‘The Four Seasons’ Fizzles All Year Long

It’s never a happy occasion when something that Tina Fey creates turns out to fizzle, which is, sadly, what happens with Netflix’s limited comedy series The Four Seasons. Following in the footsteps of many other remakes of our time, The Four Seasons doesn’t add anything new to the story from its original creator, Alan Alda’s 1981 film of the same name. It’s another unmemorable regurgitation of an original story with some slightly memorable performances. Even Antonio Vivaldi’s masterful work couldn’t drum up enough energy for this one.

Created and developed by Tina Fey, Tracey Wigfield, and Lang Fisher, The Four Seasons follows the intimate and romantic lives of three couples played by Colman Domingo, Steve Carell, Will Forte, Kerri Kenney-Silver, Marco Calvani, and Tina Fey herself. Expanded from its original 110-minute run into an eight-episode limited series, it spans all four seasons of the year. Fundamentally, not much has changed from its original iteration, aside from the fact that one of the three central couples is now of the same sex, and some of the characters have different occupations to represent its modernized context. 

Colman Domingo as Danny and Marco Calvani as Claude in The Four Seasons (COURTESY: Netflix)

It’s hard to live up to something that’s already been done, especially in our current media landscape, where reboots and remakes are made almost with impunity by some of these big streamers. It’s especially disappointing to have such a strong cast of accomplished actors and a capable group of writers at the helm of something that will ultimately live in the dark alley of the Netflix catalog. It feels like the stakes for these reboots or remakes have no real stakes. Not on social commentary nor in the borrowed texts they are navigating on. While Four Seasons follows in the same fashion as every other modern remake of classics, there are some redeeming qualities. Unfortunately, not enough to save it. 

To avoid dwelling on the depressive abyss that is modern streaming and yet another pointless remake, it’s worth noting the things that did work. One thing Fey excels at is casting her friends in some of her projects and leveraging their multi-talented strengths. This is a surefire way to ensure good chemistry. This is the case for Tina Fey and Will Forte. With Fey’s more grounded performance as Kate juxtaposed to Forte’s more quirky and odd portrayal as her husband Jack, they make for an endearing couple of 20 years. That being said, it becomes a little less endearing once Jack’s character dwells a little too long in the “wilfull incompetent” encampment that seems to plague every husband in a heteronormative coupling. This dynamic was, while triggering to someone who grew up watching something similar play out between their parents, somewhat interesting. “Somewhat” because it almost rushed to a rather lackluster conclusion by the end of the series. 

Will Forte as Jack and Tina Fey as Kate in The Four Seasons (COURTESY: Netflix)

Other notable moments included every time Tina Fey and Colman Domingo shared a scene. There’s a seamless sense of chemistry between the two – as if they had known each other all their lives, which translated across the screen quite well. More often than not, I’d wish we were still with Fey and Domingo than everyone else on vacation. Kerri Kenney-Silver also quickly became a magnetizing presence on Four Seasons. Her strange yet vulnerable role as Anne, the one left for a much younger version of herself by her husband Nick, played by Steve Carell, was surprisingly poignant. If you’ve ever felt like your entire life is falling apart and every step you take makes you feel a deep sense of shame, like you’re suddenly back in high school and you just tripped in front of your entire graduating class, Anne is the embodiment of that experience. You feel bad for them, want to forget it ever happened, pity them a little, but ultimately sympathize with them because that could be you at any moment. You, too, could be left for a younger model by your selfish and, quite frankly, asshole of an ex-husband. 

Colman Domingo as Danny and Tina Fey as Kate in The Four Seasons (COURTESY: Netflix)

Which brings up a glaring and unspoken issue with our current media landscape: when will Steve Carell come back from the “philanderer, cheating, asshole man” roles he seems to be gravitating towards as of late? When will we see him go back to something like Dan in Real Life, where he somehow made you believe someone like Juliette Binoche could fall in love with him at first sight? I miss that guy. His role in Four Seasons is but a similar regurgitation of what he did on The Morning Show. Maybe it’s the role. Perhaps it’s the material. Or maybe it’s the fact that he should be doing more romantic comedies. 


The Four Seasons is just as memorable as that role of toilet paper you forgot to get at Costco. You meant to get it, but it’s so low on your list of priorities that you have to go back twice before you remember to pick it up. It’s a poorly reimagined rendition of its source. While charming at times, it is not so charming in others, and this limited Netflix series seems to flounder in its own self-importance at times. Some of the emotional beats are lost to its aggressive mediocrity. By the end, the only person you could cry for is Alan Alda.

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