Wanderlust (2018)

Mackintosh and Collette make their characters messy, engaging, and deliciously, undeniably human, giving two incredibly strong performances in a year of new shows that skip merrily across the emotional spectrum. ... But it’s rare to achieve such heights without some truly great writing, and Wanderlust has plenty of that. Payne’s willingness to let characters be full of contradictions, and to allow them to do cruel things while remaining worthy of sympathy, makes each scene more layered than it might seem at first glance.

Always present, Collette invites the audience to go along with her on Joy’s little trial, and watching her react to the character’s discoveries is as gratifying as discovering them yourself. Wanderlust lists the definition of its title underneath the title card in every episode--“strong longing for, or an impulse toward wandering”--but it is never lost. Not with Collette at the wheel.

Captivatingly mature talk. [19/26 Oct 2018, p.89]

The seemingly put-together layers of Joy are slowly peeled away, a process mirrored by Collette, whose performance is all happy smiles and positive rhetoric until her character is forced to become truly vulnerable. ... Wanderlust is worth watching solely to see the gifted and luminous Collette do her thing. Wanderlust also makes an admirable effort to subvert gender stereotypes.

Writer Payne and director Snellin keep the story intimate (even when one big early twist seems more convenience than coincidence), managing a series of creative choices that bring enlightenment and surprise to a well-worn concept as each episode unfolds.

Light, but meaningful, the show looks into the complicated interplay between intimacy and sex.

More than anything, Wanderlust confronts a familiar issue in a way that makes its characters relatable and oddly endearing. By accomplishing that, it becomes less about the underlying questions that Payne asks than becoming invested in the stories of the confused, mostly middle-aged folks asking them.

Collette happens to be excellent, but to enjoy her performance in full, you must accept without judgment that her character, whose true struggle is to confront grief, is named Joy. The actual writing is rarely so unsubtle, except when Payne yields the floor to earnest speechifying about carnal needs and emotional desires.

Their kids' stories, which figure into the tightly woven tapestry, are the more compelling, perhaps because they carry only a little bit of baggage.

The show’s earnest approach to relationships and sex--there’s no shying away from the awkwardness of any of it--is appealing enough to counteract the way the plot falls into a much more typical (and disappointing) pattern.

Collette, as always, elevates the material, but there’s no escaping the sad realization that these are profoundly selfish people who deserve each other. Wanderlust is a show that would be markedly improved by cutting each episode by half. There’s entirely too much thrusting and groaning, yes, we get the point, and a lot of people have sex with their clothes on.

Wanderlust wants to be an insightful examination of relationships and sex, but it's never edgy enough to say anything provocative or new. Joy and Alan had decades of marriage to convince themselves to stray; you'll probably stray after just a few hours with Wanderlust.

The performances and Payne’s skill with dialogue have their rewards, though they’re attenuated--Payne doesn’t have the conviction of a true schlockmeister, and he doesn’t deliver the boffo laughs and tears of a Curtis film.

Ms. Collette does actually bring a spark to this enterprise, but not enough for a fire that would offset the tedium that comes with this work that is, with its six episodes, hellishly long, as are most of the conversations about sex.