“It’s not yours if you can’t keep it.”
In “Your Friends and Neighbors,” this line emerges from Jack Bailey (Corbin Bernsen), a rich old dude who runs a hedge fund and just fired Andrew Cooper (Jon Hamm), a slightly-less-rich, slightly-less-old dude who manages, er, managed a hedge fund. Bailey’s point is basically nothing that belongs to the firm belongs to Andrew, even if Andrew — who goes by “Coop,” because he’s cool and relatable like that — brought in the clients, their investments, and their influence. It’s a shitty thing to say, just like firing Coop is a shitty thing to do, but hey, that’s Jack — and that’s business.
Still, the phrase inevitably springs to mind later, as Coop pivots from taking anyone’s money to make the rich richer and into taking the rich’s money to make himself richer. As he sneaks into his wealthy neighbors’ capacious mansions, pinching a designer purse from this drawer and a spare roll of cash from that one, you can almost hear Coop thinking to himself, “Well, it’s not yours if you can’t keep it.” What he actually says (via Hamm’s spokesman-polished voiceover) are variations of “they won’t even know it’s gone” or “that asshole doesn’t deserve this.”
But we know what he means: “I need this, so I’m taking it, because you’re too stupid to stop me.” His caveman perspective isn’t far removed from that of the ex-boss he hates. Yet, for the bulk of the first season, Coop can’t open his eyes to acknowledge the congruity, nor can he recognize the broader corresponding truth that’s been abundantly clear since at least 1964, when The Beatles released the hit song “Can’t Buy Me Love”: Money, or whatever it buys, isn’t going to make Coop happy. What he needs… is…
Shoot. I just had it. Is it… gloves?
“Your Friends and Neighbors” dances around many a titillating topic: the parallels between Coop’s socially acceptable former business and his illicit current means of making money (aka stealing it); the appearance of affluence and what it buys you vs. the appearance of poverty and what it costs; the nagging repulsion for Coop’s haughty, privileged attitude toward just about anything and the persisting appeal of Jon Hamm‘s naughty, no-fucks-given approach toward being Jon Hamm.
But despite flirting with some very good ideas, creator Jonathan Tropper’s drama never confronts them (at least, not yet — Apple provided seven of the nine episodes for review). Instead, it sticks to a reliable, predictable plot, trusting its fine cast and refined aesthetic to elevate a show that’s as basic as they come.
Backing up a bit, “Your Friends and Neighbors” is a new series on Apple TV+ about rich white-people problems. If you are a rich white person, especially a guy, then you should be able to identify with Coop’s mid-life crisis in ways those of us too busy being raked over the coals by capitalism cannot. For instance, Coop’s biggest problem is that he’s been fired. OK, relatable enough, except his immediate issues upon losing his sole source of income aren’t paying the mortgage or buying groceries; they’re learning how to turn down $20,000-a-plate charity dinners and moving his sister out of the apartment he rents for her and into his own house with an extra bedroom.
Fine, at first, his challenges are about saving face. I guess people can get on board with that. No one likes to be embarrassed, and Coop’s dismissal was embarrassing: There’s a scandal involved… although, it’s really just the appearance of a scandal, because Coop didn’t do anything wrong. (The premiere episode bends over backwards to make that clear.) There’s also a two-year non-compete to overcome… only, he does get other job offers, just not ones that he likes.
So really, the embarrassment he’s trying to get past is putting his trust in a boss who didn’t deserve it, which if Coop saw a therapist, would eventually be his breakthrough moment: Not only did Coop recently lose his job because his boss threw him under the bus, he also recently lost his wife of 18 years when he walked in on her banging his best friend. Three life-changing betrayals, all within a few weeks.
Ouch. Now I think most people can drum up some pity for this poor (but not poor) cuckold, as he forms new opinions of his life and himself while trying to put the pieces back together. Except in fleshing out Mel (Amanda Peet), “Your Friends and Neighbors” makes it pretty clear that she’s not some cold, spoiled asshole. She didn’t cheat on Coop for the fun of it, nor did she savor the stabbing him in the back. There are two sides to every break-up story, and even though Coop refuses to see Mel’s perspective, the show tips it for her in a way that doubles our frustration over Coop’s sluggish acceptance of any responsibility whatsoever.
Perhaps if “Your Friends and Neighbors” was willing to take its protagonist to task for his moral failings and lunkish oversights, the series wouldn’t feel so emotionally inert. Instead, it coasts on Hamm’s affability and focuses on Coop’s new profession as a petty thief. Drunk and depressed at a party where Mel and Nick (Mark Tallman) are seated in the friend circle he once completed, Coop goes wandering through his host’s lavish house. Oh, isn’t that a cute little piece of soap. Ah, aren’t these bed pillows fluffy. Hey, is that a drawer full of money? Guess I’ll take a stack for myself, thank you very much.
Thus a habit is born, both Coop’s and the show’s. Coop may not know why he decided to steal a wad of cash from his supposed friend. In the moment, he popped it in his pocket as casually as you or I might take a matchbook from a restaurant bar. But after holding onto it for a few days, thinking over just how much money is laying around his neighbors’ suburban palaces, he decides he wants more. Eventually, he even admits he likes the act of stealing. Nevermind that wanting more is what ended him in a mess of debt and face-saving lies to begin with. Habits are hard to break.
The show’s habit, however, is confusing suspense with conflict. For much of the season, Coop slides open unlocked doors or follows YouTube tutorials when locks are actually latched. Sometimes there will be an unexpected alarm or dog or security guard, and in those moments, it’s only natural to worry about Coop getting caught. There’s tension, but it’s fleeting. “Your Friends and Neighbors” isn’t dumb enough to lock up its primary asset so early, and it’s not slick enough to make each new break in an “Ocean’s”-esque thrill ride. So as he’s puttering around his neighborhood, it’s too easy to realize there’s very little struggle here — which may fit Coop’s posh lifestyle as snugly as his cashmere sweaters, but does little to elevate the show around him.
Apple has made these kind of shows before. “Dark Matter” is sad-dad mid-life crisis science-fiction. (“Hello Tomorrow” kind of is, too.) “Ted Lasso” is sad-dad mid-life crisis comedy. (“Shrinking” even more so.) But more importantly, Hamm has been here before, with much richer results. Don Draper is his own brand of sad dad: the ’60s family patriarch whose existential crisis sends him bouncing between absurd heights of self-confidence and heartbreaking lows of absolute fraudulence.
Watching him shift between each was magnetic because each movement was unpredictable and identifiable, mindful and foolhardy, specific to Don and balanced against the full lives of those around him, the lens of history, and so much more. Maybe being really good at business could make up for what he did in the war, what he did to his family, and who he believes himself to be, deep down. When that strategy inevitably failed (and even when it shockingly succeeded), we learned a little bit more about Don, because he learned a little bit more about himself (not always the right lessons, but hey, that just makes him more human and the show more self-aware).
Here, you’re only waiting for Coop to figure out what you already know. There’s not enough drama to it. There’s not enough surprise or insight. No show should be judged against “Mad Men” just because they both share the same star, but in a way, every show should be judged against “Mad Men” because every show should want to be that good. “Your Friends and Neighbors” isn’t a let-down because it falls short of greatness. It’s a let-down because it doesn’t try that hard to be great. And that’s who Coop is, through and through.
Grade: C-
“Your Friends and Neighbors” premieres Friday, April 11 on Apple TV+ with two episodes. New episodes will be released weekly through the finale (Episode 9) on May 30.
