THE STORY – A grieving therapist starts to break the rules by telling his clients exactly what he thinks. Jimmy has lost his wife and wants to try a new approach to his loss, but it is unclear how this will help others.
THE CAST – Jason Segel, Harrison Ford, Jessica Williams, Christa Miller, Ted McGinley, Lukita Maxwell, Michael Urie, Luke Tennie & Brett Goldstein
THE TEAM – Jason Segel, Brett Goldstein & Bill Lawrence (Creators & Writers)
Grief can be many things – intense, complex, all-consuming, and nonlinear. Many of us seek out reprieve in humor, often sick and tired of being sad. When a show like “Shrinking” comes along, it can validate those complex feelings, wrapping the mourning journey in a warm hug. “Shrinking” began as a show about a man so consumed by the waves of grief that he could no longer sugarcoat his advice to his patients & loved ones. It has always felt like a minor miracle in itself: a show that can break your heart, stitch it back together with a joke, and still find time to let its characters actually grow. So last year, when the creator Bill Lawrence alluded to ending the series after the third season, it almost felt like a personal blow. “Shrinking’s” emotional honesty and much-needed levity are what make the series so unique & a warm place to retreat. Every laugh is earned, every ache lingers, and the characters feel richer for the mess they’ve lived through. It would be a genuine loss if “Shrinking” calls it a day, but there’s a certain grace in knowing when to leave the party. And if Lawrence does end up ending the series here, how lucky are we to have experienced the messy love of a team of therapists and the imperfect, steadfast support system that carried them through?
Season three starts in the near future after the season two finale, when everything’s a little better and a little worse. Jason Segel’s Jimmy is facing the fact that he’ll soon have another major life change to deal with: his daughter Alice, played by Lukita Maxwell, will soon be leaving for college. He’s figuring out what life looks like for both of them moving forward, while feeling tethered to the past. He’s talking to Brett Goldstein’s Louis, the man who killed his wife in a car accident, and a relationship that has proven to be mutually beneficial, despite the weirdness for outsiders. Greater emotional weight is given to Jimmy this season, both in his own life and in his impact on his peers. Paul (the gruff but heartwarmingly kind – and future Emmy winner? – Harrison Ford) is dealing with the short-term and long-term effects of a debilitating disease, trying to navigate what the future holds for him and his loved ones. Gabby’s finally in a happy, healthy relationship, but unexpected changes at work leave her reeling and questioning her future as well. Sean has a successful food truck, has repaired his relationship with his father, and is ready to start looking for love. Brian’s preparing for a new baby, so Liz is too. The gang ebbs and flows as usual with their roles as caretakers, lifelines, and liabilities, all with the comedic undertones we’ve come to expect from a Bill Lawrence dramedy. It’s rare to have a show where no character is universally disliked. These characters capture the full messiness of being human—one moment you’re judging them for their mistakes, the next you’re laughing right alongside them.
The most poignant performances of the season come from a few mainstays: Jason Segel and Harrison Ford continue to yin & yang a heartwarming mentor/mentee, father/son relationship, while Ford arguably amps up his softened performance as Paul’s illness deteriorates, while still dispensing “Fuck Parkinson’s!” at random. There’s also a fun action sequence for Ford in the first episode that had to have been a blast to film, harkening back to his Indiana Jones days. Jessica Williams, playing the evergreen, hilariously strong Gabby, dips into more vulnerable moments as Gabby runs into a first at work. Williams has always had impeccable comedic timing in this series – something not lost in season three – but watching her play someone who’s shaken and wavering in commitment to her own identity is not only refreshing, but impressive. But perhaps the best part of the season is the appearance of Michael J. Fox playing another Parkinson’s patient, showing he’s still got razor-sharp comedy chops and playfulness, even though he’s so clearly in pain. It’s so inspiring to see his talents on screen again, and it’s admirable that Lawrence gives him a platform to show the real-life implications of such a horrendous disease. A scene-stealer every time he’s on screen, I expect (and hope) the Television Academy will recognize the immense effort Fox has put in to not only turning up, but delivering such a memorable performance.
And then there’s Derek, the internet’s favorite “wife-guy.“ Ted McGinley describes Derek as representing “sunshine and light. A place where you might like to land. A port in the storm.“ Casting McGinley plays a huge hand in elevating Derek’s character beyond a doormat, completely reframing the wife-guy archetype. Derek serves as a welcome juxtaposition to the show’s many high-strung characters, remaining easygoing, cool, and collected while others spin out of control. His drive-by one-liners and his immediate, unquestioning support of Liz reveal a man who is confident, present, and unbothered by ego. McGinley gets a few more moments to shine this season, and each is done beautifully.
Tom Howe’s musical choices remain among the best in television. When a Zach Bryan song arrives towards the end of the season, it captures the weight of that moment with devastating precision. The writing and directing have always been some of the series’s strong suits, and this season is no different. There are a few ensemble scenes among the series’s best, both in script and direction. While the highs are high, the season doesn’t overcome meandering lulls; instead, it focuses on the nuances of the human experience. It can be frustrating at times to see the characters experience stagnation, but the same can be said of ourselves. By mid-season, we start to see the plot saunter on, at times bordering on slow for a few of the main characters. The laughs lessen, and the drama becomes a bit tired, but by the last few episodes, the show centers itself on what it does best: life lessons with more heart and grace than you ever thought possible. Where “Shrinking” shines above others is its ability to encourage viewers to experience the rollercoaster of emotions that accompany heavy topics like grief, love, forgiveness, and even life-altering diagnoses, with humanity and appropriate levity. It’s your life, just a little bit funnier (and with probably a touch more money).
If this proves to be the series’s finale, it feels earned. We’ve seen these characters grow up without ever fully growing out of themselves. As Jimmy is learning firsthand, grief turns you into a time traveler – clinging to the past in hopes you can return to it. “Shrinking“ has never really been just about grief, though, but how to stand back up and lean on your people even when the grief is swallowing you whole; it understands that the journey through loss is as much about healing as it is about mourning. The season’s motif of moving forward feels both natural and inevitable.
The show’s catalyst was one man’s decision to ignore professional boundaries & do what he thought was best to help his patients after a devastating personal loss. Not only has this not changed, but it has also served as an impetus for the other characters to do the same. Our beloved characters are now far enough away from Tia’s death that it’s no longer novel, yet close enough to feel her loss in everyday life. These characters have been irreparably altered, scarred emotionally, and cursed by the gift of time. Grappling with the fact that life moves on, even when you’re standing still, “Shrinking“ does a phenomenal job of showing the courage (and the weakness) in moving forward, together, with deeply human characters. Happiness can be a choice. But as one wise character declares, scars are the evidence of a life fully lived. So here’s to new beginnings, scar-covered and all.
THE GOOD – The performances remain some of the best in comedy, particularly by Harrison Ford, Jason Segel, Jessica Williams, Ted McGinley, and newcomer Michael J. Fox. The writing and directing remain strong at the beginning and end of the season, and if proving to be a series finale, it feels earned and satisfying.
THE BAD – The mid-season slumps drag on a bit, particularly in the writing. Some characters may not grow as fast as you’d hope.
THE EMMY PROSPECTSÂ – Outstanding Comedy Series, Outstanding Lead Actor in a Comedy Series, Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series, Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series, Outstanding Guest Actor in a Comedy Series, Outstanding Direction in a Comedy Series
THE FINAL SCORE – 8/10
