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 the experience of watching 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 in execution, Rooster feels like a show at war with itself, juggling multiple identities without ever committing to one. What makes this particularly interesting is how a series with so much potential can struggle to find its footing, leaving viewers—and critics—wondering what it’s truly trying to achieve.
At its core, Rooster follows Greg Russo (Steve Carell), an introverted pulp fiction author who lands a job as writer-in-residence at a small New England college. Sounds straightforward, right? Wrong. The show can’t decide if it’s about Greg’s midlife reinvention, his strained relationship with his daughter (Charly Clive), or the academic hijinks of a modern college campus. Personally, I find that this lack of focus isn’t just a minor flaw—it’s the show’s biggest downfall. Instead of diving deep into any one narrative, it skims the surface, leaving characters and storylines feeling underdeveloped.
One thing that stands out here is the wasted potential of Danielle Deadwyler’s character, Dylan, a poetry teacher who deserves far more than her side-story treatment. What many people don’t realize is that Deadwyler is a powerhouse actress, yet Rooster uses her as a supporting player rather than the star she could—and should—be. In my opinion, this is a missed opportunity not just for the show, but for television as a whole. Dylan’s subplot, where she’s overlooked for the writer-in-residence position in favor of Greg, feels like a commentary on the industry’s tendency to sideline talented Black women. It’s a critique the show hints at but never fully explores.
The university setting itself is another head-scratcher. In an era where shows like The Chair and Lucky Hank have brought depth and nuance to academic life, Rooster feels superficial. The college, Ludlow, is academically amorphous—we never get a clear sense of its culture, its students, or even its purpose. This lack of detail isn’t just lazy writing; it’s a missed chance to engage with the complexities of modern academia. For instance, the show leans on humor about outdated behavior (like Greg accidentally groping or body-shaming students), but it never digs into why these moments matter beyond a cheap laugh. What makes this particularly frustrating is that Carell, who excels at portraying nuanced, withdrawn characters, is reduced to a bumbling sitcom lead—a far cry from his more layered performances in films like Little Miss Sunshine.
That said, the ensemble cast does shine in moments. Carell’s chemistry with his co-stars, particularly John C. McGinley and Charly Clive, is undeniable. Clive, in particular, stands out as Katie, a woman grappling with her identity after her husband’s infidelity. Yet, even her storyline feels rushed, as if the show can’t decide whether to treat her husband, Archie (Phil Dunster), as a redeemable man-child or a philandering cad. This inconsistency isn’t just confusing—it’s exhausting. One interesting observation is how the show tries to replicate the charm of Bill Lawrence’s previous works, like Ted Lasso, but without the emotional depth that made those shows resonate.
Despite its flaws, Rooster isn’t without its charms. The cast is undeniably talented, and there are moments of genuine humor and heart. But those moments are often overshadowed by the show’s identity crisis. By the end of the six episodes sent to critics, it’s clear that Rooster is still searching for its voice. In my opinion, the show’s best path forward would be to strip away its high-concept gimmicks and focus on what Lawrence does best: telling stories about flawed, relatable characters navigating life’s messes. If Rooster can find that focus, it might just live up to its potential.
In conclusion, Rooster is a show with all the ingredients for success but no clear recipe. It’s a reminder that even the most talented creators can stumble when they lose sight of their vision. As a viewer, I’m left hoping that the remaining episodes will bring clarity and purpose to a series that, for now, feels like a collection of missed opportunities. After all, in the world of television, potential is only as good as the execution—and Rooster still has a long way to go.
