If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Real Rob flatters no one

But the central narcissist is far from the only retread in Real Rob, which is a veritable pastiche of other, better sitcoms. Schneider and his co-writer, comedian Jamie Lissow, have a scattershot approach to incorporating these influences. The star has given himself the fictional financial woes of the not-quite-Matt LeBlanc character from Episodes, along with an agent who’s a knockoff Ari Gold. The fictional Rob also has a sycophantic assistant played by Lissow, who looks like Ed Helms but whose character is significantly less competent than Andy Bernard. There’s also a sexy male nanny (à la Melissa & Joey) thrown in for good measure.

Real Rob also features talking-head confessionals à la The Office or Modern Family; in addition to these asides, Schneider reminds us that he’s a stand-up comedian by cutting away to clips of his warmed-over stand-up act. Rob does a bunch of tired, old bits that are mostly in the “men do this/women do that” vein. He translates women’s supposed double-speak, e.g., “I’m going to get a glass of water” somehow actually means “You should go get me a glass of water.” While Schneider’s more offensive comedy has often been unintentional, here he seems intent on ruffling feathers. In one of the stand-up scenes, Schneider muses about Stephen Hawking and his two divorces, first by questioning Hawking’s desirability, and later by mocking his disability—he jokes that Hawking’s dramatic exit from his wives’ lives would be somewhat hindered by his inability to open the door for himself. Schneider must have congratulated himself for taking down such a risible figure.

Ultimately, though, Real Rob’s undoing is in the doing too much. Schneider’s mixing too many elements from too many shows, so he’s unable to update them in any way. And because the cast is so small, Schneider ends up spreading himself too thin. He tries to embody all of the leads of all of the shows he’s referencing—he’s both the naysayer and the crazy schemer, the grounded family man (who doesn’t believe that negative spirits live in his home) and the unfocused dreamer. It would be a Herculean task for any performer, so it’s not surprising that Schneider, who’s made his bones off playing Sandler’s sidekicks and otherwise grotesque caricatures, crumbles under the pressure.

There’s a bit of unintentional meta-commentary when Rob pitches a show (that’s also based on his marriage) that ends up retooled by studio executives until it’s no longer recognizable. The untitled fictional series is now set in a post-apocalyptic world that’s been overrun by “zompires,” a zombie-vampire hybrid, because the studio wants to include as many clichés as possible. Schneider protects his wife on the show-within-a-show by killing the zompires with his stand-up material. But it’s a premise that even Rob finds too hard to believe, so he quits the show. Even Schneider isn’t buying what he’s selling.

Netflix and Schneider saw fit to screen three episodes from the second half of the season for critics, including the finale, a choice that hints at what the future holds for Real Rob. It probably isn’t a second season—unless Schneider’s willing to pick up the tab again.