Loot, Apple TV+ review: with sharper jokes, Maya Rudolph could have a masterful tragicomedy on her hands
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Having too much money can be a right royal pain in your designer-clad ass, right? I can only guess at that pain, more’s the pity, but in the first, whiplash smart season of Apple TV+ comedy Loot (yes, we’re nowhere near Joe Orton here) Maya Rudolph did a great job of selling the idea that unimaginable wealth just ain’t worth it.
As Molly, a divorced wife rolling in alimony from her billionaire ex, Rudolph pulled off the tricky task of making a spoilt spurned spouse oddly sympathetic. As we followed Molly striving to strip her assets – she wants to “find herself” – while sashaying around her fabulous mansion, Loot had some sharp points to make about the widening divide between the haves and the have nots while peppering its action with laugh out loud moments.
But in the two years between seasons, Loot has broadened its portfolio. So much so that, in the sticky opening pair of episodes in its return, it feels like a different – and much less funny – show. Cheap laughs are traded for character integrity, exposition exchanged for credible dialogue.
It’s a bumpy start, so it’s just as well season one had me so invested. Because once it hits its stride this second Loot outing does, to some extent, repay the faith. Paying only minimal lip service to its ditch the riches idea, what you get is a slick sitcom, fleshed out with a winning ensemble of characters who all get a turn in the spotlight. Joel Kim Booster as Nicholas, Molly’s archly narcissistic PA, is worth the price of admission alone.
There are winning skits on the popularity of Taylor Swift (“There’s nothing to be ashamed of loving the most visionary lyricist of our generation” takes the prize for tongue-in-cheekiest line), the vacuity of over-priced spiritual retreats, the perils of LA’s dating scene and much besides.
All of which slip down as easily as an organic goji berry smoothie. But this is still Rudolph’s show and she nails it as a lost soul in search of some kind of connection. A scene in which she’s unable to function for one night in her own mansion (think Selling Sunset on steroids), ending up panicking in her own panic room, is masterful tragicomedy.
If Loot had the courage to invest a little bit more in Molly’s money-losing mission and a little bit less on easy sitcom stereotypes then its stock would rapidly rise. For now though it’s a reliable fund of cheap laughs. And we could all do with more of those.
