness of Suburban Life”) or overly cute (weirdly so, given all the TV-MA bloodletting).

Every plot turn is predictable, no trope goes unexplored.

Santa Clarita Diet is an unfortunate collection of mismatched parts, and gory humor that quickly becomes numbing.