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Don't pass on the clever, Coen brothers-esque Government Cheese

David Oyelowo and Simone Missick star in Apple TV+'s '60s-set series.

Don't pass on the clever, Coen brothers-esque Government Cheese
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Since the Coen brothers burst onto the film scene in the ’80s and then really blew up in the ’90s, dozens of writer-directors have tried to recreate that magical blend of surreal humor that made them critical and commercial darlings. Most of them have failed. Many of the Coens’ best films are about hapless men thrust into comedically unpredictable situations, from H.I. McDunnough (Raising Arizona) to The Dude (The Big Lebowski) to Jerry Lundegaard (Fargo). There’s a bit of all those guys in Hampton Chambers, the hero of AppleTV+’s clever Government Cheese, a show about a man trying to go as straight as his self-sharpening drill but finding out how easily the world can break you. It’s a funny, well-acted, unpredictable show that takes a few episodes to find its footing but settles into a nice, confident groove in which you won’t really be able to tell where it’s going—but you’ll be willing to follow along anyway.

It’s 1969 in Los Angeles, and Chambers (David Oyelowo) is being released from prison to a family he barely knows. He hasn’t been behind bars that long but long enough that his marriage has grown cold and his two children have become distant. His wife is a receptionist who wants to be a designer named Astoria (Simone Missick), and his teen boys give the show a dose of quirkiness that may earn the show as many comparisons to Wes Anderson as Joel Coen. 

Einstein (Evan Alexander Ellison) is a pole vaulter who also happens to be a genius that sets about building a swimming pool in the backyard. His brother Winston (Jahi Di’Allo Winston) is a bit more resentful of dad’s absence and is clearly looking for some guidance in the world (something he might find via his interest in the Indigenous culture of the Chatsworth, California region). There’s a subtle commentary in the arcs of the boys that feels shaped by the time in which the show is set, when the idea of what it means to be a Black man in America was changing. Einstein is a vision of the white-collar future in manufacturing at Rocket Corp that his dad so badly wants for him, while Winston is the one of a young man more in touch with the natural world around him and his place in it.   

The family dramedy of Government Cheese is offset against Hampton trying to get back on his feet again, designing a drill with a self-sharpening bit that he hopes to either turn into a business of his own or sell to a corporation to make him a fortune. His efforts to go straight are waylaid by a gangster (played by Louis Cancelmi) who basically calls in a favor from their time behind bars. In the final days of his incarceration, there was a riot that ended in tragedy, and this tough guy covered up for Hampton—so he owes him. Hampton is assigned the job of breaking into a safe at a synagogue, working with another shady character (portrayed by the great Bokeem Woodbine, an actor with an ability to do a lot with just a little bit of screen time).  

Co-creator Paul Hunter has made a name for himself in the world of commercials and music videos, bringing his vision to spots for Nike, Sony, and, of course, Apple. He’s been a visionary in the music-video form with four of his works on the Billboard list of the “100 Greatest Music Videos of the 21st Century.” His oeuvre is  insane, including career-defining videos for The Notorious B.I.G.’s “Hypnotize,” Marilyn Manson’s “The Dope Show,” Hole’s “Malibu,” Lenny Kravitz’s “Fly Away,” Dr. Dre’s “The Next Episode,” and Jennifer Lopez’s “Love Don’t Cost A Thing.” The guy clearly has an amazing eye, but he doesn’t falter like other music-video directors by drenching his TV work in too much style. There’s just enough balance of vision and plot in Government Cheese to make it work as a show without turning it into an exercise in aesthetics for its cp-creator. It has a very strong visual language without letting that overwhelm the characters or the writing.

For the former, it helps to have talents like Oyelowo and Missick at the center. The star of Selma embraces the opportunity to develop a fully-realized, layered character over ten episodes, making Hampton into more than just a victim of circumstance and a man who clearly wants to do the right thing. His entire being is summed up in an arc in which the crime he needs to commit is made easier by a fishing trip with Winston, which he sees a perfect bit of divine intervention. But Astoria later points out that he’s using the one pure thing he’s trying to develop for nefarious purposes. Missick, who played Misty Knight in the Netflix Marvel shows, is phenomenal, especially in a mid-season episode in which Hampton’s parole officer (portrayed by the always welcome John Ortiz) prods her character to create a warm home for her husband. But why should Astoria feel warmth for a man who chose another life over his family? 

Great guest stars (like Katie Aselton and a spectacular Sunita Mani) abound in Government Cheese, people who come in, nail a scene or an episode, and exit stage right. And it’s indicative of the strength of the entire production that the writers find a way to make even one-scene roles feel both memorable and part of the bigger picture. This show may not have set out to remind people of Raising Arizona or Fargo, but it earns the comparison by telling its own comedically surreal tale of an unexpected Job figure, a story of another ordinary guy fighting against extraordinary currents. We may not all be Hampton Chambers, but we get him. 

Government Cheese premieres April 16 on Apple TV+ 

 
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