Have you ever watched a show with a stellar cast and thought, 'This should be amazing,' only to be left scratching your head? That’s exactly how I felt after diving into Rooster, HBO’s latest comedy starring Steve Carell. On paper, it’s a recipe for success: a talented ensemble, a quirky premise, and the creative minds behind hits like Ted Lasso. But here’s the thing—Rooster feels like it’s still trying to figure out what it wants to be, and it’s a bit of a mess because of it.
Let’s start with the premise. Steve Carell plays Greg Russo, an introverted pulp fiction author who lands a job as a writer-in-residence at a small New England college. Sounds intriguing, right? But here’s where it gets muddy. Is the show about Greg’s journey to find himself? His reunion with his daughter, an art history professor dealing with a crumbling marriage? Or maybe it’s about the dynamics between Greg and a poetry teacher (played by the always brilliant Danielle Deadwyler)? The problem is, Rooster seems to want to be all of these things at once, and the result is a narrative that feels scattered and underdeveloped.
What makes this particularly interesting is how the show’s identity crisis mirrors Greg’s own struggles. He’s a man out of place, trying to navigate a world he doesn’t quite understand—much like the writers seem to be grappling with the tone and focus of the series. Personally, I find it fascinating when a show’s flaws reflect its characters’ arcs, even if it’s unintentional. But in this case, it doesn’t feel like a clever meta-commentary; it just feels like a lack of direction.
One thing that stands out here is the wasted potential of Danielle Deadwyler’s character. She’s a poetry teacher who’s sidelined in favor of Greg’s story, and it’s a missed opportunity. Deadwyler is a powerhouse, and her character’s subplot—about a job snatched away by a less-qualified white man—deserves more than just a passing mention. What many people don’t realize is that television often treats talented Black actors like supporting characters when they should be leading the show. In my opinion, Rooster could have been groundbreaking if it had centered Deadwyler’s story instead of treating her as an afterthought.
The humor in Rooster is another point of contention. While there are moments of charm, the show leans too heavily on outdated jokes about political correctness and accidental gaffes. Greg’s missteps—like accidentally groping a student or body-shaming another—are played for laughs, but they come across as tone-deaf rather than funny. What’s surprising is that the creators, Bill Lawrence and Matt Tarses, have a track record of balancing humor with heart. Shows like Ted Lasso and Shrinking excel because they focus on damaged characters finding connection, not on gimmicks or superficial humor.
Speaking of the ensemble, the cast is undeniably strong. Carell is as reliable as ever, and his chemistry with Charly Clive (who plays his daughter) is one of the show’s highlights. Clive’s performance is nuanced, and her character’s struggle to find her identity after her husband’s infidelity is one of the more compelling storylines. But even here, the show falters. Phil Dunster, who plays the cheating husband, is given little to work with, and the attempt to make him sympathetic falls flat. It’s a shame, because Dunster proved his ability to humanize flawed characters in Ted Lasso.
What’s most frustrating about Rooster is that it has all the ingredients for success. The setting of a small college could have provided rich commentary on academia, student life, and societal changes. Instead, the show feels academically vague, with no clear sense of what the college stands for or what issues its students care about. This is especially disappointing given the recent renaissance of college-set shows like The Chair and Lucky Hank, which delve into the complexities of higher education with depth and nuance.
In the end, Rooster feels like a show that’s still in its brainstorming phase. It’s got a great cast, a promising premise, and the potential for meaningful storytelling. But until it decides what kind of show it wants to be—whether it’s a character-driven comedy, a family drama, or a commentary on academia—it will remain a collection of good ideas in search of a cohesive vision. Personally, I’m rooting for it to find its footing, because when a show with this much talent finally clicks, it can be something truly special. But for now, Rooster is a reminder that even the best ingredients need the right recipe to shine.
